[OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Chapter's Dues

[Hank]

THE ELDER SCROLLS

CHAPTER’S DUES

_{This is an invite-only RP. Applications are not welcome.}

To all whom it may concern,

The renowned guild and mercenary organization known as the Chapter is looking to expand its ranks. We are a varied and capable group of warriors, sorcerers and specialists from all races, creeds and walks of life that have come together to provide a common service to all citizens and rulers of Tamriel during these latest years of strife and unrest. Where the traditional institutions and governments that used to be responsible for maintaining peace, security and prosperity have been preoccupied with other matters, the Chapter stands ready.

Because of the demanding nature of our work, we are looking for individuals with a desire to do good (for a reasonable fee) that are in possession of the following skills:

• All able-bodied men and women who are trained or experienced fighters with one or several schools of weapons and armor. Equipment will be provided as needed.
• Skilled and knowledgeable mages, sorcerers, warlocks and witches. Formal training is preferred but not necessary. Necromancers need not apply.
• Healers, be they alchemists, mages skilled in the esteemed school of Restoration or traditional physicians or medics. Experience with combat trauma is definitely preferred.
• Those with specialized utilitarian skills such as rangers, scouts, treasure hunters, sailors, and even corsairs and thieves are all welcome. The Chapter is willing to give convicts wishing to reform a chance.
• Last but not least, cooks, tailors, smiths, couriers, farmers and other craftsmen and -women. The Chapter aims to be a fully self-sufficient organization.

Interested individuals are encouraged to speak with their local Chapter representative or, if they are able, to travel to the Chapter's headquarters in the Great Forest of Cyrodiil, south of Chorrol.

The Chapter protects and the Chapter provides.

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General Information

• The in-game year is 4E206.
• The Dragonborn has defeated Alduin, Lord Harkon and Miraak and has since retreated to High Hrothgar to become one of the Greybeards.
• The Stormcloaks nearly won the Civil War, which raged on for four years from 201 until 205, but they were narrowly defeated after all. Skyrim remains full of unrest, however.
• The faction quests in Skyrim were completed by separate individuals, but the precise outcomes aren’t relevant to this RP…
• ... except the Dark Brotherhood storyline: the Emperor was indeed assassinated near the end of 4E201 and this has sparked a renewed border conflict with the Aldmeri Dominion after they smelled weakness within the Empire. Cyrodiil was the stage of a power struggle that took place in the shadows and the Empire’s grip over the provinces waned. This has increased the popularity and influence of the Chapter.
• Morrowind, Black Marsh, High Rock, Hammerfell and the Aldmeri Dominion are in the same state they were before the events of Skyrim. We will be visiting places all over Tamriel over the course of the RP and the various regions will be more fleshed out then.

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The Chapter

What, exactly, is the Chapter? It is many things: a guild, a mercenary company, a self-sufficient organization, a place of training and a repository of knowledge. The Chapter is based out of a large compound nestled within the Great Forest of Cyrodiil, located south of Chorrol, and while it theoretically answers to the authority of the Count and the Empire at large, in practice it operates as an independent entity that serves people all over Tamriel, both citizens and rulers. The Chapter grows its own food, forges its own equipment, trains its own members and hoards its own texts, artifacts and technology. Some Cyrodiilic warlords were leery of the Chapter and branded it a ‘rogue army’ but none had the resources or inclination to march against the Chapter, and its leaders have continuously assured the nations of Tamriel that they are not looking to usurp anyone’s authority… which is true. It is far more lucrative not to.

The Chapter was founded in 4E190 by four wildly different but like-minded individuals: the Imperial swordsman and former Legionnaire Gaius Nero; the Altmer sorcerer and former Thalmor agent Duatheryn; the Argonian ranger and former An-Xileel operative Only-He-Goes-There; and last but not least, the Dunmer magistrate and former House Redoran lord Divuth Garethi. You may have noticed a trend there. All four founders were previously part of either the armies or ruling entities of their erstwhile homelands and all four left their posts to pursue careers as freelance mercenaries. Their work brought them together and during a heated discussion over a few too many mugs of ale at dinner, they realized that they were all equally dissatisfied with the way things were run. Tamriel lacked an efficient, capable, well-equipped and highly organized independent fighting force after the downfall of the Fighters Guild and the sundering of the Mages Guild into the College of Whispers, the Synod and the Arcane University. They resolved to rectify that issue.

In order to function properly, the Chapter is split into four Divisions, each headed by one of the founders.

• The Operations Division is headed by Gaius Nero and is comprised of (almost) all active field agents and officers. They are responsible for carrying out the missions agreed upon within the contracts obtained by the Logistics Division, and essentially generate most of the revenue for the Chapter -- its dues, if you will. Wink. Members of this division are officially referred to as mercenaries. If you ask them, they do all the actual work. Our characters are probably all members of this division since they’re the ones who actually go out into the field and kick some ass, but sometimes members of other divisions are attached to field teams for various reasons.
• The Intelligence Division is headed by Duatheryn and is responsible for gathering and guarding information, knowledge and power. The Chapter stands to benefit from being well-informed about the goings on in the world at large and Duatheryn is always looking to add more tomes of (arcane) knowledge to the Chapter’s sizeable library, or equipment and artifacts to its armory. This division is the most covert of the four and while its existence is known to all, its activities are a well-guarded secret. Members of this division are known as agents and include librarians, spies, informants, sorcerers and more.
• The Technical Division’s name is a bit of a misnomer (but you try coming up with a better one) since it doesn’t exclusively refer to the use of technology. It is headed by Only-He-Goes-There and is is a hodgepodge mixture of scouts, sailors, smiths, alchemists, enchanters and engineers. Where the Operations Division is generally called upon to make something dead, the Intelligence Division is called upon to make something known and the Logistics Division is called upon to get something done, the Technical Division is called upon for… everything else. Members of this division are known as specialists and many of them only work part-time for the Chapter, as their services are not in need all the time. Craftsmen are the exception here. Always need craftsmen!
• The Logistics Division is headed by Divuth Garethi and does exactly what the name implies.They are responsible for feeding, housing and transporting all the other members of the Chapter and maintaining its supply chains. Its ranks are made up out of farmers, cooks, builders, merchants and, yes, logisticians. Additionally, the Logistics Division is also responsible for securing actual work for the Chapter by obtaining contracts, negotiating prices and advertising the Chapter’s services.

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Character Guidelines

Almost none! For the sake of simplicity I will ask you all not to make vampires or werewolves, but most other character archetypes are fair game. One thing, though: this is meant to be a pretty light-hearted and fun adventure in the world of Tamriel, so there’s no space for genuinely evil or malevolent characters. In the end, people sign up with the Chapter to do good, or at the absolute worst to make some gold.

Equipment is limited to sensible stuff. Our characters are mercenaries; if they were rich enough to afford a suit of ebony armor, they wouldn’t be doing this gig. I trust you all to be reasonable about this.

