After GCold review the last two CS's, I will post up the intro post (expect it within 36 hours)! And we also have one or two more people showing up as well :)
Talos Dunmer Rogue incoming.
Alright, two more reviews here.
Wow, what a richly detailed sheet, @darkwolf687!
Right of the bat, the attention to details in just the spells section is incredible. Of course, covering 556 years of life alone is a daunting task, yet you have accomplished that and told a superb story through your character's background. It is clear Dalnoria's personality is shaped through more than five centuries of personal growth, family affair and historical events. Despite having experienced so much already, she still has room to grow. Finally, her skills and flaws connect nicely with her background, and they are very much relevant to her deity.
Dalnoria is a well fleshed out character. She is approved, unless @POOHEAD189 says otherwise.
Added some detail on Lucy's thoughts on the current situation mainly
Definitely hoping to fill the "blank slate" role, Lucy's both very untested and very confident so she's got a lot to learn
Hey there, is this still open?
Saw a deadline for the 12th Jan but also saw approvals being made after then.
Was looking for more Elder Scrolls RPs cropping up just before the holidays, haven't scouted for one since then until now! I'll be gutted if I missed this one.
If yes, could you outline which deities are still open for championing, and I can get creating ASAP.
<Snipped quote by Cazzer1604>
Yep! We're open and ready. The players should be posting within the next week, so if you want to be involved in the beginning action, go ahead and make your sheet. We have room for Mara and Zenithar, atm.
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Known as Gav o' the Gutter Height 5' 10" Weight 156lb Gender Male Race Dunmer Age 32 Birthsign The Tower ___________________________________ C A P A B I L I T I E S Deity Talos Attributes Skills Sneak (Expert) Speechcraft (Adept) Security (Adept) Acrobatics (Apprentice) Blade (Apprentice) Mercantile (Novice) Light Armour (Novice) Hand to Hand (Novice) ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Weapons and tools Steel stiletto dagger. Set of lockpicks. Rope and Grapple. Outfit Leather armour, tanned to near black. Black hooded woollen cloak. Black bandana, can be pulled up over the lower face. Fingerless gloves. Consumables Potion of Nightmask. Bottle of cheap wine. A vial of unrefined moonsugar. Valuables Several hundred septims. Pair of ornate silver candle sticks. Several gold finger and ear rings. Gold tooth. Misc Two pairs of dice, one loaded. ___________________________________ | ____________________________________________________________________________ A P P E A R A N C E The overall impression that Gav' gives, is one of sharpness. From his thin, blade like face, to the pointed tips of his ears, he is a mer made up of hard and dangerous edges. His dark hair is pulled back to reveal an angular face, the cheekbones high, the nose narrow and long. A perpetual smirk slashes across his ashen complexion, that widens when he laughs to show sharp white teeth and a flash of half hidden gold. His eyes are same, half hooded crimson orbs that flicker between amusement, hunger, and bored cruelty. A jagged scar runs down through the right right brow from forehead to cheek, evidence of a time someone tried to cut one of those arrogant eyes out. He's handsome in an unkempt and careless sort of way. Gav's hair often untidy and greasy, his jaw most commonly unshaven. His clothes are serviceable, not presentable, and he seems to put little effort into how he dresses. Excepting, that is, the gaudy adornments of golden finger rings and ear piercings, that look chosen more their weight and value as opposed to their artistic or aesthetic merit. Gav's height is a little below average for a Dunmer, but his build is lithe, yet surprisingly muscular. This is especially true for his upper body and the muscles that are commonly used to climb and scale buildings. Beneath his leather armour, there are markings all over his chiselled body. To most they would be meaningless, but to one of the Right Honourable Folk of the Thieves Guild of Tamriel, they tell a story. A story of scores made and scores lost, of hearts broken and men killed, of triumph and defeat. ____________________________________________________________________________ M O T I V A T I O N A N D O U T L O O K The beginnings of a thief comes from want, the desire to possess things that one does not possess. Its those thoughts that give birth to a thief, the actual stealing is just following through. And if want is the hallmark of a thief, then Gav' is a thief down to the bottom of his soul. He wants. Not just riches, but power, women, fame... happiness... love... He wants everything. And he'll do just about anything to get it. Lie, cheat, steal... kill. There's a thorough amoral streak in Gav' that runs deep. He's not a sociopath or sadist, he understands the difference between right and wrong, and he takes no enjoyment in the suffering of others. But what Gav' wants comes first, always. He's not just ruthless and naked ambition, Gav' can be quite charming in his own roguish sort of way. He has a quick mind, a wicked