Is there room for me aswell?
Name : Jo'Puma
Race : Khajiit
Class : Spellsword
Age : 32
Sex : Male
Appearance : He has a light face, green eyes, bright colored fur, long bangs (hairstyle), and a robotic arm.
Equipment : Blue robe, casual white pants, brown boots.
Weapons: A silver tanto he calles Stiffarm. It has a small shock effect and a short paralysis.
Personality : He keeps to himself alot, but can be very talkative if a conversation is started with him. He is nice to most people he meets.
Brief History : Jo'Puma traveled around some of the parts of Tamriel, learning more about magicka and reading books. One of his favorites being The Real Barenziah. He soon practiced the arts of magicka, and has learned much. In his whole life, he's only learned one offencive spell. It's a fire spell, and though it's very short ranged (a radius of about three or four feet), it is very powerful, and can kill a group of high ranked skeletons. He calls it "Mist of Fire".
Other Relevant info : He has an advantage against slow and big enemies, mostly because it's easier to hit them with spells. Though if silented or unarmed, he is vulnerable.
Full Version: To Heir is Human II - Characters
robotic arm? im assuming dwemer-ized?
it seems someone else had one... arygon i believe... ages ago...
otherwise, yes you're welcome to join. need a summary?
it seems someone else had one... arygon i believe... ages ago...
otherwise, yes you're welcome to join. need a summary?
Yes, please.
how much of the story do you know? any?
Not really, no.
the current situation...
theres this bad guy named the silhouette whos got some pretty mean army under his belt and has already razed a couple of cities in cyrodiil. then theres these good guys who are trying to stop him with a makeshift army from MW, as well as a band of mages somewhere i think.
most of these folks are tracking the sil's army. they be... flogir, flint, green-root, isaac, -altair- and -voltar- as well as some others who sadly i cant recall.
then theres a couple people who are off dealing with this dude mannimarco and some assassins. thats prolly not the best place to join in though.
and theres also some folks way out in mainland MW, sadril, rahvin, amrita, brianna. again, prolly not the best place.
the two highlighted guys, altair and voltar are posing to be good to gain favor. altair is actually this guy named veric who is the actual main bad guy. voltar is his partner, a few people suspect it, but no one actually knows the two cats are bad.
may want to read the past few pages to pick up on what exactly is going down.
theres this bad guy named the silhouette whos got some pretty mean army under his belt and has already razed a couple of cities in cyrodiil. then theres these good guys who are trying to stop him with a makeshift army from MW, as well as a band of mages somewhere i think.
most of these folks are tracking the sil's army. they be... flogir, flint, green-root, isaac, -altair- and -voltar- as well as some others who sadly i cant recall.
then theres a couple people who are off dealing with this dude mannimarco and some assassins. thats prolly not the best place to join in though.
and theres also some folks way out in mainland MW, sadril, rahvin, amrita, brianna. again, prolly not the best place.
the two highlighted guys, altair and voltar are posing to be good to gain favor. altair is actually this guy named veric who is the actual main bad guy. voltar is his partner, a few people suspect it, but no one actually knows the two cats are bad.
may want to read the past few pages to pick up on what exactly is going down.
Flogir, Flint, Green-Root, Voltar, and Veric are all following the army.
Issac, Kirana, and Satyana are making their way to the aformentioned group after fighting briefly with Mannimarco, King of Worms.
Rann, Satyana's half-twin-brother is exchanging words with 'Marco.
Karn, my character, is the head of a new assassins guild borne from the ashes of the Dark Brotherhoof. The new guild, AKA the Narza'Tai, is gathering near the Imperial City to prepare for the climactic battle between the Silhouete and the army of Morrowind.
Patholos, Karn's second, is unconscious at the moment in the same spot.
The Silhouete is an immortal being from Akavir, leading an army of snakemen and all the evil-hearted beings on Tamriel.
After this battle is over, we'll fast forward nearly a year. Veric will gain conterol of the ruined Empire and work for awhile until he gets dethroned after his identity is realized.
I'm getting goot at these summaries. Unfortunately my fingers are getting tired of typing these tiny keys....
Glad to see you joined. 
So Issac, Kirana and Satvana, after fighting with Mannimarco and King of Worms, are making their way to Flogir, Flint, Green-Root, Voltar and Veric, who are following The Silhouete and his army, or are they following the army that are going to be attack by the Narza'Tai? Is Narza'Tai enemies with everyone, because the army of Morrowind is enemies with Silhouete, who's the evil immortal, right? Rann, Satyana's half-twin-brother and 'Marco's location's are...? Patholos and Karn's second are unconscious where? Is any of this right? Maybe ShogunSniper is right, and I should just read some of the pages.
I still need to know more about what's going on. I've tried reading previous posts before, and it didn't do me very much good.
I also need to know what the best place would be for me to inter.
I also need to know what the best place would be for me to inter.
Shouldn't we move this to the planning thread? Anyway, perhaps he should start somewhere near the Imperial City, away from impending death at the moment. Note: it will only be temporarily safe.
OCC: this is sort of a concept, it can become more refined before long.
Name: {is not translatable in Tamrielic or any other language spoken on Nirm} He is referred to by many titles hinting at his savagery in battle.
Race: Plys'Iea
Class: Sergeant Major (before his force was killed in action)
Age: 87
Gender: Male
Appearance: Although hailing from a reptilian race of bipeds, the butcher who has chosen to serve under the Silhouette can't be mistaken for a snakeman. Standing at about nine feet tall, the alien's scales are mostly pale grey, the exception being the patterns of black coloration tattooed onto the scales beneath.
His long head ends in a snake-like snout, the yellow eyes have vertical-slitted pupils. Black line tattoos run below his lower jaw line and along the middle of his head, ending where his eyes rest. His hands have three long, grasping fingers.
Five slender spines, each two and a half feet long, come from his back are attuned to pick up vibrations in the air, providing a form of exo-sensory.
Equipment:
Plys'Iea battle armor- made of a heavy metallic alloy which helps to disperse incoming energy, the armor's weight would greatly inhibit a typical man, but the sergeant major can move with great speed and agility (even capable of running down an unencumbered man).
Ebony Maul Staff- a seven and a half foot long rod of ebony. Two small flail-like heads adorn the ends. The staff is the alien’s primary melee weapon.
Personality: A hunter-killer is an accurate summary of his work and general outlook. “Survival of the fittest” is a virtue; those who are physically weak or reliant on something to live or get by deserve death.
The Plys’Iea honor system still guides the alien as he is forced to make his way in a world he still does not fully understand. He looks down upon Mannimarco and his followers, seeing the practice of necromancy as a dishonorable and arcane art.
Still, despite his prejudice, the alien shows nothing but the utmost respect for the Silhouette, following commands even if they are not to interfere with Mannimarco’s work.
To most the alien is a savage monstrosity, fighting in a blood-thirsty killing spree that none in the army can match. Despite this stereotype, he is as much a cunning and intelligent tactician as he is a savage butcher of men and mer.
Brief History: After losing his entire platoon and being left behind near the Morrowind-Argonia border, the sergeant major fled into the depths of Black Marsh. This is where he resided until the Silhouette’s army marched through the marsh and gave him another chance to fight.
Other Relevant Info: Tamrielic is not a language that this alien is capable of speaking fluently, however, he has learned to vocabulate Akaviri and Argonian due to their similarity to his own language.
Name: {is not translatable in Tamrielic or any other language spoken on Nirm} He is referred to by many titles hinting at his savagery in battle.
Race: Plys'Iea
Class: Sergeant Major (before his force was killed in action)
Age: 87
Gender: Male
Appearance: Although hailing from a reptilian race of bipeds, the butcher who has chosen to serve under the Silhouette can't be mistaken for a snakeman. Standing at about nine feet tall, the alien's scales are mostly pale grey, the exception being the patterns of black coloration tattooed onto the scales beneath.
His long head ends in a snake-like snout, the yellow eyes have vertical-slitted pupils. Black line tattoos run below his lower jaw line and along the middle of his head, ending where his eyes rest. His hands have three long, grasping fingers.
