Name

• Enathrae Ra’athim

Birthsign

• Sign of the Shadow

Race

• Dunmer

Appearance

Enathrae Ra’athim possessed features common amongst the Dunmer. Yet, even amongst his own kind he was a stranger. His skin the color of mountains enshrouded in shadow blanketed in a thin layer of snow, smooth without the faintest wisp of facial hair. Slender lips hid the stained teeth that restrained his forked tongue. The nose upon his face suited him perfectly, aquiline and subtle. But Enathrae’s eyes were mesmerizing (his most conspicuous feature) - a staple for those of his heritage yet not seen amongst the Dunmer in centuries. Two pools of liquid amethyst drawing hesitation from those who dare bare fool witness, as if drawn by Hermeaus Mora’s slimy tendril’s down into their depths. His ashen hair was pulled back tightly against his skelp into a single braided tail that barely breached the length of his shoulder blades.

His dress was simple, inconspicuous. The dark colors of his leather garb contrasted well against the powdered appearance his skin naturally took. Soft soled black leather boots kept his feet nimble while on the prowl. Dark leather slacks gripped his legs adequate, avoiding the restrictions of taunt material yet proving not to snag while moving swiftly over terrain. His cloth shirt was similar in design with little of merit to note. The backs of his hands were protected by strange leather gloves, which left the raw flesh of his fingers and palms exposed. The only impressive feature were thin, seemingly pristine sheets of mithril integrated into the material of his clothing to protect certain vital areas (i.e. thighs, abdomen -front and back- , arms -above and below the elbow- yet not fully connected to allow freedom of movement).

Background

• Born of Ebonheart, a young Enathrae was born to the Elenil family line; however, his parents were proud to trace their lineage back to the great house of Ra’athim. This is how he acquired the name.
• He spent his juvenile years in the local mines as was typical amongst his family, learning the trade as well as how to work the material to a respectable manner for his age. It was during this time that Enathrae began to understand the powers of magic for his family made their living transmuting what they could from one less valuable material to something more worthwhile.
• Subsequently, Enathrae traveled to Solstheim where he found service amongst those mages living at Tel Mithryn. Here his service was exchanged for training. This training was ultimately cut short when he was kidnapped by a subsidiary of the Morag Tong. Beginning as a prisoner, he slowly found a way into their good graces. He failed their tests and subsequently was released with his life. Few would be brave enough to betray the guild of assassins and Enathrae was not amongst those men.
• Passing through Skyrim, Enathrae made acquaintances of those at the College of Winterhold and many of the other settlements. He spent many months amongst the Dunmer of Windhelm, loudly murdering those who went out of their way to discriminate against his kind. Beyond the stone walls of the oldest city in Skyrim, the spellsword found employment across the kingdom specifically focusing on Morthal as a centralized location best suited for his habitation.
• As boredom ensued, and his skills progressed through training as well as very real use Enathrae moved south through Falkreath and into Cyrodiil. His journey was very much the same as it had been while exploring Skyrim. He befriended those whom he could exploit for his own gain or were able to train him further. But ultimately his journey ended in Bravil, where he was eventually captured (...enslaved) by the Emperor.

Personality:

Enathrae Ra’athim in the most simplistic terms can be seen as a lawful evil dunmer, methodically takes what he wants within the limits of his code of conduct without regard for whom it hurts. He cares about tradition, loyalty, and order but not about freedom, dignity, or life. He plays by the rules but without mercy or compassion. He is comfortable in a hierarchy and would like to rule, but is willing to serve. He condemns others according to their actions but is not above discrimination against race, religion, homeland, or social rank. He is loath to break laws or promises. This reluctance comes partly from his nature and partly because he depends on order to protect himself from those who oppose him on moral grounds. Enathrae does not enthrall himself with the thought that he is better than the man who goes home and beats his wife or the drunkard who pulls the wench into the alley. He is a cutthroat, plain and simple. A mercenary and assassin for hire where the only rules that matter are those instituted as an establishment of his own code of conduct.

