[OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Stormcrown Interregnum

[Lightning Fast]

Did someone order a sneaky stabby slicing criminal man? No? TOO BAD!

I'll probably redraw him later. This is just a quick doodle so people can get a mental picture.

Atticus Veri

ATTICUS VERI

Name: Atticus Veri
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Appearance: Atticus is a 5’9 man with constantly shifting green eyes, a shaved, now-bestubbled head, and a short dark beard. Clad in black leather armour, Atticus is clearly a person who does not want to be seen. Atticus is rather bulky for someone who moves with as much agility as he does; a physique you’d expect more from a seasoned warrior than a sanctum-scouring scoundrel.

Personality: Atticus is sharp as a tack, quick as a whip, and has a bit of a thrill-seeking addiction. He could easily make a living as a mage in a major city, but the dungeon-crawling life is far too appealing to him. He becomes giddy with excitement upon discovering a new set of ruins with treasures waiting to be plundered, whether for himself or for one of his numerous benefactors.

History: Atticus is an Imperial born in Skyrim, son of a wealthy noble family in the city of Riften. He lived his first few years of life in the lap of luxury, showing immense aptitude for magic. Although he was destined to inherit his mother’s estate, Atticus eschewed the typical squireship of some nobles’ sons and instead became his court wizard’s apprentice.

Sadly, this luxury did not last. When Atticus was sixteen, Atticus’ uncle Severus Veri invoked an arcane law of succession, forging a will which designated him as the sole male heir to the Veri Estate over Lady Salonia Veri. Atticus’ family was stripped of their wealth by this betrayal and the local nobility who went along with it, and the teenager soon found himself living in a wooden shack on the outskirts of the city. It was at this point that Atticus began to explore the wilderness surrounding the region, eventually happening upon a large connected cave structure, brimming with Dwemer ruins. By skulking through these ruins and plucking their various treasures out from under the nose of colossal automatons, Atticus honed his skills as both a treasure hunter and arcanist, narrowly avoiding death at the hands of metal behemoths.

Meanwhile, Atticus’ uncle was driving their house to ruin: throwing lavish parties, showering political figures with gifts to gain their favour, and slowly but surely draining their coffers. Atticus saw an opportunity: he would have to deliver the killing blow to the dying House of Veri, but in doing so, would ensure his parents’ financial security and get revenge on his greedy uncle. In the dead of night, Atticus broke into the home where he had once lived, and stole everything that was not nailed down. Every precious heirloom, piece of jewelry, rare book, and gold coin he could find was lifted into a massive sack carried by his telekinetic prowess. Under cover of night and illusion magic, Atticus made a clean getaway, returning these treasures to his parents.

Atticus left Skyrim after that, travelling south with a cart full of ancient artifacts, guarded by mercenaries hired with his spoils. Haughty nobles would want souvenirs and trinkets from the strange Dwemer ruins, and perhaps in plundering them, Atticus could make a new, lucrative living for himself... while pedaling a bit of moon sugar on the side. For the next few years, Atticus, now a man, would sell his services to noble houses, procuring artifacts which they fancied, and to wizards, finding rare dusty tomes rumoured to be locked away in ancient tombs and sacred sanctums. Turns out “sacred” does not mean “immune to dispelling magic and crowbars”.

Eventually, though, Atticus grew to resent the nobles of the empire. After all, were these not the same crooked folks who had undermined and eventually destroyed his own house? When he heard of Isobel and Beoran’s Rebellion, he approached them, once again under cover of night. His greed and thirst for revenge had not yet been satisfied. He wanted to strike the nobles of the empire where it would hurt them the most, to pay them back for their years of scheming against his parents. House Veri was dead, but its youngest son would take a few other houses with it: by taking advantage of their greed, and using their own gold to fund a rebellion against them.

Attributes:
Major: Intelligence
Minor: Agility

Skills:

Expert:

• Mysticism: As someone whose job is to find and procure magical texts and artifacts, Atticus knows a great deal about how to handle magical traps and barriers. Atticus is also a gifted telekineticist, and can manipulate anything with magic as well as one could do with their hands. He has even adapted telekinetic spells to develop his own unique fighting style...

Adept:

• Security: Skulking around tombs and eccentric long-dead mages’ lairs has given Atticus a wealth of knowledge on disarming traps, opening locked doors and chests, and even sabotaging mechanical contraptions.
• Sneak: Some might call Atticus a backbiting scoundrel. He would call himself smart. After all, what good is all that fancy bladework if you can’t see your assassin coming?
• Acrobatics: Agility is key when navigating treacherous caves and catacombs... and good for getting away when someone clearly much more gifted at combat than you comes within close range.

