(Some of you already know the basic story of this RP, but I'll delve deeper for those who don't know. Or, you could just go to the old one.)
It is in the first year of the Fourth Era, and chaos reigns supreme. The Crisis took a part of the world with it to Oblivion, and the greedy hearts of men, elves and beasts had allowed for the Breaking of the Empire to occur. Each province has declared its independence and each has walked down the lesser path by following their heart's desire.
Morrowind and Argonia took the chance of the Empire being weakened to settle old feuds. The guerilla lizards have put up a decent fight, but the Dunmeri were unstoppable. Two Argonian cities have fallen, and many more will if there aren't any outside help. The Dark Elves seek the Roots of Svelkreen, a green gem supposedly able to stop time itself.
The restraint the Empire had on Hammerfell and Skyrim now gone, the two warrior race have entered full-blown war and the dead are piling up in mountains. The two race seek an artifact known as Kronos' Limb, a gem that could slow time itself. Set in a deadlock, only an outside influence can break the stalemate.
Burning hate between the Khajiit and the Wood Elves now exploded as the two enter the battlefield. For several months, it was a war that only inculded ambushes and raids. When the Khajiit learns of a gem called the Apple, a gem that could fast-forward time itself, they press the attack and the Bosmer are pushed back. It is clear that without any help, the Elves would lose.
The magickal provinces of High Rock and the Summerset Isles now tears at the very fabric of reality as they each search for the Garaviniel, a broken shard of a gem that could lend the wielder control of time itself. Daedra are summoned, the undead raised.. If one were to step foot into Breton soil or swim in the Altmeri see, one would be literally shocked at how the raw magick there are sizzling.
As chaos spreads throughout the Empire, the Imperial race stand in the middle, confused and impotent. The legions can't be used to stop the wars, as they are busy protecting the borders. The guilds are practically useless, even more so the Mages Guild.
To stop this chaos, only the likes of the Champion can. Adventurers. The Emperor Martin now recruits YOU, experienced adventurers and veteran mercs, to quell this anarchy and bring peace to Tamriel. You would be remembered in history as the ones who gathered the Shards of a Broken Empire.
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The Rules
1. I, to some extent, control important NPCs. Only NPCs that could forward the plot though.
2. You get to create as many characters as you want, assuming of course you can keep track of them.
3. Romance is allowed, to some extent. No blatant ... scenes, OK?
4. A balanced character is generally preferred, but Uber characters aren't.
5. Errr, have fun?
6. Character death is very much encouraged. Oh yes. I want your characters to die! Muahaha! Nah, I'm kidding, but my point still stands. Being wounded or outright killed can dramatize the plot and even help character growth! So be a sadist on your characters!
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The Character Sheet
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Appearance:
Weapons:
Armor:
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc):
History and Background:
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summurset Isles:
-Valenwood:
-Morrowind:
Cyrodiil:
-High Rock:
-Hammerfell:
-Skyrim:
-Black Marsh
-Elsweyr:
-Orsinium:
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Any questions? Feel free to ask!
Full Version: Shards of a Broken Empire
Sounds good, i'm in if you'll have me.
Name: Blaiddalen (Blaif-Alen)
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Breton (Kinda, see below)
Appearance: Long brown hair thats tied into a pony tail which reaches midway down his back. He has pale skin, thats covered with intricate woad markings. His eyes are blue and he has slightly longer canines than most people. He's taller than most Bretons, reaching a deal over six feet, and is lean with muscle.
Weapons: A long ashwood spear, with a steel leaf blade on one end and a steel spiked counterweight as well as a tall ash longbow with a quiver of bodkin arrows.
Armor: Soft leather boots lined with rabbit fur, leather trousers with a long simple belt. A cloth shirt dyed with a mixture of forest greens and browns, with a matching cloak.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): An enchanted wolf's tooth necklace that gives him limited night eye and detect life.
History:Blaiddalen comes from a small group of people who have long lived in the wild lands of High Rock. Living in the unforgiving hills and the deep swamps and forests they have never embraced the feudal nature of the rest of the Bretons, and don't even consider themselves Breton at all. While centuries of inter-breeding has given a few of the wild folk a talent for magick, their lineage is actually more of a mixture of Nord and Mer, some believe the last remnants of the Falmer though the Bosmer are closer fits to their nature.
Blaiddalen won his name on his 17th birthday, his true name, the name only given to those who have accomplished something for the people. Be it hunting a worthy creature, warring on another tribe, or tending to the people to improve their lives. Blaiddalen's name was won after he saved a travelling healer from a wolf attack. The healer, in grattitude, tended to the ills of Blaiddalen's people for nearly a month. On his 21st birthday Blaiddalen won the right to take a wife, for killing the champion of a warring clan. However, the taste for battle got into his bones, and he left shortly after to take up a life of mercenary work. Lending his considerable hunting talent to anyone who could offer him a worthy a challenge.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles: The Altmer, to Blaidalen, are too close to lordly masters to be friends with. He respects their considerable magickal powers, but believes that they have given up the true way of life, the way of toil and war, to live in decadence.
-Valenwood: Seeing the Bosmer as similar wild folk, and as great hunters, Blaiddalen has a deeper respect for them than most. However, he reserves judgement for those individuals he meets, since he knows that all people have a few who are dissapointments.
-Morrowind: The Dunmer are a strange race, fanatics and zealots they are also made strong by the land and are considerable warriors. Blaidalen always relishes the fight, since a Dunmer is master of many forms of combat, but he is wary of their tempers and their religious fervour.
Cyrodiil:The Imperials are to be judged based on individuals, they had the military prowess to best the other races in combat and the wit and knowing to best them politically as well. Now though they have fallen from the power, and while some grow fat and lazy others struggle to regain what is theirs.
-High Rock: Bretons are traitors who have given up the old ways, they seek to be Altmer, and rule those who are truly free. They have skill in magic and in arms, but they prefer to hide away and bury their heads in paper.
-Hammerfell: Redguards are warriors to the core, following old traditions and mastering the blade. However a master of a single skill is a wasted thing. While he has no great hate for redguards Blaiddalen bears them no love.
-Skyrim: Nords are a strong people, made so by their homeland. There are those who toil and hunt and fight like Blaiddalen does, and this he appreciates. However they also give in to excess, drinking and fighting when there is no need too, and no glory in it.
-Black Marsh: The Argonians live in a dangerous land, and thrive there. While they are more akin to something he would hunt, Blaiddalen realises that it must be some great wisdom and courage that allows sucn a people to exist in such an inhospitable place.
-Elsweyr: Khajit are not people to be trusted, they are cunning and sly, winning wars with trickery and deceit rather than combat. They hide their true nature under fur and whiskers, but Blaiddalen knows every cat has claws.
-Orsinium: Orcs are a noble people, seeking glory in battle and winning it most often. They are great craftsmen and fighters, but not hunters. Blaiddalen has fought orcs, and found it a rewarding past time. But as a people they are too strong willed to be loved.
Name: Blaiddalen (Blaif-Alen)
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Breton (Kinda, see below)
Appearance: Long brown hair thats tied into a pony tail which reaches midway down his back. He has pale skin, thats covered with intricate woad markings. His eyes are blue and he has slightly longer canines than most people. He's taller than most Bretons, reaching a deal over six feet, and is lean with muscle.
Weapons: A long ashwood spear, with a steel leaf blade on one end and a steel spiked counterweight as well as a tall ash longbow with a quiver of bodkin arrows.
Armor: Soft leather boots lined with rabbit fur, leather trousers with a long simple belt. A cloth shirt dyed with a mixture of forest greens and browns, with a matching cloak.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): An enchanted wolf's tooth necklace that gives him limited night eye and detect life.
History:Blaiddalen comes from a small group of people who have long lived in the wild lands of High Rock. Living in the unforgiving hills and the deep swamps and forests they have never embraced the feudal nature of the rest of the Bretons, and don't even consider themselves Breton at all. While centuries of inter-breeding has given a few of the wild folk a talent for magick, their lineage is actually more of a mixture of Nord and Mer, some believe the last remnants of the Falmer though the Bosmer are closer fits to their nature.
Blaiddalen won his name on his 17th birthday, his true name, the name only given to those who have accomplished something for the people. Be it hunting a worthy creature, warring on another tribe, or tending to the people to improve their lives. Blaiddalen's name was won after he saved a travelling healer from a wolf attack. The healer, in grattitude, tended to the ills of Blaiddalen's people for nearly a month. On his 21st birthday Blaiddalen won the right to take a wife, for killing the champion of a warring clan. However, the taste for battle got into his bones, and he left shortly after to take up a life of mercenary work. Lending his considerable hunting talent to anyone who could offer him a worthy a challenge.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles: The Altmer, to Blaidalen, are too close to lordly masters to be friends with. He respects their considerable magickal powers, but believes that they have given up the true way of life, the way of toil and war, to live in decadence.
-Valenwood: Seeing the Bosmer as similar wild folk, and as great hunters, Blaiddalen has a deeper respect for them than most. However, he reserves judgement for those individuals he meets, since he knows that all people have a few who are dissapointments.
-Morrowind: The Dunmer are a strange race, fanatics and zealots they are also made strong by the land and are considerable warriors. Blaidalen always relishes the fight, since a Dunmer is master of many forms of combat, but he is wary of their tempers and their religious fervour.
Cyrodiil:The Imperials are to be judged based on individuals, they had the military prowess to best the other races in combat and the wit and knowing to best them politically as well. Now though they have fallen from the power, and while some grow fat and lazy others struggle to regain what is theirs.
-High Rock: Bretons are traitors who have given up the old ways, they seek to be Altmer, and rule those who are truly free. They have skill in magic and in arms, but they prefer to hide away and bury their heads in paper.
-Hammerfell: Redguards are warriors to the core, following old traditions and mastering the blade. However a master of a single skill is a wasted thing. While he has no great hate for redguards Blaiddalen bears them no love.
-Skyrim: Nords are a strong people, made so by their homeland. There are those who toil and hunt and fight like Blaiddalen does, and this he appreciates. However they also give in to excess, drinking and fighting when there is no need too, and no glory in it.
-Black Marsh: The Argonians live in a dangerous land, and thrive there. While they are more akin to something he would hunt, Blaiddalen realises that it must be some great wisdom and courage that allows sucn a people to exist in such an inhospitable place.
-Elsweyr: Khajit are not people to be trusted, they are cunning and sly, winning wars with trickery and deceit rather than combat. They hide their true nature under fur and whiskers, but Blaiddalen knows every cat has claws.
-Orsinium: Orcs are a noble people, seeking glory in battle and winning it most often. They are great craftsmen and fighters, but not hunters. Blaiddalen has fought orcs, and found it a rewarding past time. But as a people they are too strong willed to be loved.
(Ok, I think I have everything filled in now. Feel free to tell me if I missed anything or need to change something)
Name: Semir Grey
Age: 51
Gender: male
Race: Breton
Weapons:
While Semir is reasonably proficient in just about any weapon. (In other words, he knows which part to hold and which to poke with), his expertise lies in unarmed combat and to a lesser extent in archery. As such, he simply doesn’t carry any weapon other than a small crossbow and a pack of bolts at his hip. If he needs something else, he just collects it on the spot.
Armor: A picture says a thousand words, so let's start with one.
Other than the clothes shown in the picture, he wears a pair of solid steel bracers beneath his sleeves. They’re mostly there to help parry attacks from bladed weapons. Same thing with his boots.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc):
Semir has an ankh which he wears around his neck. A relic from the Lysander crisis in early E3 400, the ankh wards off undead. Its effect is minor on vampires and liches, but it is more than powerful enough to enable a casual stroll through an army of wraiths, ghosts, skeletons, zombies etc. Or at least it was during the crisis. Semir hasn’t been able to find an army of undead to test it on in decades.
