[CHAR] The Elder Scrolls: Corruption
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Fat Boy Kyle
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30 days ago
GM
Fat Boy Kyle
Member
Seen
30 days ago
Character Theme – Hero (Elizaveta)
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Húrin is of average height for a Bosmer male… which is to say not very tall at all. His frame however is slightly stockier than the average Bosmer, a result no doubt of his partial imperial blood. The fact that his mother was half-imperial has also resulted in his facial features being somewhat more human, with a more squarish jawline and a more blockish head. That said, in person one can see that he is clearly more Mer than Man; without knowing of his bloodline, one would probably not even think anything of it. On his forehead he has a tattoo which is reminiscent of the ancient markings found in his hometown of Halfmoon Grove. His hair is thick and silvery, and will often vary in length depending on the season and how often he can find someone he’ll trust to cut it. At the moment his hair stretches down towards his shoulders and will usually be tied back. He has light brown eyes, the left of which is marked by an old scar (which fortunately did not touch the eyeball itself).
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【Full Name】
Húrin
【Alias】
None at present
【Race】
Bosmer (aka Wood Elf)
【Gender】
Male
【Age】
28
【Sexuality】
Heterosexual
【Birth Place】
Halfmoon Grove, in the North East of Valenwood
【Nation/Allegiance】
Valenwood Dissident
【Profession】
Ranger
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
The word that probably defines Húrin best is ‘traditional’ – this being in the context of a Valenwood born Bosmer. Having been born in an old remote community, he adheres strictly to the Green Pact and other Bosmer traditions. This includes being completely carnivorous and, much to the disdain of others not familiar with the tradition, cannibalistic. Indeed even after leaving Valenwood he still continues to respect the green and avoids harming vegetation. He also continues to pray to the Forest God Y’ffre on at least a daily basis. Whilst he is very devout himself, he does not begrudge others for having different (and sometimes opposing) beliefs; as long as he is shown respect he will return it. Whilst his values are somewhat unorthodox to most citizens of Tamriel, he is in general a very moral and ethical person who strives to avoid conflict with others when possible, and who will defend the vulnerable if he is able.
In regards to his social aspects, he has been described as some as ‘reserved’. But in truth this only because he tends to live a solitary life, not because he is in anyway shy or unable to speak to others. Indeed, when he does interact with others he is usually quite confident and willing to speak his mind, almost with too much honesty at times. The only reason he lives a solitary life is because he chooses not to live in stone towns and villages, preferring to be close to nature; as such he simply comes across less people.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Húrin was born into the small community of Halfmoon Grove, in the North-East of Valenwood. He was the only child of Erlian and Aravis, two Bosmer which had been trying desperately for years to conceive a child. Being only a few decades old, Húrin was of course born under the rule of the Aldmeri Dominion. For the early part of his life he thought little of this, with politics having a negligible effect in the remote corner of the forest in which he lived. He often heard elders and merchants moaning and whispering about how the High Elves seemed to treat them like lesser beings, but never though much of it. The only time he ever even saw the Dominion was when they marched through the area on their way to the borders; he would sit silently in the trees and watch as the golden armies seeped through the trees like a stream.
Instead of an Aldmeri dominated youth, Húrin actually was brought up in a very traditional Bosmer way. His father and mother were both rangers, and so he was taught from a young age how to use a bow, track, hunt and generally survive the wild. Religion actually played a massive part in his life, with his family and community teaching him to worship Y'ffre (the God of the Forest) and honour the Green Pact made by the Bosmer to their God. For those that do not know of the Green Pact, it is an Oath which prohibits the harming of vegetation and is basically the opposite of veganism. Because of this Húrin will for example only use weapons which he himself has crafted from the corpses of his prey.
For most of his life, even into his twenties, Húrin simply led the life of a simple ranger. Most days would be spent hunting for food to eat that very day, or to gather supplies that the crafter’s requested, or to track down a local threat (be bandits or monsters). Risks were always moderated, and he never set out on a task which he though he couldn’t handle with ease. For example if there were four bandits nearby, he would take five friends with him to ensure the odds were in his favour. During this quiet part of his life he also met his fiancé, Yasmin. She was slightly younger than him but her personality and wit definitely trumped his own. Living in such a small community it was easy for them to fall so deeply in love and become engaged so quickly; it wasn’t like there was much competition.
It wasn’t until about seven years ago, just prior to what should have been his and Yasmin’s wedding, that his life suddenly changed. Following the news that a neighbouring community had recently had an incident with Thalmor officials, Húrin and a couple of his kinsmen went to investigate. Upon arriving they were told by the villagers that a group of Altmer had been caught chopping down sacred trees in the local area and were scared off repeatedly. Although the village had at that point no issue with the Dominion, they refused to allow such desecration to occur. Húrin and his kinsmen were sympathetic towards them but did not think too much of the incident, as was the case with many of the villagers, and decided to stay a few nights in good spirit. It was on the second night of staying here however that Húrin discovered just how ruthless the Thalmor could be. Angered by the community’s disobedience, the Thalmor sent troops and agents to purge the village. Húrin was awakened during the middle of the night to the sounds of screaming, the crackling of spells and the roar of fire. He desperately tried to aid in the defence of the village, killing many of the attackers, but ultimately realised that it was a lost cause and fled – something which he still feels shame for doing.
Upon returning to Halfmoon Grove, he told everyone what had happened and informed the family of his kinsmen that they had perished. There were few who did not believe him, but the Grove did not know how to react. They certainly could not pose any sort of threat to the Thalmor. Húrin tried to convince his friends and family to flee the Dominion, fearing that they too might one day be purged. When they refused he suggested that if Thalmor present at the purge recognised him, that the Grove would likely be attacked too, but his family insisted that they could hide and protect him. Feeling like he had no other choice, Húrin left in the middle of the night without saying farewells and fled to Cyrodiil; he would not remain and risk putting those he loved in danger.
Since fleeing to Cyrodiil Húrin has remained a hunter, but has become somewhat nomadic. He frequently tries to get in touch with other Bosmer and will warn anyone willing to listen what the Dominion do to those beneath them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Húrin is first and foremost a ranger. In fact he is very much the typical archetype of a bow wielding Wood Elf, as cliché and boring as that might sound. He is a very talented archer, stemming from both years of experience and from an inherit knack common to his race. He isn’t the best archer in the world, but he is good enough to move and shoot without missing every shot. The fact that he has relied on his archery on a daily basis to keep himself fed should be somewhat of a testament to his ability. As an extension of this he has also learned how to make bow and arrows, a skill which he uses both for survival and occasionally income.
Húrin is a very good hunter, able to track and kill a variety of targets. This of course tends to mean animals and beasts, but has occasionally meant bandits. Whilst he was trained to track and hunt using traditional methods (by following tracks, following scents, leaving bait, etc.), he compliments is hunting abilities with is novice Illusion magic. For example he uses a weak chameleon spell to help him hide, and can use a somewhat weaker and unorthodox version of clairvoyance to follow tracks beyond his non-magical ability. As per the Green Pact, Húrin will make use of as much of the corpse as he can after killing his prey.
Due to taking part in the Rite of Theft growing up, Húrin is a mildly capable thief. He can pick-pocket the less perceptive of people, although his lock-picking skills are pretty awful.
