Reyman Caro, Lich [+]

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.

Values [+]

Reyman is an absolute believer in the rule of law.
He greatly prizes loyalty.
He does not care about family one way or the other.
He finds friendship burdensome.
He sees power over others as something to strive for.
He values honesty.
He greatly respects the shrewd and guileful.
He believes that artful speech and eloquent expression are of the highest ideals.
He respects fair-dealing and fair-play.
He greatly respects those that observe decorum and maintain their dignity.
He finds the following of tradition foolish and limiting.
He doesn't care about art one way or another.
He values cooperation.
He values independence.
He sees introspection to be a waste of time.
He doesn't particularly value self-control.
He values tranquility and a peaceful day.
He values a harmonious existence.
He doesn't really value merrymaking.
He has a great deal of respect for worthy craftsmanship.
He believes that the mastery of a skill is one of the highest pursuits.
He believes that hard work is one of the highest ideals and a key to the good life.
He values sacrifice.
He views competition as a crucial driving force in the world.
He believes that perseverance is one of the greatest qualities somebody can have.
He finds leisure time wasteful.
He is somewhat put off by trade and commerce.
He doesn't care one way or the other about romance.
He doesn't care about nature one way or another.
He believes that peace is always preferable to war.
He finds the quest for knowledge to be of the very highest value.

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

@Chrononaut

This post will be short as it is from my phone. However, are you waiting for others to join before you make a GM post or would you be willing to carry on with me until we get more people involved?

Veteria Venenum [+]

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 dark 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 huge force behind her punches and strikes, which she uses 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 (and has).

Her father, being an adventurer and herbalist, taught her everything he knew about potions and poisons and the herbs and ingredients that go 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 Chorrol's 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

Uthane [+]

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 are a range of greens, from light to dark, though the patch on his throat is a vivid bright orange, much like the soft feathery patch of 'hair' that resides on his head. His eyes are a set of piercing, animalistic yellow 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.

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.

@Chrononaut

A man has a question. Should we have some sort of defined turn order as well as a defined time limit for people to participate in a given round? For example we have three players and three posts, maybe it is time for the game master to post and then repeat the post order over a given time period, perhaps three days from the previous person’s post?

Discuss..._

@Chrononaut

So why collaborate on an outside site? This concept is new to me. We could have and in my opinion should have been conducting out etherpad posts on the guild to provide a complete story if for some reason another might read this. Why not carry on here?

@Chrononaut

In case our Etherpad does not provide such convenient alerts, I have posted on our pad to continue our collaboration. I have also taken a gander at the collective pad as well. Of course, I'll hold off on post there just yet as it would seem inappropriate given Enathrae's current engagement.