Typical Equipment

• Moderate amount of Septims
• Waterskin
• Trail Rations
• A few Magicka Potions

Why you were left to rot in the Imperial Prison (this will be changed later, when players who join in later get involved)

While visiting the coastal Imperial city of Bravil, Enathrae was employed by an inconspicuous businessman with a particular agenda that required that a certain individual no longer drew breath. It was a task simple enough. Unfortunately, his employer was not the only person who had required the spilt blood of this individual. The other person, Emperor Hafvyg. The Emperor had sent his own thugs to end this person’s life. While the thugs were inferior individually it was their numbers that not only allowed the target to escape with their life but also was lead to Enathrae’s capture and subsequent sentence. He had taken the lives of two men, while the third had exploited his subtle dunmer frame before exploiting the wonderful darkness of a sap to the back of the head. Enathrae had no other choice for above all else, his code required him to be alive.

Skillset

Enathrae is a unique representative of what might be considered a spellsword. His style is all about flexibility, switching between weapons and spells as the situation demands, aggressively creating and exploiting enemy weaknesses. So what makes his situation unique? This dunmer does not carry a single weapon, yet manifests them at will through pure magicka. Given his subtle frame staggering his opponents is most important forcing him to focus on attacking more aggressively with powerful attacks and spells that pack a wallop. While more of a parlor trick, his innate ability to call upon his “Ancestor’s Wrath” often times has proven useful only to escape in grave situations. Perhaps uniquely to a magick user, Enathrae’s focus is on offense exploiting his natural grace and agility to escape harm’s way. Of course, he does balance his one-handed and destruction spells quite well as if either falls behind on its own how could Enathrae rely on either of them when he needs them most. He maintains light armor well and subsequently focuses on such skill sets that allow him to remain agile and protected since he is without shield. Even seemingly rogue fireball can be lifesaving when it comes as an evasive maneuver. While offensive spells are especially important, he has from time to time exploited illusion spells to distract large groups of enemies allowing him to eliminate them on a level playing field. Most importantly, when a situation gets hairy Enathrae will not hesitate to exploit his signs ability to become invisible for a period of time if only to escape harm, which is more likely than trying to gain the advantage.

Name

• Reyman Caro
• Heir Presumptive Reyman Caro

Birthsign

• Sign Of The Lord

Race

• Imperial, Lich

Age

• 113

Appearance
For most of his life Reman Caro was seen as something of an impressive man, although he was almost boringly Imperial in his form and mannerisms. His bloodline tied him both to Chorrol's county and Leyawiin's county, tracking his family back through to the counts of the time. That is to say then that he was rather generically Imperial. His medium-length brown hair worn below the nape of his neck, his round and and square jaw, and his chiseled nose. All of it distinctly oozing nobility and a well pruned family tree.

At all times though, he was distant from seizing the Counties he wanted so dearly. Generally by several other heirs in his way. And so he frowned.

Nowadays, however, he is a much happier man. Ever since achieving Lichdom he has learned to smile once again. His hair, falling out. His nose and ears slipping off of his head. His skin sloughing off of his body in hunks. His eyelids rotted away. His fingers and toes having lost their flesh. And yet he still finds it in himself to smile. Especially within the past two years. He is, afterall, the immortal heredity heir presumptive of Chorrol.

He stands 6'4, 177 lbs.

Background
Reyman Caro was born of the Caro-Valga hereditary line, fifth in line to seize either Chorrol County or Leyawiin County at the time of his birth. He was raised among the courts and nobility of Tiber II's Empire, adjusting his lifestyle and perspectives to those of the Noble Imperials.

He took on Knightly magics as his pursuit, growing early into an apt worshipper of Julianos and an excellent Battlemage to be. He joined the Synod early, before the start of the Great War.

Following his father's death in his arms at the Battle Of The Red Ring, a conflict at which he was present, he became thoroughly concerned with his own mortality. Long ago he had settled it in himself to be happy with his lack of a county or title proper, but the death of his father had resurrected a great fear of the unknown in him.

As he was a member of the Synod, he had access to great vaults of information that the College Of Whispers wanted. He went to them, trading information for rank and necromantic knowledge. This knowledge and the research aid of a rival ultimately got him close to his target. While the Dragon Crisis began he turned to Hermaous Mora for the final pieces of information necessary.

The black abyss that appeared to him in his first Black Book granted him the path he wanted. He pursued Lichdom and achieved it the very same evening that Miraak died. As Hermaeus Mora claimed the Dragonborn, he also claimed an Imperial Lich. Honoring their pact, Reyman Caro swore himself to the Deadric Prince and awaited his command.

Reyman, when the time came, repaired and improved Fort Ontus and made it his home, Southwest of Chorrol. He offered this fort, along with a small Undead batallion with his Black Book to the Dragonborn Emperor as a sign of loyalty.