sense of humour, and a fondness for women, wine, and song that often makes him entertaining (if not entirely pleasant) company. ____________________________________________________________________________ H I S T O R Y The Dunmer hail from Morrowind, the exotic star-wounded east, a land of barren ash plains and glowing mushroom forests inhabited by living Gods. Gav' knows nothing of this, to him its all stories and tall-tales. A make-believe paradise passed down in the delirious whispers he heard from his mother's lips. Gavas Oren was born in the Imperial City, his mother was Nalasa Oren. Gav' never knew how his mother came to the great cesspit of a city that squats in the centre of Empire. He always presumed she came from Morrowind, but now he wonders if that was very the case at all. Perhaps she was just clung on a grand fictitious past that she had handed down to him. His father on the other hand, could have been just about anyone. Nalasa Oren had been a whore. The kind that you could find working the docks in any large port city that filled periodically with sailors bored of the sea and flush with fresh wages. The cheap kind. The kind that die from easily treatable diseases that they catch from then men who pay to fuck them. Those were his earliest memories, squalor and sickness. The delirious ramblings of a dying woman trapped in her sick bed, slowly rotting away from the inside out. They aren't pleasant to revisit. Perhaps that's why Gav' has no interest in his past, who his parents or his family are. There is only the future, there is no going back. It wasn't a long way from that dark fetid room to the gutter, and that's where Gav' ended up when his mother finally returned to her ancestors. On the street he had run amok with a gang of half starved ragged urchins and orphans. Taking work where they could running errands in the docks for a septim, and stealing bread from the baker's stalls when there was none to be had. That was the first thing he had ever stole, bread. It would not be the last. His career as a criminal started innocently enough. At first he only stole to cover those bare essentials required to live, food, water, clothing. But if stealing a sweetroll is just as easy as stealing bread, why settle for just bread? And for Gav’ it was easy, it had always been easy. From a young age he had been blessed with a small frame, fast legs, and nimble fingers. He and the other street kids of the Docks started out snatching from market stalls and street vendors. As they got older and smarter they turned to picking pockets, working in teams to spot and distract targets while their fellows pilfered the mark’s gold. It wasn’t a huge leap for the more violently persuaded of them to mugging. But that had never been Gav’s speciality, he had been a burglar. After one successful score, Gav’ was celebrating with a couple of other young ruffians when several unexpected visitors came calling on them. They had come to the attention of a higher power, the Thieves Guild. The Guild have always taken their role as a ‘crime regulator’ rather seriously. Too many thieves stealing too many things put too many noses out of joint and brought the law down on all of them. That and having thieves running around not paying dues might give their own members unhelpful and unproductive ideas about the possibility of free enterprise. Examples had to be made. Generally speaking, the Guild does not like to kill on the job if it could help it. It had less scruples when it came to dealing with the competition. But allowances could be made for foolish and impetuous youth, after all, the next generation of Guildsmen had come from somewhere. Hence, a choice was given to all those involved. Join the Guild, or never steal again. The first youth they put their question to, a lad named Ulfr, thinking himself a sly and clever fellow, promptly swore (lying through his teeth) that he would never steal again. After all how could the Guild enforce such a policy, even they could not watch and know every crime that happened in the Imperial City. He figured he would lay low a while and then be back to his old tricks in no time. He was wrong, of course. The Guild did have a way to make sure you never steal again. It involved pinning you down to the floor and taking a hammer to each of your fingers until they bent and snapped like brittle twigs. Only sticks didn’t bleed and trees couldn’t scream. Once they were finished, they turned to Gav’ and asked him if he would Join the Guild or never steal again. He remembered standing there, unable to tear his eyes away from the broken weeping mess that had once been his friend and brother-in-arms. Everything taken away from him in an instance, now helpless, powerless, broken. Gav’ decided that he would never let that happen to him. Gav’ joined the Guild, along with everyone else that night. It wasn't difficult for him to rise quickly in the organisation. He was a talented mer, who had already been running his own crew before joining up with the Guild. His determination to get ahead didn't make him too many friends, but his amoral nature and ambition was put to good use by the Doyens and their lieutenants. It didn't take long for him to be one of the breaking fingers instead of living in fear of it being