History and Background:
Semir has no recollection of his parents. Later private investigations in the matter revealed that he was the honoured user offspring of a minor noble who unceremoniously removed the infant from his home in order to save face. Semir never confronted the nobleman with his findings.
So Semir grew up in the care of an old man who kept the local woods safe from bandits and predatorial animals. It was from him that Semir learned how to run and how to fight with his fists. He was also taught basic techniques for a bewildering array of weapons even though the training in this aspect was more often than not purely theory. He also learned how to fish in the streams and some basic etiquette. Sometimes he would follow the old man on his patrols.
It was an injury given to him in a fight against a small group of bandits that ended the old man’s life. The wound was one he would have shrugged off if he was only ten years younger but proved fatal in the end. Before passing away, the man gave Semir a letter of introduction and asked him to continue his training. Semir left the next day, having taken only enough time to bury the man that raised him and to gather the bare essentials for his journey.
The letter of introduction led him to a militia in a town near Daggerfall. For the next few years, Semir continued his training in archery, but ignored the sessions about armour due to lack of funds. He also became an instructor in the art of unarmed combat, which provided him with sufficient funds to continue his own training and live in a small shack at the town’s edge.
Perhaps the greatest change in Semir’s life came when the ghost-army of Lysander plagued Daggerfall. He was recruited into the Blades, not openly as a noble knight sworn to protect the Emperor’s emissaries, but as a member of the less visible and less glorious information-gathering branch. His task was to find why the wraiths roamed the streets of Daggerfall each night and to put a stop to it. His search brought him in contact with the necromancers that hid in and near the city. Semir and his companions, sometimes aided by the regular guards or mages, arrested or killed many of the necromancers. Questioning however, brought no answers. The necromancers were as confused as everyone else, and blamed each other for Lysander’s haunting. In the end, the army of the dead vanished as mysteriously as they’d come. Semir never knew whether anything he’d done had led to the solution of the crisis.
Semir remained in Daggerfall, continuing his work as a Blade and kept a low profile. His only claim to fame in the period after E3 420, were his actions during the Oblivion crisis. He joined the army as a mercenary and was active in three incursions into Oblivion though he never played a decisive role or appeared to be anything more than a simple mercenary.
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summurset Isles:
Where to begin? The Summurset Isles are supposedly the most beautiful place in Tamriel. Towers made from the finest glass, trees with leaves of pure gold etc. Heh, stories like that belong in a fairytale. I spoke to a few Bretons who actually made it all the way to the coast during the war, before the seas became tainted. From their accounts, the isles aren’t anything special.
The Altmer aren’t my favorite guys either. They’re all so snobbish, not that the Bretons are much better. Back in the days you could talk to one without being turned into a quivering pile of ash just for existing, it was still like pulling teeth. All the ‘subtle’ insults and bragging, the way every scrap of info, every word is displayed as the gift of a benevolent god to a pitiful creature. Ugh, I’d rather talk to a zombie.
-Valenwood: Valenwood eh? Never been there but I do know that it is the largest source of Bosmer on the continent. But then again, who doesn’t know about that? Heard the trees move there. First I thought those were alcohol-induced hallucinations. My source loved to drink you know. But seven years later I ran into a walking tree of my own, a tiny one. Spriggans they’re called. So then I thought, if small trees can move, then why not big ones?
Moving back to the subject of Bosmer for the moment. Crafty little brats, all of them. Here in Daggerfall, everyone knows that nine out of ten Bosmer steal things from time to time but we rarely catch them in the act. Imperial law says we can’t just kick the lot of them out either, not without good proof of their activities. That said, I like the little fellows. All that natural and social inclination to stealing means they’re really good at getting into places they’re not welcome unseen. They make good eavesdroppers and night-time information gatherers if you get my drift. Of course, that same skill that makes them so useful means you need to keep a short leash. They’re useful, but can’t trust them.
-Morrowind:
Morrowind, land of the Dunmer. If there was a breed of pointy-ears more obnoxious than the Altmer, they would be it. Like the Altmer, they’re a bunch of condescending egomaniacs, with a healthy dose of xenophobia added. And just like the Summerset Isles, Morrowind has never been a real part of the empire. It just hovers on the edge, paying a few taxes and pretending to be a loyal province. In reality? Well, neither Summerset nor Morrowind likes Imperial influence. They keep their own laws, their own government. The only influence the emperor has is his face on the damn coins. No wonder they seceded so quick.
Also, I heard the weather there is horrible.
Cyrodiil:
Ah, Cyrodiil. It looks like a fine place. The climate is good, the legions maintain a heavy presence and in general things are going well here, compared to the other provinces at least. Also interesting is the fact that Cyrodiil is the place with the greatest variety in its inhabitants. Members of all other provinces are here in roughly equal proportions. Maybe it is because they’re used to this diversity that the Cyrodillians are so much more tolerant than say, the Altmer or Dunmer.
-High Rock:
I’m from High Rock, Daggerfall specifically. So my opinion is more than a little biased here. In all, High Rock is a place of extremes. The common folk is decent enough, but the royalty are all a bunch of backstabbing, powerhungry, decadent hypocrites. No vice or sin is too much for those. But then again, I’ve spent decades probing for their dark secrets, the skeletons in their closets. I wouldn’t be surprised if my view is a bit darker than most simply because I know too much. But as I said, the common folk is decent enough and the royalty mostly screw each other over and leave the lower classes alone. Until taxday at least.
There is one thing that is breaking the province though. It is this idea of Breton exceptionalism. The cult of supremists has gained a nasty influence at the courts of the land. They say that we Bretons are the supreme master-race, carrying the magical blood of the elves and the intellect and inventiveness of man. I don’t care much for those ideas, if it hadn’t given such a big push to the war that is tearing us apart right now. And for what? To prove that Bretons are better than Altmer? I swear, it isn’t so much a war as it is two narcissists trying to outsmug each other.
-Hammerfell:
Hammerfell isn’t all that different from High Rock, at least the border areas. In fact, it is hard to tell where one province ends and the other starts. Things are a bit more obvious in the towns I visited, but not by much. As for the Redguards themselves. They’re solid folk. Being one of the three races that try to claim the title of ultimate warriors, Redguard culture puts a heavy emphasis on swordplay. Even if they only have a stick to work with, expect every single one of them to be at least reasonably proficient in the art of the sword. As good as a decently trained Legionnaire at least. Being so good and all, the Redguards can mostly take care of themselves. There isn’t really a dedicated guard for each town, because every citizen is a guard if needed. Bandits generally know not to attack a force superior to their own in numbers and in the Redguard’s case, all but the tiniest towns are a superior force. The only problem with all this training is, it makes bar brawls a bit nastier than they should.
-Skyrim:
I’ve been there once, on business. Too cold for my bones, that’s for sure. The Nords are rather loud and love to drink. At least the ones that I met. They also have a temper, but as long as you maintain the rules of etiquette and don’t insult their honour, they’re friendly enough. Almost too friendly in fact. A word of advice, never try to drink a Nord under the table. It just won’t work. The guy has more mass to absorb his drinks with and more experience at holding his liquor. Also, Nords are the second ‘ultimate warrior-race’. Unlike the Redguards who value elegant swordplay the most, Nords are a bit cruder with a preference for axes. Must be an outgrowth of their large forestry-economy.
It seems the Redguards and the Nords are at war right now. So I would avoid the Skyrim-Hammerfell borders if I were you. A Nord in a berserker-rage won’t be able to recognize friend from foe from innocent bystander and the Redguards are likely to see us pale Bretons as a small Nord. So in short, both sides would kill you.
-Black Marsh
If even half the stories I heard about that place are true, that province is worse than Oblivion. And I can know, having been through a gate twice. Many of us went in, not many came out. I suppose I could argue that the Black Marsh is another hanger-on like Summerset and Morrowind, but in this case it is simply because the damn place enjoys murdering the imperial presence so much. The Argonians themselves are at least friendlier and more polite than the bloody elves.
We don’t see too many Argonians in Daggerfell by the way, being on the other end of the continent and all. I must admit to being a bit nervous around the lizardfolk. Can’t read their expressions and bodylanguage. Still I stick by what I said before. Argonians are fine people, well-mannered and eager to learn and play by the rules of the place. Not to mention, them thriving in their homeland is pretty damn impressive to me.
-Elsweyr:
You can say about me what you like, but I hate the cats and setting foot on their land is not my intention. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them for their personality, their culture or any of the usual reasons. I’m just allergic to dogs and cats and no matter how clever the brain inside their skull is, they’re still big cats. I get a runny nose just thinking about it.
-Orsinium:
I dealt with the Orcs, or Orsimer, before. In fact, I can proudly claim to have helped make the province of Orsinium a reality. Orsinium isn’t a distinct province yet. In fact, half of High Rock refuses to acknowledge it and feels that Orsinium is either land stolen from its rightful Breton owners, or some sort of Orc preserve.
I pity the Orcs really. Used to hate them like everyone else did in the days, but not anymore. They’re decent folk actually and really value their honourcode. Sure, they’re uncivilized louts, but who is to blame for that? They’re willing enough to learn and fit in, but we just don’t let them. Centuries of being seen as monsters or big goblins have left their mark. An Orc isn’t accepted as a scholar, or a merchant, excluding weapon and armoursmiths. In fact, the reason so many Orcs these days are mercenaries, bandits or if they’re lucky Legionnaires, is because we don’t give them a choice in the matter. Maybe things will get better for them, but that will take time.
Name: Semir Grey
Age: 51
Gender: male
Race: Breton
Weapons:
While Semir is reasonably proficient in just about any weapon. (In other words, he knows which part to hold and which to poke with), his expertise lies in unarmed combat and to a lesser extent in archery. As such, he simply doesn’t carry any weapon other than a small crossbow and a pack of bolts at his hip. If he needs something else, he just collects it on the spot.
Armor: A picture says a thousand words, so let's start with one.
Other than the clothes shown in the picture, he wears a pair of solid steel bracers beneath his sleeves. They’re mostly there to help parry attacks from bladed weapons. Same thing with his boots.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc):
Semir has an ankh which he wears around his neck. A relic from the Lysander crisis in early E3 400, the ankh wards off undead. Its effect is minor on vampires and liches, but it is more than powerful enough to enable a casual stroll through an army of wraiths, ghosts, skeletons, zombies etc. Or at least it was during the crisis. Semir hasn’t been able to find an army of undead to test it on in decades.
History and Background:
Semir has no recollection of his parents. Later private investigations in the matter revealed that he was the honoured user offspring of a minor noble who unceremoniously removed the infant from his home in order to save face. Semir never confronted the nobleman with his findings.
So Semir grew up in the care of an old man who kept the local woods safe from bandits and predatorial animals. It was from him that Semir learned how to run and how to fight with his fists. He was also taught basic techniques for a bewildering array of weapons even though the training in this aspect was more often than not purely theory. He also learned how to fish in the streams and some basic etiquette. Sometimes he would follow the old man on his patrols.
It was an injury given to him in a fight against a small group of bandits that ended the old man’s life. The wound was one he would have shrugged off if he was only ten years younger but proved fatal in the end. Before passing away, the man gave Semir a letter of introduction and asked him to continue his training. Semir left the next day, having taken only enough time to bury the man that raised him and to gather the bare essentials for his journey.
The letter of introduction led him to a militia in a town near Daggerfall. For the next few years, Semir continued his training in archery, but ignored the sessions about armour due to lack of funds. He also became an instructor in the art of unarmed combat, which provided him with sufficient funds to continue his own training and live in a small shack at the town’s edge.