Five slender spines, each two and a half feet long, come from his back are attuned to pick up vibrations in the air, providing a form of exo-sensory.
Equipment:
Plys'Iea battle armor- made of a heavy metallic alloy which helps to disperse incoming energy, the armor's weight would greatly inhibit a typical man, but the sergeant major can move with great speed and agility (even capable of running down an unencumbered man).
Ebony Maul Staff- a seven and a half foot long rod of ebony. Two small flail-like heads adorn the ends. The staff is the alien’s primary melee weapon.
Personality: A hunter-killer is an accurate summary of his work and general outlook. “Survival of the fittest” is a virtue; those who are physically weak or reliant on something to live or get by deserve death.
The Plys’Iea honor system still guides the alien as he is forced to make his way in a world he still does not fully understand. He looks down upon Mannimarco and his followers, seeing the practice of necromancy as a dishonorable and arcane art.
Still, despite his prejudice, the alien shows nothing but the utmost respect for the Silhouette, following commands even if they are not to interfere with Mannimarco’s work.
To most the alien is a savage monstrosity, fighting in a blood-thirsty killing spree that none in the army can match. Despite this stereotype, he is as much a cunning and intelligent tactician as he is a savage butcher of men and mer.
Brief History: After losing his entire platoon and being left behind near the Morrowind-Argonia border, the sergeant major fled into the depths of Black Marsh. This is where he resided until the Silhouette’s army marched through the marsh and gave him another chance to fight.
Other Relevant Info: Tamrielic is not a language that this alien is capable of speaking fluently, however, he has learned to vocabulate Akaviri and Argonian due to their similarity to his own language.
I like it, but there would be one problem,
there is no spaceship or craft that will come into play later is there?
there is no spaceship or craft that will come into play later is there?
Nope, not unless the Silhouete won and agreed to help my alien get into contact with his people. And they wouldn't send one ship, they'd sent of fleet. That's a little too apocalyptic.....
Agreed, but he sounds menacing, good choice
Here's my average joe.
Name: James Pathertrory.
Race: British (he is the unfortunate victim of an accident containing, radiation huge amounts of water, and a large wave of EMP, that transfered him to another world...tamriel in fact
).
Class: Thief really (as well as annoying the crap out of everyone).
Age: 19.
Gender: male.
Appearance: About 5'9 tall, spiky raven black hair, thin slender frame with lean muscles, cathing blue eyes, constant smirk plattered on his face. Wears brown shoes and trousers. Black half-finger leather gloves, his usual Iron Maiden t-shirt, his favourite black leather bikerjacket (complete with spikes
), and a pierced left ear and black leather bikerboots.
Equipment: his always present bow (complete with steel arrows, 'borrowed' of course from an imperial armoury), four steel daggers (one always present in his black leather bikerboots) one is coated with a paralysing potion, while another one is coated with a snake venom that rapidly degenerates cells from inside the body (starts in the bloodstream normally, and after some time will degenerate the heart itself). And lastly the sawn off shotgun he stole on his last day of school before his 'accident' (note, if you guy's think it's uber, lets just say he don't have any shells for it)
Personality: Sarcastic, rude, arrogant, obnoxius and generally unpleasant to everyone. Intelligent enough when he wants to be, but his life usually evolves around stealing things, selling them to get money, and make a living, other than that, he is also secretely working together with a few Blades as an information gatherer.
Favourite move: "The Squirrel Move", he ended up learning that to Telina when he ran across her once. He told her, 'Go for the nuts, and you've got them, if one kick isn't enough then kick again, one of the kicks are bound to get through and bring the pain".
Former history: After his family was killed when he was nine by a crime syndicate, he started learning all he could about the tough life on the streats, and how to get himself out of trouble, he is a decent enough fighter, but in a prolonged swordfight or similar, he resorts to using dirty trick instead, especially throwing bottles of flammable liquids and igniting them at people.
You guys better prepare for sarcasm.
Name: James Pathertrory.
Race: British (he is the unfortunate victim of an accident containing, radiation huge amounts of water, and a large wave of EMP, that transfered him to another world...tamriel in fact
).Class: Thief really (as well as annoying the crap out of everyone).
Age: 19.
Gender: male.
Appearance: About 5'9 tall, spiky raven black hair, thin slender frame with lean muscles, cathing blue eyes, constant smirk plattered on his face. Wears brown shoes and trousers. Black half-finger leather gloves, his usual Iron Maiden t-shirt, his favourite black leather bikerjacket (complete with spikes
), and a pierced left ear and black leather bikerboots.Equipment: his always present bow (complete with steel arrows, 'borrowed' of course from an imperial armoury), four steel daggers (one always present in his black leather bikerboots) one is coated with a paralysing potion, while another one is coated with a snake venom that rapidly degenerates cells from inside the body (starts in the bloodstream normally, and after some time will degenerate the heart itself). And lastly the sawn off shotgun he stole on his last day of school before his 'accident' (note, if you guy's think it's uber, lets just say he don't have any shells for it)
Personality: Sarcastic, rude, arrogant, obnoxius and generally unpleasant to everyone. Intelligent enough when he wants to be, but his life usually evolves around stealing things, selling them to get money, and make a living, other than that, he is also secretely working together with a few Blades as an information gatherer.
Favourite move: "The Squirrel Move", he ended up learning that to Telina when he ran across her once. He told her, 'Go for the nuts, and you've got them, if one kick isn't enough then kick again, one of the kicks are bound to get through and bring the pain".
Former history: After his family was killed when he was nine by a crime syndicate, he started learning all he could about the tough life on the streats, and how to get himself out of trouble, he is a decent enough fighter, but in a prolonged swordfight or similar, he resorts to using dirty trick instead, especially throwing bottles of flammable liquids and igniting them at people.
You guys better prepare for sarcasm.
Uber? A shotgun doesn't even begin to compare to the spells being flung around. So lock and load I'd say.
Ok....why do I come to think of the old fan fic from Alexander? His guy was also transferred to Tamriel , or rather Morrowind....
Hmmm interesting, lots of strange ppl now, the normal ones will soon be outnumbered!
Maybe I have to bring back Serene....
Hmmm interesting, lots of strange ppl now, the normal ones will soon be outnumbered!
Maybe I have to bring back Serene....
I'm not so big a fan of the whole 'transported to another world' thing...
Hehe, sounds like someone has been watching too much Army of Darkness lately. That character just screams "Ash".
QUOTE(Dantrag @ Sep 25 2007, 11:04 PM) 
I'm not so big a fan of the whole 'transported to another world' thing...
Actually me neither....although it still is interesting
Here's my character Dan. I had posted him in the old characters thread but it's time he got transferred to the newer thread. So people wouldn't call him young. No offense Revan.
Dan
Age: Old, in his late fourties
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior
Allegience: coallition defending the Imperial City
Appearance: (Since I ain't good with Inches and Feet I'll do it the old european way) he's 1.72 meters (1 meter and 72 centimeters) and has grey hair. He has a knot around his later large beard which keeps it from spreading. He has a few scars here and there showing a violent past.
Personality: He is a taciturn old man which speaks rarely and only does so when he has something worthwile to say. Speaking of communicating with others, he has a rather nasty problem, he can't speak. His tongue was cut off by a party of bandits. A healer managed to save Dan's life yet his vocal cords were ruined. He has to speak by using a telepathy spell, hence the reason for talking rarely.
Equipment: He wears plain clothing which bears the passing of time. He does have a few pieces of armour in case there are any problems, those pieces being a large chainmail vest which hangs over his knees, chainmail mittens and leather boots. As a weapon he has a rather old broadsword kept in good condition.
History: Born in a small Nordic village he left his childhood home at the age of 18, looking to prove himself in the wide world. His early travels led him to Cyrodiil where he was hired as a guard to the Count of Bruma. Bruma was a familiar town to Dan, for he had travelled often to larger towns in Skyrim where his father would trade in various wares. After a few years in the Count's service Dan realised that the boring duty of being a guard wasn't for him.