I’ve come up with a little rule concerning enchanted items: everyone can have one enchanted piece of equipment with an average enchantment on it, like a bit of fire damage or some extra elemental protection. Characters with the Enchanting skill can have more, up to a maximum of four pieces for an Expert enchanter, of which one enchantment can be powerful and the rest just average. Again, be reasonable about it. We’re not here to win, we’re here to have fun!

We use the same skill system as Vengeance of the Deep (with different tier names) because things are just easier that way. The default is one Expert skill, three Adept skills and three Apprentice skills, but you can trade one skill for two skills one level below it (1 Expert = 2 Adept) and vice versa. Novice is just everything else, you don’t have to mention that your character knows how to not kill themselves with a mace.

In order to further specialize weapons, One-Handed and Two-Handed are divided into the three main weapon categories (Sword, Axe and Blunt), Spear is its own thing again (like in Morrowind) and Marksman is divided into Archery and Throwing Weapons. There are three armor skills (Light, Medium(!) and Heavy). On the magic side of things, Mysticism isn’t a thing anymore in Skyrim and I’m keeping it that way, so try to draw from Skyrim’s magic system as much as you can.

Here is the Character Sheet.

Name:
Gender:
Race:
Age:
Birthsign: This is mostly for flavor but you can say that it has some minor affect on your character's strengths and weaknesses if you like.
Appearance: Written description mandatory, images are allowed (but no photographs, that just looks weird).

History: I know many of us are fond of writing really long histories, but you really don’t have to bother in this RP. Five solid paragraphs is enough, as long as their journey through life makes sense.

Personality: Same story. If you can convey what your character is like in one meaty paragraph, I’m fine with that. It’ll come out during the RP anyway.

Equipment:

• Please list weapons separately and describe what they look like and are made of. Armor can be lumped together.
• Also include how much septims they have (maximum of 200) and other misc items like jewelry and sentimental items and whatever.
• ...

Attributes: One Major, one Minor. Pick them from the list of Attributes that the games had before Skyrim. Luck also counts, if you want.

Skills:

Expert:

• ...

Adept:

• ...
• ...
• ...

Apprentice:

• ...
• ...
• ...

Spells: For mages only. Up to a maximum of eight. Expert Restoration equates to Expert level spells from Skyrim for example. This is just an indication of their power; please don’t use the actual spell names while writing, because that looks weird. Destruction’s Incinerate = a torrid flash of extreme heat and fire that burnt my master’s leather strapon to a crisp, etc etc.

Combat Style: Describe in at least a few sentences how your character goes about fighting the baddies. This helps other players figure out what kind of style we don’t already have, because the skill list doesn’t tell the whole story.

Misc: In case I forgot something.

Please post your characters in the Out of Character tab for review first.

Let’s go!

[spicykvnt]

Faerion Charmerius

Faerion Charmerius

Male Altmer | 41 | The Lover

Faerion does not possess the elegance of most of his race, standing at a ridiculous 7’1”, he is taller than all Altmer he knows, and almost certainly taller than anyone of any other race. Where the majority of Altmer are lithe and built of muscle, Faerion appears gawky with protuberant and sharp bones. Try as he might, he has not ever been able to grow into his farcical frame in a way that makes him look anything less than awkward. He is so thin and delicately skeletal, his family would often quip that a sudden flurry of air might carry him off to Oblivion.

His skin has the typical golden hue of Summerset people, and he has delightfully rich amber eyes that show his warmth and brim with glee when he smiles - there is rarely a day that his expression is grim and sad, his light-hearted and breezy nature is shown on his face and his smile carries from ear to ear. Faerion frequently flaunts his mane of long, silver hair - wearing it as Altmer do, hanging straight from root to tip. Occasionally he will wear it parted and separated in simple styles while out in the field. Faerion is also fond of tying it all up into a tightly woven bun at the top of his head. When left in its full and unabashed glory, his hair hangs down to his torso and he has rarely cut its impressive length - his hair being his pride and joy and he believes that his glossy luscious locks will be what attracts a fair maiden's attention.

In casual clothing, he favours soft fabrics in shades of green - sage, viridian, and teal robes that are loose enough to almost cover his angular body. From a distance, while dressed in his garments, he maintains a convincing illusion of grace and poise. While in the field, he cannot quite disguise his unfortunate physique and opts for light leather armour, which if anything, only accentuates his jagged limbs.

---

Born to affluent parents in Cloudrest, Summerset, Faerion’s upbringing was very typical of Altmer children. His parents were sure to raise he and his three siblings accordingly - as patriots of the Aldmeri Dominion. From a young age, he was made to read and study the history of Aldmeris, the Merethic Era, and the powerful Aldmeri Clans of Tamriel and the Summerset Isles. None of this information ever stuck with Faerion, much to his parents great dismay. Unlike his siblings, Faerion showed no real aptitude for scholarly life. Still, they tried to find him a pursuit in which he could excel in - and so when he was old enough to hold one, he was given a bow and a quiver of arrows. Now this, this excited Faerion! The feel of the bow in his hands, the sound of the string pulling taught - ready to fire… It gave him a thrill he had not yet known.

As much as it pained them, his parents sent him off to a Military Academy - pooling their savings together to fund it, putting his siblings to work to make more money. They were determined to make a proud Altmer of their son, Faerion. And so he wound up in Valenwood, training with young Bosmer. It was during this time that he seemed to undergo an unfortunate growth-spurt which he continues to attribute to the strange diet of the Bosmer that he adhered to during his time with them. He struggled to improve his skills as an archer past an apprentice level - even when his friends were succeeding at their craft and improving daily, he had stagnated at a level that was not deemed competent enough for him to be allowed to continue. He was sent packing back to Cloudrest after only three short years, with his tail between his legs and his pride in tatters.

Even though his skills had seemed to plateau, Faerion still found joy with his bow and when back in Cloudrest he would go on hunts around the outskirts. Even if it took him all day to finally take down game, he would return home with it - proud as punch of his deeds. Once again, his parents were frustrated at his overtly whimsical nature - and his inability to take himself and his heritage as seriously as his siblings. That he looked like a disaster was a further insult. His spindly limbs were ungainly and he was too gauche in personality, with all the charisma of a chopped log. Over time, they began to grow resentful over their son, with their neighbours and friends questioning how such a pitiful and hapless Altmer could exist.

Their constant snickers did not fall on deaf ears, and even with a heart as big as he had it eventually wore him down - eroding his confidence. After a discussion with his parents and siblings, it was decided that it was high time for him to set off on his own - free from the shackles of their judgement. They explained to him he should take a pilgrimage of his own to discover his talent - and return only when he could be seen make them proud, and be an example of a fine Altmer.