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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Húrin usually makes his own bow and arrows, and the ones he is using at current is no exception. He uses a longbow fashioned out of the bones of a bear and the sinews of a deer. Because of the way he has treated and maintained the bow however, one could easily mistake it for a usual light-coloured wooden bow. Whilst he does collect any salvageable arrows he comes across, most of his arrows are made by him using a combination of bone, flint and feathers. He also carries with him a small steel carving knife which he brought off a merchant, but this is used more for skinning and the like rather than combat.
Húrin wear a set of rough leather armour (which looks very similar to this). The outfit consists of: plain leather boots, gloves and trousers; a black woollen shirt (not chainmail like in the pic); an armless leather chest piece; a leather neckguard and hood; and assortment of pouches and a small satchel. He has purchased or found all of this armour over time since leaving Valenwood, having discarded his previous armour in the hopes of attracting less attention from racist humans. Whilst his crafting skills don’t stretch too well into the business of cloth making and smithing, he knows enough to maintain his armour and repair small damages. As he scavenges as much as he can off corpses, his pouches and bag are often filled with a variety of organic materials which have varying uses.
Magical Spells
Chameleon – Húrin is capable of using a fairly weak Chameleon spell to help him blend into his surroundings. He is still very much visible but he won’t draw the eye as much and it does make it easier for him to sneak around.
Tracking Clairvoyance – When Húrin begins to lose tracks, he can use this spell to help keep him on the right path. However not only does this require a fair bit of focus and energy to upkeep, it can sometimes not take him to the intended target. Unlike Heroes such as the Dragonborn, he certainly cannot use this spell to find any objective nor will he ever be.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Húrin is of average height for a Bosmer male… which is to say not very tall at all. His frame however is slightly stockier than the average Bosmer, a result no doubt of his partial imperial blood. The fact that his mother was half-imperial has also resulted in his facial features being somewhat more human, with a more squarish jawline and a more blockish head. That said, in person one can see that he is clearly more Mer than Man; without knowing of his bloodline, one would probably not even think anything of it. On his forehead he has a tattoo which is reminiscent of the ancient markings found in his hometown of Halfmoon Grove. His hair is thick and silvery, and will often vary in length depending on the season and how often he can find someone he’ll trust to cut it. At the moment his hair stretches down towards his shoulders and will usually be tied back. He has light brown eyes, the left of which is marked by an old scar (which fortunately did not touch the eyeball itself).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Húrin
【Alias】
None at present
【Race】
Bosmer (aka Wood Elf)
【Gender】
Male
【Age】
28
【Sexuality】
Heterosexual
【Birth Place】
Halfmoon Grove, in the North East of Valenwood
【Nation/Allegiance】
Valenwood Dissident
【Profession】
Ranger
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
The word that probably defines Húrin best is ‘traditional’ – this being in the context of a Valenwood born Bosmer. Having been born in an old remote community, he adheres strictly to the Green Pact and other Bosmer traditions. This includes being completely carnivorous and, much to the disdain of others not familiar with the tradition, cannibalistic. Indeed even after leaving Valenwood he still continues to respect the green and avoids harming vegetation. He also continues to pray to the Forest God Y’ffre on at least a daily basis. Whilst he is very devout himself, he does not begrudge others for having different (and sometimes opposing) beliefs; as long as he is shown respect he will return it. Whilst his values are somewhat unorthodox to most citizens of Tamriel, he is in general a very moral and ethical person who strives to avoid conflict with others when possible, and who will defend the vulnerable if he is able.
In regards to his social aspects, he has been described as some as ‘reserved’. But in truth this only because he tends to live a solitary life, not because he is in anyway shy or unable to speak to others. Indeed, when he does interact with others he is usually quite confident and willing to speak his mind, almost with too much honesty at times. The only reason he lives a solitary life is because he chooses not to live in stone towns and villages, preferring to be close to nature; as such he simply comes across less people.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Húrin was born into the small community of Halfmoon Grove, in the North-East of Valenwood. He was the only child of Erlian and Aravis, two Bosmer which had been trying desperately for years to conceive a child. Being only a few decades old, Húrin was of course born under the rule of the Aldmeri Dominion. For the early part of his life he thought little of this, with politics having a negligible effect in the remote corner of the forest in which he lived. He often heard elders and merchants moaning and whispering about how the High Elves seemed to treat them like lesser beings, but never though much of it. The only time he ever even saw the Dominion was when they marched through the area on their way to the borders; he would sit silently in the trees and watch as the golden armies seeped through the trees like a stream.
Instead of an Aldmeri dominated youth, Húrin actually was brought up in a very traditional Bosmer way. His father and mother were both rangers, and so he was taught from a young age how to use a bow, track, hunt and generally survive the wild. Religion actually played a massive part in his life, with his family and community teaching him to worship Y'ffre (the God of the Forest) and honour the Green Pact made by the Bosmer to their God. For those that do not know of the Green Pact, it is an Oath which prohibits the harming of vegetation and is basically the opposite of veganism. Because of this Húrin will for example only use weapons which he himself has crafted from the corpses of his prey.
For most of his life, even into his twenties, Húrin simply led the life of a simple ranger. Most days would be spent hunting for food to eat that very day, or to gather supplies that the crafter’s requested, or to track down a local threat (be bandits or monsters). Risks were always moderated, and he never set out on a task which he though he couldn’t handle with ease. For example if there were four bandits nearby, he would take five friends with him to ensure the odds were in his favour. During this quiet part of his life he also met his fiancé, Yasmin. She was slightly younger than him but her personality and wit definitely trumped his own. Living in such a small community it was easy for them to fall so deeply in love and become engaged so quickly; it wasn’t like there was much competition.
It wasn’t until about seven years ago, just prior to what should have been his and Yasmin’s wedding, that his life suddenly changed. Following the news that a neighbouring community had recently had an incident with Thalmor officials, Húrin and a couple of his kinsmen went to investigate. Upon arriving they were told by the villagers that a group of Altmer had been caught chopping down sacred trees in the local area and were scared off repeatedly. Although the village had at that point no issue with the Dominion, they refused to allow such desecration to occur. Húrin and his kinsmen were sympathetic towards them but did not think too much of the incident, as was the case with many of the villagers, and decided to stay a few nights in good spirit. It was on the second night of staying here however that Húrin discovered just how ruthless the Thalmor could be. Angered by the community’s disobedience, the Thalmor sent troops and agents to purge the village. Húrin was awakened during the middle of the night to the sounds of screaming, the crackling of spells and the roar of fire. He desperately tried to aid in the defence of the village, killing many of the attackers, but ultimately realised that it was a lost cause and fled – something which he still feels shame for doing.
Upon returning to Halfmoon Grove, he told everyone what had happened and informed the family of his kinsmen that they had perished. There were few who did not believe him, but the Grove did not know how to react. They certainly could not pose any sort of threat to the Thalmor. Húrin tried to convince his friends and family to flee the Dominion, fearing that they too might one day be purged. When they refused he suggested that if Thalmor present at the purge recognised him, that the Grove would likely be attacked too, but his family insisted that they could hide and protect him. Feeling like he had no other choice, Húrin left in the middle of the night without saying farewells and fled to Cyrodiil; he would not remain and risk putting those he loved in danger.
Since fleeing to Cyrodiil Húrin has remained a hunter, but has become somewhat nomadic. He frequently tries to get in touch with other Bosmer and will warn anyone willing to listen what the Dominion do to those beneath them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Húrin is first and foremost a ranger. In fact he is very much the typical archetype of a bow wielding Wood Elf, as cliché and boring as that might sound. He is a very talented archer, stemming from both years of experience and from an inherit knack common to his race. He isn’t the best archer in the world, but he is good enough to move and shoot without missing every shot. The fact that he has relied on his archery on a daily basis to keep himself fed should be somewhat of a testament to his ability. As an extension of this he has also learned how to make bow and arrows, a skill which he uses both for survival and occasionally income.