done to him. Being with the Guild also meant steady money, and status in rough taverns of the Imperial City Waterfront. Gav' put that status and money to good use as a mer about town, getting a reputation as something of a rake, with a different girl on his arm every week. Things had been going well, until that blasted job in Kvatch. It had been a spur of the moment thing, during a stopover from a some business he had to take care of in Anvil. Chapel door had been wide open, Gav' had only meant to take a quick look around. But the place had been empty, the collection plate full, and the altar set with silver candlesticks. He had felt the itch, the compulsion, the want. A minute later he walked out with a full satchel and an arrogant smile playing across his lips. It was only then that the nightmares started. ____________________________________________________________________________ R E L A T I O N S H I P S A N D O P I N I O N S Gav' has many friends, but he would consider few of them to be particularly close. The exception to this are the two remaining Guild members who were inducted that same night as him, Helvius Saccas, an Imperial forger, and Lushak Shug, an orcish enforcer. They are the members of his first real gang, and together they are bonded in the blood and disgrace of their former fellow. A fate that nearly befell them all. The others are all gone, either hung, in prison, or broken shells of who they once were... like Ulfr. |
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Height 6'0" / 183cm Weight 188 lbs Gender Male Race Redguard Age 36 Birthsign The Lover ___________________________________ C A P A B I L I T I E S Deity Mara (a.k.a. Morwha) Attributes MAJOR: Personality minor: Endurance Skills Mercantile (Expert) Blunt (Journeyman) Speechcraft (Journeyman) Athletics (Apprentice) Light Armour (Apprentice) Alchemy (Apprentice) Hand-to-Hand (Novice) Spells None ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Weapons and tools Reinforced Wooden Quarterstaff Bangkorai-style Dagger (only used in dire circumstances, more of an accessory than anything) Outfit Redguard Travelling Gear with Moonstone Armour, dyed the deep burgundy colour of Damari wine Consumables - Plenty of Wine Taster Vials - Various Traveller Snacks - Health Potion x 1 - Stamina Potion x 2 Valuables - 700 Septims - An Orichalcum Damar family signet ring, engraved with a knotted grapevine Misc - Arrived in Kvatch with a small caravan stocked with Damari wine and other miscellaneous goods to trade - Khamir's family is moderately wealthy and he has personal business connections & favours across northern Hammerfell, western Cyrodiil and southern High Rock should he ever have use of them ___________________________________ | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Khamir is an average height, neither towering nor short. He has a somewhat stocky build, naturally muscular and honed through countless stints on the roads and dusty trails between Hammerfell and other parts of Tamriel. The desert storms of his homeland has worn on the parts of his face unprotected by garments, giving his features a hardened, ashy complexion slightly beyond his age. His skin is middling for a Redguard, lighter than the Alik'r consistently scorched by the sun, but darker than his city-dwelling kinsman or those in that call more temperate climes the country home. When free of his travelling headgear that protects him from dust and weather of western Tamriel, Khamir wears his black, wiry hair as dreadlocks, pushed towards the back of his head and always shaved on the sides, and sports a knotted beard. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Khamir is loyal to his family first, and his business second. Though they are pretty much one and the same. Everything he does is for the benefit and wellbeing of those he adores, not for personal gain nor glory. Any profits made when peddling the familial wine is merely a bonus that further secures the future of the Damar family, not the overarching goal of his profession. That's not to say he doesn't enjoy what he does. The Al-Damar Vintage is a fine wine and therefore easy to sell to commoners and nobility alike, and the thrill of bringing its sweet and tender nectar for a new settlement to savour is beaten only by the warmth and welcome of returning to a town that has ran dry of his last sold batch. He thoroughly enjoys immersing himself into the market squares and districts, and relishes in his trade as any good merchant should. The thrill of bargaining a trade deal with his fellow punters or securing a large contract with a esteemed House or Count is always a tantalising feeling. But all that is secondary to the glow of his family, of his wife and children. He tries to live by the wholesome ideals set by the Divines - hybridised as they are by the conflicting cultures and pantheons of Yokuda and Cyrodill. He sees no reason not to assist his fellow travellers should they require help, or show compassion where there is absence of distrust. He is, quite simply, a good and honest businessman who does the best for himself and his loved ones. Khamir avoids death and violence if he can, but is not above eliminating threats that force his hand. His choice of weaponry limits bloodshed as