He was still entirely determined to be a ranger - to be a Hero of Tamriel! There must be a way that he could improve his skills with a bow - and still he continued in pursuit of his dream, working with mercenary groups throughout Cyrodiil as they made their way on their adventures. It always seemed that he wound up being more of a hindrance than a help. His clumsiness would activate booby-traps, or he would miss a stealthy shot and alert an enemy. His determination never faltered, even if all of his colleagues elected to kick him out of the group unanimously. Every time it happened, he would simply find the next rag-tag bunch of wannabe adventurers and try again, and again, and again.

His borderline delusional obsession with being a hero, eventually led him to an Inn in Anvil - where during a rather embarrassing moment of discovering he had no coin to pay for his meal, he was yanked from his seat and made to chop vegetables in the kitchens as payment. Something happened. When he touched the chef’s knife, his posture became perfect, not a limb jolting out of place anywhere. When he ran the blade across the carrots, he did it with such a speed and accuracy he surprised even himself. Each piece the same size, uniform, flawless. The Innkeeper was so surprised by it, that as an experiment, he requested that Faerion continue cooking and make his way to the pot to tend to the meats. Something else happened. Faerion blitzed through the kitchen with a dancer’s elegance. Seasoning the ingredients instinctively, basting the meat delicately, and plating up gourmet extravagance for the diners. The Innkeeper was flabbergasted, and offered Faerion a job on the spot - practically begging the Altmer culinary mastermind to stay.

"But.... but this isn't heroic!" he mused while he diced up the vegetables, sauteeing them on a low heat in the pan - the scent of caramelisation tinged the air as he scowled down at his creation. "How in Nirn will this help anyone?" His wrist flicked and released the food onto the plate - the glistening juices following which he drizzled over the finished dish. “Oh lad, ye do it for the septims!” retorted the Innkeeper. “People will come from far away to experience but a whiff of it!”

Faerion drowned out the sound of the Innkeeper. Frustrated that this was his talent. To be a common cook in the back kitchen of some tawdry inn. For one of the first times in his life, his face curled into an aggressive scowl and he growled under his breath.

_________________

He eventually found his way to Chorrol, and to a note stuck to a board in an inn - a Guild!. The opportunity was too good to pass up, and so he signed on as… as their cook in the Logistics Division, but in the back of his mind knowing it was only a matter of time until they called upon him and his bow to help out in the field.

---

Faerion, unlike most Altmer has a far more approachable nature to him, and is always happy to meet new people. He has a warm and affable personality, and is at times charismatic - despite his family being entirely turned off by his personality, people of other races find him very agreeable and entertaining. His clumsiness is both a source of amusement and annoyance for those he travels with. He is not the smartest individual, and will often speak without thinking over his words first - resulting in amusingly dumb outbursts from time to time.

Being young by Altmer standards, he has a spry energy about him, and this means that he can succumb to his own naivete quite easily, and can be quite hot-headed when it comes to proving himself. He will inadvertently challenge authority by speaking his mind and letting the arrogance of youth take over.

Faerion is a self-proclaimed ‘Ladies Man’, and loves nothing more than chasing after beautiful women, as hard as he may try - his act of wooing is less romantic, and more lecherous and cringe-inducing which is of course, just another source of amusement for his comrades. He has received a slap to the cheek on many an occasion. He is driven by the desire to make his family proud of him, finally, but also to become a hero. He is determined and unswerving in his choices in life. He possesses a tenacity and spark that so many don’t.

---

Equipment:
Hunting Bow and a Quiver of Iron Arrows;
Steel dagger;
Chef’s Knife;
Recipe book (his own recipes)

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Attributes:
Major: Willpower
Minor: Personality

Skills:

Expert:
Cooking

Adept:
Speech
Light Armour

Apprentice:
Archery
Stealth
Restoration - Spell: Healing

---

Combat Style: Like most archers, Faerion will stay out of direct range of enemies, and pick them off from a distance with his bow. Despite the Altmers natural propensity for the Arcane arts, Faerion has not dabbled in this particular field, but can use a simple healing spell in a pinch. He also keeps a simple steel dagger in case of an emergency when he is in close range or has been ambushed. His skills in stealth leave little to be desired when he is lumbering around like a newborn deer, but when focussed, his footsteps are near silent and his thin frame makes for the ability to squeeze into small cracks out of sight.

[Hank]

Added Birthsign and Attributes to the CS, I forgot that before.

[LadyTabris]

Lamzarakha gra-Khazorn

Lamzarakha gra-Kazorn

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Gender: Female
Race: Orsimer
Age: 24
Birthsign: The Warrior

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Appearance

Lamzaraka has a sturdy build. She’s about 6' tall. Her hard earned muscles cover every inch of her body. She is a curvy woman, though it’s usually completely hidden by the heavy armour she wears. Her skin is a dark green. She has faint scars all over her body; the most prominent are a long gash that trails across her left cheek and a wide, raised white slash across her abdomen, which is a reminder of her last day fighting in the Legion. She has a pretty face with softer features than most orcs - or used to, since her scars are off-putting to some. She doesn't consider her appearance to be important. Her hair is kept back in braids to be more practical for fighting.

Her only concern being fighting, Lamzarakha is usually wearing heavy armour. When seen without armour during off time, she barely owns three sets of clothes, all torn and ragged, simply because she isn’t concerned with her appearance. She wears many tooth necklaces and bracelets, tied on with leather straps, as was typical of her clan.

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History

Lamzarakha was born in an Orc stronghold in the Dragontail Mountains, home of the Iron Orcs and the new Orsinium. She was the first daughter of the chief, Shuk gro-Khazorn, born to his Forge-Wife, Akur gra-Khazorn. From a young age, she was taught to forge weapons, armour, and tools. Lamzarakha was passionate about being a blacksmith, and in her youth she spent as much time as she could in front of it. As she got older, she was able to start practicing with weapons, though it was purely for defensive purposes - as a woman, she would never be allowed on raids, though she desperately wanted to go. She looked up to her father, a warrior, and wanted to be like him.

Despite a small amount of practice with weapons, Lamzarakha began to find her life at the stronghold stifling. The Iron Orcs worshiped the stone, which, to survive, they needed to defile through mining. Many of the religious in her clan hated themselves. In response to this, Lamzarakha never accepted a lot of the traditions of her clan. As she grew to the age where her father considered marriage, she left the stronghold to join the Imperial Army, though she was sad to leave her siblings and friends behind, whom she had enjoyed her childhood with. She kept a strong loyalty to her close family, even after she had departed. She wrote them letters.

When she joined the Imperial Army, Lamzarakha took her training more seriously than most other recruits. She relished in the chance to fight and exercise. When she was finally placed in a legion, the 4th, she found the camaraderie of her legion fulfilled her. She traveled and she fought. It was everything she'd ever wanted. Her friends were mostly Imperials in her cohort, but there was another Orc, Khagul, and a Bosmer. Khagul became her best friend, another Orc who chose to left stronghold life. One of the Imperials, named Avara, was more than that. She was a beautiful blonde healer, quite opposite to Lamzarakha, the bloodthirsty warrior. She tempered her thirst for battle, though Lamzarakha never lost all enjoyment of the thrill.