Once this was done he worked at gathering the popularity of his people. He revealed to the population that he had been using bandits and violent criminals as the souls to enable his Lichdom. He proceeded then to make some rather sizable donations to reinforce the city and rearm the citizens for the war to come.

And now, nearly in position of the County he seeks so dearly, he was arrested.

Personality:
Reyman has, for most of his life, been of the calmer sort. He learned early to cope with dissappointment, considering that his youth went from wealthy noble child of two Imperial bloodlines to the mandatory recognition that he would never achieve what power he had wanted. During his service with the Syond as a Battlemage and during the Great War he developed a detestment of death and violence. Night terrors and violent auditory halucinations also developed during this time, and as such he has made a consistent point to avoid much violence ever since becoming a Lich. Sleep, as well, has been avoided to a major extent. He has a tendency to keep himself busy, and to invent new hobbies for himself specifically to avoid ever being board enough to sleep. In conversation he often enjoys getting to the important facts and problem solving, though he has been without a team or consistently living allies for some time. He knows that, while people may act as though they like him, he understands that his strength over others made him a great danger to the Empire. A Lich taking control of a County would be the death knell of the Empire. With that in mind he carries himself carefully, and has made very few public appearances. It would be belittling to say that caution is important to the man.

Typical Equipment

• A blue robe with Chorrol's heraldry on the back, and a golden leaf-shaped clasp. This robe is enchanted to protect weakly against raw magical impacts. His arms, legs, and torso are wrapped in white linen from the ankles to the forearm in a singular wrapped piece. This wrapping is enchanted to absorb half of the magicka in any ranged magics.
• He wears armor made of Imperial-styled steel, with gold accents. Specifically he wears a helm enchanted with detect living, a left shoulder cop, a right shoulder pauldron enchanted to create a weak defensive ward when he turns left, and steel boots enchanted with levitation.
• He carries an antique oak staff with a gnarled, rooty head. It can bind raised or conjured undead to a permanent duration until the creature or the staff is destroyed. It was made briefly after the Umbriel Crisis and was meant to mimic the threat-levels of the Undead hordes fought by the College Of Whispers at the time.
• A satchel large enough to fit a large ham, filled with about 5 Black soul gems, 30 Lesser soul gems, and 20 petty soul gems.

Why you were left to rot in the Imperial Prison (this will be changed later, when players who join in later get involved)
Reyman was technically arrested for tax evasion and for illegally seizing an Imperial property and distributing it without proper legal domain. This, of course, refering to Fort Ontus. It is his belief, however, that he wasn't truly arrested for the Fort itself, but instead arrested because of the social and cultural climate regarding necromancers.

Skillset
As a Battlemage with the Synod and during the Great War he learned many skills. While with the Synod he learned the practices of the most basic branches of Restoration, while studying more advanced Alteration and Enchanting as his primary foci.

He understands basic combat medication, and how to manage a small combat force. The battlefield was also where he first began to practice Necromancy, as he raised his father's corpse from death in an attempt to resurrect his father.

The result from this was a man that is a rather skilled heavy combatant with a varried magical toolset.

An enemy turned ally at the College Of Whispers, which he joined after the end of the Great War, aided him in the study of Necromancy and was ultimately helpful in organizing the bandit kidnappings that were necessary for his lawful transformation into a Lich. The great experiment was organized, recorded, and published under this man's writing pseudonym.

In the end he is difficult to kill, has many utility abilities, and has prepared himself against magical threats rather thoroughly.

Spells

• Mage, Candlelight
• Oak, Stone, Ironflesh
• Telekinesis
• Equilibrium
• Conjure Skeleton, Zombie, Flesh Atronach [7 Days, 7 Minutes, 7 Seconds respectively]
• Soul Trap
• Raise Target — Generalized high power Necromancy magic. Target corpse is raised temporarily for 10 minutes, or permanently when a soul gem is embedded into their center mass.
• Command Undead
• Frosttouch
• Frostwave — A force of cold starting at touch distance bursts ten meters forward, push those caught in the target zone back and freezing them.
• Frostcone — A twenty meter cone originating at touch distance, with greater intensity the closer one is to the point of origin. It can be channeled, and leaves behind increasingly thick and stable snow and a lingering cold.
• Healing Hands
• Necromantic Healing
• Lesser, Steadfast, Greater Ward
• Professional-Level Enchanting Knowledge & Abilities