Húrin is a very good hunter, able to track and kill a variety of targets. This of course tends to mean animals and beasts, but has occasionally meant bandits. Whilst he was trained to track and hunt using traditional methods (by following tracks, following scents, leaving bait, etc.), he compliments is hunting abilities with is novice Illusion magic. For example he uses a weak chameleon spell to help him hide, and can use a somewhat weaker and unorthodox version of clairvoyance to follow tracks beyond his non-magical ability. As per the Green Pact, Húrin will make use of as much of the corpse as he can after killing his prey.
Due to taking part in the Rite of Theft growing up, Húrin is a mildly capable thief. He can pick-pocket the less perceptive of people, although his lock-picking skills are pretty awful.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Húrin usually makes his own bow and arrows, and the ones he is using at current is no exception. He uses a longbow fashioned out of the bones of a bear and the sinews of a deer. Because of the way he has treated and maintained the bow however, one could easily mistake it for a usual light-coloured wooden bow. Whilst he does collect any salvageable arrows he comes across, most of his arrows are made by him using a combination of bone, flint and feathers. He also carries with him a small steel carving knife which he brought off a merchant, but this is used more for skinning and the like rather than combat.
Húrin wear a set of rough leather armour (which looks very similar to this). The outfit consists of: plain leather boots, gloves and trousers; a black woollen shirt (not chainmail like in the pic); an armless leather chest piece; a leather neckguard and hood; and assortment of pouches and a small satchel. He has purchased or found all of this armour over time since leaving Valenwood, having discarded his previous armour in the hopes of attracting less attention from racist humans. Whilst his crafting skills don’t stretch too well into the business of cloth making and smithing, he knows enough to maintain his armour and repair small damages. As he scavenges as much as he can off corpses, his pouches and bag are often filled with a variety of organic materials which have varying uses.
Magical Spells
Chameleon – Húrin is capable of using a fairly weak Chameleon spell to help him blend into his surroundings. He is still very much visible but he won’t draw the eye as much and it does make it easier for him to sneak around.
Tracking Clairvoyance – When Húrin begins to lose tracks, he can use this spell to help keep him on the right path. However not only does this require a fair bit of focus and energy to upkeep, it can sometimes not take him to the intended target. Unlike Heroes such as the Dragonborn, he certainly cannot use this spell to find any objective nor will he ever be.
Zhaliora Fallen Angel
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Character Theme – Unleash the Magic ..... xD
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Andiira has red hair, red eyes. Some call her Daedra offspring behind her back due to her looks. She stands at 5'8", weights around 150lbs and has a slender form. She doesn't have much of a chest development (to her great dismay). Both of her ears are pierced and normally wears a loop in each.
Her usual attire is a black and red cloth and leather dress with loose fitting arms, a corset and a knee long free flowing skirt. Her corset has a pattern resembling the flames that she produces with her wild and unpredictable magic, being resistant towards flames.
She wears plenty of arm and wristbands made of gold and silver along with a jade ring on her right hand. Part from her jade ring, none of her other ornaments does anything to increase her magical powers.
Hanging around her neck and down into her corset she carries a necklace given to her by a bygone girl. In the necklace there are two images, one of the girl and one of herself in her young years.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Andiira Dradssen
【Alias】
A.D, Red-Eye, (Daedra offspring)
【Race】
Imperial
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
17
【Sexuality】
Bisexual
【Birth Place】
The Imperial City
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent, pro-imperial
【Profession】
Blacksmith and mage apprentice
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Andiira is unpredictable, prone to attacks of rage and benevolence in equal measure. In one moment she might be tending to your wounds just to sear your skin if you offend her. Used to being teased and bullied for her appearance, she has grown quite easily offended and lets out her anger easily. Behind her rage though is a kind and quite shy person.
She creates as wall of fire to push anyone away, but is not against friendship. She is not a follower of any faith, thinking that the gods has abandoned her, even though she accepts their existence in the world as a fact. She is not too used to speaking to others since most leave her alone deep in her scrolls and books or at the forge.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Andiira was born in the Imperial city as a lowborn commoner, daughter of a prostitute, or courtesan as her mother calls it. She never had any luxuries in her simple upbringing but she had her mother’s love, so that was always something. While her mother was working, Andiira often snuck out to the forges of the city, the fire and sparks fascinating her. She could sit and stare into the flames as the smiths worked their craft. It was amazing to her how a lump of useless matter could be turned into something as splendid like a necklace with gems imbedded into it.
It did not take too long until Andiira became the shop mascot, running around the place, carrying whatever she was strong enough to carry around, even if was just a tankard of ale for a thirsty smith. She liked to help out at the smithy; it took her mind off other matters. It was an atmosphere that she loved. The heat, the constant striking of metal, the friendly attitude of the smiths, it was so different compared to how it was at home.
At home, things were rough. Andiira lived in the brothel her mother worked in so she had to make up for her living there. While she was not old enough to sell her body, she could carry water around, manage the desk if she needed to, and empty the latrines, all the glorious jobs that had to be done every now and then.
She was looked down upon by a few of the other ladies there, but more than that she was shunned by the other children. Her red hair and red eyes stuck out like a sore thumb in the Imperial city and made her a target of teasing. While it wasn’t too bad, it was when her latent magical powers manifested that it became a horror for her.
A customer was trying to get into Andiira’s skirt. Being much older and stronger than her he overpowered Andiira. No matter how much she struggled she could not get him off, at least that was until the man’s clothes started burning. She had no idea of how it had happened but in the palms of her hands were tiny flames that was scorching the man’s skin and burning his clothes. In her young mind, filled with fear and contempt she kept the flames going and the man burned to death while screaming, calling the entire brothel to attention.
While the guard had let her off the hook for the killing of the man, it had not escaped the memories of the customers, children and the working ladies (and men). Andiira became more and more isolated from the others and the children started mocking her, calling her Daedra born. The fear of magic was strong in this part of the city, especially after the recent Skyrim incident along with the Dominion making small incursions into the Empire. Combine all that with rouge mages, Andiira became a feared existence in the small brothel.
The last refuge she had was the smithy, they had even started teaching her basic forging methods and she poured her entire soul into learning all she could from them.
A few weeks after the incident at the brothel she was approached by a man in robes. He said he was from the Collage of Whispers and that she had been sold into their service by her mother. While she was technically a slave, she was almost as free as anyone else. She was not allowed to leave the Collage building nor contact the outside.
It took about a year of her servitude (and a few incidents) until they finally started teaching her magic. They decided for their own safety that she had to be trained to control her flames as they were growing in strength and heat as she went through puberty. It even amazed her teachers how adapt and quick to pick up on the element of fire she was. However, she was pretty much useless when it came to any other type of magic not related to the flame.
She trained, studied and kept up with her blacksmith work until the day she was awoken from a horrible nightmare by a hammer-wielding being, leaving a mark on her chest. She is convinced that it’s a sign, and a sign never to let her hammer stray from her side.
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【Skills and Abilities】
She is a trained blacksmith, using her magic to heat the forge to increase the durability and sharpness of what she makes. Her magic is destruction, alteration and a bit of enchanting, mainly focusing on pyromancy and the alteration and manipulation of metals.
Part from that she knows the basics in cooking, herbal lore, alchemy, all the basic things that a mage needs to know. She isn’t special in any way or form, neither has she bothered to learn more.