She spent five years with her Legion and Avara. It came to an end when Lamzarakha was 23. She couldn't remember being happier, until her maniple was sent out on a dangerous mission, including Avara. It was more covert than typical fighting, but they had distinguished themselves, so they were sent to scout behind enemy lines. It was going to be a large-scale battle, bigger than any they had fought during Lamzarakha's career. It came to a bloody end when, scattered into small groups to hide, their position was given away. It turned into a slaughter; Lamzarakha barely escaped with her life, gravely injured. Avara, nor any of her closest friends, made it out.

Lamzarakha spent a month recovering in the healer's tent. As soon as she was physically able, she requested to be discharged and left the army. She couldn't bear to live in that environment with the woman she had loved dead, and the idea of re-enlisting to another cohort sounded hollow. So, she began travelling. Stinging from loss, she became more bloodthirsty than ever, reveling in the fight each time she helped a garrison wipe out a bandit stronghold or chased off highwaymen as she made her way travelling, the jobs she could grab scarce.

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Personality

Lamzarakha is boisterous, pushy, and enjoys sticking herself into others' business a little bit more than others enjoy. She is a thrill-seeker, willing to do anything for the sheer excitement of the activity, be it a battle, a stealth operation, or racing to climb the stronghold walls in the middle of the night just to see who would get there first. She's always ready to take on a dare. Lamzarakha relishes a fight; she's at her best when blood is flowing around her - the bloodier the fight, the better. Despite her sense of humour and general openness about her past, she keeps her losses close to her chest, mostly because talking stirs up memories. She has a disdain for the religious, as she believes those who follow religion pity themselves, since those around her during her youth did. She values friendship strongly but is weary of new ones because of her loss. Once she cares, she’s extremely protective and willing to go to any length. This extends to her Clan, despite how she dislikes a lot of the people there, she cares very much about those she decided were her own. While she critiques her own culture and religion harshly, for an outsider to do so would be extremely offensive to her.

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Attributes
Major: Strength
Minor: Endurance
Equipment

• Avara’s Pendant, silver chain with small emeralds. Given to Avara by her mother and taken from Vaara’s body once it was recovered by Lamzarakha.
• Flask, usually filled with a suspicious mixture of scavengers alcohol
• Waterskin
• Coin Purse, holding 42 gold
• Jewelry, leather bands with tied iron beads and animal teeth, bracelets and necklaces.
• Knapsack, heavily packed with a bedroll, cooking pot, short coil of rope, whetstone and her other listed belongings.
• Armband, made of cloth, marking her as a member of the 4th Legion
• Her armour is a haphazardly collected but full set of heavy armour made a steel or iron, depending on the piece. It was scavenged after leaving the Legion.
• Orichalum Dagger, which she forged herself in her youth at the stronghold. It’s forged cleanly and simply in typical orc style. It does have her own blacksmith’s mark, a small L next her her clan mark, at the bottom of the blade next to the hilt.
• Steel Greatsword, which is her primary weapon. It’s of simple make, something grabbed off a richer bandit, with no flair to it at all.

---

Skills
Expert

• Two-Handed Sword

Adept

• Blacksmithing
• Heavy Armour
• Block
• Spear

Apprentice

• One-Handed Sword

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Combat Style

Lamzarakha has undergone Legion training, so she has discipline trained into her. She was taught to use the spear, shortsword, and longsword properly, as well as a shield. However, while she can fight like a legionnaire should she choose, she strongly prefers using her more advanced Legion training and flying into battle as a one-woman army. She was taught how to use her heavy armour to block blows without a shield, and wields a two-handed sword. In the recent years following her discharge from the Legion, she has become more reckless, and usually flies into the middle of a battle without considering the danger; fortunately, she has the skill to back it up.

Misc
She enjoys dancing.

[Spoopy Scary]

Marlene "Mary" Antony

Marlene “Mary” Antony, Witchbane

| Female Breton | 25 | The Tower |

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Appearance:

The Bretons of High Rock are often a fair folk, and Mary is no exception. There might be some Nord somewhere in that blood of hers like most of those in Jehanna, since her fair skin, blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and sharp features seem all too Nordic in appearance, but they are softened by the serene countenance ever present in her face. Like many Bretons, she is short in stature at 5’6”, but she is fit and athletic like many warriors tend to be. She weighs in around 135-140 lbs.; she isn’t rippling with muscle like some warriors tend to be, has a humble chest, and her toning is quite poor, but it takes a bit of muscle to carry weapons and armor over the course of many miles.

Her hair is fair and wispy and usually floats around her shoulder, and one side of her head is usually lightly plaited into small braids. It frames her square jaw, a somewhat distinct feature in the midst of more conventionally feminine traits such as smooth skin, high cheekbones, and a thin and upturned nose above her pink lips. The lack of obvious scarring on her person denotes a successful career, and the most obvious ones are the knicks, cuts, and calluses on her hands from years of practice and wrestling with nasty beasts, and a few slashes on her upper arms, which are usually covered by clothes and her gambeson anyways.

As far as her garments are concerned, her arms and armor will be covered separately -- in her downtime, she dresses down as humble as she seems in what is usually a linen blouse or men’s shirt and, surprising to most of those who meet her, a thin ankle length skirt. These garments are typical white, off white, or cream in color; very simple and very modest, and as a jarring addition to this dainty outfit are her leather riding boots without their armor affixed to them.. However, under the skirt, she often wears well-fitted equestrian that are formed to her figure. Around her neck is not a true amulet of her gods of choice, but a hemp string with three dainty little charms: a four-pointed star for Mara, a horn for Stendarr, and a triangle for Julianos.

History:

The Rise of Mary Antony

Mary began her life under the stars of the Tower and in the Kingdom of Jehanna, located in northern High Rock. A society of both Bretons and Nords surrounded by Wrothgarian Mountains on one side, the Reach on another, the Sea of Ghosts on its north side, and Skyrim only spitting distance away, it has come to develop a strong warrior culture. What it lacked, however, was a center of faith. Most High Rock kingdoms, city states, and principalities had a temple of some kind. The Benevolence of Mara and School of Julianos, for instance, had presence in the rest of High Rock, but Jehanna was barren of a spiritual center for some time between years of defending themselves from vagabonds and conquerors alike and most who practiced only did so the privacy of their own homes. To establish a center of faith and spiritual and moral fulfillment is what the House of Trifection hoped to accomplish.