Perhaps the greatest change in Semir’s life came when the ghost-army of Lysander plagued Daggerfall. He was recruited into the Blades, not openly as a noble knight sworn to protect the Emperor’s emissaries, but as a member of the less visible and less glorious information-gathering branch. His task was to find why the wraiths roamed the streets of Daggerfall each night and to put a stop to it. His search brought him in contact with the necromancers that hid in and near the city. Semir and his companions, sometimes aided by the regular guards or mages, arrested or killed many of the necromancers. Questioning however, brought no answers. The necromancers were as confused as everyone else, and blamed each other for Lysander’s haunting. In the end, the army of the dead vanished as mysteriously as they’d come. Semir never knew whether anything he’d done had led to the solution of the crisis.
Semir remained in Daggerfall, continuing his work as a Blade and kept a low profile. His only claim to fame in the period after E3 420, were his actions during the Oblivion crisis. He joined the army as a mercenary and was active in three incursions into Oblivion though he never played a decisive role or appeared to be anything more than a simple mercenary.
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summurset Isles:
Where to begin? The Summurset Isles are supposedly the most beautiful place in Tamriel. Towers made from the finest glass, trees with leaves of pure gold etc. Heh, stories like that belong in a fairytale. I spoke to a few Bretons who actually made it all the way to the coast during the war, before the seas became tainted. From their accounts, the isles aren’t anything special.
The Altmer aren’t my favorite guys either. They’re all so snobbish, not that the Bretons are much better. Back in the days you could talk to one without being turned into a quivering pile of ash just for existing, it was still like pulling teeth. All the ‘subtle’ insults and bragging, the way every scrap of info, every word is displayed as the gift of a benevolent god to a pitiful creature. Ugh, I’d rather talk to a zombie.
-Valenwood: Valenwood eh? Never been there but I do know that it is the largest source of Bosmer on the continent. But then again, who doesn’t know about that? Heard the trees move there. First I thought those were alcohol-induced hallucinations. My source loved to drink you know. But seven years later I ran into a walking tree of my own, a tiny one. Spriggans they’re called. So then I thought, if small trees can move, then why not big ones?
Moving back to the subject of Bosmer for the moment. Crafty little brats, all of them. Here in Daggerfall, everyone knows that nine out of ten Bosmer steal things from time to time but we rarely catch them in the act. Imperial law says we can’t just kick the lot of them out either, not without good proof of their activities. That said, I like the little fellows. All that natural and social inclination to stealing means they’re really good at getting into places they’re not welcome unseen. They make good eavesdroppers and night-time information gatherers if you get my drift. Of course, that same skill that makes them so useful means you need to keep a short leash. They’re useful, but can’t trust them.
-Morrowind:
Morrowind, land of the Dunmer. If there was a breed of pointy-ears more obnoxious than the Altmer, they would be it. Like the Altmer, they’re a bunch of condescending egomaniacs, with a healthy dose of xenophobia added. And just like the Summerset Isles, Morrowind has never been a real part of the empire. It just hovers on the edge, paying a few taxes and pretending to be a loyal province. In reality? Well, neither Summerset nor Morrowind likes Imperial influence. They keep their own laws, their own government. The only influence the emperor has is his face on the damn coins. No wonder they seceded so quick.
Also, I heard the weather there is horrible.
Cyrodiil:
Ah, Cyrodiil. It looks like a fine place. The climate is good, the legions maintain a heavy presence and in general things are going well here, compared to the other provinces at least. Also interesting is the fact that Cyrodiil is the place with the greatest variety in its inhabitants. Members of all other provinces are here in roughly equal proportions. Maybe it is because they’re used to this diversity that the Cyrodillians are so much more tolerant than say, the Altmer or Dunmer.
-High Rock:
I’m from High Rock, Daggerfall specifically. So my opinion is more than a little biased here. In all, High Rock is a place of extremes. The common folk is decent enough, but the royalty are all a bunch of backstabbing, powerhungry, decadent hypocrites. No vice or sin is too much for those. But then again, I’ve spent decades probing for their dark secrets, the skeletons in their closets. I wouldn’t be surprised if my view is a bit darker than most simply because I know too much. But as I said, the common folk is decent enough and the royalty mostly screw each other over and leave the lower classes alone. Until taxday at least.
There is one thing that is breaking the province though. It is this idea of Breton exceptionalism. The cult of supremists has gained a nasty influence at the courts of the land. They say that we Bretons are the supreme master-race, carrying the magical blood of the elves and the intellect and inventiveness of man. I don’t care much for those ideas, if it hadn’t given such a big push to the war that is tearing us apart right now. And for what? To prove that Bretons are better than Altmer? I swear, it isn’t so much a war as it is two narcissists trying to outsmug each other.
-Hammerfell:
Hammerfell isn’t all that different from High Rock, at least the border areas. In fact, it is hard to tell where one province ends and the other starts. Things are a bit more obvious in the towns I visited, but not by much. As for the Redguards themselves. They’re solid folk. Being one of the three races that try to claim the title of ultimate warriors, Redguard culture puts a heavy emphasis on swordplay. Even if they only have a stick to work with, expect every single one of them to be at least reasonably proficient in the art of the sword. As good as a decently trained Legionnaire at least. Being so good and all, the Redguards can mostly take care of themselves. There isn’t really a dedicated guard for each town, because every citizen is a guard if needed. Bandits generally know not to attack a force superior to their own in numbers and in the Redguard’s case, all but the tiniest towns are a superior force. The only problem with all this training is, it makes bar brawls a bit nastier than they should.
-Skyrim:
I’ve been there once, on business. Too cold for my bones, that’s for sure. The Nords are rather loud and love to drink. At least the ones that I met. They also have a temper, but as long as you maintain the rules of etiquette and don’t insult their honour, they’re friendly enough. Almost too friendly in fact. A word of advice, never try to drink a Nord under the table. It just won’t work. The guy has more mass to absorb his drinks with and more experience at holding his liquor. Also, Nords are the second ‘ultimate warrior-race’. Unlike the Redguards who value elegant swordplay the most, Nords are a bit cruder with a preference for axes. Must be an outgrowth of their large forestry-economy.
It seems the Redguards and the Nords are at war right now. So I would avoid the Skyrim-Hammerfell borders if I were you. A Nord in a berserker-rage won’t be able to recognize friend from foe from innocent bystander and the Redguards are likely to see us pale Bretons as a small Nord. So in short, both sides would kill you.
-Black Marsh
If even half the stories I heard about that place are true, that province is worse than Oblivion. And I can know, having been through a gate twice. Many of us went in, not many came out. I suppose I could argue that the Black Marsh is another hanger-on like Summerset and Morrowind, but in this case it is simply because the damn place enjoys murdering the imperial presence so much. The Argonians themselves are at least friendlier and more polite than the bloody elves.
We don’t see too many Argonians in Daggerfell by the way, being on the other end of the continent and all. I must admit to being a bit nervous around the lizardfolk. Can’t read their expressions and bodylanguage. Still I stick by what I said before. Argonians are fine people, well-mannered and eager to learn and play by the rules of the place. Not to mention, them thriving in their homeland is pretty damn impressive to me.
-Elsweyr:
You can say about me what you like, but I hate the cats and setting foot on their land is not my intention. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them for their personality, their culture or any of the usual reasons. I’m just allergic to dogs and cats and no matter how clever the brain inside their skull is, they’re still big cats. I get a runny nose just thinking about it.
-Orsinium:
I dealt with the Orcs, or Orsimer, before. In fact, I can proudly claim to have helped make the province of Orsinium a reality. Orsinium isn’t a distinct province yet. In fact, half of High Rock refuses to acknowledge it and feels that Orsinium is either land stolen from its rightful Breton owners, or some sort of Orc preserve.
I pity the Orcs really. Used to hate them like everyone else did in the days, but not anymore. They’re decent folk actually and really value their honourcode. Sure, they’re uncivilized louts, but who is to blame for that? They’re willing enough to learn and fit in, but we just don’t let them. Centuries of being seen as monsters or big goblins have left their mark. An Orc isn’t accepted as a scholar, or a merchant, excluding weapon and armoursmiths. In fact, the reason so many Orcs these days are mercenaries, bandits or if they’re lucky Legionnaires, is because we don’t give them a choice in the matter. Maybe things will get better for them, but that will take time.
Note that the question marks are intentional. In an effort to make this character mysterious, you see.
And I forgot to put in Appearance! Name: The Mulberry Smiler/Mulberry
Age: ???
Gender: ???
Race: ???
Weapons: Twin glass stilettos that works best in sudden, cunning strikes from out of nowhere rather than in open battle. Since Mulberry works best in shadow and deceit, it never fails. When confronted with inescapable fights, Mulberry would sooner choose flight rather than fight. Or rather, a combination of both. Mulberry would run away, yes, but only to a spot where the enemies could be picked off one by one.
Armor: Next to none. His jester costume provides only subterfuge from peering and curious eyes. His mask, however, is enchanted with enhanced sight and other peculiar magicks.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): A complete replica of Mulberry's weapons. This decoy serves the Smiler very well when going into a place where security is tight and one must be searched clean before entering. Three bottles of unknown liquid strapped to the Smiler's belt. What they are is unknown to everyone but the Smiler.
History and Background: Origins surrounded only by myths and mysteries, the Smiler's background is wholly unknown. One thing that can be scrounged up from the darkness is that he/she appeared during the Imperial Simulacrum, working for the various provinces as a part time entertainer and a part time assassin. When the whole event was cleaned up by another mysterious persona, the legend of the 'Smiling Jester' was temporarily put to rest. Decades went by, and slowly, Tamriel forgot the Mulberry Smiler. His/Her myth, however, would be resurrected when the Crisis erupted. He/She did not take part in defending this world from the horde of Dagon, but he/she made her presence known when all of the province declared independence from the Empire when Oblivion was pushed back. As each province are now tearing at each other's throats, assassins and spies found themselves insanely ludicrous work and the Smiler, renowned in the past as one of the 'productive' ones, found himself/herself acting as an agent for various factions. Now hired by an Emperor, the Smiler faces a challenge he/she considers the ultimate test: loyalty.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles: The Isles has been very good to the Smiler. The mage-lords there hires assassins when ridding themselves of political enemies and nothing beats an assassin dressed for entertainment. Atleast, the Smiler thinks so. He/She hopes that the number of Altmeri noblemen dead by his/her hands can be relied upon as proof. As for the Altmeri themselves, the Smiler only thinks of them as source for entertainment and income. No more, no less.
-Valenwood: Tamriel's Garden, Valenwood, is the Smiler's playground. He/She is not from there, but nevertheless in spirit he/she is one of the Province's son/daughter. The giant oaks there make for challenging obstacles that the Smiler eagerly takes on. As such, his/her nimbleness further marks him/her as a Valenwood dweller. The Bosmeri welcomes the Smiler as one of their own ( mainly because the Smiler is a weapon that could rid them of internal 'casualties') and the Smiler's opinion of them is higher than the other races. Cunning and crafty, they have traits that the Smiler highly values.
-Morrowind: The Smiler has been to Morrowind once, drawn by the brutal politics and its promise of blood-spilling and fortune. He/She never wants to go back. Like everything else about him/her, the reason is unknown to all. He/She did some assassin work there, and once paid a sum total of nearly half a million drakes by the 'grateful' politicians, disappeared without a backwards glance. From there on, Dunmeri outside Morrowind, civilian or not, who has the unfortunate luck of crossing the Smiler's path has met very gratuitous ends. With smiles carved on their faces.