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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
A simple quarterstaff she mainly uses as a walking stick. She carved it herself from a birch branch, just stripping off the knots and treating it in oils. She almost always carries her trusty forging hammer on her person or in a purse which can carry about thrice as much as it seems to be able to carry.
Magical Spells
She knows the spells of flames, firebolt, fireball, firerune from the school of destruction. From the school of alteration she knows; oakflesh, candlelight, stoneflesh and telekinesis. From the school of enchantments she knows enchantments based around fire.
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Andiira has red hair, red eyes. Some call her Daedra offspring behind her back due to her looks. She stands at 5'8", weights around 150lbs and has a slender form. She doesn't have much of a chest development (to her great dismay). Both of her ears are pierced and normally wears a loop in each.
Her usual attire is a black and red cloth and leather dress with loose fitting arms, a corset and a knee long free flowing skirt. Her corset has a pattern resembling the flames that she produces with her wild and unpredictable magic, being resistant towards flames.
She wears plenty of arm and wristbands made of gold and silver along with a jade ring on her right hand. Part from her jade ring, none of her other ornaments does anything to increase her magical powers.
Hanging around her neck and down into her corset she carries a necklace given to her by a bygone girl. In the necklace there are two images, one of the girl and one of herself in her young years.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Andiira Dradssen
【Alias】
A.D, Red-Eye, (Daedra offspring)
【Race】
Imperial
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
17
【Sexuality】
Bisexual
【Birth Place】
The Imperial City
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent, pro-imperial
【Profession】
Blacksmith and mage apprentice
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Andiira is unpredictable, prone to attacks of rage and benevolence in equal measure. In one moment she might be tending to your wounds just to sear your skin if you offend her. Used to being teased and bullied for her appearance, she has grown quite easily offended and lets out her anger easily. Behind her rage though is a kind and quite shy person.
She creates as wall of fire to push anyone away, but is not against friendship. She is not a follower of any faith, thinking that the gods has abandoned her, even though she accepts their existence in the world as a fact. She is not too used to speaking to others since most leave her alone deep in her scrolls and books or at the forge.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Andiira was born in the Imperial city as a lowborn commoner, daughter of a prostitute, or courtesan as her mother calls it. She never had any luxuries in her simple upbringing but she had her mother’s love, so that was always something. While her mother was working, Andiira often snuck out to the forges of the city, the fire and sparks fascinating her. She could sit and stare into the flames as the smiths worked their craft. It was amazing to her how a lump of useless matter could be turned into something as splendid like a necklace with gems imbedded into it.
It did not take too long until Andiira became the shop mascot, running around the place, carrying whatever she was strong enough to carry around, even if was just a tankard of ale for a thirsty smith. She liked to help out at the smithy; it took her mind off other matters. It was an atmosphere that she loved. The heat, the constant striking of metal, the friendly attitude of the smiths, it was so different compared to how it was at home.
At home, things were rough. Andiira lived in the brothel her mother worked in so she had to make up for her living there. While she was not old enough to sell her body, she could carry water around, manage the desk if she needed to, and empty the latrines, all the glorious jobs that had to be done every now and then.
She was looked down upon by a few of the other ladies there, but more than that she was shunned by the other children. Her red hair and red eyes stuck out like a sore thumb in the Imperial city and made her a target of teasing. While it wasn’t too bad, it was when her latent magical powers manifested that it became a horror for her.
A customer was trying to get into Andiira’s skirt. Being much older and stronger than her he overpowered Andiira. No matter how much she struggled she could not get him off, at least that was until the man’s clothes started burning. She had no idea of how it had happened but in the palms of her hands were tiny flames that was scorching the man’s skin and burning his clothes. In her young mind, filled with fear and contempt she kept the flames going and the man burned to death while screaming, calling the entire brothel to attention.
While the guard had let her off the hook for the killing of the man, it had not escaped the memories of the customers, children and the working ladies (and men). Andiira became more and more isolated from the others and the children started mocking her, calling her Daedra born. The fear of magic was strong in this part of the city, especially after the recent Skyrim incident along with the Dominion making small incursions into the Empire. Combine all that with rouge mages, Andiira became a feared existence in the small brothel.
The last refuge she had was the smithy, they had even started teaching her basic forging methods and she poured her entire soul into learning all she could from them.
A few weeks after the incident at the brothel she was approached by a man in robes. He said he was from the Collage of Whispers and that she had been sold into their service by her mother. While she was technically a slave, she was almost as free as anyone else. She was not allowed to leave the Collage building nor contact the outside.
It took about a year of her servitude (and a few incidents) until they finally started teaching her magic. They decided for their own safety that she had to be trained to control her flames as they were growing in strength and heat as she went through puberty. It even amazed her teachers how adapt and quick to pick up on the element of fire she was. However, she was pretty much useless when it came to any other type of magic not related to the flame.
She trained, studied and kept up with her blacksmith work until the day she was awoken from a horrible nightmare by a hammer-wielding being, leaving a mark on her chest. She is convinced that it’s a sign, and a sign never to let her hammer stray from her side.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
She is a trained blacksmith, using her magic to heat the forge to increase the durability and sharpness of what she makes. Her magic is destruction, alteration and a bit of enchanting, mainly focusing on pyromancy and the alteration and manipulation of metals.
Part from that she knows the basics in cooking, herbal lore, alchemy, all the basic things that a mage needs to know. She isn’t special in any way or form, neither has she bothered to learn more.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
A simple quarterstaff she mainly uses as a walking stick. She carved it herself from a birch branch, just stripping off the knots and treating it in oils. She almost always carries her trusty forging hammer on her person or in a purse which can carry about thrice as much as it seems to be able to carry.
Magical Spells
She knows the spells of flames, firebolt, fireball, firerune from the school of destruction. From the school of alteration she knows; oakflesh, candlelight, stoneflesh and telekinesis. From the school of enchantments she knows enchantments based around fire.
Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead
Member
Seen
5 mos ago
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vaenlen is not like most Altmer. He inherited his long, shaggy dark hair from his father, a Breton, as well as his increased muscle mass. He took after his father in looks too, inheriting the basic facial structure of Altmer from his mother, as well as the height- standing as tall as a large Nord. Nowadays though, he looks harder and meaner. Cold, flat eyes look at the world and offer the same message as the frown. Years of service to the Empire has weathered his face, not to mention the events of his life prior to this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Vaenlen
【Alias】
None
【Race】
Altmer
【Gender】
Male
【Age】
Human equivalent of early-thirties.
【Birth Place】
Arkay’s Hand, a ship fleeing Alinor to Sentinel
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent
【Profession】
Guerilla/Sellsword
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Vaenlen is a man with a tendency to become far too engrossed in his mission to see around him. It’s what’s made him hard to be friends with, and people often struggle to keep up with him and struggle through something with a man with his work ethic. For him, his work is his life. He is a man consumed and defined by one enemy: the Thalmor. The old pain never left him after the Night of Green Fire, and he still bears the scars from that night and many more after. Any humor left in him is a dark or morbid sort, of the type where people sometimes struggle to know if he even is trying at a bit of humor. Although he may be a man that is hard to connect with, he is a man who is easy to be loyal to and easy to bear his strong loyalty on oneself. Those he fights with are his true family.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
4e42 - Night of Green Fire - 12y/o
Night of name-day, Thalmor attack. Father fights back while mother flees with Vaenlen, father dies, mother is badly burned and he is gravely wounded himself, catching an arrow in the stomach and suffering a broken leg from jumping from a window. He and his mother were badly burned as they fled and she died the next morning. He wanders the streets, largely and cruelly ignored. He is caught by a man and his dog trying to steal their food and is beaten by the man while suffering from bites from his dog. He is left in the gutter, slowly dying from wound-rot before being taken in by another Altmer by the name of Laskaria Vingaldo.