The Trifection was result of a joint effort between priests and priestess of Mara, Stendarr, and Julianos. It was intended as a model of moral perfection: love, mercy, and wisdom. Scholars of Julianos were seen as overreaching by outsiders at first, since they weren’t supposed to preach any moral philosophy, but they pushed back by maintaining that fighting against the sin of ignorance and complacency has always been their objective. Idle hands were the daedra’s work, after all. Together, they believed that through love, mercy, and wisdom, life's most challenging obstacles could be overcome. It was this doctrine and model of moral perfection that appealed to the natives, and the newly named Order of Trifection was allowed to come together and build the House of Trifection, a temple where people could be wed, counseled, seek forgiveness, and learn. Indeed, it was as much a place of learning as it was a place of worship, but one side effect was that their learning curriculum was heavily tied into their religion. As this temple gained in popularity and became a focal point around which to gather, it's influence grew.

As it grew, so did the influence of the more militant of Stendarr’s followers, who believed that justice should be preached as much as mercy. As this movement among that sect of the temple grew, the rest of the House conceded, and appealed to the king of Jehanna. The kingdom would then agree to outsource local cases to the House of Trifection, whereas more complex and political cases will be managed within the court. The House then became a place of worship, a school, and a courthouse all in one, and each of the three governing clergies came to represent a principle of reasoning; Mara’s clergy embodied emotional appeal, Stendarr’s embodied ethical appeal, and Julianos’ embodied logical appeal. As often happens with centers of law and justice, the House began to train their own holy warriors and merciful defenders of justice. This is where Mary finally fits into the picture years later

She came from a small family - a mom and pops with not much to their name other than a few sheep for shearing and a small plot of land for vegetables such as potatoes, carrots, and cabbages. However, the Trifection offered its services for free since they were fueled mostly by donations, avoiding tax, and government grants. Although she inherited her parents’ kind hearts, they were poor and low in the caste system, conditioning them into being intimidated by authority and power. This meant they lacked the assertiveness to raise their daughter with concerted cultivation, but still wanted to provide her with as many opportunities as possible; one of them was to send her to the House of Trifection for schooling when she was 10 years old. Stendarr’s mercy also kept the Julianos sect from being too picky with their applicants.

As a result, Mary’s life was positively enriched. The day before she was just a farm girl, but now? They've expanded her mind beyond her horizons. They helped her to think outside of the little box she was trapped in, introduced her to a world that was once leagues above her place in society and full of magic. Though it only provided the fundamentals of magic, and the House’s schooling program was mostly aimed towards a generally educated public, the fundamentals of magic that they did teach happened to set the groundwork for Mysticism. Perhaps even more profound than that, however, were the Divines. Sure, she has heard of them before. She got the general idea of what they were all about -- but they covered Stendarr, Mara, and Julianos in such intimate detail that Mary found herself virtually in love with the gods and was thoroughly convinced of the Trifection’s message: it was the model of moral perfection. “Forgive those thou cannot love, understand those thou cannot forgive, and love those thou cannot understand.”

Mary spent most of her time at the House the next couple of years, learning and worshipping, helping the temple from cleaning to performing errands, as well as helping those who were new or unfamiliar with the temple. She was, for all intents and purposes, one of their acolytes in all but title. The House created a sense of unity in a society that was once so combative, and Mary was sure that they were the best thing that ever happened to Jehanna. When the time came for the House to call forth the young and faithful to volunteer to do work for the Divines, the ever faithful Mary, at 12 years old, jumped and pulled at the bit for the chance. She was one of the few that they accepted with open arms. However, before she could do the work that they would have her do, she had to go through a few years of training. It was to make her an irrepressible force for good; the type that would go out into the world to save lives, seek justice, and dispel evil.

However, justice without love or understanding wasn't truly justice. How can one pass judgement upon the wicked if one was innocent? What could they possibly know about justice? In order to understand wickedness, you had to cast purity aside. The back rooms for these initiations would remain hidden for years to come, and even now Mary is still fuzzy on the details, but she remembered being told that it was alright to have been a dirty sinner. Stendarr forgives all who repents. This was also meant to be hidden. She was to be trained for the role of a House Templar and part of the role was to embody their model of moral perfection, and the reveal of her initiation would strip her of that honor. To study Julianos was to understand this contradiction and embrace the Theory of Mind. Through this process, the immoralities committed by the House itself was used and lorded over Mary like a show of power. It wasn't said at the time, and Mary didn't understand it -- she was effectively brainwashed into believing that the House was innocent and that she was doing the right thing -- but they used the evidence that could be used to incriminate them as a way to keep their initiates in line by making them believe they held power over them. They believed that their secrets were in the safe hands of the House of Trifection when it was in fact the opposite.

That would’ve been the end of that, though, for the next few years would be devoted to their training. The initiates either forced themselves to forget or forgot in light of what lies ahead. Mary and the other initiates would spend hours upon hours in training session with Stendarr Crusaders from other Temples in the region, and their sole purpose in Jehanna was to train the House’s first generation of templars. Their days were filled with practicing swordplay with wooden practice weapons, learning proper footwork, and donning armor. Their ability to defend themselves had to be up to par if they were going to be defending anybody else. Then their nights were filled with more in-depth study; of magic, restoration, and yes, the gods.

Their magical studies was built upon the fundamentals they’ve learned, but it was less about the actual use of magic, but the understanding of magic. There were many monsters out there in the world, and the worst of them were capable of bewitching and cursing innocent people, so the goal was to being able to identify their condition, recognizing the magic, and to know how to dispel it as well as protecting themselves against such magic. The study of controlling the ebb and flow of magic itself was known as Mysticism, a school that’s long been cast aside by most of Tamriel. The School of Julianos saw the abandonment of such knowledge as sacrilegious, and chose instead to preserve its history.

Similarly, learning Restoration magic from the Maran priests and priestess was essential for saving lives. One would be hard pressed to call themselves a templar if they couldn’t heal wounds, whether it was their own or someone else’s, and the light magic it used to destroy the undead would be similarly instrumental. Due to the nature of the school, it was often taken and related to the Divines, so the lessons were often two in one. As a templar, your faith must be unshakable, so they regularly tested their faith in the Divines and their belief in the Trifection’s model. Mary’s harsh and rigid training routine with her fellow initiates -- now seen as brothers and sisters -- would continue for eight years, even after Mary reached adulthood. Each templar’s training was mostly the same, but each one had their own skills and talents, so each one’s training was slightly tailored to their style.

Mary found her strength in a balance between offense and defense. With a shield in hand and donned in lightweight chainmail, she’d wait for her opponent to strike first before deftly closing the distance with her shield and sword. She wasn’t the best of the initiates; Carlisle’s strength and skill with the greatsword was far too great for her to defend against, and her reputation among them in hand-to-hand intimidated her from getting too close, and Fontaine was clever enough that he was able to take what limited knowledge they taught them of Mysticism and figure the rest out on his own. Jorgr was a fantastic healer who took to Restoration like a flea would take to a skeever -- but Mary’s generalism allowed her to outwit all of them outside of their preferred grounds, and nobody would ever think of questioning her loyalty to the gods or to the House. As a twenty year old Mary took her Oath of Devotion, she recited every word passionately and etched them into her heart.