At the age of 23 he left Bruma to search for something much more worthwile to do. During his travels he eventually decided to hire himself out as a mercenary, fighting for the highest bidder. He started out by guarding merchant caravans throughout the wilderness. Bandits soon came to fear his name. The bandit chieftains soon discovered what they were missing so they hired Dan, paying him more money than the merchants were. Dan was quite a greedy man so he accepted the offer. He would soon be terorizing all of Cyrodiil with his gang. The Imperial Legion eventually caught up with Dan. After a whole year of stalking the forests of Cyrodiil, the Imperial Legion finally captured Dan and a number of his fellow outlaws. They were imprisoned in the dungeons of the Imperial City for 15 years because of their crimes.
At 38 years of age Dan discovered that he didn't have much more years of youth ahead of him so he decided to lay aside the notion of re-joining the bandit gang. Not knowing what he really wanted to do, Dan tried to become a merchant in the Imperial City, selling animal hides and various other products obtained from animals. At first his bussines had a mediocre performance but it started getting better and better as the months passed. Dan would go to the nearby forests each morning and hunt various animals, from deer to boars. After he managed to slay enough, he would take the hides of the beasts and their meat then sell them at his stall. For 5 years he did this. Eventually, Dan got bored by the life of a trader and the fact that he did the same things every day.
He was 43 years old when he noticed that life was passing by with great speed. He decided to return to his village to be greeted as a man. He had grown. He could present his fellow villagers with Imperial money and be seen as a hero. After a few weeks of travelling the wilderness, Dan finally reached his village yet he found a burning ruin, a mere shadow of the village he knew and loved. Hate surged into his body and vengeance was all he wanted. He looked franticly for tracks in the snow, anything that could lead to the destroyers of his village. He found some tracks yet they lead to Cyrodiil. He turned around.
A few weeks later he found a party of bandits on the side of a road. Dan wasn't sure if they were the ones to destroy his village yet the bandits didn't wait for Dan to find out, they attacked him without mercy. After a short but fierce battle in which Dan left several of the bandits in a pool of blood the bandits managed to subdue him. After subduing him, the bandits decided to cut off Dan's tongue and leave him for dead on the side of the road. Dan was eventually saved by a passing mage, the same mage taught Dan how to communicate using a spell called telepathy. After the incident with the bandits, Dan decided it was time to settle down. He went to a beautiful place in the wilderness which he knew very well and decided to build a small cottage there in which he could live and watch upon the trade roads, making sure that no other people would be attacked by bandits.
Dan
Age: Old, in his late fourties
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior
Allegience: coallition defending the Imperial City
Appearance: (Since I ain't good with Inches and Feet I'll do it the old european way) he's 1.72 meters (1 meter and 72 centimeters) and has grey hair. He has a knot around his later large beard which keeps it from spreading. He has a few scars here and there showing a violent past.
Personality: He is a taciturn old man which speaks rarely and only does so when he has something worthwile to say. Speaking of communicating with others, he has a rather nasty problem, he can't speak. His tongue was cut off by a party of bandits. A healer managed to save Dan's life yet his vocal cords were ruined. He has to speak by using a telepathy spell, hence the reason for talking rarely.
Equipment: He wears plain clothing which bears the passing of time. He does have a few pieces of armour in case there are any problems, those pieces being a large chainmail vest which hangs over his knees, chainmail mittens and leather boots. As a weapon he has a rather old broadsword kept in good condition.
History: Born in a small Nordic village he left his childhood home at the age of 18, looking to prove himself in the wide world. His early travels led him to Cyrodiil where he was hired as a guard to the Count of Bruma. Bruma was a familiar town to Dan, for he had travelled often to larger towns in Skyrim where his father would trade in various wares. After a few years in the Count's service Dan realised that the boring duty of being a guard wasn't for him.
At the age of 23 he left Bruma to search for something much more worthwile to do. During his travels he eventually decided to hire himself out as a mercenary, fighting for the highest bidder. He started out by guarding merchant caravans throughout the wilderness. Bandits soon came to fear his name. The bandit chieftains soon discovered what they were missing so they hired Dan, paying him more money than the merchants were. Dan was quite a greedy man so he accepted the offer. He would soon be terorizing all of Cyrodiil with his gang. The Imperial Legion eventually caught up with Dan. After a whole year of stalking the forests of Cyrodiil, the Imperial Legion finally captured Dan and a number of his fellow outlaws. They were imprisoned in the dungeons of the Imperial City for 15 years because of their crimes.
At 38 years of age Dan discovered that he didn't have much more years of youth ahead of him so he decided to lay aside the notion of re-joining the bandit gang. Not knowing what he really wanted to do, Dan tried to become a merchant in the Imperial City, selling animal hides and various other products obtained from animals. At first his bussines had a mediocre performance but it started getting better and better as the months passed. Dan would go to the nearby forests each morning and hunt various animals, from deer to boars. After he managed to slay enough, he would take the hides of the beasts and their meat then sell them at his stall. For 5 years he did this. Eventually, Dan got bored by the life of a trader and the fact that he did the same things every day.
He was 43 years old when he noticed that life was passing by with great speed. He decided to return to his village to be greeted as a man. He had grown. He could present his fellow villagers with Imperial money and be seen as a hero. After a few weeks of travelling the wilderness, Dan finally reached his village yet he found a burning ruin, a mere shadow of the village he knew and loved. Hate surged into his body and vengeance was all he wanted. He looked franticly for tracks in the snow, anything that could lead to the destroyers of his village. He found some tracks yet they lead to Cyrodiil. He turned around.
A few weeks later he found a party of bandits on the side of a road. Dan wasn't sure if they were the ones to destroy his village yet the bandits didn't wait for Dan to find out, they attacked him without mercy. After a short but fierce battle in which Dan left several of the bandits in a pool of blood the bandits managed to subdue him. After subduing him, the bandits decided to cut off Dan's tongue and leave him for dead on the side of the road. Dan was eventually saved by a passing mage, the same mage taught Dan how to communicate using a spell called telepathy. After the incident with the bandits, Dan decided it was time to settle down. He went to a beautiful place in the wilderness which he knew very well and decided to build a small cottage there in which he could live and watch upon the trade roads, making sure that no other people would be attacked by bandits.
This is my second character.
Name:Haldin.
Race:Dunmer.
Sex:Male (seeing as I answered the illegal answer in the first fic, yet I'm alive to write this one, does that mean I was ressurected
)?Age:49. (Yikes...he's getting old)
Class:Warrior Priest (he is handy with a battlehammer, longswords and his feet/fists)
Appearance:Piercing red eyes, typhical of Dunmers, slightly darker skin than his mother. Shoulder length silvery hair(again from his mother) in windbraids fashion,blue tribal tattoes, about a head taller than most Dunmers(ie:he is a big mer, capable of scaring away most muggers), broad shoulders, and a muscular chest, along with muscular arms/legs, (in other words, he is about as big as an orc, only you can see that he is an elf, not an orc).
Equipment:A Elven warhammer enchanted to do fire damage(to cleanse his enemies tongue.gif), two blacksmith hammers, and Elven longsword, and two elven daggers (one of them is as always in the trusted boot
), and a little anvil, case he have to repair something, full elven minus helmet, with a flowing red cape with gold embroidery and silver linings. Also starts the story with a black horse bedecked with elven horse armour.Personality:Bit headstrong, which can get him in trouble...rather stay and fight instead of running, quite fanatic about his gods(Azura, Mephala and Boethia, is the ones he pray to), but else than that a loving and nice person, very protective of his friends, and will blow off most insults, Never stands for injustice, and is willing to protect others at the cost of his life.
Fighting capability:He is a man who can take care of himself, he is quick with his feet and fists, and unlike what is normal, he is deadly fast with a hammer, but as always it is always a bit smaller than most opponents with say a sword is. So when he do hit, the result is normally devestating, his attacks splitting skulls, smashing bones, or at least cause severe dizzyness and/or knocking his opponents to the ground.
