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  • Hey there, and welcome to our roleplaying section. Please take some time to read two of these useful resources below, if you're already a roleplaying expert, then there's no need to read the following beginner's guide, but be sure to read the rules.

    Free Form Role Playing Guide for Beginners
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    [OOC: I just wanted to do some casual roleplay. Nothing serious, just something to help me practice my writing skills since I'm rusty. Everyone is welcome! Character sheets requested but not required.]

    Name: Rashei (rah-shay)
    Gender: Male
    Race: Dunmer (Vampire)
    Age: 193 years
    Class: Stealth Archer
    Appearance: Rashei looks like a typical Dunmer, standing at 6 feet, 2 inches with medium gray skin and hair as dark as the void. His eyes have black sclera, but his irises are a vibrant glowing red. He is rather gaunt with a narrow face, shallow cheeks, and an overall lithe build. A slash of red warpaint is over is right eye, bringing out the hue of his irises. His black hair is in the famous Witcher Geralt hairstyle, medium length with a half ponytail, and it is accompanied by a short beard on his face. He is a little different than other vampires. He has a slightly forked, purplish tongue and three sets of fangs: two on his top teeth, one on his bottom.
    Personality: Rashei is a firm believer in the phrase "Silence speaks louder than words." He does not speak unless spoken to or needed. This makes him appear aloof and standoffish, but he is actually a gentle soul despite his ghostly appearance. He is charitable and likes helping others in nonviolent matters. However, it is uncommon to see him in the general public due to his elusive nature. Rashei has his sense of logic determine his decisions instead of his feelings.
    Unique Abilities: Rashei is unique in the sense that he is a male pureblooded vampire. He is his own individual vampiric bloodline, making him have powers not all vampires have. He has the ability to shapeshift into a bat. He can also walk on water and has a tendency to blend into the darkness. He does however, have all the weaknesses other vampires come with. He cannot turn into a vampire lord and has none of their unique powers.
    Misc: Rashei leads his own coven, named Peacekeeper Coven. He is known there as the Keeper. (Not to be confused with Cicero.)
    Relatives: Neloth (father)
    Backstory: Rashei was the result of a secret relationship between Neloth of House Telvanni and a servant girl. Not wanting to risk a scandal or defamation, Neloth cast the girl out when she became pregnant. She left Morrowind and gave birth to a son in Cyrodiil, who she named Rashei. Since childhood, Rashei had a rough life. His mother just barely made enough money to ensure their survival. To worsen things, he developed a cough in his early teen years. For some reason, it never went away despite Rashei receiving multiple treatments.

    The cough got worse as Rashei grew older. It became difficult for him to breathe, making him unable to work. At age 30, he was bedridden. Any movement caused sharp pain in his lungs, causing him to feel as if he was choking. It was only a matter of time before death claimed him. But his mother would not allow her son to die- not like this. It happened to be close to Molag Bal's summoning day. She did something unusual, even by Daedra standards: she struck a deal with Molag Bal. If she were to give herself in Coldharbour, he would not make her a vampire, but Rashei in her stead.

    She did not survive the ordeal.

    The vampirism purged all other diseases in Rashei's body, ridding him of that terrible cough that had nearly killed him. But he was now a monster, cursed to never see the sun lest he burn to ashes. He became a nomadic hermit, clearing caves of bandits (which he made into a meal) and striving to live as peacefully as he could. He preyed only upon criminals to feed on and spent most of his life in the wilderness. He engaged in artistic pursuits, even publishing some poetry and selling paintings. Rashei became especially good at cooking. He did not need to eat mortal food, but he enjoyed doing so to entertain his tastebuds.

    Eventually, Rashei's nomadic lifestyle led him to Skyrim. He came across some other vampires in his travel. Most were aggressive, but others shared his desire to live a peaceful life. With the help of some others, Rashei established a coven, but this one is different than most. It performs similar to a Tribe: there are hunters, who bring bandits back to the lair for the whole clan to share. There are guards, who defend the coven by ensuring its secrecy and defeating enemies. There are healers, who take care of the wounded. Then there is the Keeper, leader of the coven- Rashei. The coven operates more like a family than the feral vampire societies one might come across in Skyrim. They rely on each other, seeing strength in numbers and value in keeping peace with the mortal world.

    As for Neloth. . . Rashei always felt an anger towards the father he never met. If he had not sent his mother away, she would have never died, and Rashei would not be cursed. But this secret is one that Rashei will keep with him. Why should he tell anyone he is related to that mad wizard? If anything, he wants to be as far away from Neloth as possible.