Journeyman:

• Speech: As a noble, Atticus has learned a fair bit of smooth-talking, and is well-versed in courtly mannerisms. He can competently hash out a business contract, though he isn’t quite as shrewd as less hands-on businessmen who work in bustling commercial centers.
• Illusion: Clairvoyance and Muffle are key tools in Atticus’ arsenal, though full invisibility eludes him. Atticus’ real talent is the ability to cast what few spells he knows very, very quietly.
• Blade: While far from the best duelist out there, Atticus can handle his own in a fight, provided there’s an escape route nearby. While a passable duelist, Atticus still prefers to avoid fights rather than engage directly. If he manages to sneak up on someone, it’s a very different story: slitting someone’s throat is a maneuver that most can pull off. It’s getting close enough to do so that’s the hard part.

Spells:

Conjuration

• Bound Sword (Novice): Atticus prefers to do most of his fighting with spectral weapons, and a summoned one-handed sword is his favourite.
• Bound Dagger (Novice): This spell isn’t much in the hands of a conventional caster. In the hands of a gifted mystic, however, it can be combined with Telekinesis to create a terrifying dance of blades.

Illusion

• Muffle: A rogue’s bread and butter, this spell allows Atticus to skulk undetected. More importantly, it helps him cast his other, more powerful spells silently.
• Clairvoyance: Sometimes, Atticus needs a bit of help finding what he’s looking for. Thankfully, there’s Clairvoyance.

Mysticism

• Superior Dispel
• Greater Dispel Other
• Superior Life Detection
• Superior Spell Absorption
• Superior Spell Reflection
• Telekinesis: If Atticus has a “signature” spell, this is it. The rogue rarely uses his hands to fight at all, instead holding a weapon a few feet in front of him to keep his distance. Spectral blades which Atticus conjures fly around him and strike at random intervals, leaving small cuts as though his opponent was being savaged by a swarm of particularly angry hornets. This dance of blades is quite a sight to behold...

Equipment:

• Lockpicks. Lots and lots of lockpicks.
• Full leather armour, sans shield
• Six steel daggers
• Steel sword
• Crowbar, small hammer, pry bar, pitons, and all manner of dungeon crawling bits and bobs
• Rope
• Various odd Dwemer contraptions which may or may not serve an important purpose

Belongings: What other things do they own and carry with them? Think of money, maps, mementos, remarkable pieces of clothing, that sort of thing.

• A notebook full of maps of old ruins that Atticus has explored
• A ledger full of nobles, their purchases, and their requests to procure certain magical artifacts.
• A generalized book on magic, with several pages on Illusion and Conjuration bookmarked
• 2,000 Septims, from Atticus’ latest pedaling haul. This will be used to fund and arm Isobel’s various endeavors, and he has every intention of continuing his peddling operations to rake in more cash for the war effort.

Birthsign: The Shadow. Atticus’ mystic instincts aid him in his shadow-shrouded pursuits.

Miscellaneous: Atticus intends to use his ill-gotten gains to fund the slave revolt. Stolen artifacts can be turned into cold, hard cash if the right buyer is found. Fortunately, Atticus has a comprehensive network of fences stretching from Riften to the Imperial Isle.

[spicykvnt]

The Promise

Somewhere in Kvatch

Somewhere in a lonely Inn in Kvatch, sat a woman in her quietly modest room, completely out of place. Ashen hair, brittle blue eyes, dressed entirely in black. The only colour about her was from the ring on her finger. This foreign woman observed the ring, admiring the lustre and cut of the red stone in the centre, but there was definitie apprehension in the ache of the coldness of the band. The absolute mundanity of it, beautiful and luxurious as it was.

This ring was a promise of something better and while normally she’d leap at the chance to snatch her claws into an opportunity, this particular promise was empty and unforgiving. It was a promise from a man who had decided long ago that Reinette couldn’t survive the world alone.

She stifled a yawn and closed her fist over the smooth oak armrest of the chair she was set in, listening to the feeling of the band touch the wood. Unpleasant. Behind the closed doors of her secret room, Reinette felt quite comfortable to release her upset. It was the sight of her finger adorned with a flawless ruby that made her feel so indignant tonight. She didn’t like the look of it, nor the shine, nor the weight, nor the meaning.

Gold bought men their feeling of power, and in this case, the gold had kept perversion from her door after her home had been cruelly taken from her. Had she not had the ruby, and more importantly, the giver of such a ring, she might well have been in her grave. She did owe him that.