Brief History: His mother is Telina Delvanni, but he was seperated from ehr in his early childhood(he was about five),and grew up in a group of banished ashlanders(explains the tattoes), when he was about ten, his entire tribe was killed, and he was adopted by the imperial cult. Around seventeen, he was transfered to Skyrim, to help there, and there he have been ever since...but he wish to go home to his homeland, to be allowed to pray to his gods again. After the event's in THiH 1 he went to Morrowind along with Serene (apparently). Now twenty years later, he is just passing through on a pilgrimage you might say, when he happens to stumble across the sillouette's army attacking the imperial city.
Name : Sinyaramen Fenasim (Commonly called Sin.)
Race : Altmer
Birthsign: Atronach. (He’s long since run dry. Though this makes me wonder, why does the PC always start with full magicka as an Atronach? It’s as if he never ever cast a spell before the start of the game. And no, I don’t think the guards would give magicka restoration potions to their prisoners.)
Class : Lens Magus
Age : 76 (Hey, he’s Altmer. He’d damn better be allowed some age.)
Sex : Male
Appearance : Tall, as all Altmer are. He has a thin frame that gives him a slight skeletal appearance, with eyes that lie deep in their sockets, hollow cheeks, stuff like that. His skin has a dull gold hue with a greyish shade while his eyes have gone rather dull as well. He tends to lean on a cane for support cause his legs are so weak. Now moving on to the clothes.
Sin wears a long vest with wide sleeves, a shirt and long pants that cover part of his shoes. His shoes are made out of white silk and have curled toes. He wears a widerimmed hat to protect his eyes against the sun. Everything but his shoes are coloured in different shades of brown. He also wears glasses.
Equipment : 1 simple wooden cane. There is nothing special about it. It is meant for walking and that’s it.
Money in a purse kept in a pocket of his jacket.
A spoon, a fork and a small knife, all kept in a small box tied to his belt.
Silver-rimmed glasses. Can’t see without them. (Well, he can, it’s just that everything is awfully blurry )
A Handkerchief to clean said glasses.
Personality :
Sin is a strange mixture. He is a show-off, prone to boasting about his skills. At the same time, he looks far older than he actually is and appears to be half a corpse, even though he still has centuries ahead of him. he can be distracted by the most minor things, yet he can also be so focussed it's just plain scary. Oh, and he is a big bloody coward, something that has come to him over the time as his health detoriated and he became more prone to injury.
Brief History :
Sinyaramen Fenasim was born somewhere on Summerset. There, he entered the local mage guild and tried to study things. Over the time, he ascended through the ranks but his career was short when he was challenged by an initiate, a rookie. Duels were the preferred means of promotion, non-lethal duels, that is. Sinyaramen was confident in his own skill since he was after all something like five ranks higher and he’d fought to get this far. So he began to show off and blow up random stuff to scare the iniate out of the duel. The initiate merely smiled and hung around till night came and it was time for the duel.
Long story cut short, Sin had stupidly thrown away all of his Magicka that day and since he was an Atronach, he couldn’t regenerate and potions weren’t allowed either. So he got owned, hard. To further the embarrassment, he gained his nickname there because as the Arch-mage said. “To underestimate anyone, to think you are better if you show your might and then to expect others to worship you and throw away their own ambition, it is a sin like no other.” Too bad Sinyaramen’s name began with ‘Sin’. The initiate jumped five ranks in a single fight.
So Sin packed his bags and left for the mainland, if just to get to a place where his reputation wasn’t ruined already. On the mainland, there were a lot of people who couldn’t say his name properly so in the end he decided to just introduce him as Sin. It honestly wasn’t so bad, as he’d come to see the name as a valuable lesson and a badge of honour of sorts. That lesson wasn’t ‘the bad side of arrogance’, by the way. Nah, it was more like ‘Being an Atronach sucks’.
Anyway, Sin had felt the limitations of his Atronach nature and vowed to develop a new style of magery that could work around it. Enter Lens magery, socalled because it takes free Magicka and brings it through a metaphorical lens. He travelled around the world to conduct his research, which caused his health to decay quite a bit since he was so obsessed with it. Skipping meals and sleep has never been healthy.
Strengths: Powerfull spells spilling out of his ears.
Weaknesses:
Horribly weak physically. A child could probably beat him to death with his fists.
Never runs or walks, he hobbles with a cane.
He’s nearly blind without his glasses, glasses that get dirty all the time and are quite fragile.
He doesn’t wear any armour, it would be too heavy.
He doesn’t have any weapon beyond his cane, which he can’t use cause he would fall on his face the moment he tried to swing it.
His spells aren’t all that powerfull in the end.
Other Relevant info : Sin’s form of magicka is a tad different from the traditional TES version. Rather than powering spells through his own reserves, he collects the ambient Magicka in his surroundings and uses that. This results in some noteworthy characteristics. I’ll try to list them all.
1: There is no limit. Sin can cast a world-shattering (literally) spell almost as easily as he can cast a candle-lighter spell. He doesn’t use his own Magicka for it, so that isn’t a limit either.
2: When casting, he is stationary. What Sin does, is to form a sort of ‘Magicka focus point’ which draws in all nearby magicka. In order to use it, he must remain in place and keep focussing on the focus constantly. Even a single moment of slipped attention or moving a toe the wrong way will nullify the focus and cause all drawn in Magicka to spread out in a harmless wave. Hell, he can’t even allow himself a sigh or a slightly deeper breath than normal! So yes, hitting him on the head or even attempting to is a good way to keep him from casting.
4: Sin’s spells tend to use the environment. What I mean is, he doesn’t lob fireballs or balls of frost or calls lightning or whatever. No, he makes the ground open up and swallow the unlucky victim. He makes rivers flow onto the land, he makes the wind blow. Stuff like that.
5: A focus point draws in all magicka and I mean all. So that includes the personal reserves of anyone who is standing too close, including whatever shred of magicka Sin himself might have gained over the course of the rp. This ‘draining zone’ spreads, in a 3d-sphere. At first it is a tiny pinprick, but after five seconds it will have expanded to a radius of two metres, four metres after ten, six after fifteen etc. I’m too lazy to calculate how far away he could drain things after an hour.
6: Casting speed is much and much lower and depends on the scale of the spell he’s going to cast. Lighting a candle takes him two seconds, destroying the world would take him several times his maximum life expectancy. So as it turns out, he can’t shatter the world in the end. I think this is rather realistic honestly, even though the times may be a bit exaggerated. This characteristic can be subdivided into a list.
6A: candle-lighter and other ultra-minor spells, +- 2 seconds.
6B: Low-scale combat spell, capable of severely injuring a single person, +- 9 seconds.
6C: Heavy-scale combat spell, capable of killing a single person outright or injuring multiples within five metres, +- 23 seconds.
6X (cause everything inbetween would fill pages and rarely be used.): Ultra-heavy geographical rearrangement (oh, let’s move that mountain over to the right for a bit), +- 8 HOURS. Yes, that’s eight hours of constant concentration and not moving. He has to skip lunch as well, can’t drink, etc.
With the timelimit, I hope I’ve kept his spells from going too uber. Even the 6A grade spell takes too long to cast comfortably in a melee. Any comments, complaints? Now is the time to voice them, while I still have the chance to modify him. I was thinking of having him start in a library at Cloud Ruler. Gives him a reason to join the good guys without ‘appearing out of the nameless mass’ at the Imperial City. That is, if we’re going to Cloud Ruler.
Race : Altmer
Birthsign: Atronach. (He’s long since run dry. Though this makes me wonder, why does the PC always start with full magicka as an Atronach? It’s as if he never ever cast a spell before the start of the game. And no, I don’t think the guards would give magicka restoration potions to their prisoners.)
Class : Lens Magus
Age : 76 (Hey, he’s Altmer. He’d damn better be allowed some age.)