Laskaria slowly gains his trust and respect by treating him like one of her own sons, whom she lost on the Night of Green Fire. She heals Vaenlen over the next two days, helping him rehabilitate himself after his severely broken bones and horrible infections. She gives him a choice - stay with her and serve her unquestionably or leave and never see her again. She asks for no payment should he leave. He decides to stay.
4e50 - 20y/o
His lessons in swordsmanship and war magic are going well, though it seems his Altmer blood is muddied and clouded to the point that he lacks skill in all magic, not able to progress beyond the level of an apprentice. This is made up for in his ability to fight well with the short blade and the long, utilizing an Altmer fencing style using a sidesword and a long dagger in tandem. His footwork is superb, he takes to the blade as if it was as ingrained in him as breathing and can fight well with his hands as well. He is a fast and aggressive fighter, able to overwhelm any fencing partner.
It is with these skills that he will serve Laskaria, stepping onto Alinor's shores. They will spend the next eight years planning their next moves and gathering allies among the noble houses that despise the Thalmor, no matter for what reason, so long as they view them as their enemies.
4e58 - 28y/o
Though Vaenlen is a prodigy in the martial arts and competent enough with magic to be a good spellsword, it is not with these skills that they fight the Thalmor. Their first steps to fighting the Thalmor's already strong grip on Alinor is to fight them in the council chambers and during the meetings of the noble families with the King and Queen. The days turn to weeks, the weeks to months turn to years.
4e62 - 32y/o
The Thalmor's grip on Alinor steadily grows, but Laskaria and her allies still argue for the King and Queen to outlaw the Thalmor as a political faction. Vaenlen grows impatient with this, not seeing how this will bring vengeance on the Thalmor for his parents and Laskaria's family. Finally, after winning over a good majority of the nobles, the Thalmor start to feel threatened and make some of their newfound allies disappear or die in terrible accidents as messages to Laskaria and Vaenlen to cease their meddling. Vaenlen itches to be set loose, but Laskaria's cooler head prevails. For now.
4e80 - 50y/o
Laskaria's alliances with the families of Alinor begins to weaken as they fight a losing battle against the Thalmor. More and more families either abandon the cause or outright swear loyalty to the Thalmor, making them that much more powerful to the common folk. Laskaria becomes more and more desperate and jaded by the day, something that- looking back on it now, he regrets wholeheartedly- Vaenlen subtly encourages. Laskaria scours Alinor for literally anyone who will speak out against the Thalmor, but as the political faction's grip tightens and becomes more aggressive in their campaign to purify Alinor, she finds little support.
4e100 - 70y/o
With the end of the Void Nights, news comes from Elsweyr that they are becoming increasingly receptive to the Thalmor, further setting Laskaria's plans back. It seems all is crumbling around his mentor and he does all he can to help her keep her head against everything telling her to give up and go into exile. All seems hopeless though, as there is no one at all speaking out against the Thalmor. The general opinion has become that of 'show your support or show nothing at all.' It is around this time that Laskaria and Vaenlen are approached by a man talking of solidarity and that they are not alone in this fight. Nothing else comes of it though, and they see nothing more of the man. Laskaria offers her counsel to the King as an advisor on his council, but is turned down for a Thalmor member named Finlas.
4e115 - 85y/o
Elsweyr splits itself in two and both states pledge their allegiance to the Aldmeri Dominion. The King and Queen offer their blessing and accept, after taking counsel with Finlas, of course. Laskaria burns with hatred for the man and barely suppresses it in his presence. They are offered spots as courtiers in the royal court. She accepts, hoping to at least influence some on the royal council, or better yet, the heir.
4e117-170 - 87-140y/o
With their new positions as courtiers living in the royal palace's grounds, Laskaria and Vaenlen enjoy the ability to form alliances and keep tabs on Finlan. Laskaria makes many allies in their long time at court and Vaenlen busies himself with tailing Finlan and paying the maids and servants for any rumors and gossip about the man. Sadly, Finlan leads a close-knit life, and the only thing Vaenlen figures is that he is away from court for long periods of time. This is obviously so he may meet with his Thalmor benefactors, but he can extrapolate nothing else from the information. Vaenlen meets dead ends wherever he goes, but Laskaria has a veritable host of allies by the time the talks of war with the Empire start to be whispered about through the halls.
When open debates are held in the court, Laskaria and her allies argue for peace, but the Thalmor-aligned courtiers and nobles will have none of it. Recently, the Thalmor have found numerous Blades agents among the populace, serving as maids in low courts to retainers of the most dignified families in Alinor. Such treachery must not be taken so lightly, or at least, that is the attitude that prevails in these talks. Laskaria's pleading and reasoning falls on deaf ears, as Thalmor propaganda about the Empire sanctioning this espionage abounds. The public now cries out for retaliation, and as if the propaganda was not enough, the scandal would tip everything in the Thalmor's favor.
In 170, the heir would be gravely wounded in an attempt on his life, thwarted by his Thalmor appointed bodyguards, of course. Vaenlen and Laskaria, on the same night, were visited again by the same Altmer man that contacted them several years before, telling them to flee. Laskaria is nowhere to be found on that night until Vaenlen returns to his chambers to find her corpse. Vaenlen flies into a murderous rage, barging into the royal hall during the meeting and impaling Finlas where he sat. The royal guards rushed in and took Vaenlen down with a good fight, wearing him down and throwing him into the dungeons.
He spent a week inside a dank cell before he was scheduled to be moved to the headsman's block for to be executed for treason against the Dominion. He'd been tortured for nights before in attempts to find out about any accomplices he may have who may try to take the heir's life or that of the King or Queen. Little did they know, the Thalmor were behind it all, but no one would listen. By the end of it, he'd had to grow back all of his fingernails and toenails, his nose is still slightly crooked and an array of scars cross over each other along his body. Before he could get to the chopping block, his escorts were killed and he was whisked off with a potato sack over his head.
He awoke to three men staring down at him, one was the Altmer man who'd contacted him and Laskaria before but he did not recognize the other two. They were revealed to be Blades agents, and they were going to flee Alinor with him in tow. Vaenlen didn't have much of a choice, he was wanted in all of Alinor for treason, his allies were all dead or turned against him and Laskaria was dead. There was nothing left for him in Alinor.
4e170-175 - 140-145y/o
Returning to the mainland, the Blades agents Argyllien, Daerenis and Pyrrel begin planning out what to do. Their first move is to go to the Imperial City and warn the Emperor of the impending war, but they are denied audience time and time again, much to the frustration of everyone. Argyllien begins to suspect the Thalmor even have a hand in Cyrodiil that is guiding events in their direction. Though, they do get aid from a few in the Penitus Oculatus who have connections to the Blades of old. They are offered money and lodging in return for training their personnel in the arts of espionage and asymmetric warfare. They agree, of course, and Vaenlen gets some much needed training in these areas.