-Cyrodiil: Impassive to the Imperial race's triumphant moments, the Smiler is also stonily neutral to their loss and fall from grace. The Smiler never really liked the Imperials, for some odd reason. The only shining thing about them is their prowess in war and politics, but then again, Man was always cunning and destructive. The new Emperor begs to differ however, and the Smiler shall see if Martin is worthy of carrying that title.
-High Rock: The proud folk of High Rock, like their Altmeri rivals, was generous with their profits when the Smiler worked as an entertainer and assassin. Not much to actually topple the mountains of gems and gold the elves showered him/her with, but it was enough. After all, those gold were ill-gotten from the common people. That's what High Rock is to her inhabitants. A demanding she-wolf that needs meat to feed herself, too lazy to actually hunt for it. The common Breton is a likeable sort, decent and mild-mannered. The politicians, however, are another thing entirely.
-Hammerfell: The dune warriors and politicians of Hammerfell does not rely on assassins and spies too much. Too honest in their ways to actually use pragmatic ways to win them the war between the Nords of Skyrim. The Smiler has never set foot in the deserts of the Redguards, so he/she cannot be too sure on how he/she thinks about them. The ones he/she met outside Hammerfell, however, are the poster boys on how to be a simple-minded warrior with too much honor ingrained into them. He/She finds it laughable.
-Skyrim: The Great North stinks of warmongers and simple-minded mongrels. Skyrim is a land where the snow bleeds red. The mountains and ridges and cliffs there make for some interesting challenges and the Nords have hardy constitutions that also pose a challenge. The Smiler finds that they live for approximately twenty seconds before dying when stabbed in the heart, ample time to take their killer with them. Hunting down Nords is one of the Smiler's favorite past-time. Even if it is a bystander.
-Black Marsh: Like Hammerfell, the Smiler has never visited the swamps of Argonia. And he/she is glad that it is so. It is land full of poverty and mystery, and its inhabitants are even more mysterious. One, unless a master of reading expressions, cannot gouge out the lizard's folk way of expressing themselves. Unsuprisingly, the Smiler is wary around them.
-Elsweyr: Thefts and megalomaniacs, warriors and rogues. Cats and tigers, uncleam addicts and holy visionaries. The land of Elsweyr is, to the Smiler, a boiling pot of shocking extremes. The cats there enjoy snorting raw skooma with their enemies, right before killing them with hired assassins. Depraved and holy, Elsweyr is a second home for the Smiler, who enjoys having acrobatic sessions with the nimble troupes of Khajiits. He/She likes the Catfolk, but is wary around them. They are, after all, second only to the Bosmeri for cunning and backstabbing.
-Orsinium: Ahh, the Orcs. The Smiler helped expand the Pariah Land's territories, eliminating some lords who have lands near Orsinium and are simply worthless in the bigger picture. This resulted with the Orcs having some small foothold in the northern end of High Rock, much to the dismay of the nearby nobles. As far as the Smiler knows, the Orcs are strangely impassive to the chaos that brews around them. Peculiar, but the Smiler would not put it past them. The new king is quite cunning after all.
The Mulberry Smiler
http://cdn.gamerant.com/wp-content/uploads...nd-Officer.jpeg
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Created a Planning Thread.
I'd like to join, hopefully this rp goes better than the last ones. Should go better now that you're taking more control.
Name: Nihri
Age: 36
Gender: female
Race: Khajiit, Cathay-raht
Appearance: She's got spotted, gray fur and an average build for a Cathay-raht which basically means she's bigger than most women. She's approximately 5 ft 8 in tall. A thin scar cuts straight across her thin face. Her copper hair reaches down beneath her shoulders when not set up in a thick braid.
Weapons: The dai-katana Icicle and an iron shortsword. Icicle is a very old blade which, probably before it was enchanted, had a third of it broken of, or perhaps it was even made that way, no one really knows. It is enchanted with frost damage and most of the decorations have been worn away with time.
Armor: Leather greaves, gloves and boots, a mithril cuirass as well as an old gray hood.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): 4 common soul-gems, a journeyman mortar and pestle, an apprentice level soul trap spell, a small bundle of lock picks, a small amount of Septims, a water pouch, a bedroll and a repair hammer.
History and Background: Do'Nihra was born in Cyrodiil, Chorrol, and spent most of her younger days playing with other children or exploring the “wilds”, which was what she called the area of the city outside the walls. She was raised by the temple after the disappearance of her mother and learned to read and write at a young age. Though she believes in the Nine, she's everything but a fanatic and took to visiting the Fighters Guild for swordsmanship lessons when she grew older. She had a quite normal childhood for an orphan, not experiencing any life changing events until reaching the age of twenty three, when she was recruited into the Blades. The circumstances around her recruitment is unknown, though that was the time when she got her scar.
Within the Blades she did some courier work and resolved situations with some traitors to the crown as well as helping some mages with research . All in all, only her superiors knows exactly what her assignments were about, and she received an “honorary discharge” two years ago. Or so she says. She's been keeping a low profile ever since.
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summerset Isles: The isles are pretty and the buildings architectural wonders to be sure, but the Altmer are pompous stuck ups and only get any respect from me because of their proficiency with magic. They've got none of the innate toughness or stamina of the Nords or Orcs for example, and I'm not even gonna bother telling you how many I've killed just because they thought they had the upper hand. If an Altmer slips, I ain't helping him.
-Valenwood: I really wouldn't mind living there, what with many of the houses being in trees and the people knowing what they value. I understand their view on cannibalism, though being raised in Cyrodiil I couldn't do it myself. They're open minded and care about nature. Can be annoying to be with for a longer time considering how chatty they are, but overall they're a good people.
-Morrowind: Never much liked Morrowind. The people are survivors and value honor, but that's pretty much what we've got in common. I like walking through a dense forest, or sticking my feet into a lake with chilled water without fear of losing them. In Morrowind I can't do either of those things.
-Cyrodiil: It's beautiful there with the diverse nature, though the people somewhat dampens the effect. Imperials can be as different from each other as night and day, and thus I' not going to judge one before I meet him.
-High Rock: Haven't been there much, and can't really say I care much for the people. Met a couple I got along with, and another which I didn't. They're good with magic.
-Hammerfell: I have traveled with their boats, met some pirates and gone overland. They're great sword fighters for the most part and value honor like the Nords. I do think that's why I get along with them so well.
-Skyrim: It's a harsh and beautiful place, with a tough people. They care about their honor and knows how to have fun, but they never really let their guard down. They're a likeable people if you can ignore their small deficiencies.
-Black Marsh: Only ever left messages at the borders, and so I can't say much. Seems like a very inhospitable place to everyone but the argonians, and I do wonder why it is so. The people look quite strange, and I don't quite understand hoe someone could send their child off to be raised as an assassin.
-Elsweyr: I've only traveled through a couple of times, and then I didn't see much that I cared about. I do however understand why we're called khajiit after coming there. The people is generally cunning, a bit to treacherous for my liking, but they have earned my respect. I don't feel as if though I belong with them, especially not with their bad habits.
-Orsinium: Never actually been there, though I'd really want to go sometime. The Orsimer are honorable people and great fighters. Never really agreed to them being monstrous, they're different is all, just like the khajiit are different. I always thought different was good. You can't make a name for yourself if you look like most other people. And I wouldn't need to reach my hand out to an Orsimer to help him up, 'cause he wouldn't fall.
Name: Nihri
Age: 36
Gender: female
Race: Khajiit, Cathay-raht
Appearance: She's got spotted, gray fur and an average build for a Cathay-raht which basically means she's bigger than most women. She's approximately 5 ft 8 in tall. A thin scar cuts straight across her thin face. Her copper hair reaches down beneath her shoulders when not set up in a thick braid.
Weapons: The dai-katana Icicle and an iron shortsword. Icicle is a very old blade which, probably before it was enchanted, had a third of it broken of, or perhaps it was even made that way, no one really knows. It is enchanted with frost damage and most of the decorations have been worn away with time.
Armor: Leather greaves, gloves and boots, a mithril cuirass as well as an old gray hood.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): 4 common soul-gems, a journeyman mortar and pestle, an apprentice level soul trap spell, a small bundle of lock picks, a small amount of Septims, a water pouch, a bedroll and a repair hammer.
History and Background: Do'Nihra was born in Cyrodiil, Chorrol, and spent most of her younger days playing with other children or exploring the “wilds”, which was what she called the area of the city outside the walls. She was raised by the temple after the disappearance of her mother and learned to read and write at a young age. Though she believes in the Nine, she's everything but a fanatic and took to visiting the Fighters Guild for swordsmanship lessons when she grew older. She had a quite normal childhood for an orphan, not experiencing any life changing events until reaching the age of twenty three, when she was recruited into the Blades. The circumstances around her recruitment is unknown, though that was the time when she got her scar.
Within the Blades she did some courier work and resolved situations with some traitors to the crown as well as helping some mages with research . All in all, only her superiors knows exactly what her assignments were about, and she received an “honorary discharge” two years ago. Or so she says. She's been keeping a low profile ever since.
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summerset Isles: The isles are pretty and the buildings architectural wonders to be sure, but the Altmer are pompous stuck ups and only get any respect from me because of their proficiency with magic. They've got none of the innate toughness or stamina of the Nords or Orcs for example, and I'm not even gonna bother telling you how many I've killed just because they thought they had the upper hand. If an Altmer slips, I ain't helping him.
-Valenwood: I really wouldn't mind living there, what with many of the houses being in trees and the people knowing what they value. I understand their view on cannibalism, though being raised in Cyrodiil I couldn't do it myself. They're open minded and care about nature. Can be annoying to be with for a longer time considering how chatty they are, but overall they're a good people.
-Morrowind: Never much liked Morrowind. The people are survivors and value honor, but that's pretty much what we've got in common. I like walking through a dense forest, or sticking my feet into a lake with chilled water without fear of losing them. In Morrowind I can't do either of those things.
-Cyrodiil: It's beautiful there with the diverse nature, though the people somewhat dampens the effect. Imperials can be as different from each other as night and day, and thus I' not going to judge one before I meet him.
-High Rock: Haven't been there much, and can't really say I care much for the people. Met a couple I got along with, and another which I didn't. They're good with magic.
-Hammerfell: I have traveled with their boats, met some pirates and gone overland. They're great sword fighters for the most part and value honor like the Nords. I do think that's why I get along with them so well.
-Skyrim: It's a harsh and beautiful place, with a tough people. They care about their honor and knows how to have fun, but they never really let their guard down. They're a likeable people if you can ignore their small deficiencies.
-Black Marsh: Only ever left messages at the borders, and so I can't say much. Seems like a very inhospitable place to everyone but the argonians, and I do wonder why it is so. The people look quite strange, and I don't quite understand hoe someone could send their child off to be raised as an assassin.
-Elsweyr: I've only traveled through a couple of times, and then I didn't see much that I cared about. I do however understand why we're called khajiit after coming there. The people is generally cunning, a bit to treacherous for my liking, but they have earned my respect. I don't feel as if though I belong with them, especially not with their bad habits.
-Orsinium: Never actually been there, though I'd really want to go sometime. The Orsimer are honorable people and great fighters. Never really agreed to them being monstrous, they're different is all, just like the khajiit are different. I always thought different was good. You can't make a name for yourself if you look like most other people. And I wouldn't need to reach my hand out to an Orsimer to help him up, 'cause he wouldn't fall.
Its really good to see some familiar faces in this RP. Welcome, Saqin! Glad to have you here!
Sorry I couldn't finish my character today, but Tedril should be finished tomorrow.
Here he is!