much as possible, though certain concussions he can and does inflict are not in any way mild. ____________________________________________________________________________ HISTORY Tall Papa. Akatosh. Zenithar. Morwha. Someone in the stars has seen fit to bless the Damar family with everything they could need in recent centuries. Despite their vineyard being within the mostly dry and desolate Fallen Wastes in the ever-tulmultous Bangkorai region of northern Hammerfell, the family has consistently thrived ever since an unfortunate incident in the Second-Era. Muasi Al-Damar was the first to see the potential of producing a wine local to the region, instead of importing expensive vintage from Sentinel. Though the wider climate surrounding Halinn's Stand was inconsistent with rain, the Damar Farmstead's altitude and proximity to the mountains provided ample precipitation for crops to grow, and the soil was rich with nutrients as a result of hardy flora dotting the locale as a result. And so with the blessings of the Gods, the Damar Farmstead took a gamble and changed their crops from grain to grapes. And they never looked back. The acidity of the soil and the enrichment and novelty of the terrain and climate made the resulting Damari wine into a huge regional hit, and before long the family was establishing themselves as an minor noble house well-loved for their product and expertise in producing and selling the wine. Fast-forward to the late Third-Era, and Alab Al-Damar has 7 healthy sons born to his much-adored wife. The secured status of the family and economy give him ambitions to expand the operation to a continent-wide scale. Until an overly-eager contingent of Breton hedge-knights happened upon the vineyard and felt entitled to one-too-many bottles of the local produce. A scuffle broke out between Alab and the Breton leader, resulting in the accidental murder of the Damar patriarch and the subsequent fleeing of the self-proclaimed keepers of the peace. Khamir was 13 at the time of his father's death - the second-eldest of his brothers. The family vineyard was left without its expertise and without any plan as to how to sustain itself. The eldest Damar son, Qadim, had barely begun his tutelage in the winemaking arts, nevermind the cultivation and maintenance of the maincrop. Any uncles, aunties or cousins of the family had long since left the nest, not set on assisting in the family legacy. Through sheer perseverance, willpower and dumb luck, the family managed to pull through, but the production and quality of the Damari vintage was a shadow of its former self. Hard work and unconditional familial support was the key pillars in the recuperation of the family following sudden tragedy, and Khamir's mother was a cornerstone in maintaining hope and faith that all would be well, eventually. Qadim eventually settled into the role as patriarch and head-winemaker, and Khamir dutifully accustomed to his role as chief liaison and salesmen to re-establish the trade network lost in the interluding years where the family was getting back on its feet. It wasn't easy - competitors quickly swooped in to fill the void left by the gap in production, and the pride and faith in the local favourite was quickly forgotten as the taverns ran dry without excuse or explanation. In essence, Khamir had to start from scratch. Through guile and charisma, and supported by his elder brother's tenacity and talent for winemaking, Khamir fought the well-funded peddlers from Sentinel and regained the Damar family's reputation and hegemony in the local area. When journeys began to involve perilous roads and shady patrons, Khamir defended himself valiantly and found that he was a natural at utilising a sturdy walking staff to do so. But to ensure his wellbeing, Khamir spared no expense in procuring self-defense lessons for any highwayman that threatened to harm him or his family's income. Halinn's Stand housed a few veterans who were happy to expand and build on his innate skills with a blunt staff for coin. For similar reasons, he invested in light armour and education on how best to wear and utilise it for those long treks in the arid deserts. As his brothers matured, the burden lightened. And soon enough they were back to square one and ready to move past the family tragedy and onto the future. For there were many mouths to feed as wives were married and more Damari children were born. Khamir's mercantile skills were tested and honed in the sandstone jungle of Sentinel. He initially had failings and successes in equal number, but each informed his increasingly lucrative career as a winemerchant. It was in the Forebear capital where he met his wife, Alha. A florist, Alha was as alluring to Khamir as the scent of her wares. And as captivatingly curious as the context of her profession - being a curator of flowers in a land so hostile to them. Flirtation led to flings, which led to more and more trips to and from Sentinel, originally under the guise of furthering business ventures but became increasingly and truthfully for leisure purposes as his excuses wore thin with his brothers. Soon enough, they married under the sunset of the Illiac Bay, with members of both extensive families witnessing. The wine of course, was free for all