Her impenetrable blue and grey gaze pointed down at it and she sighed.

Outside of her window offered her a far better vision. Beyond the backwashed currents of people shuffling over the bent and broken spine of the town, the place had been set alight with an orange glow that was falling out in long flakes, lighting up the sprawling horizon beyond Kvatch too, out upon the fields and forest, like smelting pots in the mark of the sun setting.

At least out there, something was alive - unlike the cold band around her finger, stifling her blood flow. She took the ring off, and placed it back into its velvet pouch.

One thing was certain to Reinette, that nothing got under her skin more than the feeling of powerlessness. That Skingrad was such an unsafe place for her to go to now didn’t frighten her, no. It enraged her. It had left her in a state of inbetween, with a promise from a benefactor as potentially her safest course of action.

Instead, Reinette made a promise to herself. Not today, and most likely not tomorrow either… But she would get her home back. She’d seize back her place from Count Hruldan, be part of whatever movement it would be that seized Skingrad back from his iron grip. The last thing he would do, would be to choke on his own arrogance. Reinette was judicious in her pursuit for revenge, or did this feel more like justice in heart? Was that chill that crept up her spine truly just a howl of vengeance?

Whatever it was, she wished for it to cease - the noise.

As they often did, the woman’s fingers quivered to summon forth a pool of a spell into her palm, energy moving and growing around her like a balm of all of her favourite things, instant comfort over her raw and exposed being.

The smell of lavender, lilies, and tulips on a warm morning. Every now and then, a wafting scent of Hammerfell sand carried on a midday breeze, followed by warm champagne and berries in a moonlit garden. The illusion moved around her as she breathed, each slower and deeper than the last until sound slipped in. The pages of an old book turning, a flickering candle, ocean waves retreating to the shore over and over again. Finally, in the furthest pocket of distance, and only when she was completely settled, was the sound of a child’s laughter.

She formed a tapestry from the threads of her spell, until she was bathed in naught but silent moonlight.

[sly13]

Cainneach Afrant

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Cainneach Afrant

____________________________________________________ Character Information Name -Cainneach Afrant Gender - Male Race - Breton Age -25 , born 13th of Evening Star, Class - Thief Birth Sign - The Thief ____________________________________________________ Skills and Attributes Major: Agility Minor: Luck Expert: Sneak, Lock Picking Adept: Speech, Pickpocketing, Apprentice: One handed, ____________________________________________________ Character Equipment Weapons Daggers- Cainneach’s preferred weapon when he must fight. He keeps several hidden around his uniform all within reach at a moment's notice. Armour Set of leather armor with the symbol of the thieves guild sueded on the inside of the hood. Miscellaneous Lockpicks Waterskin Deck of cards Rations for a few days ____________________________________________________

A P P E A R A N C E Cainneach at first glance doesn't look much different from his fellow Breton male, save the large scar down the left side of his face. He stands at an average height, somewhere between 5’8 and 5’10. Along with the large scar under his eye, Cainneach’s face also sports a short well kept beard of lighter brown hair that hides a small portion of the skin on his face. Atop his head rests a messy mop of dark brown hair that while taken care of, rarely seems to always fall into its place perfectly. Unlike that of a warrior, Cainneach holds a build that holds little in the realm of strength and brute force. Rather he is built for dexterity and speed allowing him to easily maneuver through tight places and balance on precarious positions. Years of sneaking about and remaining undetected have resulted in not only this physical build but also in the way he walks. Not a foot is placed without his thought and consideration less he gives up his element of surprise on others. As for his clothing Cainneach stays in his armor most of the time, rarely taking it off. In the few times he does sport more common clothes he leans more towards simple clothes so as to not draw attention to himself. These clothes also often have some variant of green as either the main color or an accent. P E R S O N A L I T Y Unlike many that follow in Cainneachs profession, he himself is not a greedy man who desires to bathe in mounds of gold, though that would be nice. Rather Cainneach sees stealing as simply a way to support himself through the adventure called life. To him being a thief is no different from another job or profession that a person could pursue. If someone wants something done but doesn't have the skills to do it they get a professional to do it for them. Just as an adventurer orders a sword from a blacksmith or a caravan hires mercenaries, Cainneach is hired to ‘retrieve’ items for a new owner. At a deeper level this also explains Cainneachs view of the world and the people that call it home. That being that people will always do what is best for them and those around them when the time comes. This isn't a cynical view of the world or a belief that everyone is evil simply that people always do what they think is best and rationalize to themselves. Just a mercenary rationalizes killing a bandit because he was hired to protect a merchant. Though most don't share this unique view of the world leaving Cainneach rather at odds with most people comes in contact with, at least those that know of his profession. However, to those that are unprivay to his chosen career path, Cainneach is quite a warm and charming man who is quick to join in on the conversation or down a drink with a friend. After all, what is the point of working in life? You never live to enjoy it all.