When the emissary from Alinor arrives in the city and is granted an audience with the Emperor, their nightmares are realized as the heads of every Blades member in Alinor are presented. Daerenis wants blood and Vaenlen wishes to follow him, but Argyllien keeps them in check. When the Great War begins, they will have enough blood to drown in. And they did have it. The war was a long and brutal affair. Pyrrel lost his life in battle and Daerenis succumbed to his wounds soon after. Argyllien put up his sword and settled after the war. Vaenlen stayed in service to the Penitus Oculatus and was inducted into their ranks as a fully-fledged Inspector of the Penitus Oculatus.
4e188-201 - 158-171y/o
In 4e188, to curb the amount of skooma coming in from a destabilized border region with Elsweyr to a still somewhat lawless southern portion of Cyrodiil, the Penitus Oculatus were tasked with the destruction of the biggest skooma traffickers. The team sent in included Vaenlen, and through many false-flag operations, they managed to goad the two rival skooma traffickers into a fight that somewhat spun out of control and swallowed Bravil. Large riots erupted in the streets and there were rumors that even the Dark Brotherhood was effected. They were denied a reward, but otherwise congratulated with the completion of the objective.
In the same year, Vaenlen was tasked with accompanying senior members of the Penitus Oculatus to Wayrest to investigate the rumors of a large offensive being planned by a notorious band of pirate captains that were at the head of the largest combined fleet on the Gold Coast. Once they confirmed that it was going to happen, they rushed the important members of the families of Wayrest away from the city, but were too late to muster a good defense. Wayrest had fallen to the corsairs, but he was not allowed to continue the investigation into how or why such a large force of pirates would sack Wayrest. He still has his suspicions to this day.
When the Civil War in Skyrim blazed across the land, he was put in an observer role, tasked with keeping an eye on the Thalmor Justiciars there, as well as making sure Ulfric does not achieve a victory and to alert Tullius of any moves he may not know of. In the end, his and the efforts of his team working behind the scenes help to secure an Imperial victory, though Tullius and Elisif are both lost. He is given a medal for his service in the Civil War.
4e201-224 – 171-194y/o
After the Great War, Vaenlen was given leave to pursue any projects or cases of his own. He considered digging deeper into the Wayrest case, thinking that the Thalmor could have something to gain by destabilizing the centers of power in High Rock, but he was soon sent back to Skyrim to investigate the assassination of the Emperor on his visit to attend his counsin's wedding. His prying almost lead to his death, as he awoke to black-clad men crawling through his window. He dispatched of them well enough, but that settled his suspicions, it was indeed the Dark Brotherhood. Again though, he could only see the Thalmor having anything to gain by a slain Emperor. When Janos ascended to the throne but was assassinated in the months following, there were even more whispers among the Oculatus that the Thalmor were mounting another offensive.
These whispers were largely ignored, and Vaenlen felt like he was echoing Laskaria as he pleaded for the Penitus Oculatus to consider that the Thalmor may be behind these things. After the death of the Emperor, the threat of another interregnum like the one the Medes ascended to power in was looming on the horizon, and the Penitus Oculatus put him and the other Thalmor-Obsessed Inspectors on cases to pacify any of those who would try to take the throne by force while the Elder Council had their hands full.
By 220, the state of Tamriel was giving the Penitus Oculatus a lot to chew on. With new leadership coming in with no experience, Vaenlen and a few others went rogue when reports of body snatchings began to come in. No investigations could find a culprit and they turned to cold cases and locked away in a box in the basements of the offices. Those with a mind to kept investigating the Daedra cults, while some others- Vaenlen included- followed any leads that pointed to the Thalmor. In a year, it wouldn't be ghosts of Justiciars he'd be chasing, as very real soldiers clambered onto Cyrodiilic soil once more without warning.
Doing the only thing he knew, he waged a war with a small group of men he'd gathered from the old days, disrupting supply lines and raiding camps. They killed scouts, messengers, officers, tried to muddy the water as much as they could for the Dominion. Their efforts proved to do little, but they were only happy they did anything. It is now 224, and Vaenlen is busy fighting a war not for the Empire, not for the Penitus Oculatus, but for those he should have been fighting for all this time: His father, his mother, Laskaria, Argyllien, Pyrrel, Daerenis and all the others...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Expert skill in one-handed weapons both long and short, as well as the dual-wielding of.
Expert skill in sneaking and hand-to-hand
Somewhat skilled in pickpocketing and lockpicking
Somewhat skilled in destruction and alteration magic
Somewhat skilled in field medicine
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Wields a steel sidesword in tandem with a long knife
Carries bandages and medicinal herbs
Is very lightly armoured, clad mostly in leather, with a few pieces of iron. Owns a cloak as well.
Magical Spells
Destruction - Flames
Fire Rune
Firebolt
Fireball
Alteration – Magelight
Ironflesh
Telekinesis
Vaenlen is not like most Altmer. He inherited his long, shaggy dark hair from his father, a Breton, as well as his increased muscle mass. He took after his father in looks too, inheriting the basic facial structure of Altmer from his mother, as well as the height- standing as tall as a large Nord. Nowadays though, he looks harder and meaner. Cold, flat eyes look at the world and offer the same message as the frown. Years of service to the Empire has weathered his face, not to mention the events of his life prior to this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Vaenlen
【Alias】
None
【Race】
Altmer
【Gender】
Male
【Age】
Human equivalent of early-thirties.
【Birth Place】
Arkay’s Hand, a ship fleeing Alinor to Sentinel
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent
【Profession】
Guerilla/Sellsword
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Vaenlen is a man with a tendency to become far too engrossed in his mission to see around him. It’s what’s made him hard to be friends with, and people often struggle to keep up with him and struggle through something with a man with his work ethic. For him, his work is his life. He is a man consumed and defined by one enemy: the Thalmor. The old pain never left him after the Night of Green Fire, and he still bears the scars from that night and many more after. Any humor left in him is a dark or morbid sort, of the type where people sometimes struggle to know if he even is trying at a bit of humor. Although he may be a man that is hard to connect with, he is a man who is easy to be loyal to and easy to bear his strong loyalty on oneself. Those he fights with are his true family.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
4e42 - Night of Green Fire - 12y/o
Night of name-day, Thalmor attack. Father fights back while mother flees with Vaenlen, father dies, mother is badly burned and he is gravely wounded himself, catching an arrow in the stomach and suffering a broken leg from jumping from a window. He and his mother were badly burned as they fled and she died the next morning. He wanders the streets, largely and cruelly ignored. He is caught by a man and his dog trying to steal their food and is beaten by the man while suffering from bites from his dog. He is left in the gutter, slowly dying from wound-rot before being taken in by another Altmer by the name of Laskaria Vingaldo.
Laskaria slowly gains his trust and respect by treating him like one of her own sons, whom she lost on the Night of Green Fire. She heals Vaenlen over the next two days, helping him rehabilitate himself after his severely broken bones and horrible infections. She gives him a choice - stay with her and serve her unquestionably or leave and never see her again. She asks for no payment should he leave. He decides to stay.
4e50 - 20y/o
His lessons in swordsmanship and war magic are going well, though it seems his Altmer blood is muddied and clouded to the point that he lacks skill in all magic, not able to progress beyond the level of an apprentice. This is made up for in his ability to fight well with the short blade and the long, utilizing an Altmer fencing style using a sidesword and a long dagger in tandem. His footwork is superb, he takes to the blade as if it was as ingrained in him as breathing and can fight well with his hands as well. He is a fast and aggressive fighter, able to overwhelm any fencing partner.
It is with these skills that he will serve Laskaria, stepping onto Alinor's shores. They will spend the next eight years planning their next moves and gathering allies among the noble houses that despise the Thalmor, no matter for what reason, so long as they view them as their enemies.