The templars were armed with enchanted silver daggers, and the next four years of her life was spent doing work for the temple. She was a protector of the house, an enforcer of law, and a defender of the innocent. She performed her duties diligently, tackling down thieves in the streets with non-lethal force, settling drunken arguments in the tavern diplomatically -- she loved the people of her hometown and had no desire to harm them. The templars effectively became the public face for the House the more they were seen throughout the city. Their benevolence reflected back on the House, which in turned heightened their reputation. Then the House collected reports of disturbances aimed their templars toward the countryside of High Rock, hoping to put their years of training to the test. Mary was sent southwest toward the Duchy of Gastemarch where the report of an older gentleman had gone missing from his cottage for a few days. After some time spent on tracking, she found herself in the middle of a fen and face to face with a hideous hagraven. Her shield protected her from its claws, and her light armor kept her light enough on her feet to avoid the creature’s devastating spellcraft. After an intense fight with the witch, crippling but failing to kill the creature with her sword, she finished it off by slitting its throat with her silver dagger.

The old man was found as a captive in the hagraven’s cottage, who was paralyzed by some magical concoction that was forcibly fed to him which Mary was able to dispel with her magic. After some time, she nursed him mostly back to health with Restoration and carried him back home on her back before returning home to Jehanna. The other templars were apparently just as successful in their missions. Carlisle in particular seemed rather popular, for word of her work in the Reach had gotten around -- her driving away of Forsworn raiders had dubbed her the name of Carlisle the Adherent. She didn’t like it. Apparently people thought that dubbing her the opposite of their sworn enemy meant something. Much to Mary’s own embarrassment, her friend apparently thought of her, since that title sounded like one that Mary deserved more than she did. As word of Mary’s deed got around town, people started wanting to call her Witchbane; ironically enough, they both joked that perhaps they should’ve traded jobs.

It was for the best, though. Mary found it hard to stomach the idea of killing other people.

The deeds of the templars reflected back on the House of Trifection, and soon enough, the officials of Jehanna began calling upon the House to continue performing these deeds throughout the kingdom. During the next four years, the templars had found themselves being little more than contracted heroes. Mary didn’t mind it so much, though. She enjoyed the hero work, almost feeling like a real knight. For the next four years, she scoured northern High Rock, the Reach, and Wrothgarian mountains, helping all she came across and slaying all manner of foul monsters and beasts. Whether it was undead, vampires, trolls, werewolves, or even Forsworn and bandit raiders (as much as she detested it), she was up to the task -- but she became especially proficient in taking down hagravens. Though as dangerous as they were, her first experience taught her a lot about how to deal with them, as did each subsequent time she had to face one.

In fact, it was after one of those hunts for a hagraven far south of Jehanna did Mary stop to rest at Evermoor in the Kingdom of Ephesus -- they did not stop her, since the four years worth of braided favors hanging from her belt esteemed her as a local do-gooder. With a drink in hand the latest news in the paper, she learned of the fate that befell the House of Trifection back home:

“Jehanna Temple, the House of Trifection, was shut down by the order of King Darion following multiple allegations of sex related scandals with children. All leaders and officials are to be investigated and those found guilty will be tried and punished by means of--”

Mary couldn’t bring herself to read anymore. She had spent more than a decade fervently believing in the model of moral perfection that the house had preached to her. For more than a decade she had repressed the memories of her initiation to the point where she can barely even recall them now, but now she just felt an overwhelming sense of shame and disbelief. She couldn’t believe that the temple she devoted so much of her life to grew to be a corrupted sham. She was associated with them, and as much it pained her to think it, she didn’t want to be. Her world was suddenly turned upside down and she didn’t want to think about it anymore, so she turned her back on High Rock. She never returned home to Jehanna after that day, and crossed the treacherous Druadach Mountains separating the Breton homelands from Skyrim.

For the next year, she chose to preoccupy herself with doing what she’s been doing: helping people, being a hero; that part never changed. She still had an oath she had to uphold, even if only part of it was still relevant. For the next year, she took on jobs like a common mercenary might, but only those that she felt was morally just. With it having only been a short while after the country resolved its civil war and dragon crisis, there was plenty of work to be done in Skyrim. Eventually however, her travels brought her south into Cyrodiil and as she closed to distance towards Chorral, she happened across a flier nailed to one of the country’s many road signs:

“To all whom it may concern…”

Personality:

First impressions? Serene, calm, satisfied, humble, and at peace. There’s a certain air about her that radiates a sense of goodness and benevolence that makes people feel naturally inclined to trust her. A pious woman, certainly, and she makes no attempt at hiding it and her regular mention of the Divines and the breadth of their influence of the world, which may be one of the few things that could be a seen as a fault by her worst critics. The belief that the gods will provide instills a sort of complacency in any man, woman, or mer, and this still holds true for Mary. Even so, she sees herself as a sort of tool or servant of the Divines. She acts in what she believes to be their will, so she isn’t the type to stand idly by in the face suffering or injustice. She takes initiative in almost all aspects of her life and shows herself to be very disciplined in her faith and daily routines. People often mistake her for being a knight, which she does not hesitate in correcting.

Mary is difficult to anger and usually meets aggression with diplomacy and deliberation. She possesses a strong sense of justice and attempts to balance it with love and wisdom. She’s ever the optimist, perhaps even to the point of naivety, and she’s okay with that. Mary acknowledges that she’s still young and embraces it, even if she’s seasoned and was forced to grow up a bit sooner than others, choosing to not lord her experience over her friends and colleagues. It’s kind of difficult to stay mad at her -- she’s such a kind and free spirit without an ill bone in her body, aspiring to be the best possible version of herself at all times and seeking happiness through the betterment of others. You’d be forgiven for thinking that she’s being a martyr -- because you’re quite possibly right.

The former templar once felt a significant sense of betrayal that shook her to her core. She feels an unbearable sense of shame for her association with a particular temple in High Rock that no longer exists and for having devoted herself so intensely to its clergy. She sees her journey partially as a sort of pilgrimage or path towards redemption, or perhaps she simply seeks to do as much good as possible before she dies a death worthy of forgiveness in the eyes of her gods. She burdens herself with the sense of sharing the same shame and guilt of her former church and seeks to redeem the reputation of the templars through her actions.