Name: Taedril Uvaren
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: Taedril Uvaren looks like a typical dunmer, except for his sky blue eyes. He has black hair that covers his ears and wears a poison resist enchanted amulet around his neck. On his chest, he has a large scar, spanning from his right shoulder to his left hip.
The Amulet resembles this, but made from plain brass.
Weapons: A curved longsword made of steel, and a spear held on his back.
Longsword
Spear
Fighting Stance: Taedril will usually fight with his spear when dealing with multiple enemies, but his sword for one-on-one combat. Sometimes, depending on his enemy, he will fight with both.
Armor: Taedril wears a set of Mithril armour, with a slight blue tinge to it. He doesn't wear a helmet.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): Taedril keeps a journal of his Ashlander life, to remind him of his past. He also carries a small supply of healing potions and a repair hammer, although he isn't good at repairing anything past his sword and spear.
History and Background: Taedril Uvaren was born and raised by his Dunmer Father and Breton Mother who he inherited the eyes of in Ald Velothi, a small fishing village in Morrowind. He lived a quiet life, until his desire to travel became too much and he began travelling from province to province, armed with a simple iron sword. He found his talent for the blade at a young age, and always practised his swordsmanship.
However, on one unfortunate trip from Elsweyr to Valenwood, he was ambushed by a gang of Khajiit. He had never lost against bandits before, but was struck down in seconds of pulling his sword. Left on the road with nothing but a slice across his chest, he was found, half-dead by a group of Imperial traders.
The traders were heading back to the town of Bravil, and decided to Bandage up the Dunmer as best they could and take him to the town Chapel to be healed properly. After Arriving In Bravil, He was Cared for, barely alive in the Chapel. However, even after making a full recovery, the scar has never faded.
Once Taedril was told he could leave, he spent the small amount of gold he had on an iron sword and a fur cuirass, and travelled back to his home of Morrowind. He was then recruited by a new order that had risen, called the Talon of Akatosh, who were Dunmeri who were taking drastic action to stop slavery completely. He worked for the group and in return was given food and shelter.
After many years, he had risen to some of the highest ranks, and had his own blade forged. On request of his General, he was also given an elaborate spear, which he was trained with for the next few years.
Finally at the age of thirty, he left the order, since he had had disagreements with their leader, and had decided to travel once more.
That is, until he heard of the turmoil about to destroy Tamriel.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles:Taedril has never visited the summerset isles, since he had never enough gold for a fare, but the Altmeri themselves are not his favourite race. To him, they seem to snobbish, prefering to tinker with old artifacts and pick alchemical flowers in meadows.
-Valenwood:Valenwood is one of Taedrils
-Morrowind:His home province of Morrowind is rarely visited by Taedril, since he never liked it there. All the slavery, cliff racers, mud and rain is too depressing. The Dunmeri themselves are an odd mix of peolpe. Some can be good friends, while others will slit your throught in the name of their god.
-Cyrodiil:The land of the Imperials is a lovely place to visit. Wite gold tower can be seen for miles, and there's a brilliant view from the edges of Skyrim. The Imperials themselves are good people, who do honest trading and make fair soldiers.
-High Rock:His Mothers home Province is a place you don't want to get mixed up in politics. However, the race themselves are well mannered, and are capable mages and soldiers. They can be fairly hard to get to know, however.
-Hammerfell:Hammerfell is a land that shouts of war, ancient and recent. The Redguards are good men, like the Imperials and make even better warriors. They are far more Chivalrous tha the Nords or Orcs, but there also harder to work with, being so independant.
-Skyrim: Taedril has never liked the cold, and Skyrim, being cold, is hardly ever visited. Unless he wants a taste of some Nord brewed ale. The Nords themselves are good company for most the time, being a cheery race, but just avoid them the morning after a night of drinking.
-Black Marsh:Taedril has never visited black marsh, it being so unhspitiale to anyone other that the argonians. The reptile race are not the trustworthy type, but can make good mages who don't worry so much about getting in a mess than the Altmeri.
-Elsweyr: After his Encounter with the group of Khajiit bandits, he has never trusted them. Taedril has also never returned to Elswyr.
-Orsinium:The "Province" of the Orcs isn't visited by Taedril, since he finds the Orcs a Brutish race, built around killing and gutting people.
Name: Taedril Uvaren
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: Taedril Uvaren looks like a typical dunmer, except for his sky blue eyes. He has black hair that covers his ears and wears a poison resist enchanted amulet around his neck. On his chest, he has a large scar, spanning from his right shoulder to his left hip.
The Amulet resembles this, but made from plain brass.
Weapons: A curved longsword made of steel, and a spear held on his back.
Longsword
Spear
Fighting Stance: Taedril will usually fight with his spear when dealing with multiple enemies, but his sword for one-on-one combat. Sometimes, depending on his enemy, he will fight with both.
Armor: Taedril wears a set of Mithril armour, with a slight blue tinge to it. He doesn't wear a helmet.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): Taedril keeps a journal of his Ashlander life, to remind him of his past. He also carries a small supply of healing potions and a repair hammer, although he isn't good at repairing anything past his sword and spear.
History and Background: Taedril Uvaren was born and raised by his Dunmer Father and Breton Mother who he inherited the eyes of in Ald Velothi, a small fishing village in Morrowind. He lived a quiet life, until his desire to travel became too much and he began travelling from province to province, armed with a simple iron sword. He found his talent for the blade at a young age, and always practised his swordsmanship.
However, on one unfortunate trip from Elsweyr to Valenwood, he was ambushed by a gang of Khajiit. He had never lost against bandits before, but was struck down in seconds of pulling his sword. Left on the road with nothing but a slice across his chest, he was found, half-dead by a group of Imperial traders.
The traders were heading back to the town of Bravil, and decided to Bandage up the Dunmer as best they could and take him to the town Chapel to be healed properly. After Arriving In Bravil, He was Cared for, barely alive in the Chapel. However, even after making a full recovery, the scar has never faded.
Once Taedril was told he could leave, he spent the small amount of gold he had on an iron sword and a fur cuirass, and travelled back to his home of Morrowind. He was then recruited by a new order that had risen, called the Talon of Akatosh, who were Dunmeri who were taking drastic action to stop slavery completely. He worked for the group and in return was given food and shelter.
After many years, he had risen to some of the highest ranks, and had his own blade forged. On request of his General, he was also given an elaborate spear, which he was trained with for the next few years.
Finally at the age of thirty, he left the order, since he had had disagreements with their leader, and had decided to travel once more.
That is, until he heard of the turmoil about to destroy Tamriel.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles:Taedril has never visited the summerset isles, since he had never enough gold for a fare, but the Altmeri themselves are not his favourite race. To him, they seem to snobbish, prefering to tinker with old artifacts and pick alchemical flowers in meadows.
-Valenwood:Valenwood is one of Taedrils
-Morrowind:His home province of Morrowind is rarely visited by Taedril, since he never liked it there. All the slavery, cliff racers, mud and rain is too depressing. The Dunmeri themselves are an odd mix of peolpe. Some can be good friends, while others will slit your throught in the name of their god.
-Cyrodiil:The land of the Imperials is a lovely place to visit. Wite gold tower can be seen for miles, and there's a brilliant view from the edges of Skyrim. The Imperials themselves are good people, who do honest trading and make fair soldiers.
-High Rock:His Mothers home Province is a place you don't want to get mixed up in politics. However, the race themselves are well mannered, and are capable mages and soldiers. They can be fairly hard to get to know, however.
-Hammerfell:Hammerfell is a land that shouts of war, ancient and recent. The Redguards are good men, like the Imperials and make even better warriors. They are far more Chivalrous tha the Nords or Orcs, but there also harder to work with, being so independant.
-Skyrim: Taedril has never liked the cold, and Skyrim, being cold, is hardly ever visited. Unless he wants a taste of some Nord brewed ale. The Nords themselves are good company for most the time, being a cheery race, but just avoid them the morning after a night of drinking.
-Black Marsh:Taedril has never visited black marsh, it being so unhspitiale to anyone other that the argonians. The reptile race are not the trustworthy type, but can make good mages who don't worry so much about getting in a mess than the Altmeri.
-Elsweyr: After his Encounter with the group of Khajiit bandits, he has never trusted them. Taedril has also never returned to Elswyr.
-Orsinium:The "Province" of the Orcs isn't visited by Taedril, since he finds the Orcs a Brutish race, built around killing and gutting people.
Name: Urzul Gro'Maro
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Race: Orc
Appearance: Urzul, like most orcs, is green. Not a little sickly looking, not dappled by sunlight through leaves, she is well and truly green. She wears here hair short, tied into a warrior's wolf knot at the back of her head and kept well away from her face. She has a pair of piercing eyes, and several small scars, short but prominent tusks, and the usual collection of other facial features. She's of average height, built plain for an orc which would be a little more muscled than most humans.
Weapons: Urzul carries a long fighting staff. It's in all essence a long fire hardened piece of wood, blackened through it's tempering, capped with solid orcish steel at both ends. Along with this she carries a dirk on her belt and a small all purpose knife on her arm.
Armour: Urzul prefers a mix of heavy and medium armour. She wears solid steel shoulder plates, as well as boots and bracers. However her chest plate is made of medium strength steel sewed onto tought and thick leather, fanning out at the bottom in a protective skirt, while she wears simple thick leather trousers underneath.
Other Gear: Urzul, being a field medic, carries a mixture of items including but not limited too bandages, needle and thread, strong alchohol, flint and tinder, and a variety of poultices, as well as a mortar and pestle. All of her equipment she carries with her in a large backpack, along with her bedroll and other important gear.
History and Background: Urzul grew up in Orsimer during the days of the Imperium, and as such knew many Orcs who had joined the Legion or the Fighters Guild and either not returned, or returned wounded. She found early on that while she was a dab hand in battle, like most of her friends, she also took great care in tending to anyone who got injured, a common occurence during their games.
Having no great magical skill in healing, Urzul signed up with the Legion and applied to become a field medic, moving to Cyrodil to join the academy there, under a contract where she would be taught in return for a few years military service. Graduating shortly before the Oblivion crisis she was given her first great challenge in healing wounded Legion soldiers fending off the Deadra on the roads, and saw her worst tending to the wounded in the Imperial City.
After serving her alloted time Urzul left, and took to travelling around the provinces, offering her services as both a soldier and a healer wherever she went. She trained peasants under fear of bandits the art of fighting with a staff, as well as slaying a few bandits, and healed those who needed healing or could be healed. After years of this gruelling work she aimed to settle down, however with the collapse of the Imperium she found her services in even more dire need than before, and vowed to bring her help to those now refused it by the fractured infrastructure the break up of the Empire left.
Opinions:
Summerset Isle- The Altmer, as a people, seem very aloof. To a degree, they are entitled to it, being one of the oldest, most skilled, and succesful of the races. However this doesn't make them any less of an annoyance. However, they have their bad eggs and their good eggs, and many of them will help those in need if they can, just most specialise in other areas.
Valenwood- The Bosmer are a ferocious people at heart, they seem easy enough to dismiss at first, being carefree, small and generally positive. But they have been in more wars than many people understand, and have fought pretty much everyone at one point. As a nation they are fierce, independant, and unquestionable in their dedication to tradition. As individuals they are care free, but with a core as solid as any Dunmeri Ordinator.
Morrowind- The Dunmer are a people of extremes, living in either decadent luxury in Mournhould or in squalid toil as the Ashlanders do. This diversity makes it hard to pin them down, but they all share the same solid belief in their own way of life. This can make them prickly to deal with, and their strong code of honour is both difficult to understand and easy to step on.