4e58 - 28y/o
Though Vaenlen is a prodigy in the martial arts and competent enough with magic to be a good spellsword, it is not with these skills that they fight the Thalmor. Their first steps to fighting the Thalmor's already strong grip on Alinor is to fight them in the council chambers and during the meetings of the noble families with the King and Queen. The days turn to weeks, the weeks to months turn to years.
4e62 - 32y/o
The Thalmor's grip on Alinor steadily grows, but Laskaria and her allies still argue for the King and Queen to outlaw the Thalmor as a political faction. Vaenlen grows impatient with this, not seeing how this will bring vengeance on the Thalmor for his parents and Laskaria's family. Finally, after winning over a good majority of the nobles, the Thalmor start to feel threatened and make some of their newfound allies disappear or die in terrible accidents as messages to Laskaria and Vaenlen to cease their meddling. Vaenlen itches to be set loose, but Laskaria's cooler head prevails. For now.
4e80 - 50y/o
Laskaria's alliances with the families of Alinor begins to weaken as they fight a losing battle against the Thalmor. More and more families either abandon the cause or outright swear loyalty to the Thalmor, making them that much more powerful to the common folk. Laskaria becomes more and more desperate and jaded by the day, something that- looking back on it now, he regrets wholeheartedly- Vaenlen subtly encourages. Laskaria scours Alinor for literally anyone who will speak out against the Thalmor, but as the political faction's grip tightens and becomes more aggressive in their campaign to purify Alinor, she finds little support.
4e100 - 70y/o
With the end of the Void Nights, news comes from Elsweyr that they are becoming increasingly receptive to the Thalmor, further setting Laskaria's plans back. It seems all is crumbling around his mentor and he does all he can to help her keep her head against everything telling her to give up and go into exile. All seems hopeless though, as there is no one at all speaking out against the Thalmor. The general opinion has become that of 'show your support or show nothing at all.' It is around this time that Laskaria and Vaenlen are approached by a man talking of solidarity and that they are not alone in this fight. Nothing else comes of it though, and they see nothing more of the man. Laskaria offers her counsel to the King as an advisor on his council, but is turned down for a Thalmor member named Finlas.
4e115 - 85y/o
Elsweyr splits itself in two and both states pledge their allegiance to the Aldmeri Dominion. The King and Queen offer their blessing and accept, after taking counsel with Finlas, of course. Laskaria burns with hatred for the man and barely suppresses it in his presence. They are offered spots as courtiers in the royal court. She accepts, hoping to at least influence some on the royal council, or better yet, the heir.
4e117-170 - 87-140y/o
With their new positions as courtiers living in the royal palace's grounds, Laskaria and Vaenlen enjoy the ability to form alliances and keep tabs on Finlan. Laskaria makes many allies in their long time at court and Vaenlen busies himself with tailing Finlan and paying the maids and servants for any rumors and gossip about the man. Sadly, Finlan leads a close-knit life, and the only thing Vaenlen figures is that he is away from court for long periods of time. This is obviously so he may meet with his Thalmor benefactors, but he can extrapolate nothing else from the information. Vaenlen meets dead ends wherever he goes, but Laskaria has a veritable host of allies by the time the talks of war with the Empire start to be whispered about through the halls.
When open debates are held in the court, Laskaria and her allies argue for peace, but the Thalmor-aligned courtiers and nobles will have none of it. Recently, the Thalmor have found numerous Blades agents among the populace, serving as maids in low courts to retainers of the most dignified families in Alinor. Such treachery must not be taken so lightly, or at least, that is the attitude that prevails in these talks. Laskaria's pleading and reasoning falls on deaf ears, as Thalmor propaganda about the Empire sanctioning this espionage abounds. The public now cries out for retaliation, and as if the propaganda was not enough, the scandal would tip everything in the Thalmor's favor.
In 170, the heir would be gravely wounded in an attempt on his life, thwarted by his Thalmor appointed bodyguards, of course. Vaenlen and Laskaria, on the same night, were visited again by the same Altmer man that contacted them several years before, telling them to flee. Laskaria is nowhere to be found on that night until Vaenlen returns to his chambers to find her corpse. Vaenlen flies into a murderous rage, barging into the royal hall during the meeting and impaling Finlas where he sat. The royal guards rushed in and took Vaenlen down with a good fight, wearing him down and throwing him into the dungeons.
He spent a week inside a dank cell before he was scheduled to be moved to the headsman's block for to be executed for treason against the Dominion. He'd been tortured for nights before in attempts to find out about any accomplices he may have who may try to take the heir's life or that of the King or Queen. Little did they know, the Thalmor were behind it all, but no one would listen. By the end of it, he'd had to grow back all of his fingernails and toenails, his nose is still slightly crooked and an array of scars cross over each other along his body. Before he could get to the chopping block, his escorts were killed and he was whisked off with a potato sack over his head.
He awoke to three men staring down at him, one was the Altmer man who'd contacted him and Laskaria before but he did not recognize the other two. They were revealed to be Blades agents, and they were going to flee Alinor with him in tow. Vaenlen didn't have much of a choice, he was wanted in all of Alinor for treason, his allies were all dead or turned against him and Laskaria was dead. There was nothing left for him in Alinor.
4e170-175 - 140-145y/o
Returning to the mainland, the Blades agents Argyllien, Daerenis and Pyrrel begin planning out what to do. Their first move is to go to the Imperial City and warn the Emperor of the impending war, but they are denied audience time and time again, much to the frustration of everyone. Argyllien begins to suspect the Thalmor even have a hand in Cyrodiil that is guiding events in their direction. Though, they do get aid from a few in the Penitus Oculatus who have connections to the Blades of old. They are offered money and lodging in return for training their personnel in the arts of espionage and asymmetric warfare. They agree, of course, and Vaenlen gets some much needed training in these areas.
When the emissary from Alinor arrives in the city and is granted an audience with the Emperor, their nightmares are realized as the heads of every Blades member in Alinor are presented. Daerenis wants blood and Vaenlen wishes to follow him, but Argyllien keeps them in check. When the Great War begins, they will have enough blood to drown in. And they did have it. The war was a long and brutal affair. Pyrrel lost his life in battle and Daerenis succumbed to his wounds soon after. Argyllien put up his sword and settled after the war. Vaenlen stayed in service to the Penitus Oculatus and was inducted into their ranks as a fully-fledged Inspector of the Penitus Oculatus.
4e188-201 - 158-171y/o
In 4e188, to curb the amount of skooma coming in from a destabilized border region with Elsweyr to a still somewhat lawless southern portion of Cyrodiil, the Penitus Oculatus were tasked with the destruction of the biggest skooma traffickers. The team sent in included Vaenlen, and through many false-flag operations, they managed to goad the two rival skooma traffickers into a fight that somewhat spun out of control and swallowed Bravil. Large riots erupted in the streets and there were rumors that even the Dark Brotherhood was effected. They were denied a reward, but otherwise congratulated with the completion of the objective.
In the same year, Vaenlen was tasked with accompanying senior members of the Penitus Oculatus to Wayrest to investigate the rumors of a large offensive being planned by a notorious band of pirate captains that were at the head of the largest combined fleet on the Gold Coast. Once they confirmed that it was going to happen, they rushed the important members of the families of Wayrest away from the city, but were too late to muster a good defense. Wayrest had fallen to the corsairs, but he was not allowed to continue the investigation into how or why such a large force of pirates would sack Wayrest. He still has his suspicions to this day.