What would such a person be doing in a group of mercenaries? Why would she ever be interested? Well, Mary has a strong desire to do good, which was why she became a templar in the first place. She’s almost infatuated with the idea of being a hero and a champion of the people, and it was as simple as being told that the Chapter sought to also do good across Tamriel. Always wanting to believe in the best of people, she’s quite easy to convince and lie to. Anyways, with an organization at her back, she would be able to do more good across Tamriel than she ever could on her own. The moment the Chapter takes a turn for the worse and forsake their promises to the people, Mary is either going to try convincing them to stay on track or jump ship. Her loyalty to the good and innocent cannot be bought.

---

Equipment:

• Steel longsword
• Metal-reinforced wood shield with the print of a rose on the front, battered from use
• Silver dagger with a Banish enchantment
• Chainmail armor layered over a long noble blue gambeson that stretches down to her knees. A gorget covers her neck and part of her shoulders. She also wears leather gauntlets and bracers which are affixed with metal plates for further protection. Likewise, she wears knee high leather boots with plates of metal affixed to the shins, vamps, and toes via buckled straps.
• She wears a leather belt around her chain from which her sword sheath hangs from, and a sheath for her silver dagger rests just above her tailbone. The belt itself is adorned with dozens of multi-colored braids of fabric, ribbons, and hemp; a collection of favors she has accumulated over her years of questing and performing heroic deeds for the poor country folk -- some of them she even ties around her bracers. Also affixed to her belt is a pouch filled with small trophies; werewolf claws and vampire ashes get lost among the collection of hagravan talons.
• A coin purse of 40 septims

Major Attribute:

Willpower

Minor Attribute:

Endurance

Skills:

Expert: ---

Adept: One-Handed (Sword), Block, Light Armor, Restoration, Mysticism

Apprentice: Athletics, Speech, Hand to Hand

Spells:

Restoration: Close Wounds, Heal Other, Stendarr’s Aura, Turn Undead
Mysticism: (Greater) Dispel, (G) Dispel Other, (G)Life Detection, Clairvoyance

Combat Style:

Mary, as previously mentioned, balances offense and defense. Her light armor and athleticism allows her to move quickly through a battlefield or ring with ease or quickly adjust her footing, while her shieldplay covers the gaps in her defensive evasion. Said shield also allows her to bully her opponents and get in close with her sword. Through her willpower and endurance alone, she can easily fight a battle of attrition and wait for her opponent to wear out before she does. Her style doesn’t have any significant strengths that allows her to outmaneuver or overpower most of her enemies, but she doesn’t have any glaring weaknesses either. Even those with a purely defensive style has the weakness of being passive or reactionary, but Mary takes the initiative to strike every now and then, reminding her opponent to stay on their toes lest they fall victim to a fatal riposte.

She can also provide support for her allies via healing magic and the dispellation of any adverse magical effects, or even use them on herself mid-fight. Her magic allows her to keep fighting even after taking an injury or being disabled in some way. Her persistence to keep on fighting is admirable, and sometimes even downright frightening when there seems to be nothing that can keep this woman down.

Misc:

She is an awful cook. Keep her away from the pot.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wGrKZLSr6sxebqGb7RUna

[Dervish]

Jormun Fireborn

Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Age: 34
Appearance:

A hulking Nord of an impressive stature of 6’05” (195.5cm) and weighing 245 lbs.(111 kilos), Jormun is a heavily muscled and bulky individual with an erect posture, large hands, and a pale complexion that is augmented by his wide sky-blue eyes and golden blonde hair.

His cheekbones are high and pronounced, much like most Nords, and he has a broad chin that sports a tidy knotted beard that extends to his clearly shaven cheeks, and a thick but trimmed mustache that doesn’t meet his beard. His cheeks themselves are somewhat gaunt and lean, further accentuating a broad jawline. His nose is a powerful hawk-beak curve that has been broken more than once, but still was set properly enough the effect isn’t extremely pronounced. Atop his crown sits a long braided ponytail that reaches to the nape of his neck while keeping the rest of his head shaved

His body is about as peak fitness as one could expect to achieve, with impressive musculature across his entire frame and broad, powerful shoulders that have been honed from years of swinging a hammer and an axe, as well as a trowel and pushing a plow. His arms are covered in black tattoos, sleeves of Nordic knots and runes that are filled in more and more with each victory he achieves as a warrior and protector. Over his heart is a tattoo of a dragon skull, a momento of the beast slain in Riverwood.

His clothing is usually simple tunics and trousers with a waistbelt, his boots he wears as an adventurer doubling as his casual wear. His Amulet of Talos is usually tucked away in his tunic where the dragon tooth is left out proudly.

Birthsign: The Warrior
History:

Born and raised in 4E172CE on a small farm in the Rift, one year into the Great War, Jormun never knew his father as he had perished in the war the first year in the defence of Cyrodiil with the Legion. His mother, Heidi, was now widowed and forced to try and manage and run a farm on her own, without a husband or workers to rely on as they were all off fighting the Aldmeri Dominion. The first few years were hard, as she had to raise a baby boy on her own while harvesting the crops, but when Jormun was 5, he began to participate in running the farm, becoming physically robust and instilled with a sense of duty from a young age. During the day, he toiled the fields and came in in the evenings exhausted but happy knowing he was making his mother happy. For her part, she prepared meals with his help and told him fantastic stories and tales of the lands and gave him the best education a single mother with a few choice books to her name could provide. It was a simple life, but a good one. One of the things Heidi told the young Jormun was that he was a direct descendant of one of the 500 Companions, and he had greatness in his blood. He would have to live up to that storied lineage and would one day make a name for himself worthy of Ysgramor himself. It emboldened Jormun, and he knew that each and every day would have to be something that he worked his hardest at to live up to that reputation.

As he grew older, his responsibilities grew; he learned how to maintain the house and the farming equipment, fend off predators and vermin, and on occasion joined his mother on trips into Riften to sell the harvest to customers. By the time Jormun was 14, he was already a physically intimidating boy who was showing his first sign of facial scruff and an impressive mane of long golden hair who stood as tall as most men. It was clear he was going to be a giant when he grew into a man, if he wasn’t there already. He carried a warhammer over his shoulder and made quick friends with the locals who came to visit, showing a surprisingly good nature and outgoing disposition that drew in repeat customers; they weren’t just vegetables, they were vegetables served with a smile.

The first major trial in young Jormun’s life came months later when bandits, sensing easy prey of the understaffed farm, looted the homestead and set fire to their modest home while Jormun was watching over the goats for wolves. Racing to save his mother, the young Nord burst into the flaming home and found her passed out on the floor, having succumbed to smoke inhalation. Despite the danger to himself, he picked up his mother and carried her to safety; the farm would be lost, but the family would endure. When Heidi awoke, she saw her son’s reassuring smile looking down at her. “Do not worry mother; I am here.”