Cyrodil- The Imperials are a people of change and fluidity. They have no national sense, since they each seem themselves as a seperate people to the next village, town or city. What they do share though is an open view of life, moving with the times more easily than most. This is probably why they so quickly expanded, being able to adapt their rule to a version that most of their subject states could swallow. This same trait also makes them very easy to get along with, which is both a good and a bad thing.
High Rock- Bretons are a very cultured folk. They have their way of life sorted and see no need for change. They have a strong sense of place in the world, which is strange for a people who are so in the middle of everything. Their mages are strong, and those who aren't mages practise to be good at what they are. This gives them a very strong cultural sense of being, and a united people. It also means that those you do meet can be a bit hard to get along with, but once they accept you and you accept them, then you have an ally for life.
Hammerfall- Redguards are tough nuts to crack, a fractured society with a system no one can agree on, they all follow different ways of life that adhere to similar rules. They are exceptionally skilled with a blade, and not so much with tact. As a people they are stong willed, but prone to infighting and over-reaction, as individuals they are warm and friendly, but seem to always be looking to someone else for orders.
Skyrim- Nords, warriors, barbarians, sailors, tribal, drinkers, they are people who enjoy a challenge. Nothing gets a Nord more worked up than when someone tells them they can't do something. Most mistake them for drunkards, or idiots, but thats simply because they haven't seen a Nord truly focus on something. There are few people finer at being able to sit down and get something done. However, they do have a tendency to over work some things, and this can make them exasperating to deal with.
Black Marsh- The Argonians were never a people to need healers, the rules of the swamp are simple, you live or you die, and as a people the Argonians seem to be pretty good at the former. They're a people who relish the little things, because they've seen that life is short, and what happens when it ends. They don't hold grudges, fears, or codes of conduct, rather they live for the moment, and they live their lives to the full.
Elsweyr- Khajits are a mystery, what people call a Khajit is simply one face of many. They're strong, fierce, and competitive. And this can make them a bad people to get on the wrong side of, just ask Valenwood. They also have some crippling issues with logic, accepting moon sugar as a way of life, rather than a horrible dibilitating poison. However, they are also handy to have around, as no one fights fierces, loves more, or works more fervently than a Khajit.
Orsinium- Misjudged, is the simplest way to put it. The Orcs have proven themselves more than any of race, but they don't flaunt it. They carry the opinion that the world will recognise their toil and applaud them for it, but it won't happen. Sure a warrior or a smith is prized, but no one sees the steps forward we make elsewhere, in philosophy or politics or magick. People see an orc, they see a weapon, not a person.
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Race: Orc
Appearance: Urzul, like most orcs, is green. Not a little sickly looking, not dappled by sunlight through leaves, she is well and truly green. She wears here hair short, tied into a warrior's wolf knot at the back of her head and kept well away from her face. She has a pair of piercing eyes, and several small scars, short but prominent tusks, and the usual collection of other facial features. She's of average height, built plain for an orc which would be a little more muscled than most humans.
Weapons: Urzul carries a long fighting staff. It's in all essence a long fire hardened piece of wood, blackened through it's tempering, capped with solid orcish steel at both ends. Along with this she carries a dirk on her belt and a small all purpose knife on her arm.
Armour: Urzul prefers a mix of heavy and medium armour. She wears solid steel shoulder plates, as well as boots and bracers. However her chest plate is made of medium strength steel sewed onto tought and thick leather, fanning out at the bottom in a protective skirt, while she wears simple thick leather trousers underneath.
Other Gear: Urzul, being a field medic, carries a mixture of items including but not limited too bandages, needle and thread, strong alchohol, flint and tinder, and a variety of poultices, as well as a mortar and pestle. All of her equipment she carries with her in a large backpack, along with her bedroll and other important gear.
History and Background: Urzul grew up in Orsimer during the days of the Imperium, and as such knew many Orcs who had joined the Legion or the Fighters Guild and either not returned, or returned wounded. She found early on that while she was a dab hand in battle, like most of her friends, she also took great care in tending to anyone who got injured, a common occurence during their games.
Having no great magical skill in healing, Urzul signed up with the Legion and applied to become a field medic, moving to Cyrodil to join the academy there, under a contract where she would be taught in return for a few years military service. Graduating shortly before the Oblivion crisis she was given her first great challenge in healing wounded Legion soldiers fending off the Deadra on the roads, and saw her worst tending to the wounded in the Imperial City.
After serving her alloted time Urzul left, and took to travelling around the provinces, offering her services as both a soldier and a healer wherever she went. She trained peasants under fear of bandits the art of fighting with a staff, as well as slaying a few bandits, and healed those who needed healing or could be healed. After years of this gruelling work she aimed to settle down, however with the collapse of the Imperium she found her services in even more dire need than before, and vowed to bring her help to those now refused it by the fractured infrastructure the break up of the Empire left.
Opinions:
Summerset Isle- The Altmer, as a people, seem very aloof. To a degree, they are entitled to it, being one of the oldest, most skilled, and succesful of the races. However this doesn't make them any less of an annoyance. However, they have their bad eggs and their good eggs, and many of them will help those in need if they can, just most specialise in other areas.
Valenwood- The Bosmer are a ferocious people at heart, they seem easy enough to dismiss at first, being carefree, small and generally positive. But they have been in more wars than many people understand, and have fought pretty much everyone at one point. As a nation they are fierce, independant, and unquestionable in their dedication to tradition. As individuals they are care free, but with a core as solid as any Dunmeri Ordinator.
Morrowind- The Dunmer are a people of extremes, living in either decadent luxury in Mournhould or in squalid toil as the Ashlanders do. This diversity makes it hard to pin them down, but they all share the same solid belief in their own way of life. This can make them prickly to deal with, and their strong code of honour is both difficult to understand and easy to step on.
Cyrodil- The Imperials are a people of change and fluidity. They have no national sense, since they each seem themselves as a seperate people to the next village, town or city. What they do share though is an open view of life, moving with the times more easily than most. This is probably why they so quickly expanded, being able to adapt their rule to a version that most of their subject states could swallow. This same trait also makes them very easy to get along with, which is both a good and a bad thing.
High Rock- Bretons are a very cultured folk. They have their way of life sorted and see no need for change. They have a strong sense of place in the world, which is strange for a people who are so in the middle of everything. Their mages are strong, and those who aren't mages practise to be good at what they are. This gives them a very strong cultural sense of being, and a united people. It also means that those you do meet can be a bit hard to get along with, but once they accept you and you accept them, then you have an ally for life.
Hammerfall- Redguards are tough nuts to crack, a fractured society with a system no one can agree on, they all follow different ways of life that adhere to similar rules. They are exceptionally skilled with a blade, and not so much with tact. As a people they are stong willed, but prone to infighting and over-reaction, as individuals they are warm and friendly, but seem to always be looking to someone else for orders.
Skyrim- Nords, warriors, barbarians, sailors, tribal, drinkers, they are people who enjoy a challenge. Nothing gets a Nord more worked up than when someone tells them they can't do something. Most mistake them for drunkards, or idiots, but thats simply because they haven't seen a Nord truly focus on something. There are few people finer at being able to sit down and get something done. However, they do have a tendency to over work some things, and this can make them exasperating to deal with.
Black Marsh- The Argonians were never a people to need healers, the rules of the swamp are simple, you live or you die, and as a people the Argonians seem to be pretty good at the former. They're a people who relish the little things, because they've seen that life is short, and what happens when it ends. They don't hold grudges, fears, or codes of conduct, rather they live for the moment, and they live their lives to the full.
Elsweyr- Khajits are a mystery, what people call a Khajit is simply one face of many. They're strong, fierce, and competitive. And this can make them a bad people to get on the wrong side of, just ask Valenwood. They also have some crippling issues with logic, accepting moon sugar as a way of life, rather than a horrible dibilitating poison. However, they are also handy to have around, as no one fights fierces, loves more, or works more fervently than a Khajit.
Orsinium- Misjudged, is the simplest way to put it. The Orcs have proven themselves more than any of race, but they don't flaunt it. They carry the opinion that the world will recognise their toil and applaud them for it, but it won't happen. Sure a warrior or a smith is prized, but no one sees the steps forward we make elsewhere, in philosophy or politics or magick. People see an orc, they see a weapon, not a person.
Name: Alora
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Bosmer
Appearance:
Weapons: A sturdy longbow (in comparison to bosmer size) made of bone, a quiver of arrows (also made of bone), and a trusty steel dagger.
Armor: Extremely light and not very protective leather armor. She would rather not be seen, therefore puts little stock in face-to-face combat. She wears one particularly thick leather bracer on her right arm.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): She has an enchanted bracelet that allows her to run quickly and quietly through the forest (fortify speed/agility) and a trained hunting hawk named Horos.
History and Background: Alora was the youngest of seven siblings in a small village in Valenwood, where she learned the trade of the hunter, and in times of war served in the village militia. Just like any other hunter in her particular village (and many others) she was required to train a bird of prey. Horos was given to her, and though she tried her best, she never really did train him. Sure, the hawk knew how to hunt, and follow instructions, but he was a willful animal, and only obeyed if it pleased him. Nevertheless, the bosmer and the bird finally came to a mutual understanding, though Horos is still as willful as ever.
Later, she fought in the war with Elsweyr, where their village banded with many others in the defense of their home, only to fall to the cat-people. She watched many friends and family members die, and swore to avenge them. Unfortunately, there was no longer a place for her in Valenwood, so she escaped the country. The war is always on her mind, though. She has frequent flashbacks, and there is no predicting how they will affect her mood or actions. It should also be noted that she follows the Green Pact religiously. This means that she is purely carnivorous, will not personally destroy any plant, and will eat any enemies she defeats. This is why her weapons are made of bone, not wood. (it should also be noted that she has no qualms about using wooden products, or plant-derived potions, etc., as long as she wasn't the one killing the plant, and that plant didn't come from Valenwood.)
Summerset Isles: The altmer are haughty and much too bureaucratic. They have lost touch with the old ways and the true meaning of life, though knowing their affinity for magicka, she would be loathe to say any of these things to their faces.
Valenwood: Her homeland. Nothin' but love.
Morrowind: The dunmer can be respectable, tough, honorable folk, but usually only toward their own kind. The bosmer can relate to their xenophobia, though.
Cyrodiil: Too civilized, destroying forests, depleting the land for massive stone walls, towers, and roads. Too much politics, too much deception, too much control.
High Rock: Neutral opinion.
Hammerfell: Neutral opinion.
Skyrim: The harsh Nords. The bosmer actually respect them, for they too live at one with nature, just in a much different way.
Black Marsh: The argonians too have a healthy respect for the land, and the bosmer respect that.
Elsweyr: Alora holds nothing but hatred for the Khajiit. They destroyed their village and way of life.
Orsinium: Burly monstrous creatures, the orcs, though utterly powerful. She has nothing really against them, but the size difference between their races would make her wary in any encounter.
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Bosmer
Appearance:
Weapons: A sturdy longbow (in comparison to bosmer size) made of bone, a quiver of arrows (also made of bone), and a trusty steel dagger.
Armor: Extremely light and not very protective leather armor. She would rather not be seen, therefore puts little stock in face-to-face combat. She wears one particularly thick leather bracer on her right arm.
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): She has an enchanted bracelet that allows her to run quickly and quietly through the forest (fortify speed/agility) and a trained hunting hawk named Horos.
History and Background: Alora was the youngest of seven siblings in a small village in Valenwood, where she learned the trade of the hunter, and in times of war served in the village militia. Just like any other hunter in her particular village (and many others) she was required to train a bird of prey. Horos was given to her, and though she tried her best, she never really did train him. Sure, the hawk knew how to hunt, and follow instructions, but he was a willful animal, and only obeyed if it pleased him. Nevertheless, the bosmer and the bird finally came to a mutual understanding, though Horos is still as willful as ever.