_{H I S T O R Y}

Cainneach was born the only son to his two Bretons parents in the great city of Daggerfall. His mother was a simple woman who worked a small shop for most of her life, at least for as long as Cainneach could remember her. His father however had a far different life. His father was one of the higher-ranking members of the thieves guild that was based within the city's walls, which was where Cainneach spent much of his youth.

Even at an early age, Cainneach showed great promise as a future member of the guild. Like a sponge, he absorbed everything not only his father taught him but also the other members as well. They taught him everything he would need to know from how to slip past a guard on duty, to picking the pocket of a person of interest and his favored skill lockpicking. And so Cainneach spent many of his days learning and practicing with the other guild members all of these skills, quickly surpassing even some of the actual members of the guild. This talent alone however did not mean he was a member as was his dream, that came only to those who were invited to take a test.

Finally, though the day came around when he was finally old enough to try and prove his worth for the guild head. It was a simple enough mission, classic infiltrate, and steal some important item locked in a box in some old noble's house. Even from the start however Cainneach could feel something off, it was like the gnawing feeling in your stomach as if your body knows something bad was going to happen. But regardless he had a mission to complete and he was determined to finish it whatever the cost. With the moon high in the sky Cainneach slipped through the shadows approaching ever so closer to the target house. He saw the top window had been left open to allow for the evening breeze to blow out the hot air, a mistake that would cost the man a very expensive ring and would land Cainnneach his spot in the guild. But still, there was that lingering feeling deep in his gut that he couldn't explain.

Regardless of that feeling, he had a job to do so like a cat he made his up and threw the window directly into the old man's room. Slowly moving with only the moonlight to guide him he could see the box in question resting atop a large desk with a random assortment of papers. Just as the lock was clicked open he felt a sharp point in his back, stopping him dead in his tracks. His mind began racing at how he was going to get out of this situation and how he could have awoken the old man. He had not made a sound and the lock wasn't that loud. But as his mind continued to race as the old man began to speak some nonsense about knowing he could trust the elves. But as he continued to rattle on suddenly the voice stopped as the knife hit the ground followed shortly after by a thud. Turing slowly trying his best not to pose a threat to who or whatever else was in the room he saw the old man now lifeless on the floor bleeding from a large cut across his throat. However more pressing was the women that now stood in front of him wearing all black armor which Cainneach immediately recognized as the mark of the assassins guild that also operated within the cities walls.

He had heard about them only in passing between the other guildmates and his father. The little he did know was that they, as the name implied, specialized in killing targets, often political enemies, though feud between commoners could also be a cause, and that their two guilds were not on the best of terms. The exact reason was lost to him though he thought he had heard something about contracts getting stepped on by one side or the other.

Lucky for him however this particular member seemed to not care about the feud if there really was one, instead choosing to look him intently in the eyes before slipping away and exiting through a window on the far side of the room. Thanking the nine for his luck Cainneach quickly grabbed the ring and left to return to the guild where he recounted the mission with the other members who all celebrated his acceptance into the guild proper.

The next few years seemed to fly by as he began to make a name for himself within the guild as a dependable member. He seemed to be the spitting image of his father, both of which seemed capable of any job no matter the circumstances. This fame and streak of success however did not last forever and soon the guild went through rough times. Jobs began to get harder to complete, members were getting caught even on the easiest of missions. And as with anything when times become rough people begin to turn on one another. Lines were quickly drawn in the sand between the guild members as calls for new leadership began to be called.

Cainneach did his best to keep his head low and just work on his craft but sadly one can only avoid the fight so long. By that point, the guild had shrunk to a near unrecognizable size with members leaving or not being so lucky as to be able to retire from the guild in time. Cainneachs father was one such member that was too late on his departure. The day his father was found dead in the guild's base was the last day Cainneach was a member of the guild. What became of the guild he doesn't know. Though he imagined that it either destroyed itself or was reduced to a joke of its former self. After the death of his father and the impending fall of the guild Cainneach fled the city both to find better work and of fear that he would be next on the hit list.