Sex : Male
Appearance : Tall, as all Altmer are. He has a thin frame that gives him a slight skeletal appearance, with eyes that lie deep in their sockets, hollow cheeks, stuff like that. His skin has a dull gold hue with a greyish shade while his eyes have gone rather dull as well. He tends to lean on a cane for support cause his legs are so weak. Now moving on to the clothes.
Sin wears a long vest with wide sleeves, a shirt and long pants that cover part of his shoes. His shoes are made out of white silk and have curled toes. He wears a widerimmed hat to protect his eyes against the sun. Everything but his shoes are coloured in different shades of brown. He also wears glasses.
Equipment : 1 simple wooden cane. There is nothing special about it. It is meant for walking and that’s it.
Money in a purse kept in a pocket of his jacket.
A spoon, a fork and a small knife, all kept in a small box tied to his belt.
Silver-rimmed glasses. Can’t see without them. (Well, he can, it’s just that everything is awfully blurry
)A Handkerchief to clean said glasses.
Personality :
Sin is a strange mixture. He is a show-off, prone to boasting about his skills. At the same time, he looks far older than he actually is and appears to be half a corpse, even though he still has centuries ahead of him. he can be distracted by the most minor things, yet he can also be so focussed it's just plain scary. Oh, and he is a big bloody coward, something that has come to him over the time as his health detoriated and he became more prone to injury.
Brief History :
Sinyaramen Fenasim was born somewhere on Summerset. There, he entered the local mage guild and tried to study things. Over the time, he ascended through the ranks but his career was short when he was challenged by an initiate, a rookie. Duels were the preferred means of promotion, non-lethal duels, that is. Sinyaramen was confident in his own skill since he was after all something like five ranks higher and he’d fought to get this far. So he began to show off and blow up random stuff to scare the iniate out of the duel. The initiate merely smiled and hung around till night came and it was time for the duel.
Long story cut short, Sin had stupidly thrown away all of his Magicka that day and since he was an Atronach, he couldn’t regenerate and potions weren’t allowed either. So he got owned, hard. To further the embarrassment, he gained his nickname there because as the Arch-mage said. “To underestimate anyone, to think you are better if you show your might and then to expect others to worship you and throw away their own ambition, it is a sin like no other.” Too bad Sinyaramen’s name began with ‘Sin’. The initiate jumped five ranks in a single fight.
So Sin packed his bags and left for the mainland, if just to get to a place where his reputation wasn’t ruined already. On the mainland, there were a lot of people who couldn’t say his name properly so in the end he decided to just introduce him as Sin. It honestly wasn’t so bad, as he’d come to see the name as a valuable lesson and a badge of honour of sorts. That lesson wasn’t ‘the bad side of arrogance’, by the way. Nah, it was more like ‘Being an Atronach sucks’.
Anyway, Sin had felt the limitations of his Atronach nature and vowed to develop a new style of magery that could work around it. Enter Lens magery, socalled because it takes free Magicka and brings it through a metaphorical lens. He travelled around the world to conduct his research, which caused his health to decay quite a bit since he was so obsessed with it. Skipping meals and sleep has never been healthy.
Strengths: Powerfull spells spilling out of his ears.
Weaknesses:
Horribly weak physically. A child could probably beat him to death with his fists.
Never runs or walks, he hobbles with a cane.
He’s nearly blind without his glasses, glasses that get dirty all the time and are quite fragile.
He doesn’t wear any armour, it would be too heavy.
He doesn’t have any weapon beyond his cane, which he can’t use cause he would fall on his face the moment he tried to swing it.
His spells aren’t all that powerfull in the end.
Other Relevant info : Sin’s form of magicka is a tad different from the traditional TES version. Rather than powering spells through his own reserves, he collects the ambient Magicka in his surroundings and uses that. This results in some noteworthy characteristics. I’ll try to list them all.
1: There is no limit. Sin can cast a world-shattering (literally) spell almost as easily as he can cast a candle-lighter spell. He doesn’t use his own Magicka for it, so that isn’t a limit either.
2: When casting, he is stationary. What Sin does, is to form a sort of ‘Magicka focus point’ which draws in all nearby magicka. In order to use it, he must remain in place and keep focussing on the focus constantly. Even a single moment of slipped attention or moving a toe the wrong way will nullify the focus and cause all drawn in Magicka to spread out in a harmless wave. Hell, he can’t even allow himself a sigh or a slightly deeper breath than normal! So yes, hitting him on the head or even attempting to is a good way to keep him from casting.
4: Sin’s spells tend to use the environment. What I mean is, he doesn’t lob fireballs or balls of frost or calls lightning or whatever. No, he makes the ground open up and swallow the unlucky victim. He makes rivers flow onto the land, he makes the wind blow. Stuff like that.
5: A focus point draws in all magicka and I mean all. So that includes the personal reserves of anyone who is standing too close, including whatever shred of magicka Sin himself might have gained over the course of the rp. This ‘draining zone’ spreads, in a 3d-sphere. At first it is a tiny pinprick, but after five seconds it will have expanded to a radius of two metres, four metres after ten, six after fifteen etc. I’m too lazy to calculate how far away he could drain things after an hour.
6: Casting speed is much and much lower and depends on the scale of the spell he’s going to cast. Lighting a candle takes him two seconds, destroying the world would take him several times his maximum life expectancy. So as it turns out, he can’t shatter the world in the end. I think this is rather realistic honestly, even though the times may be a bit exaggerated. This characteristic can be subdivided into a list.
6A: candle-lighter and other ultra-minor spells, +- 2 seconds.
6B: Low-scale combat spell, capable of severely injuring a single person, +- 9 seconds.
6C: Heavy-scale combat spell, capable of killing a single person outright or injuring multiples within five metres, +- 23 seconds.
6X (cause everything inbetween would fill pages and rarely be used.): Ultra-heavy geographical rearrangement (oh, let’s move that mountain over to the right for a bit), +- 8 HOURS. Yes, that’s eight hours of constant concentration and not moving. He has to skip lunch as well, can’t drink, etc.
With the timelimit, I hope I’ve kept his spells from going too uber. Even the 6A grade spell takes too long to cast comfortably in a melee. Any comments, complaints? Now is the time to voice them, while I still have the chance to modify him. I was thinking of having him start in a library at Cloud Ruler. Gives him a reason to join the good guys without ‘appearing out of the nameless mass’ at the Imperial City. That is, if we’re going to Cloud Ruler.
Here's mine. If there's anything you'd like changed do say.
Name: Indor Varyon
Age: 36
Sex: Male
Race: Dunmer
Birthsign: Steed
Class: Traveller (Rogue/pilgrim/scout hybrid)
His notable skills are: Alchemy, Hand to hand, Unarmoured, Blunt (almost exclusively staves), Athletics, Marksman (he knows some but isn’t great), Conjuration (odd style, doesn’t use it)
He also has considerable knowledge of varied usefulness
Appearance: Youthful and thin even for a Dunmer but with some muscle. His black hair is in a high style adding to his already noticeable height. His eyes are an unusually dark red. His is immensely fit and looks it and is quite capable of running all day without rest. He wears cheap clothes as what little money he has he spends acquiring more knowledge. He has an extremely light leather cuirass which doesn’t hinder movement but equally offers only very scant protection; rather he relies of evading or absorbing most blows. When he expects close fighting will be unavoidable he wears a heavier pair of bracers to deflect attacks with. His chest and upper arms are covered in tattoos of his native style.
Equipment: He has a reasonable mortar and pestle but tends to bodge any other apparatus together when he needs it. He has a very light leather cuirass and heavier gauntlets which he found while prowling around a ruin. He wears a heavy cloak which though useful for camouflage has no enchantment. His only valuable possession is his staff which has a healing enchantment. He also carries a cheap bow and a couple of darts which he uses to deliver poisons.
He can manage a very weak fire spell which is only really fit for distraction or arson, though might be nasty if it hit you in the face.
Abilities: He is not much of a fighter and will only fight on his own terms when he has the advantage. He will never fight cleanly and is happy to use any trick, especially poison. If he cannot use his intelligence to swing things his way he uses his equally impressive endurance to run away.