Later, she fought in the war with Elsweyr, where their village banded with many others in the defense of their home, only to fall to the cat-people. She watched many friends and family members die, and swore to avenge them. Unfortunately, there was no longer a place for her in Valenwood, so she escaped the country. The war is always on her mind, though. She has frequent flashbacks, and there is no predicting how they will affect her mood or actions. It should also be noted that she follows the Green Pact religiously. This means that she is purely carnivorous, will not personally destroy any plant, and will eat any enemies she defeats. This is why her weapons are made of bone, not wood. (it should also be noted that she has no qualms about using wooden products, or plant-derived potions, etc., as long as she wasn't the one killing the plant, and that plant didn't come from Valenwood.)
Summerset Isles: The altmer are haughty and much too bureaucratic. They have lost touch with the old ways and the true meaning of life, though knowing their affinity for magicka, she would be loathe to say any of these things to their faces.
Valenwood: Her homeland. Nothin' but love.
Morrowind: The dunmer can be respectable, tough, honorable folk, but usually only toward their own kind. The bosmer can relate to their xenophobia, though.
Cyrodiil: Too civilized, destroying forests, depleting the land for massive stone walls, towers, and roads. Too much politics, too much deception, too much control.
High Rock: Neutral opinion.
Hammerfell: Neutral opinion.
Skyrim: The harsh Nords. The bosmer actually respect them, for they too live at one with nature, just in a much different way.
Black Marsh: The argonians too have a healthy respect for the land, and the bosmer respect that.
Elsweyr: Alora holds nothing but hatred for the Khajiit. They destroyed their village and way of life.
Orsinium: Burly monstrous creatures, the orcs, though utterly powerful. She has nothing really against them, but the size difference between their races would make her wary in any encounter.
Name: Deesei
Age: 30
Gender: female
Race: Argonian(Saxhleel as she'd say)
Appearance: Light green scales and short spikes on her head. Her face is slightly gaunt with an oval shape.
Weapons: Quiver of arrows.
Spells: Apprentice: Defend, Minor life detection, seductive charm and Open Easy Lock. Journeyman: Bound bow, summon daedroth, summon skeleton guardian, Dire Wound, chameleon.
Armor: Green robe and hood, leather shoes
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): 4 each restore health potions and restore magicka potions. Bedroll, water sack and money pouch. Mortar and pestle.
History and Background: Deesei grew up in Argonia with her parents and her sister and brother. She studied magic and literature early, and after her naming day it was natural for her to go to the Arcane University to study to become a witch hunter. Though she longed for Argonia, her time at the University had caused her to run out of funds, and so she took up mercenary work in the hope of one day returning home. Though none of her magic skills reaches above journeyman, she's often been complimented for her good aim and steady hand when it comes to controlling her summons.
That work has ranged from hunting down rogue magicians for the University to assisting in the closing of an Oblivion gate during the crisis. With Cyrodiils' decent from power since the crisis ended, Deesei has come to understand that her chances of coming home are even smaller, but she has kept on working towards it nonetheless.
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summurset Isles: The Altmer are worthy magicians, but since they don't care much for us “inferior” races I don't see why I should care about them.
-Valenwood: No opinion.
-Morrowind: Barren and unfriendly. I don't like it there and I've found that the people many often mirror the land. There are exceptions, but I haven't met that many.
-Cyrodiil: They have the most cultivated culture and the Arcane University which I love. The people change very much though, and due to their loss of power they can't really do much.
-High Rock: I like the Bretons to be honest, though I've never been to High Rock. They're great magical users and though conflict has always been great within their ranks I'd say they're not going down without a fight.
-Hammerfell: No opinion.
-Skyrim: Cold, lots of white and fluffy stuff and loud Nords to inhabit it. They're uncouth, can't ever stop drinking and all they've ever been good at is swinging weapons around.
-Black Marsh: I like the Marshes, I grew up in them and I know my way around. Most other people doesn't understand our ways, the ways of the Saxhleel, but I'm a part of it and wouldn't want it to be any other way.
-Elsweyr: Elsweyr is to hot, and the people are strange. Saxhleel and khajiit simply does not work well together.
-Orsinium: Uncultivated. They've got potential to be sure, but technically they don't even have their own province. As to them once being elves, it's plausible.
Age: 30
Gender: female
Race: Argonian(Saxhleel as she'd say)
Appearance: Light green scales and short spikes on her head. Her face is slightly gaunt with an oval shape.
Weapons: Quiver of arrows.
Spells: Apprentice: Defend, Minor life detection, seductive charm and Open Easy Lock. Journeyman: Bound bow, summon daedroth, summon skeleton guardian, Dire Wound, chameleon.
Armor: Green robe and hood, leather shoes
Other Gear (Potions, Alchemy Apparatus etc): 4 each restore health potions and restore magicka potions. Bedroll, water sack and money pouch. Mortar and pestle.
History and Background: Deesei grew up in Argonia with her parents and her sister and brother. She studied magic and literature early, and after her naming day it was natural for her to go to the Arcane University to study to become a witch hunter. Though she longed for Argonia, her time at the University had caused her to run out of funds, and so she took up mercenary work in the hope of one day returning home. Though none of her magic skills reaches above journeyman, she's often been complimented for her good aim and steady hand when it comes to controlling her summons.
That work has ranged from hunting down rogue magicians for the University to assisting in the closing of an Oblivion gate during the crisis. With Cyrodiils' decent from power since the crisis ended, Deesei has come to understand that her chances of coming home are even smaller, but she has kept on working towards it nonetheless.
Opinions (so we can now how she reacts accordingly when setting foot in the respective province):
-Summurset Isles: The Altmer are worthy magicians, but since they don't care much for us “inferior” races I don't see why I should care about them.
-Valenwood: No opinion.
-Morrowind: Barren and unfriendly. I don't like it there and I've found that the people many often mirror the land. There are exceptions, but I haven't met that many.
-Cyrodiil: They have the most cultivated culture and the Arcane University which I love. The people change very much though, and due to their loss of power they can't really do much.
-High Rock: I like the Bretons to be honest, though I've never been to High Rock. They're great magical users and though conflict has always been great within their ranks I'd say they're not going down without a fight.
-Hammerfell: No opinion.
-Skyrim: Cold, lots of white and fluffy stuff and loud Nords to inhabit it. They're uncouth, can't ever stop drinking and all they've ever been good at is swinging weapons around.
-Black Marsh: I like the Marshes, I grew up in them and I know my way around. Most other people doesn't understand our ways, the ways of the Saxhleel, but I'm a part of it and wouldn't want it to be any other way.
-Elsweyr: Elsweyr is to hot, and the people are strange. Saxhleel and khajiit simply does not work well together.
-Orsinium: Uncultivated. They've got potential to be sure, but technically they don't even have their own province. As to them once being elves, it's plausible.
I'll finish this out over the next couple of days.
Valero
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Race: Imperial/Nord
Appearance: As part of his Nordic heritage, Valero stands taller than the average Imperial at 5’10. He ties his hair into a ponytail, but otherwise does not bother himself with it.
Weapons: Valero wields an Orcish War Axe acquired during his wanderings in Wayrest and Orsinium. He uses a steel buckler to parry and as a secondary weapon in a pinch. Although inferior to his war axe in combat, Valero keeps his old iron hatchet for more honest work.
Armor: Black Brigandine
History: Raised in Skingrad by the Chapel of Julianos, Valero showed an innate grasp for the healing arts. As a young man, he helped keep the local goblin population down alongside the Fighters Guild and Skingrad Guard and helping the homesteaders in the West Weald.
To further his knowledge of the body’s inner workings, Valero left Cyrodiil for 3 years of study in Wayrest. His mentors were necromancers that had fled Cyrodiil following Hannibal Traven’s banning of necromantic practices. Although he does not practice necromancy, Valero uses those lessons to enhance his ability to manipulate both his body and others. As a healer, Valero holds sacred an oath to never use his powers to harm a living being (the exceptions being Daedra, the undead, or animals).
Impressive though his abilities are, Valero can only perform them through direct contact and they tend not to be quick-fixes. These limitations serve to ration his finite reserves of magicka in addition to placing less stress on the patient's body.
Opinions-
Valenwood- Having never set foot in the province, Valero knows only what he has heard. He doubts there’s much for him there, given the Bosmers’ protectiveness of flora.
Morrowind- Valero has little interest in the ravaged land of the Dunmer. He does not agree with the Dunmers’ practice of slavery or their close-mindedness.
Summerset Isle- Although he could learn much from the Altmer, Valero has no plans to visit the isle, as it has no shortage of healers. The High Elves are a force to be reckoned with, but also a potential source of knowledge.
Cyrodiil- A shadow of its former glory, there is much work to be done in his homeland.
Black Marsh- An alien place to man and mer, neither the land nor its inhabitants are to be taken lightly.
Hammerfell- A savagely beautiful region inhabited by a people of admirable strength and honesty.
Skyrim- About as harsh as Black Marsh to the unwary, but as much a home as Cyrodiil.
Valero
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Race: Imperial/Nord
Appearance: As part of his Nordic heritage, Valero stands taller than the average Imperial at 5’10. He ties his hair into a ponytail, but otherwise does not bother himself with it.
Weapons: Valero wields an Orcish War Axe acquired during his wanderings in Wayrest and Orsinium. He uses a steel buckler to parry and as a secondary weapon in a pinch. Although inferior to his war axe in combat, Valero keeps his old iron hatchet for more honest work.
Armor: Black Brigandine
History: Raised in Skingrad by the Chapel of Julianos, Valero showed an innate grasp for the healing arts. As a young man, he helped keep the local goblin population down alongside the Fighters Guild and Skingrad Guard and helping the homesteaders in the West Weald.
To further his knowledge of the body’s inner workings, Valero left Cyrodiil for 3 years of study in Wayrest. His mentors were necromancers that had fled Cyrodiil following Hannibal Traven’s banning of necromantic practices. Although he does not practice necromancy, Valero uses those lessons to enhance his ability to manipulate both his body and others. As a healer, Valero holds sacred an oath to never use his powers to harm a living being (the exceptions being Daedra, the undead, or animals).
Impressive though his abilities are, Valero can only perform them through direct contact and they tend not to be quick-fixes. These limitations serve to ration his finite reserves of magicka in addition to placing less stress on the patient's body.
Opinions-
Valenwood- Having never set foot in the province, Valero knows only what he has heard. He doubts there’s much for him there, given the Bosmers’ protectiveness of flora.
Morrowind- Valero has little interest in the ravaged land of the Dunmer. He does not agree with the Dunmers’ practice of slavery or their close-mindedness.
Summerset Isle- Although he could learn much from the Altmer, Valero has no plans to visit the isle, as it has no shortage of healers. The High Elves are a force to be reckoned with, but also a potential source of knowledge.
Cyrodiil- A shadow of its former glory, there is much work to be done in his homeland.
Black Marsh- An alien place to man and mer, neither the land nor its inhabitants are to be taken lightly.
Hammerfell- A savagely beautiful region inhabited by a people of admirable strength and honesty.
Skyrim- About as harsh as Black Marsh to the unwary, but as much a home as Cyrodiil.