Name:
Veteria ‘Veta’ Venenum

(“Veta the Valorous”)
(“The Whore-Knight of Chorrol”)

Birthsign:
The Serpent

Race:
Imperial (with Breton grandparents)

Appearance:
Tall for a woman, but not extraordinarily so, Veta was never quite the effeminate maiden her mother wanted her to be. She possesses strong facial features, yet remains attractive to most men should they not be intimidated by her sturdy build and piercing glare. She wears her dark, straight hair shoulder-length, and ties it in a messy bun should the need arise to equip her helmet; “truly damned are the men who do not see Veta’s hair touch her armour”. Her jawline could cut through bone, while her deep green eyes can and does cut through souls, should they scowl at anyone who irks her. Veta’s nose has been slightly imperfected thanks to a couple of breaks during training and skirmishes, slightly crooked in the bridge, yet this gives her face character and an unspoken story. While most do not witness it, she carries a stab wound just above her right hip, inflicted by an assassin who had targeted her liege. The attacker did not survive the encounter gladly.

When not in her armour, Veta dresses fairly conservatively and dons masculine clothing with little embroidery or bling. However, she is not against wearing dresses should the occasion call for it; after all, even knights need to scrub up well from time to time.

Background:
Born in a shepherding hamlet just outside of Chorrol, Veta vividly remembers seeing the Count and their band of Knights riding through Chorrol when she visited the city for supplies with her mother and father, and how fascinated she was by the shining armour and the aura of chivalry and honour they emitted. She knew from then that she was not destined to a life of sheep and wool-weaving. She trained hard each day whenever she could, beating up the local boys easily once she practiced for long enough and hard enough until she had exhausted her potential within her home setting.

After begging for her parents’ permission, they reluctantly but proudly allowed their daughter to become a squire in service to a Knight of Chorrol, a man called Percius the Bard. While unorthodox, Veta managed to secure her position due to a combination of her diligent personality, her skills and potential as a fighter and a word from her father who had the good graces of the Chorrol court from his days as an adventurer.

Veta grew up to become a fiercely competent woman-knight, growing up alongside the future Count and becoming a well-respected figure in the court and the city, feared for her ferocious abilities as a hand-to-hand fighter. She eventually surpassed all of her peers to become personal bodyguard to the Count, and the court of course noticed their close, and some would say intimate, relationship, which was the subject of much intrigue during times of peace. She dealt with local banditry and wildlife problems with professional efficiency, and helped the City Guard maintain law and order within the walls of Chorrol.

These happy years were cut short with the sudden death of her liege, by assassination via poison. She can remember the panic and awe of dread as the Count choked and vomited blood after consuming his third glass of wine, and the shock and horror of the Count’s face as he died slowly and painfully. Suspects were drawn quickly, with Vera becoming the prime target for the townfolk’s rage and the court's scapegoat; some thought she committed the heinous crime, others were convinced of her part in it, most saw her failure to protect the Count as unacceptable. Her old mentor Percius, now retired, saw fit to help Veta escape in the night as her guilt became increasingly concrete in the eyes of the city. Veta looked back at Chorrol for the last time in tears as her horse cantered into the Great Forest.

The experience somewhat broke Veta’s once-cherished sense of chivalry and honour. She had more than fulfilled her duty, serving her lord faithfully and competently for years. And yet the town and her ‘friends’ in the court turned on her in an instant. Word had spread across the realm of her apparent guilt, and while she was not a wanted woman in the eyes of Imperial Law, no lord would have her services. After all, who would want a knight suspected to seduce and then poison her liege?

With little other option, and with cynicism corrupting the outlook of this once-decorated knight, Veta began working as a thug- and assassin-for-hire, putting her skills of swordsmanship and unarmed fighting to use, combined with her imposing presence. Veta would often meet her targets on the road while they were travelling, challenging and slaying any escorts in her way. Poison achieved what upfront duels could not, and in an ironic twist of fate, Veta had become what her accusers back in Chorrol claimed her to be – a corrupted knight who utilised poison for murder.

Personality:
Despite her recent experiences, Veta does maintain a sense of duty and honour in her everyday life, remaining courteous and chivalrous to most she comes across, but without the pretence of friendliness or gregariousness. She was never much of a talker, but is polite enough to return conversation should it find her and is pleasant enough socially. However, she possesses a fiery temper that, when ignited, is difficult to quell. Some said that her within her green eyes lies a candle, one that can easily burst into a wildfire should she be pressed. She can also be impatient and has little time for laziness or incompetence, often being short with people should a situation frustrate her. She is not without a sense of humour, but rarely quips herself, preferring to subtlety tease instead of joke.