attending. As Khamir's family business grew, so did his immediate family. Alha birthed first a son, Awal, and another, Thanin, not long after. As many fathers have said and as many will continue to say: there is nothing in this world that Khamir would not do for his children. The Damari wine business continued to steadily grow - in revenue, in size, in quality - and Khamir found that his reach could extend beyond the immediate region of Bangkorai and the Kingdom of Sentinel. He found he could sell boxes of bottles in every direction and method he travelled: On the roads, from the highlands of Skaven to the spires of Wayrest; Via the sea, from the palms of Stros M'Kai to the terracotta domes of Anvil. He often brought his brothers, nephews and nieces along with him for companionship and to teach them the trade. Life was good. Business was booming. The family was thriving. And then the dreams started. Khamir recognised the gates of Kvatch instantly, for he had visited a few times. And the spire of the Imperial City was not hard to imagine from the many descriptions he had heard. But the rest? It terrified him. And yet he felt compelled to make sense of it. Alha was fully supportive of his reasons to go, and did not object to Khamir's hasty preparing for an expedition to the golden plains of western Cyrodiil. He took one his younger brothers, Arban, and his nephew, Aybar, along with him under the pretence of allowing Aybar to see more of the world and to sell heaps of Darmari wine to an ever-thirsty Kvatch. But deep-down Khamir knew this may not turn out to be an ordinary business trip. ____________________________________________________________________________ RELATIONSHIPS AND OPINIONS As established, Khamir has quite the large family that he can rely upon for comfort, advice and aid. He is one of 7 brothers, and today the family is quite a bit larger than that. He has different but mostly positive relationships with different brothers. However he has brought along one brother and one nephew on his journey to Kvatch: Arban - At 32 years old and the quietest of the Al-Darmars, Arban is stoic, reserved and wise beyond his years. Khamir very much enjoys his company and they have been on many ventures together - the noise levels back home are elevated, to say the least. It's fair to say that Khamir would trust Arban before many of his other siblings. It doesn't hurt that Arban is a decent fighter and has a brutish figure that can see off any would-be attackers. Aybar - Aybar is insofar the opposite of his father: curious, gregarious and brash. At a tender age of 12, he is keen to know and understand more of the world, and pesters his father and uncle to no end with inane questions. The boy means well, of course, but these journeys are not tourist visits and has gotten himself into trouble before by asking an impatient citizen a question too far. Not initially invited along to Kvatch, Aybar insisted on accompanying Khamir and Arban and the two adults eventually gave in. Beyond his family, Khamir has few connections or particular affiliation with the wider factions of Tamriel. He is an Associate Member of the Merchants Guild, specifically associating with the Sentinel chapter. Though for pragmatic reasons only as it makes business much easier to conduct - Sentinel more than most cities can be a nest of opportunistic vipers, and business-based greed can be the sharpest venom of all. Khamir always feels he needs to watch his back within the Guild. In regards to the internal politics of Hammerfell, Khamir leans more toward the Forebear school of thinking. Like it or not, the Empire is the dominant force in Tamriel and Khamir largely believes that the ends justify the means - tolerance, continent-wide stability and free and fair trade are more than worth the price of subservience to a larger authority. He feels no need to antagonise the Empire for the sake of traditions from a Yokuda long-since lost. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC Character Flaws / Weaknesses Breto-phobic: Khamir harbours a deep resentment towards Bretons, especially those of a knightly disposition, as a result of what happened to his father. To him, Bretons are distrustful and two-faced, their haughty disposition merely a façade for being little more than savage bandits in shinier armour and nicer clothes. "I'm a Seller, not a Fighter": Khamir is a merchant and his trade is selling wine. While physically strong and more than capable of defending himself, he is neither a soldier nor an adventurer and sees little reason to take risks to his wellbeing. He has seen his fair share of combat but has no taste or appetite for it, and would be hard-pressed to be a hero. Middle-Aged Businessman: Khamir has lived most of his adult life on the road, and the thousands of miles travelling to and from northern Hammerfell have taken their toll. His knees and joints are not ones of a young man, much less a career warrior. That being said, he is far from decrepit and has experience on his side in a fight. |
I'll review both your sheets this weekend!
<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>
Great! I believe I have finished my Redguard merchant and he's ready for approval.
<Snipped quote by Cazzer1604>
Alright, what's the magic word?