His journeys eventually lead him to Cyrodiil, the center of the ever-crumbling empire, the perfect place for a man of his talents. The crumbling empire full of backstabbing nobles all looking for the slightest advantage over their opponent was the perfect breeding ground for thieves and the like. Unfortunately, however, by the time he reached the empire he had burned through the small amount of gold he could scrape together before fleeing Daggerfall leaving him rather broke and desperate which were never the mindset to be in when you accept a job.

Still though that was easy to say when you had gold in your pocket and a place to sleep every night. And so against his better judgment and gut feeling Cainneach accepted the job from a noble within the region though his importance and power were unknown to him at the time. Cainneach would later be proven to be right about not accepting the job once he was backstabbed by the very man who employed him. The old weasel saw fit to kill two birds with one stone but using Cainneachs services. One of which was getting the document Cainneach was sent to grab and the next was offering the thief to the self-proclaimed ruler of the region.

So there Cainneach sat beaten, bruised, and shackled in the back of the cart head to the nine knew where. Cainneach however never gave up as he examined the cart and his current situation always looking for even the slightest slip from one of the guards that would give him the ticket to escape. Lucky for him they had not checked him very thoroughly when they arrested him, allowing him to sneak in a lockpick with him that would easily pop the locking mechanism within the iron shackles. That was if and only if he had the time to work on the lock with one of the guards seeing and stopping him.

After about 3 days on the road, Cainneach found his chance when the caravan became under attack by what he assumed would have been bandits. Mixed with the confusion and chaos of the sudden attack Cainneach made quick work of the old shackles that held him prisoner. Soon enough the shackles hit the floor as he leaped from the cart in a flash as he went for his personal belongings in the main cart. As he made his way to the cart he quickly grabbed his belongings with the hopes of leaving before he was caught by either the guards or the bandits, not wishing to become a prisoner yet again. As soon as his last dagger slipped into its place however he felt the breathing of a large figure behind that given the size of the shadow cast seemed to dwarf him. As it had turned out the ‘bandits’ that attacked were in fact the rebel fighters that Cainneach had heard of when he first came to the region.

After some talking and discussion about his skills and how he ended up the poisons, he was currently in, along with his newfound disdain for the nobles of the region Cainneach agreed to join the bunch in their fight for freedom. This is where Cainneach can currently be found. Though not entirely trusted by everyone at the camp, Cainneach serves as an effective infiltrator and information gatherer for the group and works to help pay the debt he owes in their assistance in his escape.

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[Hank]

CHARACTER SUBMISSIONS ARE NOW CLOSED.

@Leidenschaft and I will deliberate and post a list of accepted characters here as soon as possible (hopefully before the end of the weekend).

Thank you all for the outpouring of interest and enthusiasm over the past two weeks. It warms my heart and makes me very excited for the future of this RP!

[Hank]

There were a lot of quality submissions but unfortunately we couldn't accept every one. In some cases we couldn't choose, so we have stretched the number of accepted characters to 9. This is as far as we can go while still feeling comfortable that we have a manageable number of characters and players for the first phase of the RP.

In many cases, there wasn't really anything wrong with the characters we couldn't accept -- we just didn't have enough slots for everyone, and it came down to small differences in terms of writing quality, character concepts and that certain je ne sais quoi, the undefinable wow-factor that makes a character stand out. This is why there will be a backup roster. Certain characters we weren't able to accept now will be eligible to be placed on the backup roster immediately. Others may require changes. Once the RP reaches a certain point and has achieved a certain amount of momentum, we will expand the roster and allow characters on the backup roster to enter the RP proper.

For now I am only posting a list of accepted characters. Feedback on why the rest of the characters didn't make the cut will be available later to those who are interested in hearing it, along with information on any improvements we would like to see, if necessary.

So, without further ado:

ACCEPTED CHARACTERS
Ando Isei - @Peik
Reyna Stromfleur - @Spoopy Scary
Velyn Virith - @Kassarock
Elara Metrick - @Rapid Reader
Reinette Deserine - @Stormflyx
Durzum gro-Moghul - @an abomunist
Guifort d'Strohm - @psych0pomp
Bahk gro-Khadba - @Auz
Quintus Gefjenssen - @Bork Lazer

Congratulations! Feel free to post your sheets in the Characters tab (in a hider, same as before).

To the rest of you, like I said before, detailed feedback will be provided upon request. Let me know on Discord or here on the Guild. If your character wasn't accepted but you are interested in signing them up for the backup roster, let us know and we will tell you if any changes need to be made. I can't tell you now how long it'll take before we will be expanding the roster, so if you don't feel like waiting and want to focus on other RPs, I absolutely understand.

And last but not least, thanks to everyone who applied! We loved reading all of your sheets and in-character writing challenge submissions.