The unfortunate setback just meant a change in how the pair went about their business. The community managed to gift a number of things to resupply a modest one bedroom home in the city Heidi rented by selling the surviving and remaining goats and she signed on to work at the Goldenglow Estate. Knowing his mother was safe due to the employment of mercenaries to guard that particular location, Jormun decided it was time to find his own path and try to bring back more lucrative money to help his mother afford a better life. When a merchant caravan was to head to Whiterun and promised good pay for guards. Not sensing a better opportunity and a chance to keep others safe from bandits of the likes that had attacked the family farm when he was a boy, Jormun enlisted in the caravan’s service and soon began his own personal journey of strength, honour, and glory. It was time for him to prove his worth and write his name into legend.

It didn’t take long for him to test his steel against men, and malnourished and skeever-like raiders weren’t seasoned fighters; they relied on preying on the weak and defenseless. This drove Jormun’s fury towards the villains; they would be held accountable for their detestable acts, and his hammer would drive justice into their hearts, along with a couple kilos of forged steel. As bandits fell, so increased his wealth, status, and the quality of equipment he bore. Travellers felt safer with him at their side, and upon arriving into towns, he would seek out jobs to hunt town those who would terrorize towns. Jormun was living his best life, but something felt empty; nothing had come into his life yet that would be worthy of a bard’s tale.

The opportunity came up in 4E201 when a Dragon attacked Riverwood, where he was staying on his way to Falkreath to escort a traveling family to attend their daughter’s wedding. The massive winged creature spat hellfire upon the village, prompting Jormun to excitedly burst into the Trader and without asking, immediately grabbed numerous Resist Fire potions as he ingested two of them in a go, and grabbing a shield from behind the counter, rushing out to the street where guards and another mysterious warrior had brought the beast down by crippling its wing. It crawled towards Jormun’s charges, the Nord put themselves between them as the Dragon bellowed another torrent of fire, engulfing Jormun in flame. When the assault relented, the unscathed Nord charged the dragon, smashing the flaming shield with enough force to shatter upon the dragon’s face and with his hammer in hand, the enraged Nord took out the beast’s eye, broke its jaw, and otherwise brutalized the head of the beast. To his surprise, the dragon suddenly erupted into flame and its life force whisked away through the air and buried itself into the mysterious warrior; Jormun had fought alongside the Dragonborn. With Riverwood saved and no harm come to its populace or Jormun’s charges, he was celebrated as a hero, and he was bestowed with his given name; Fireborn. Now something of a household name and having enjoyed a feast in his and the Dragonborn’s honour, a whole new world opened up to Jormun that would take him beyond Skyrim’s boarders and across Tamriel, being a fearless adventurer and guardian of the people, regardless of who they are or where they come from, his sworn enemies are those who would prey upon the innocent.

Recently, his exploits were noticed by a headhunter of the Chapter, who promised he could continue being a force of good in the world and finally make some of that coin to help his aging mother retire in grace. He jumped at the opportunity.

Personality: An irrepressible force for good and justice in the world, Jormun is a man who is quick to smile and laugh and genuinely cares for people, be they men, mer, or beast, throwing himself in harm’s way if it means saving even one innocent life. Because he feels that his entire life could one day make their way into the annuls of legend, he is not afforded weakness or a moment of flagging when he needs to stand tall at all times to be a beacon of inspiration to all. As such, he is a frequent consumer of stamina potions to the point that going without may leave him feeling very lethargic and drowsy in periods without rest, since he only allows himself moments of calm and relaxation in private, away from prying eyes. Because of his massive build and appetite, he eats and drinks a lot, although never to the point of being well and truly intoxicated; he has a reputation to uphold.

Jormun values his mother, his friends, and honour above all else, and he will gladly put his life on the line to defend any of it. He has a genuine interest in people and their stories, and will enthusiastically take the time to speak to people to learn who they are and what troubles them. He wishes to be a friend to all, if not an icon that they can rely on. He does not complain, he does not waver, and he does not give up. It’s the dream he’s always had.

Equipment:

•Steel warhammer with a leather-wrapped oak grip, a spiked handle, with one side shaped into a pick and the other a squared off head with diamond-shaped “teeth” for crushing armour and bones.
•A pair of simple steel throwing axes
•A heavier steel one-handed war axe as a side arm. It also doubles as a wood-cutting axe
•A dark blue-grey gambeson covered with a well-worn steel chest plate that is enchanted with stamina enhancing properties, with gauntlets that are braced with dragon teeth, pauldrons, and shin guards. It provides ample coverage while keeping his kit light and flexible. Always wears thigh-length brown leather boots.
•A wolf-fur travel cloak, also doubles as a blanket
•A leather rucksack with a bedroll, utensil and simple cooking kit, a change of clothing including boots, a cooking knife, a tinderbox, a repair hammer, oil and a whetstone, dried food rations, a water skin, a wine skin, cloth for wrapping food or fragile items, and a bundle of dry kindling.
•A drinking horn carved from a dragon tooth, for celebrations.
•Amulet of Talos that was his late father’s.
•A dragon tooth necklace, from the one he helped slay.
•A leather belt with pouches containing a number of healing and stamina potions. He spends a considerable amount of his income keeping these stocked.
•Another leather pouch with cure poison, cure disease, resist fire, resist frost, and resist shock potions. These are replenished much more seldom, but they are essential for survival for Jormun and his companions, he feels.
•At present, he carries 90 Septims.

Attributes:
Major: Strength
Minor: Personality

Skills:
Expert:
• Two-Handed Blunt
• Heavy Armour

Adept:
• One-Handed Axe
• Marksman (Throwing)

Apprentice:
• Block

Combat Style: Headstrong and ferocious, Jormun takes a few moments to size up his enemy and prepares as need be; if it’s a mage, he drinks resist destruction spell potions. If it’s a warrior, consume stamina potions. If it’s an archer? Hopefully the throwing axe meets its mark while using cover to close ground. Surprisingly nimble of his feet thanks to only having partial armour coverage, he closes the ground against his foes like a great bear and he strikes with unrelenting blows that are augmented by his formidable stamina and resolve. Given his eschewing of a shield (unless he finds one in the battlefield), he has grown rather good at using the length of his primary weapon to parry and block blows. Jormun is also rather resourceful; if there is something in the environment that can be used to his advantage, he will use it. Discarded weapons are thrown with surprising accuracy, shields are used to close the distance and to use as a brutal bludgeon, and other improvisational whims.

Misc: While Jormun didn’t actively participate in the Great War, he kept politically neutral and had a few terse encounters with both Imperial and Stormcloaks that he barred from getting at individuals caught up in the middle of the war.

Knowing full well the conditions of the White-Gold Concordat, he still wears his father’s amulet of Talos, keeping it concealed when out and about for the most part to avoid the prying eyes of Thalmor. He largely sees the Thalmor Justicars as cruel and evil people, but on the whole respects the citizens of the Aldmeri Dominion. He finds it distasteful for people to hate one another based on what side of a political border they were born on; there is goodness in the hearts of all people, and much war and conflict could be avoided if people simply embraced that.