    Darkness hung over the province, coating the realm like a thick blanket. Stars blinked their peaceful light to the below from their abysmal web, dancing around the moons of Nirn just as they did every night. Indeed, the dark hours of Skyrim were beautiful, but they were just as lovely as they were deadly. For despite the tranquility of the night, a strong smell was in the air within the wilderness north of Solitude. It was both rancid and sickly sweet, making the air thick with its presence. It almost seemed to make the air crimson as the Dunmer breathed it in. He was suddenly aware of the desire that made his mouth thick with saliva.

    It was the smell of freshly spilled blood.

    The vampire opened his maw, flicking out his purplish forked tongue much like a snake would upon tasting the air. It was some distance away. Both curious and hopeful of bringing back a meal for his coven, Rashei pushed his way through the frosted undergrowth, using the enhanced sense of smell that all vampires had to guide his way. The full moons above the earth made the snow-covered ground vibrant, shining like tiny diamonds. No one would need a torch nor night vision in this moonlit state.

    Rashei was still puzzling over what creature such sweetly scented blood could belong to when a cry pierced through the silence:

    "No, please! Get away! Stop!"

    Laughs and taunts followed the scream. The arrogance that stained the shrill, mocking voices was familiar to Rashei and any other person well acquainted with Skyrim's criminal inhabitants. Bandits. He opened his mouth again to breathe in the scent and understood. The blood's aroma was sweet, rich with the promises of success, of wealth, of acceptance. A noble was being tortured simply for the amusement of bandits.

    A growl rumbled deep in the Keeper's throat. Typical bandit behavior: preying on the defenseless and innocent. This could not stand- not even for a vampire such as he. Rashei picked up the pace, breaking into a run as he sprinted towards the sound. He began to draw his bow while also keeping an ear out. There might be others around, and they may get to the noble first. But to help or to hinder, he did not yet know.


    The Devil In The Details
    Karsan could barely see them through eyes bruised and clotted with dried blood, couldn't move without wicked agony from the knife staked in his shoulder, or the many red marks they'd carved. He'd blacked out a few times before they had their fill and finally decided to work on the young noble instead.

    Shoving him around their huddle, spewing provocations of violence, a cracking blow to the stomach, the face, the ribs. They promised to break the kid first, make him beg, then feed him to the campfire, piece by piece.

    Karsan had only stopped to relieve himself along the road, and the gods saw fit to bless him with the company of bandits..

    'Simply company, that's all', the boy's father had vowed, dangling a coin pouch on his finger like a clock's pendulum, 'For a man of simple code, such as yourself. And should you two find Solitude with little incident, well, I hear it can be rather accommodating in these latter seasons'

    Karsan kicked himself, for taking the bastard's job, and thinking he'd live to spend the coin in peace. He shouldn't have even expected a simple tradeoff, let alone a decent stay in the city, but in hindsight, he took it on for another reason entirely.

    "No, please! Get away! Stop!" A sickening crunch, overtaken with pained screaming and drunken jeering. They were keeping that first promise.

    Karsan stirred against the ropes, knowing if he lost consciousness again, he might not wake. As he did so, the burning sting in his shoulder stopped him, the knife's bloodied handle still protruding. He realized, bitterly, it was the only thing he could reach, and only one way to retrieve it. With mounting courage, Karsan craned his neck down and found the handle between his teeth, bracing for the searing pain as he worked it loose. Through tears and muffled screams, he tore it away at last and spat it into his free hand.

    After sawing through the ties, he found his feet and stumbled about for a weapon. Karsan strained to even stand upright, sweat beading his forehead as he took slow, labored breaths. He propped himself on a hollowed stump, with most of his personal gear spread out, to be fingered for selling later, he assumed. He passed it all over, finding his bolts, but where was the crossbow?..

    One of the men, a red-beard with mean breath, strangled the child under his massive wing. Darkness closed in from the forest, threatening to smother the boy into a forever sleep.

    Then, a hiss in the air, a soft impact somewhere behind him. The arm fell from his throat and something trickled over his shoulders: blood. Red-Beard gargled and clutched at his throat, dropping to his knees as all others turned.

    "How'd the cripple get loose?! Cut him down!"

    The bandits charged, and Karsan braced.

    For a solemn moment, the grizzled old man met the kid's eyes.


    And he did try, but was it fast enough?

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