Not a natural leader, Veta struggles without someone to serve, but she will not pledge her loyalty or friendship to anyone unless they prove to her that they deserve it. Her current situation and recent jaded view on life has enabled her to get her hands dirty in the world of assassination and thuggery, and will not hesitate to intimidate or (if needs be) murder in order to get a job done. However, she has her limits, and will not accept jobs that target innocents or anyone she deems is not worthy of death. Fortunately, individuals who have earned the ire of those who are willing to pay to have someone kill them tend not to be the best of souls, and Veta has insofar only had to kill corrupt officials, irritant bandits and greedy merchants. She does not kill incessantly, and prefers as little bloodshed as possible; if a combatant yields before her, she will show them mercy. Old habits tend to die hard.

Typical Equipment:
- Fine steel longsword with an ivory-white tree on the pommel and branch engravings along the cross-guard, reflecting her time as a Knight of Chorrol.
- Steel armour breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, and spaulders, all enchanted with resistance to magic.
- Steel ‘armet’ style helmet with visor.
- Steel-studded leather brigandine vest lined with navy cloth over the breastplate.
- Dark cloth pants and leather riding boots.
- Dark cloak with sheep’s wool lining for cold weather.
- Several potions and poisons both sedative and lethal inside a leather satchel.
- A strong, stocky grey roan horse called Caval, who has been her companion for 5 years.

Why Vera was left to rot in the Imperial Prison:
Vera received a job from an anonymous individual, who only communicated via envoys and dead drops. The target? An advisor to a member of the Elder Council, who had ordered the murder of a mining town in order to take it over for his own benefit (which Veta verified before carrying out the deed). While Veta was relatively new-blooded in her career as an assassin, and felt out of her depth with such a task, the money offered was incredibly good and would afford her a lot of freedoms in life, perhaps enough to purchase land and a property to call her own, to properly start over.

She opted to use a disguise of an Imperial Guard to get into the chambers of the elder council, and poison the advisor in his sleep. On her way to his chambers, she was stopped by a suspiciously overly-zealous guard, who had her searched and found the poison. She was then seized and taken to the Imperial Prison to be tried for attempted murder.

Skillset:
Veta has received a great deal of formal training as a chivalrous knight, supplemented by her own homegrown talent for brawling and ferocious natural strength. Specialised in knightly longsword techniques, she is a more-than competent fighter who could hold her own against most of what north-western Cyrodiil could throw at her. She has basically spent her whole adult life in heavy armour, and wears it like a second skin, enabling her to move, dodge and run with ease where most would struggle should they don her armour. Her getting used to the weight of her armour like this gives her a huge forces behind her punches and strikes, which she used often when swordfighting in her own style of brawling-sword combat; a powerful slash is often followed by a furious gauntlet-encased haymaker that could shatter skulls.
Her father, being an adventurer and herbalist, taught her everything he knew about potions and poisons and the herbs and ingredients that went into them. This empowered Veta to be able to craft potent concoctions to heal or harm as required, being able to identify wild flowers and plants easily. This has come into its own with her recent career change, but public knowledge of these skills might have encouraged it to occur in the first place.

Her mother was a healer in the hamlet Veta grew up in, but not before she spent part of her life in the circus. Therefore, Veta was taught some Restoration magic to heal what natural produce could not, as well as aspects of Illusion and Alterations magic that circus tricksters had taught her mother; such things include turning a iron mallet into the weight of a feather and back again, or transmuting materials into others, or walking on water momentarily. While not fundamental to her skillset, it has come in handy from time to time, from impressing courtiers to getting her out of tight spots.

Spells:
- Healing Hands
- Heal Self
- Open Lock (Novice-level)
- Feather (objects, say on her own armour if she needs to sprint)
- Burden (objects)
- Water Walking
- Water Breathing
- Telekinesis (very weak)
- Candlelight

Name

• Freja Dogeater
• Namira’s Reach-Stalker
• Hircine’s Hide-Bearer
• The Black-Bear Of The Markarth Watch

Birthsign

• Sign Of The Serpent

Race

• Nord/Reach-Man Half-Breed

Age

• 29

Appearance
As a half breed, Freja displays physical traits common in Nords and Bretons. Her height, musculature, and body-type are all inherited from her mother who was of similar stature, though a bit taller. Strapped with muscle, thick sinew, and powerful structure, she is a force to be reckoned with.

