The Blood- An Elder Scrolls RP (OOC)

[Serge Drevlan]

Not really Jonas...


Name:Zharjo

Gender:Male

Age: 20

Race: Khajiit (Cathay-raht)

General Class: Martial Artist

Appearance: Zharjo is far larger than what most people think Khajiit are. He stands at 6'6 and is completely spotted, like a Jaguar. His features are utterly feline; a large nose houses huge whiskers which reach back to his ears, His teeth are far sharper than his nails and just as deadly as his sword. His body is extremely muscular and imposing. Though he is large, he is not without the classic feline figure. He has slim legs which seem to be made for running and climbing. He stands on large paws which actually resemble cat's paws. Zharjo's claws only come out when he demands and when he does, they are as sharp as any dagger. His hands are not paws but hybrids. He can grab things into a fist but is unable to do delecate things, like write.

Personality: Zharjo is generally quiet. He doesn't like to poke his whiskered nose where it doesn't belong; he will, however, give advice for tactics and fighting since he knows it so well. Zharjo is kind to most people and is rarely ever rude. He has not a mean bone in his body beside the people who want him dead. He is one of the newest to the Blood and tries his best to treat everyone else with the respect they deserve as his elders and higher ranking officials, he will never let anyone walk all over him, though, ever.

Armor: Zharjo wears finely crafted ebony armor. The armor offers wonderful defence to the Khajiit, but his natural swiftness and strength allows him to move very quickly in the armor, almost as if he were waering simply leather armor. He does not wear a helmet but a moonstone circlet which even further hightens his strength.

Weapons: Zharjo has a single ebony sword as his waist which he uses sparingly. Zharjo usually uses his fists and claws to destroy his enemies. Zharjo was taught by his father to utterly destroy most armor with just his hands. Zharjo is apprieciated, along with Shogro but for different reasons, for his ability to go into a crowd of armored enemies and come out on top. Zharjo can penetrate armor, by hitting it in specific places, with his bare hands.

Magic: None

Shout: Su Grah Dun- Zharjo can use this shout to make his strikes, be it with sword or hand, much faster.

Bio: Zharjo was born under the waxing moons. He was born to be a Cathay-raht; but he was destined to be far more than just one of the larger sentient Khajiit. A year after his birth an older man came to his tribe and spoke with his mother and father. He shared in the meals, with refined moon sugar, and lived among the people for a whole year. Zharjo's father taught him a very rare fighting style as the boy grew into adolesence. Every day he would tell the mother and Father of Zharjo that he would have to take the boy. Eventually, they agreed once they saw that the man meant what he said. Zharjo's mother gave him a circlet to wear once he was older that would help him defeat the terrible threat. Zharjo left with the mysterious man later that week.

Zharjo began learning the ways of the thu'um and the sword at the age of three. Since he arrived at the Blades sanctuary in Skyrim Zharjo has been trying to perfect his fighting styles and use of the Thu'um; he is perfectly devoted to it. Zharjo has been looking forward to the day when he can fight for the Dovahkiin and the people of Nirn.

[Jones]

ETA on IC?

[Serge Drevlan]

Tomorrow. After 2 EST.

So about 12 hours

[Grif of Hearts]

Not really Jonas...

Shogro's not really Rory.

There's no rush for an IC, Serge. Take ye' time. I'm sure we're all fine waiting.

[Jones]

Ye. No big.

But I have an unfortunate thing. This Thursday I have to go to the city for four days, and probably won't get on. I won't be back until Monday. I'd like to avoid going, but I have to. :/

[Serge Drevlan]

Well if you can get at least a post up before you go that would be best. We can probably work around without you for four days given we get to the place in the story where we should be.

[Grif of Hearts]

That's fourteen hours, Serge. You're running late.

[Serge Drevlan]

I was actually just about to get to work on it now but since you mentioned it, I think I might just put it aside for a few days

[Grif of Hearts]

T'is no skin off my nose, Serge. ;P

[Serge Drevlan]

You mean your teeth.