His specialty is his intellect which is very high but in spite of this his magic is very weak. He does however know many things having spent much time studying them: these vary from arcane and esoteric facts to a sound knowledge of alchemy and other more applied magic types. He knows some conjuration but only to bring deadra into the mortal plane, he cannot summon one briefly. Such rites take a considerable time to perform.
He has travelled extensively in his search for knowledge and has learnt much of human nature as well as arcane knowledge. He has a knack for wandering into trouble and getting back out again.
Note: For his unusual conjuration think of Hutleen’s Hut in Morrowind as opposed to what the PC does, i.e. once summoned the creature will last a long time and keeping it in control may be a problem.
Personality: Thirst for learning is what drives him but he is also a free spirit who hates to be in one place doing one thing for too long. He is easily bored and when he becomes so he will drift on or make something interesting happen. In spite of this he can be very focused on whatever he is currently studying but as soon as he knows a good bit about it he will loose interest and go on to something else. He thinks of himself as independent but likes the company of others.
He has a flagrant disregard for laws though where possible he will avoid hurting people. He mistrusts warriors, especially the less intelligent ones.
Brief History: He was born to a young Redoran noblewoman and a travelling ashlander merchant in central Morrowind. In spite of his parentage his grandfather saw that he was educated well. To his grandfather’s dismay he prove inept at fighting but did show to have a memory matched by his desire to fill it. However when a mage and retainer tried to teach him it quickly became evident that, while he possessed great intellect and understanding of magic, he couldn’t cast anything but the most basic spells. He did however prove to be an exceptional student of alchemy.
Having failed at weaponry and magic he was groomed for commerce and picked up the basics of more trades but he was quickly bored. Combined with the stresses of the oblivion crisis and his mother’s marriage to another noble he became less welcome and so seventeen years ago left to make his fortune.
He travelled to Vvardenfel where his knowledge of magic and curiosity got him involved in deadra worship and helped the cult he joined delved deeply into the rituals of summoning. After a dark time this ended in a disaster for which he was largely to blame and also the sole survivor.
Badly shaken he forsook that life and started his wanderings doing casual work sponging off house Redoran which he retains a degree of loyalty to. He studied various subjects, most notably the Ashlanders, where his lineage and knowledge of alchemy made him welcome and where learnt some of his unusual fighting techniques, and Dwemer ruins where they were often put to test. He read many arcane texts further expanding his knowledge which he puts to the good of his house.
Most recently he came across a strange Ayleid stone and has travelled to Cyrodiil in search of understanding them.
Strengths: He has great knowledge and uses his intelligence to gain the upper hand. He is reasonably fast and can run from almost anything, he also speaks a number of languages. He can mix fairly spectacular poisons and potions and those summonings can be powerful when they happen and if they don’t backfire.
Weaknesses: Those summonings often don’t happen and backfire, after the disaster he swore never to do it again. He isn’t a master of weaponry and isn’t very strong or brave. He cannot perform magic beyond lighting a candle.
Name: Indor Varyon
Age: 36
Sex: Male
Race: Dunmer
Birthsign: Steed
Class: Traveller (Rogue/pilgrim/scout hybrid)
His notable skills are: Alchemy, Hand to hand, Unarmoured, Blunt (almost exclusively staves), Athletics, Marksman (he knows some but isn’t great), Conjuration (odd style, doesn’t use it)
He also has considerable knowledge of varied usefulness
Appearance: Youthful and thin even for a Dunmer but with some muscle. His black hair is in a high style adding to his already noticeable height. His eyes are an unusually dark red. His is immensely fit and looks it and is quite capable of running all day without rest. He wears cheap clothes as what little money he has he spends acquiring more knowledge. He has an extremely light leather cuirass which doesn’t hinder movement but equally offers only very scant protection; rather he relies of evading or absorbing most blows. When he expects close fighting will be unavoidable he wears a heavier pair of bracers to deflect attacks with. His chest and upper arms are covered in tattoos of his native style.
Equipment: He has a reasonable mortar and pestle but tends to bodge any other apparatus together when he needs it. He has a very light leather cuirass and heavier gauntlets which he found while prowling around a ruin. He wears a heavy cloak which though useful for camouflage has no enchantment. His only valuable possession is his staff which has a healing enchantment. He also carries a cheap bow and a couple of darts which he uses to deliver poisons.
He can manage a very weak fire spell which is only really fit for distraction or arson, though might be nasty if it hit you in the face.
Abilities: He is not much of a fighter and will only fight on his own terms when he has the advantage. He will never fight cleanly and is happy to use any trick, especially poison. If he cannot use his intelligence to swing things his way he uses his equally impressive endurance to run away.
His specialty is his intellect which is very high but in spite of this his magic is very weak. He does however know many things having spent much time studying them: these vary from arcane and esoteric facts to a sound knowledge of alchemy and other more applied magic types. He knows some conjuration but only to bring deadra into the mortal plane, he cannot summon one briefly. Such rites take a considerable time to perform.
He has travelled extensively in his search for knowledge and has learnt much of human nature as well as arcane knowledge. He has a knack for wandering into trouble and getting back out again.
Note: For his unusual conjuration think of Hutleen’s Hut in Morrowind as opposed to what the PC does, i.e. once summoned the creature will last a long time and keeping it in control may be a problem.
Personality: Thirst for learning is what drives him but he is also a free spirit who hates to be in one place doing one thing for too long. He is easily bored and when he becomes so he will drift on or make something interesting happen. In spite of this he can be very focused on whatever he is currently studying but as soon as he knows a good bit about it he will loose interest and go on to something else. He thinks of himself as independent but likes the company of others.
He has a flagrant disregard for laws though where possible he will avoid hurting people. He mistrusts warriors, especially the less intelligent ones.
Brief History: He was born to a young Redoran noblewoman and a travelling ashlander merchant in central Morrowind. In spite of his parentage his grandfather saw that he was educated well. To his grandfather’s dismay he prove inept at fighting but did show to have a memory matched by his desire to fill it. However when a mage and retainer tried to teach him it quickly became evident that, while he possessed great intellect and understanding of magic, he couldn’t cast anything but the most basic spells. He did however prove to be an exceptional student of alchemy.
Having failed at weaponry and magic he was groomed for commerce and picked up the basics of more trades but he was quickly bored. Combined with the stresses of the oblivion crisis and his mother’s marriage to another noble he became less welcome and so seventeen years ago left to make his fortune.
He travelled to Vvardenfel where his knowledge of magic and curiosity got him involved in deadra worship and helped the cult he joined delved deeply into the rituals of summoning. After a dark time this ended in a disaster for which he was largely to blame and also the sole survivor.
Badly shaken he forsook that life and started his wanderings doing casual work sponging off house Redoran which he retains a degree of loyalty to. He studied various subjects, most notably the Ashlanders, where his lineage and knowledge of alchemy made him welcome and where learnt some of his unusual fighting techniques, and Dwemer ruins where they were often put to test. He read many arcane texts further expanding his knowledge which he puts to the good of his house.
Most recently he came across a strange Ayleid stone and has travelled to Cyrodiil in search of understanding them.
Strengths: He has great knowledge and uses his intelligence to gain the upper hand. He is reasonably fast and can run from almost anything, he also speaks a number of languages. He can mix fairly spectacular poisons and potions and those summonings can be powerful when they happen and if they don’t backfire.
Weaknesses: Those summonings often don’t happen and backfire, after the disaster he swore never to do it again. He isn’t a master of weaponry and isn’t very strong or brave. He cannot perform magic beyond lighting a candle.
I like him. I see strenghts, I see weaknesses. I see personality.
Welcome aboard, I'd say.
Welcome aboard, I'd say.
Name : Savirien Masakado
Race : Tsaesci
Class : Warrior
Age : 287
Sex : male
Appearance : Looks like most Tsaesci do. Tall and eel-like, with small scales of a hue of green which resemble mail when the sun shines upon them. Mail coloured in all shades of green thinkable. He has long, snake-like eyes with vertical slit pupils. He also has quite a few scars from past battles and a small part of his tail missing, obviously hacked off by an opponent's katana.