Broad shoulders seated on strong ribs, that delve into a respectable waist on top of a powerful set of hips. It is clear on basic inspection that this individual is used to hardship and manual labor, as visible by the scars and muscle development. One could perhaps guess towards her being a werebear based on her physique.

Her black hair and brow-cheeks-jaw ratio are distinctly breton in nature, however. She wears the black hair as a mid-length undercut that is allowed to rest however it pleases. She often wears war paints when traveling or working.

She is heralded as the Black-Bear Of The Markarth Watch due to having become, over the years, well acquainted with Hircine’s mark and employing it in her patrolling of Markarth City. When she shape-changes she becomes a large she-werebear with a black pelt.

She stands 6’1, 194 lbs.

Background
Freja Dogeater’s mother was a Nordic woodsman and werebear that kept largely to herself in the hills of the Reach. During the dragon crisis she became friendly with a small group of Forsworn, and aided their assault on Markarth that united the region as an independent Reach.

Despite her kind-treatment of the Reachmen, they ultimately devalued her. A savage worshipper of Dibella and Hircine engaged upon her in less than enthusiastic circumstances, and she birthed her daughter, Freja Of The Reach. Freja Of The Reach was a spritely little girl that lived solitarily with her mother and learned their family’s ways. Hunting, tracking, and living off of canis root and mudcrab stews during the worse off seasons of the year.

At around the age of ten her father returned to lay claim to the daughter, having heard rumors of a she-werebear and a younger werebear stalking the hills. The fight that ensued was bloody, and was ended when Freja planted a hatchet into the spine of her father who stood above the butchered carcass of a werebear.

Hircine appeared to her as an apparition, and commanded her to skin her own mother and receive his token of the hunt. By slaying her father, a great hunter in his own right and a servant of hircine, she had proven herself a strong potential. So she did. That skin would become the new Savior’s Hide.

That name had more meaning to the young girl, however: it truly was the skin of a savior for her.

She followed her instinct and raised herself for the most part in the hills. She took up the hunting implements of her mother, a multi-purpose ax and throwing hatchets, and began fielding the hills just West of Rorikstead. As she reached her nineteenth year she extended her territory to the edge of Markarth and was called to Madanach’s court to dispute her territory, being that it was wider than most of the other Reachfolk clans. She used this time in Markarth to appeal for a position on the city watch as a means of reducing the territory that she would hunt in.

Taking up the mantle of the Markarth watch and settling inside the city limits she began to practice her various skills on the criminals in the city. Her most charming memory is of a time where, from the steps Understone Keep she was able to plant a throwing hatchet into the skull of a criminal in the market square. Others recall the evening that she was on duty and changed shape, defending against a vampire attack in the night.

It was at twenty-two that she began to raise hounds and began to consume the criminals that she caught and killed. This cannibalism was a dualistic worship of the daedric princes Namira and Hircine, the latter of which appreciated the hunt and the former of which appreciated the taste of death on her breath. The wolfhounds she kept began to be one of her trademarks, along with the children’s songs she would hum while on duty. The result the creation of the The Black-Bear Of The Markarth Watch. A folktale formed around her, and she became loved with the very same folk that had slain her mother.

When Hircine began calling for her to come to Cyrodiil, she obeyed.

She and several other Reachfolk set off towards Cyrodiil and arrived together in the Imperial City, before dispersing. They have been biding their time since, waiting for their Master’s call to fruit into a grand hunt.

Personality:
Having lived most of her life in the solitary expanses of Western Skyrim’s hills, she has developed a sort of disposition away from populated environments. Only in recent years has she truly acclimated to life in Markarth, and only due to her being of the favored sort there. A worshipper of Hircine, a werebear, and a skilled huntress. It prepared her for an easy social life among the Reachfolk. Having left home, however, she has come to realize that the tight city streets and bustling crowds invoke a sort of claustrophobia in her, and an anti-social bent. This stress however is being put to good use. Rather than forcing herself back out into the wilderness she has begun to feed her adaptive nature with frequent city-wide walks. This is reflective of her general approach to problem solving: exposure yields results. One such tool for handling stress she developed while in Markarth. Old Nordic skald-stories and Reachfolk chanting rituals have melodic tones that are easy to reproduce, and so one often hears Freja humming.