*edit:Don't worry this isn't a "super character" as he can be killed as easily as any other man. I am only saying this as a precaution, just in case there is any misinterpretation of what I have written.*
Name: Kelzar Ramoru
Age: 25 (Actual age 135 if you don't understand read the history)
Sex: Male
Race: Nord
Appearance: Kelzar stands at 6"2. His hair is long as it reaches down past his shoulders wavy, thick and dark brown. He has a ruggedly handsome face with stubble beard. He has a scar bearly consealed by his hair on the edge of his jaw. His physique is muscular.
Weapons: Firebreath (a katana like sword so sharp it can cut through a man like butter)
Laitharn (an ebony bow carved by Kelzar, keeps it more as a momento and hunting tool)
Armour: Leather Fur armour but carries Ancient Blades (Light Armour), does not use it often
Other Gear: A vile that he carries around his neck underneath his armour
History: As a young boy he lived in a village called Driftwood in Skyrim. He only had his father and his father was a farmer. As a young boy he had a fairly dissintresting life that was full of errands he ran for people around the village as he tried to earn some extra gold.
When he was 8 years old he was searching in the attic of his fathers and found a chest with the Septim symbol engraved on it. It however required a key and he became obsessed for several months when his father was not looking to find the key to the mysterious chest. Later he forgot about it and decided to stop trying to open the chest.
On his 13th birthday he and his father decided to go out in the woods that day to find an elm tree to make his first bow out of. Unfortunatly he cut the edge of his cheek in the process and it left a scar. His father laughed when he saw it and told Kelzar that it was a good look for him. When he and his father had finished wittling the bow into shape his father taught him a spell of which preserved equiptment until the end of its bearers days. This bow could stay with him the rest of his life and he named it Laitharn.
When he was at the age of 18 he was out hunting with Laitharn when he saw smoke rising from his village. He pondered his thoughts for a while thinking that it might be the bonfire that someone had made to get rid of unwanted items. As he got closer he realised that the smoke was far too dense to be a bonfire. He ran back to village and everywere was in flames. He then panicked and ran to his fathers farm. There he saw a pile of dead bandits surrounding his fathers mortally wounded body. His fathers last words to him were "I am sorry to have to do this to you I . . . love you . . . . . my . .son" He then forced a key into Kelzar's hand that bore the insignia of the septim family on it. Still in shock about his fathers death he lay beside the corpse for a minuite and then realising that his fathers dying with was that he get the chest from inside the burning house he rushed in and picked the chest out of the attic and then ran out.
6 years later when Kelzar had drunk most of his years away he mustered up the courage to open the chest. He had tried before but just couldn't get to it when finally presented with the opertunity. He opened up the chest and to his amazment found a set of blades armour a katana with Firebreath engraved on its ornate hilt, a note, a vile and a glowing stone. He quickly took the objects out of the chest and placed them on the bed of the inn room he was staying at. Then he read the note. It explained all about the equiptment but did not explain much about the vile and less about the stone. His father wrote that he had never fully learned how to use the stone but he knew that it would bring a person a gift. His father stated that the stone would reveal itself to the person when they were ready. The vile was special is some way but his father did not know why.
He went to the a high peak named Touching Heaven. There he spent a year in solatude and in wait. Then finally the stone started to glow brighter and brighter. Kelzar quickly took it outside of his tent in his hand and the stone flashed out a blinding light. Kelzar woke up lying in the snow next to his tent with the stone dissapeared. He went back inside dazed by what had happened.
10 years later he knew finally what the stone had done. Kelzar had stopped aging conpetely and was now permenatly at his best physical condition. He customarly wore leather fur armour as the blades armour was too suspicious to wear in public.
100 years have passed since then till present day and Kelzar has had many adventures some coming close to him dying but never quite. Kelzar has decided to help the empire as he has been recruited by Martin to quell the uprising along with others.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles: It is a beutiful place but the snobbish arrogance of the Altmer is absobutely astounding. Especially if you are from Skyrim as they treat you like a savage. I would not like to visit their shores again for another 100 years till they get their priorities straight.
-Valenwood:Valenwood is a beutiful place and the Bosmer are generally open people in my experience you just have to understand them
-Morrowind:I have only been once and I think that it is a strange place. The only problem I have is with the number of deadra shrines they have over there and still even after the event of Oblivion. I however find the local race Dumners to be suspicious an untrustworthy in general and one nearly had sucess in killing me a while back and he was my guide through the swampland of Morrowind.
-Cyrodiil:It has a truly diverse landscape with swampland near blackmarsh and high mountains near my homeland. I have always respected the Imperial Legion even though they view us Nords as savages in general. You generally find that being a Nord you tend to get a good reception at the bar's around. Something that amuses me every time.
-High Rock:All I see over there are a bunch of Bretons trying to pretend they are as snobby as the Altmer. I do generally like Bretons but they seem to be developing a strange type of superiority complex that tends to fustrate me.
-Hammerfell:I have been to Hammerfell on several occasions. The Redgaurd are pleasant enough most of the time until you disshonour them and are dishonest. As I and everyone in Skyrim holds honour in the highest repect we can understand this.
-Skyrim:My homeland is one of the most dangerous regions in Tamriel and I am proud of it. Every Nord from Noble to common all share great values of respect and Honour. We are a light hearted race that boast the best drink in Tamriel(and we are right). Although most see us as barbarians for no good reason. We are some of the noblest people you can meet and will always be happy to meet new people.
-Black Marsh:I have never had a wish to go to blackmarsh but once had to as a friend once needed a hist tree based remedy to prevent them from dying a fatal disease. My time there was not pleasant and when an Argonian sees a Nord in their home province a lot of questions get asked. Most Argonians seem to be obsessed with the so called "Shadowscale". I had never heard the term before then and shortly after met one on an incident that I don't care to mention but it ended in Firebreath (my katana) having the final word.
-Elsweyr:Nothing to say about it except that it at the best of times is a terrible and at the worst a skooma filled hell.
-Orsinium:A wonderland of adventure away from largely populated areas. I have a fair few stories to tell from there.
Name: Kelzar Ramoru
Age: 25 (Actual age 135 if you don't understand read the history)
Sex: Male
Race: Nord
Appearance: Kelzar stands at 6"2. His hair is long as it reaches down past his shoulders wavy, thick and dark brown. He has a ruggedly handsome face with stubble beard. He has a scar bearly consealed by his hair on the edge of his jaw. His physique is muscular.
Weapons: Firebreath (a katana like sword so sharp it can cut through a man like butter)
Laitharn (an ebony bow carved by Kelzar, keeps it more as a momento and hunting tool)
Armour: Leather Fur armour but carries Ancient Blades (Light Armour), does not use it often
Other Gear: A vile that he carries around his neck underneath his armour
History: As a young boy he lived in a village called Driftwood in Skyrim. He only had his father and his father was a farmer. As a young boy he had a fairly dissintresting life that was full of errands he ran for people around the village as he tried to earn some extra gold.
When he was 8 years old he was searching in the attic of his fathers and found a chest with the Septim symbol engraved on it. It however required a key and he became obsessed for several months when his father was not looking to find the key to the mysterious chest. Later he forgot about it and decided to stop trying to open the chest.
On his 13th birthday he and his father decided to go out in the woods that day to find an elm tree to make his first bow out of. Unfortunatly he cut the edge of his cheek in the process and it left a scar. His father laughed when he saw it and told Kelzar that it was a good look for him. When he and his father had finished wittling the bow into shape his father taught him a spell of which preserved equiptment until the end of its bearers days. This bow could stay with him the rest of his life and he named it Laitharn.
When he was at the age of 18 he was out hunting with Laitharn when he saw smoke rising from his village. He pondered his thoughts for a while thinking that it might be the bonfire that someone had made to get rid of unwanted items. As he got closer he realised that the smoke was far too dense to be a bonfire. He ran back to village and everywere was in flames. He then panicked and ran to his fathers farm. There he saw a pile of dead bandits surrounding his fathers mortally wounded body. His fathers last words to him were "I am sorry to have to do this to you I . . . love you . . . . . my . .son" He then forced a key into Kelzar's hand that bore the insignia of the septim family on it. Still in shock about his fathers death he lay beside the corpse for a minuite and then realising that his fathers dying with was that he get the chest from inside the burning house he rushed in and picked the chest out of the attic and then ran out.
6 years later when Kelzar had drunk most of his years away he mustered up the courage to open the chest. He had tried before but just couldn't get to it when finally presented with the opertunity. He opened up the chest and to his amazment found a set of blades armour a katana with Firebreath engraved on its ornate hilt, a note, a vile and a glowing stone. He quickly took the objects out of the chest and placed them on the bed of the inn room he was staying at. Then he read the note. It explained all about the equiptment but did not explain much about the vile and less about the stone. His father wrote that he had never fully learned how to use the stone but he knew that it would bring a person a gift. His father stated that the stone would reveal itself to the person when they were ready. The vile was special is some way but his father did not know why.
He went to the a high peak named Touching Heaven. There he spent a year in solatude and in wait. Then finally the stone started to glow brighter and brighter. Kelzar quickly took it outside of his tent in his hand and the stone flashed out a blinding light. Kelzar woke up lying in the snow next to his tent with the stone dissapeared. He went back inside dazed by what had happened.
10 years later he knew finally what the stone had done. Kelzar had stopped aging conpetely and was now permenatly at his best physical condition. He customarly wore leather fur armour as the blades armour was too suspicious to wear in public.
100 years have passed since then till present day and Kelzar has had many adventures some coming close to him dying but never quite. Kelzar has decided to help the empire as he has been recruited by Martin to quell the uprising along with others.
Opinions:
-Summurset Isles: It is a beutiful place but the snobbish arrogance of the Altmer is absobutely astounding. Especially if you are from Skyrim as they treat you like a savage. I would not like to visit their shores again for another 100 years till they get their priorities straight.
-Valenwood:Valenwood is a beutiful place and the Bosmer are generally open people in my experience you just have to understand them
-Morrowind:I have only been once and I think that it is a strange place. The only problem I have is with the number of deadra shrines they have over there and still even after the event of Oblivion. I however find the local race Dumners to be suspicious an untrustworthy in general and one nearly had sucess in killing me a while back and he was my guide through the swampland of Morrowind.
-Cyrodiil:It has a truly diverse landscape with swampland near blackmarsh and high mountains near my homeland. I have always respected the Imperial Legion even though they view us Nords as savages in general. You generally find that being a Nord you tend to get a good reception at the bar's around. Something that amuses me every time.
-High Rock:All I see over there are a bunch of Bretons trying to pretend they are as snobby as the Altmer. I do generally like Bretons but they seem to be developing a strange type of superiority complex that tends to fustrate me.
-Hammerfell:I have been to Hammerfell on several occasions. The Redgaurd are pleasant enough most of the time until you disshonour them and are dishonest. As I and everyone in Skyrim holds honour in the highest repect we can understand this.
-Skyrim:My homeland is one of the most dangerous regions in Tamriel and I am proud of it. Every Nord from Noble to common all share great values of respect and Honour. We are a light hearted race that boast the best drink in Tamriel(and we are right). Although most see us as barbarians for no good reason. We are some of the noblest people you can meet and will always be happy to meet new people.
-Black Marsh:I have never had a wish to go to blackmarsh but once had to as a friend once needed a hist tree based remedy to prevent them from dying a fatal disease. My time there was not pleasant and when an Argonian sees a Nord in their home province a lot of questions get asked. Most Argonians seem to be obsessed with the so called "Shadowscale". I had never heard the term before then and shortly after met one on an incident that I don't care to mention but it ended in Firebreath (my katana) having the final word.
-Elsweyr:Nothing to say about it except that it at the best of times is a terrible and at the worst a skooma filled hell.
-Orsinium:A wonderland of adventure away from largely populated areas. I have a fair few stories to tell from there.
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