Equipment : Tsaesci battle-armour. Somewhat lighter than Tamrielic full plate armour but provides the mobility so prized by Akaviri warriors. Composed of overlapping plates of steel along with thick silk to cover up any exposed. The silk is decorated with traditional Tsaesci hunting scenes and various battles with the Tiger Dragons or Snow Demons inhabiting Akavir. He wears no helm. His main weapon is an Akaviri katana of fine make and lineage, forged by a famous smith almost thirty years before the siege of the Imperial City. His secondary weapon is a wakizashi which he always keeps at his waist and sometimes uses in combination with the katana.
Personality : Savirien prizes honour above all, especially honour in combat against one's opponent. Despite the value he puts in honour he has little qualms when it comes to slaughtering any enemy if he is so commanded by his superior officer. He shows open disdain against lesser opponents though he considers giving his foes a "clean death" to be all important in any battle, regardless of your opponent. Accordingly, he rarely underestimates his foes and openly disagrees with all who do so. He is well educated and courteous when the situation demands it. Savirien also considers war to be a very important business which should be conducted with great care and he also considers it vital that wars be finished quickly. Thus, he will sometimes sacrifice a more secure option which would take longer in favour of a quicker solution which would appear more fool-hardy. He also has a rather odd mentality (at least in the minds of his peers) that wars should be won without actually fighting. Sadly however, that is rarely the case.
Brief History : Savirien was born into a middle Tsaesci noble family, the son of a respected warlord. Savirien greatly admired his father and always strived to be like him in most matters. That all ended when the emperor of the Tamrielics, Uriel the V, invaded Akavir, trying to conquer his homeland. Despite the large numbers of the foreigners and the cunning of their leader, they were defeated in the end. Savirien's father however was cut down when a host of Tamrielics ambushed the camp where his and several other warlords' forces were gathering. From that point onwards, Savirien always had a deep dislike for the people of Tamriel, thinking they robbed him of his father without cause.
From then on, Savirien fought to be like his father, going into the employment of another warlord at a young age. There, he gained fame as a warrior, cutting down twelve other Tsaesci nobles in less than three battles and bringing the pelts of two Tiger Dragon chieftains after a failed invasion. As the years passed, Savirien started losing the speed he had when he was younger yet he still retained his skill and reflexes. Eventually, he started commanding troops of his own. Thus, he came into the service of the mysterious Silhouette, the leader and unifier of the Akaviri forces. The exploits of the Silhouette soon brought Savirien to the door-step of the Imperial City, the capital of Tamriel, the city of his most hated enemies.
Other Relevant info : I don't like tomatoes.
Race : Tsaesci
Class : Warrior
Age : 287
Sex : male
Appearance : Looks like most Tsaesci do. Tall and eel-like, with small scales of a hue of green which resemble mail when the sun shines upon them. Mail coloured in all shades of green thinkable. He has long, snake-like eyes with vertical slit pupils. He also has quite a few scars from past battles and a small part of his tail missing, obviously hacked off by an opponent's katana.
Equipment : Tsaesci battle-armour. Somewhat lighter than Tamrielic full plate armour but provides the mobility so prized by Akaviri warriors. Composed of overlapping plates of steel along with thick silk to cover up any exposed. The silk is decorated with traditional Tsaesci hunting scenes and various battles with the Tiger Dragons or Snow Demons inhabiting Akavir. He wears no helm. His main weapon is an Akaviri katana of fine make and lineage, forged by a famous smith almost thirty years before the siege of the Imperial City. His secondary weapon is a wakizashi which he always keeps at his waist and sometimes uses in combination with the katana.
Personality : Savirien prizes honour above all, especially honour in combat against one's opponent. Despite the value he puts in honour he has little qualms when it comes to slaughtering any enemy if he is so commanded by his superior officer. He shows open disdain against lesser opponents though he considers giving his foes a "clean death" to be all important in any battle, regardless of your opponent. Accordingly, he rarely underestimates his foes and openly disagrees with all who do so. He is well educated and courteous when the situation demands it. Savirien also considers war to be a very important business which should be conducted with great care and he also considers it vital that wars be finished quickly. Thus, he will sometimes sacrifice a more secure option which would take longer in favour of a quicker solution which would appear more fool-hardy. He also has a rather odd mentality (at least in the minds of his peers) that wars should be won without actually fighting. Sadly however, that is rarely the case.
Brief History : Savirien was born into a middle Tsaesci noble family, the son of a respected warlord. Savirien greatly admired his father and always strived to be like him in most matters. That all ended when the emperor of the Tamrielics, Uriel the V, invaded Akavir, trying to conquer his homeland. Despite the large numbers of the foreigners and the cunning of their leader, they were defeated in the end. Savirien's father however was cut down when a host of Tamrielics ambushed the camp where his and several other warlords' forces were gathering. From that point onwards, Savirien always had a deep dislike for the people of Tamriel, thinking they robbed him of his father without cause.
From then on, Savirien fought to be like his father, going into the employment of another warlord at a young age. There, he gained fame as a warrior, cutting down twelve other Tsaesci nobles in less than three battles and bringing the pelts of two Tiger Dragon chieftains after a failed invasion. As the years passed, Savirien started losing the speed he had when he was younger yet he still retained his skill and reflexes. Eventually, he started commanding troops of his own. Thus, he came into the service of the mysterious Silhouette, the leader and unifier of the Akaviri forces. The exploits of the Silhouette soon brought Savirien to the door-step of the Imperial City, the capital of Tamriel, the city of his most hated enemies.
Other Relevant info : I don't like tomatoes.
i reinserted mannimarco, yall know him
Also want to reconfigure patholos as soon as i find out if he still is playable.
Also want to reconfigure patholos as soon as i find out if he still is playable.
Hey everyone, I've been hopping around...kinda got lost playing some french MUD game..... then I got back into shooting dice... and im in the us marines....im 17...and I wanna join this rp!
Name: Kashin Hlaalu
Race: Dunmer
Age: 110
Class: Ordinator/Paladin(?)
Male: male
Hometown:
Appearance: A very young looking dunmer, about 5'11 and is very lean in terms of muscle mass. Always has a natural smirk. Maroon colored eyes. Eyes are moderatly slanted, with a high and thin eyebrow arch. He has black hair, with a short high fade . Wears a full suit of 'hands' ordinator armor, which has seen the wears and tears of his 90 years of service to necrom. He wears a simple black cotton cloak over his armor. Instead of a scimitar, he wears a leather vest which carries scrolls for him to summon various types of undead creatures.
Personality: A vary young and war educated dunmer, at the age of 20, he was inducted into the house indoril, and in that same year, selected and graduated the shadowy training that all hands of almalexia go through. Through his years, he has been permanetly been stationed at necrom, but retires this year due to undesclosed conflicts between him and the local corpses... very fond of necromancy and summoning. He likes to suck his teeth at irritation or a problem. He is a drunk, which is the leading cause of him rushing into fistfights with nords(a very big mead fan), which usualy ends with him winning... by death. Never allowed to bear a scimitar while in uniform(slashed vivec's dining table at a ceremony), he picked up various martial arts from the kajit and various wrestling/grappling arts from the nords(hence him being able to move so quick while in heavy armor)
Name: Kashin Hlaalu
Race: Dunmer
Age: 110
Class: Ordinator/Paladin(?)
Male: male
Hometown:
Appearance: A very young looking dunmer, about 5'11 and is very lean in terms of muscle mass. Always has a natural smirk. Maroon colored eyes. Eyes are moderatly slanted, with a high and thin eyebrow arch. He has black hair, with a short high fade . Wears a full suit of 'hands' ordinator armor, which has seen the wears and tears of his 90 years of service to necrom. He wears a simple black cotton cloak over his armor. Instead of a scimitar, he wears a leather vest which carries scrolls for him to summon various types of undead creatures.