Typical Equipment

• The Savior’s Hide — The thick magical pelt of a werewolf, harvested from a werebear. Its wearer becomes resistant to magicka and poison. Freja typically wears it like a half-skirt, tucked under her belt, that falls to just below her knee. It looks rather mundane and has been heavily modified, but it is still bloated with Hircine’s essence.
• Survivalist’s Garb — A thick wool sweater worn with overalls, with the former generally rolled up to the elbow and the latter generally rolled up to the ankle. Freja prefers not to wear boots or shoes, as they disrupt her ability to feel the ground and she finds them hazardous to remove while shape-changing. She wears an old Markarth flag around her waist. It is tied and kept as a personal trinket.
• Stolen Imperial Soldier’s Bandolier — A thick leather bandolier is worn over her chest and back. She generally runs light, due to her familiarity with her natural environment. The back of the bandolier has a loop that her multi-purpose ax can be slipped into.
• Multi-Purpose Ax — A well-crafted birch helve with a steel ax head. It is about three-and-a-half feet, and is well balanced. It is just as good at skull chopping as it is at wood chopping.
• Throwing Hatchets — A set of three throwing hatchets. They are worn looped to the bandolier.
• Ring Of The Hedge Mage — This ring is worn by the head of the Dogeater bloodline, a Reachman family. The ring was taken from the corpse of Freja’s father. The wearer can consume plants and body parts that they may not normally be able to metabolize, including toxic materials.
• Elk Head-dress — A head dress made from an elk skull. It obscures her face and shoulders, and makes her seem larger than she truly is.

Why you are in the Imperial City.
Freja has answered Hircine’s call, and has come with her dogs to the city as a hunter selling pelts in the local markets. She has kept her true intentions hidden thus far, but plans on joining her lord in his Great Hunt when the time comes.

Skillset
Freja learned the ways of living in the wilderness from the day she could walk. Her entire life has been dedicated to mastering the harsh environments around her, and she has carried that survival knowledge forward with her. Skilled as an ax wielder and thrower, skilled at butchering and using animals, and even just moving around her environment. She is a force to be reckoned with in an investigatorial and martial sense, as well as a general physical sense. Strength and agility seem to come easy to this Reach dweller, though it is clear enough that she is unstudied in the ways of Imperial standard living.

Spells

• Totemic Hedge Magic — Freja constructs bone totems that act as passive magicka seeves. They are each enchanted with a unique effect and have a limited effective radius of about 2 miles.
• Bind Wounds — A minor restoration spell that stops bleeding and prevents infection.

Dogs

• Broli, 3 Years Old, Skyrim Wolfhound. A large, grey dog that wears a collar and harness with a bone charm on the front. He is reasonably obedient, but often needs chastising.
• Breja, 2 Years Old, Skyrim Wolfhound. A medium-sized, black-grey dog that wears a collar and harness with a bone charm pinned to the left shoulder. She rarely listens to commands, and remains on a leash at all times.
• Bjorn, 2 Years Old, Skyrim Wolfhound. A medium-sized, black dog that wears a collar and harness with a bone charm pinned to the right shoulder. He listens more than his sister, but is still kept on a leash.
• Briarheart, 4 Years Old, Skyrim Wolfhound. A large, grey dog that wears a collar with no harness. He is strictly obedient, and craves human flesh.
• Bramblefoot, 5 Years Old, Skyrim Wolfhound. A large, black-grey dog that wears a collar with no harness. She is strictly obedient, and craves human flesh.

Name: Uthane Ashwing

Birthsign: The Warrior

Race: Argonian

Appearance: A massive creature, towering over even most Almer, Uthane is otherwise physically a normal Argonian, albeit with a multitude of scars. His scales range from greys to deep black, the cheeks a vauge, hard to see dark red. His eyes are a set of piercing, animalistic blue slits, somehow unsettling even for other Argonians. He wears very little, mostly a set of thick leather trousers with straps, stitching and leather bands holding them together. He does however enjoy jewlery, Such as the gold rings set upon his horns. However, as of recently, he has been wearing a strange silver ring bearing the likeness of a wolf upon his finger. Across the left half of his chest resides a massive scar where some unthinkably large beast bit into him, a mark of pride for the Argonian, and a tale he will tell as often as possible. In most situations it does not take long to figure out what Uthane is, especially if one starts a fight with him. A follower of hircine, Uthane is a lycanthrope and Werecroc. In this form he easily reaches 7-8 foot tall and his hide thickens, his eyes however, remain the same, finally matching.

Background: Uthane is, if the name did not reveal, not your typical Argonian. Unable to remember his birth, his earliest memory is of his adoptive mother, a Breton woman who studied the school of restoration at the college of winterhold. Her husband, a rather strange Altmer when compared to his brethren often acted aloof, but frequently spoiled the young lizard. Despite growing up around magic and studious parents, Uthane is not exactly the most intelligent creature alive, but is extremely enthusiastic about most everything, and extremely supportive of his siblings, a Breton and an adopted Khajiit.

In his teenage years soon following his mother's passing, Uthane spent a lot of time exploring skyrim alone, his few known Alteration spells and skill with spears keeping him generally safe, that is until he found himself in the swamps near Morthal, resting happily in the waters that contained much more than weeds and an argonian. It was faster than he could think, before he completely realized what happened a set of massive jaws clamped around the left half of his body, his entire left arm trapped deep in the maw of the giant beast that dragged him deeper into the muddy waters. His screams of terror and surprise went unheeded, drowned out in both senses of the word as he snapped his fingers, years and years of practicing one spell just to please his father coming in handy as a layer of magical energy flashed into life around his body. There was no thinking in this fight, no plans and no thought other than survival. Dragged far from shore, tooth and claw were his weapons as he aimed for the clear weak points on the beast, eyes, throat, nostrils. Tearing at it's face and half blinding the beast, Uthane was released. He swam to shore, his left arm hanging limply at his side as he dove for his spear, whirling around and digging the butt of the weapon into the mud beneath him as the beast leapt from the water, impaling itself almost immediately and collapsing on top of Uthane.

Limping away after dragging himself out from underneath the bleeding corpse of the creature, he would learn later what it was, and what it would turn him into. Luckily though Uthane had his brother and sister, and with their help he was able to gain some measure of control over his new form as a lycanthrope, a were-croc. Even after learning about the daderic lord Hircine Uthane was perfectly fine with what he had become, ecstatic even, as he now had a skill that almost nobody else could match. In the years following, Uthane became a terror to the imperial armies in the area. Paired with his brother, a restoration mage, and his sister, an alchemist and hunter, he quickly became well known and made things extremely difficult for the imperial army in the Winterhold area. However, not all things can last, and eventually his reign of terror came to an end as he awoke in his cell with a head full of nightmares and a hand clutching a strange silver ring.

Personality: Rather Dimwitted but proud, Uthane enjoys the company of all, no matter race, worshipped god or daedra, or even affliction. He is easily made a friend, and through this will defend those he considers allies with every inch of his being. His puts family above all else, and will go out of his way to keep his siblings safe, even if it means going up against some of the most powerful creatures in Tamriel.

Typical Equipment:
Steel Spear
Iron Shield
Ring of Hircine

Why you were left to rot in the Imperial Prison: The slaughter of countless Imperial legion soldiers, Daedra worship

Skillset:
Lycanthropic transformation - With the aid of The Ring of Hircine, Uthane has remarkable control over his shifting in and out of his form as a were-croc. While in this form his hide thickens and he grows in size, strength and speed. Unlike many were-creatures, Uthane, once again with the aid of the ring, maintains a terrifying amount of control over his shifted form. He is able to tell friend from foe, understand spoken language, and shift back at will.

Oakflesh - One of the only spells he knows, he practiced this spell for years in order to try and impress his Altmer adoptive father. While not shifted, he will often use this spell during a fight without fully thinking.

Candlelight - The very first spell he ever learned.

Elemental Fury / Su Grah Dun - The Thu'um imbues your arms with the speed of wind, allowing for faster weapon strikes. Spending time in a mage's college teaching thuum to those capable has it's perks. Uthane quite quickly and surprisingly picked up on this shout, though admittedly he has only recently learned the final word and been able to couple it with the two others.

Quite obviously, Uthane often relies on his Lycanthropy during combat in order to dominate the battlefield, he makes himself the biggest target in the room, often making it trivial for his allies to keep out of harms way or pick off those who he cannot engage in physical combat. His weakness is ranged attacks, as even unshifted he relies entirely on an aggressive approach with his spear. He loves fighting alongside allies who favor ranged combat, as this allows him to fight without worrying about harming somebody important.