Personality: A vary young and war educated dunmer, at the age of 20, he was inducted into the house indoril, and in that same year, selected and graduated the shadowy training that all hands of almalexia go through. Through his years, he has been permanetly been stationed at necrom, but retires this year due to undesclosed conflicts between him and the local corpses... very fond of necromancy and summoning. He likes to suck his teeth at irritation or a problem. He is a drunk, which is the leading cause of him rushing into fistfights with nords(a very big mead fan), which usualy ends with him winning... by death. Never allowed to bear a scimitar while in uniform(slashed vivec's dining table at a ceremony), he picked up various martial arts from the kajit and various wrestling/grappling arts from the nords(hence him being able to move so quick while in heavy armor)
Name : Arik Shieldhart
Race : Imperial
Class : Warrior (Imperial Legionnaire)
Age : 30
Sex : Male
Appearance : 6'2", slightly long brown hair, green eyes
Equipment : Legion Armor, silver sword, silver bow and arrows
Personality : Calm, warm personality, but does not trust others quickly
Brief History : Was born to Garrick and Lena Shieldhart. After he was born, his father left for Morrowind, while his mother stayed in Anvil. At the age of four, his father obtained legal rights to raise Arik, and brought him to Vvardenfell. At the youngest age, Arik joined the Legion at Gnisis. He was soon transferred to Cyrodiil and is now stationed on the trails surrounded the Imperial City.
Other Relevant info : None. He's just another Imperial Legion soldier you'd find riding a horse down a path.
Race : Imperial
Class : Warrior (Imperial Legionnaire)
Age : 30
Sex : Male
Appearance : 6'2", slightly long brown hair, green eyes
Equipment : Legion Armor, silver sword, silver bow and arrows
Personality : Calm, warm personality, but does not trust others quickly
Brief History : Was born to Garrick and Lena Shieldhart. After he was born, his father left for Morrowind, while his mother stayed in Anvil. At the age of four, his father obtained legal rights to raise Arik, and brought him to Vvardenfell. At the youngest age, Arik joined the Legion at Gnisis. He was soon transferred to Cyrodiil and is now stationed on the trails surrounded the Imperial City.
Other Relevant info : None. He's just another Imperial Legion soldier you'd find riding a horse down a path.
You might want to post your character in the To Heir is Human III Character thread. We've just finished the rp this thread belongs to.
Name : Kaine Moreland
Race : Dark Elf
Class : Paladin
Age : 25
Sex : Male
Appearance : 6'0 Shorter Black Hair
Equipment : Black Robe and a Wooden Mage's Staff called Staff of Magius
Personality : More to himself inside his labratory
Brief History : was born in Chorrol in cyrodiil and later moved to morrowind where he moved around alot
Other Relevant info : Is an Ex Sixth House supporter
Race : Dark Elf
Class : Paladin
Age : 25
Sex : Male
Appearance : 6'0 Shorter Black Hair
Equipment : Black Robe and a Wooden Mage's Staff called Staff of Magius
Personality : More to himself inside his labratory
Brief History : was born in Chorrol in cyrodiil and later moved to morrowind where he moved around alot
Other Relevant info : Is an Ex Sixth House supporter
Name :Lla-meht-sllik
Race :Ork (80% orc 20% orge((so his granfather was overly horny who are you to judge?))
Class :Brak-Jelz (Dark-Guard)
Age :25
Sex : Male
Appearance : The Ork Subrace was born in a volcano through a fiery union between an Dark skinned Orc and a Ash Orge* Their skin is pure black although some red splotches do make it to the Orks' face (to see how this would look pick an orc in Char creation and pick face, tone, skin full dark. from then on it varies)
Equipment : Brak has a Dwemer one handed hammer called Rehsurc enchanted with a reincarnate metal (turns any large pile of metal into a flawed centrioun) He wears the Epar Curaiss, a full black daedric chestplate granted to him by Molag Mar for burning Marick Hollow farm area to the ground and opening a Deadric gate in the small island near the Imperial city. He prefers dwarven greaves and boots, and due to his longlasting fear of water, has paid a Altemer to enchant his boots with water walking. The Ork clan prefers not to use helmets. If their lives are at risk they will summon a bound helmet, gaunlets, curriass, and greaves. This is a Lesser power that costs 1 magika. Unfourtunatly the Ork clan has no magika what-so-ever and must drink multiple potions to fortify it as they also resist any liquids consumed and any magika that affects them.
Personality :Although he is feared by all the races he attempts to maintain a large circle of freinds.
Due to his murderous apperance he can only befreind the Dark Brotherhood and Vampieres who think he's to evil to rant them out to the guards. He has one true freind and that is Jauffre the Grandmaster of the blades. He saved his life once, killing a spider dedrea unit sent to dispatch the blades during their fight near the Grand Gate of Oblivion near Anvil. He sleeps in a secret area under the bruma chapel and carved a fake grave and furnished it with a fur pillow and a leather blanket
Brief History : Due to a long and persistint hunt by the Dummer, the Altemer and the, Wood Elves his race has dwindeld to a mere clan. There are five members of this clan all male. Unfourtunalty only Llort-a-kucf is willing to go back to the volcano and reunite with the trolls once agian. Lla-meht-sllik was born the runt of the pack and is still tormented although he enheireted more of his orge growth then anyone else and now stands taller then most altemer although he has met only 15 and they are much shorter after loping off their heads.
Other Relevant info : Thinks glass is too weak to use as a weapon and will refuse any glass wep/armor you give him. Worships the Prince Jyggalag, all the while wishing for order. May have some distant realation to one of Jyggalags Knights.
*no realation to Morrowind Ash creatures, simply an orge family that spent to much time near to much heat.
Race :Ork (80% orc 20% orge((so his granfather was overly horny who are you to judge?))
Class :Brak-Jelz (Dark-Guard)
Age :25
Sex : Male
Appearance : The Ork Subrace was born in a volcano through a fiery union between an Dark skinned Orc and a Ash Orge* Their skin is pure black although some red splotches do make it to the Orks' face (to see how this would look pick an orc in Char creation and pick face, tone, skin full dark. from then on it varies)
Equipment : Brak has a Dwemer one handed hammer called Rehsurc enchanted with a reincarnate metal (turns any large pile of metal into a flawed centrioun) He wears the Epar Curaiss, a full black daedric chestplate granted to him by Molag Mar for burning Marick Hollow farm area to the ground and opening a Deadric gate in the small island near the Imperial city. He prefers dwarven greaves and boots, and due to his longlasting fear of water, has paid a Altemer to enchant his boots with water walking. The Ork clan prefers not to use helmets. If their lives are at risk they will summon a bound helmet, gaunlets, curriass, and greaves. This is a Lesser power that costs 1 magika. Unfourtunatly the Ork clan has no magika what-so-ever and must drink multiple potions to fortify it as they also resist any liquids consumed and any magika that affects them.
Personality :Although he is feared by all the races he attempts to maintain a large circle of freinds.
Due to his murderous apperance he can only befreind the Dark Brotherhood and Vampieres who think he's to evil to rant them out to the guards. He has one true freind and that is Jauffre the Grandmaster of the blades. He saved his life once, killing a spider dedrea unit sent to dispatch the blades during their fight near the Grand Gate of Oblivion near Anvil. He sleeps in a secret area under the bruma chapel and carved a fake grave and furnished it with a fur pillow and a leather blanket
Brief History : Due to a long and persistint hunt by the Dummer, the Altemer and the, Wood Elves his race has dwindeld to a mere clan. There are five members of this clan all male. Unfourtunalty only Llort-a-kucf is willing to go back to the volcano and reunite with the trolls once agian. Lla-meht-sllik was born the runt of the pack and is still tormented although he enheireted more of his orge growth then anyone else and now stands taller then most altemer although he has met only 15 and they are much shorter after loping off their heads.
Other Relevant info : Thinks glass is too weak to use as a weapon and will refuse any glass wep/armor you give him. Worships the Prince Jyggalag, all the while wishing for order. May have some distant realation to one of Jyggalags Knights.
*no realation to Morrowind Ash creatures, simply an orge family that spent to much time near to much heat.
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