When the Civil War in Skyrim blazed across the land, he was put in an observer role, tasked with keeping an eye on the Thalmor Justiciars there, as well as making sure Ulfric does not achieve a victory and to alert Tullius of any moves he may not know of. In the end, his and the efforts of his team working behind the scenes help to secure an Imperial victory, though Tullius and Elisif are both lost. He is given a medal for his service in the Civil War.
4e201-224 – 171-194y/o
After the Great War, Vaenlen was given leave to pursue any projects or cases of his own. He considered digging deeper into the Wayrest case, thinking that the Thalmor could have something to gain by destabilizing the centers of power in High Rock, but he was soon sent back to Skyrim to investigate the assassination of the Emperor on his visit to attend his counsin's wedding. His prying almost lead to his death, as he awoke to black-clad men crawling through his window. He dispatched of them well enough, but that settled his suspicions, it was indeed the Dark Brotherhood. Again though, he could only see the Thalmor having anything to gain by a slain Emperor. When Janos ascended to the throne but was assassinated in the months following, there were even more whispers among the Oculatus that the Thalmor were mounting another offensive.
These whispers were largely ignored, and Vaenlen felt like he was echoing Laskaria as he pleaded for the Penitus Oculatus to consider that the Thalmor may be behind these things. After the death of the Emperor, the threat of another interregnum like the one the Medes ascended to power in was looming on the horizon, and the Penitus Oculatus put him and the other Thalmor-Obsessed Inspectors on cases to pacify any of those who would try to take the throne by force while the Elder Council had their hands full.
By 220, the state of Tamriel was giving the Penitus Oculatus a lot to chew on. With new leadership coming in with no experience, Vaenlen and a few others went rogue when reports of body snatchings began to come in. No investigations could find a culprit and they turned to cold cases and locked away in a box in the basements of the offices. Those with a mind to kept investigating the Daedra cults, while some others- Vaenlen included- followed any leads that pointed to the Thalmor. In a year, it wouldn't be ghosts of Justiciars he'd be chasing, as very real soldiers clambered onto Cyrodiilic soil once more without warning.
Doing the only thing he knew, he waged a war with a small group of men he'd gathered from the old days, disrupting supply lines and raiding camps. They killed scouts, messengers, officers, tried to muddy the water as much as they could for the Dominion. Their efforts proved to do little, but they were only happy they did anything. It is now 224, and Vaenlen is busy fighting a war not for the Empire, not for the Penitus Oculatus, but for those he should have been fighting for all this time: His father, his mother, Laskaria, Argyllien, Pyrrel, Daerenis and all the others...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Expert skill in one-handed weapons both long and short, as well as the dual-wielding of.
Expert skill in sneaking and hand-to-hand
Somewhat skilled in pickpocketing and lockpicking
Somewhat skilled in destruction and alteration magic
Somewhat skilled in field medicine
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Wields a steel sidesword in tandem with a long knife
Carries bandages and medicinal herbs
Is very lightly armoured, clad mostly in leather, with a few pieces of iron. Owns a cloak as well.
Magical Spells
Destruction - Flames
Fire Rune
Firebolt
Fireball
Alteration – Magelight
Ironflesh
Telekinesis
1x Like
luclovers Sneezed on the RP / and the plot got sicker
Member
Seen
9 yrs ago
Lyreia's Theme May It Be
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A girl of indiscernable race, Lyreia is welcome nowhere in all of Nirn. She is of average weight and build, standing at about 5'5 with deep auburn hair. Her eyes gleam a steely blue-grey. Lyreia's long auburn locks cover her ears purposefully, hiding her discrace. When looked at, one may think she is a regular Breton, but when she pulls back her hair and reveals her obviously elven ears, her heritage becomes unclear. Some Bretons have slight points to their ears, but Lyreia's ears are sharper than knives. Not even she knows where she belongs.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Lyreia
【Race】
Half Breton (Indeterminate)
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
24
【Sexuality】
Unknown
【Birth Place】
Morrowind
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independant
【Profession】
Thief/Adventurer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Lyreia is a sneaky bitch. Her upbringing has left her untrusting of the world, only believing in herself and her best friend/lover, Hroar. She will manipulate to get her way, and has a history of running away from her problems. She wants to be the best, but is too cowardly to do so.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
When Lyreia was just an infant, she was left abandoned in the streets of Riften. She was brought to Honorhall Orphanage, where she grew up with four other children, raised by the cruel and abusive Grelod. Her best friend in the orphanage was Hroar. She lived in the orphanage until age six, when Grelod was assassinated, and she ran away from the orphanage. She managed to make it across the border, where she was adopted by an elderly Dunmer couple who found her passed out and on the brink of death. Twenty years later, she was reunited with Hroar, and they began their trek back to Skyrim together.~More Revealed IC~
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Lyreia is a skilled thief. She lived off of thievery for a portion of her life, and she was raised to be decietful or die. She is efficient with a one handed blade as well as a bow and arrow. She appreciates the use of illusion and destruction magics, and knows the basics of both illusion and destruction from her adoptive father. She is by no means a master at magic. She has the racial ability Dragonskin. Lyreia can use a bow for basic hunting purposes, but isn't a sharpshooter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
A set of simple leather armour. An iron dagger. A hunting bow and 20 iron arrows. 15 lockpicks. A ruby ring.
Magical Spells
I. Flames
II. Sparks
III. Muffle
IV. Dragonskin (Racial)
"I'll never forget my past..."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A girl of indiscernable race, Lyreia is welcome nowhere in all of Nirn. She is of average weight and build, standing at about 5'5 with deep auburn hair. Her eyes gleam a steely blue-grey. Lyreia's long auburn locks cover her ears purposefully, hiding her discrace. When looked at, one may think she is a regular Breton, but when she pulls back her hair and reveals her obviously elven ears, her heritage becomes unclear. Some Bretons have slight points to their ears, but Lyreia's ears are sharper than knives. Not even she knows where she belongs.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Lyreia
【Race】
Half Breton (Indeterminate)
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
24
【Sexuality】
Unknown
【Birth Place】
Morrowind
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independant
【Profession】
Thief/Adventurer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Lyreia is a sneaky bitch. Her upbringing has left her untrusting of the world, only believing in herself and her best friend/lover, Hroar. She will manipulate to get her way, and has a history of running away from her problems. She wants to be the best, but is too cowardly to do so.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
When Lyreia was just an infant, she was left abandoned in the streets of Riften. She was brought to Honorhall Orphanage, where she grew up with four other children, raised by the cruel and abusive Grelod. Her best friend in the orphanage was Hroar. She lived in the orphanage until age six, when Grelod was assassinated, and she ran away from the orphanage. She managed to make it across the border, where she was adopted by an elderly Dunmer couple who found her passed out and on the brink of death. Twenty years later, she was reunited with Hroar, and they began their trek back to Skyrim together.~More Revealed IC~
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Lyreia is a skilled thief. She lived off of thievery for a portion of her life, and she was raised to be decietful or die. She is efficient with a one handed blade as well as a bow and arrow. She appreciates the use of illusion and destruction magics, and knows the basics of both illusion and destruction from her adoptive father. She is by no means a master at magic. She has the racial ability Dragonskin. Lyreia can use a bow for basic hunting purposes, but isn't a sharpshooter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
A set of simple leather armour. An iron dagger. A hunting bow and 20 iron arrows. 15 lockpicks. A ruby ring.
Magical Spells
I. Flames
II. Sparks
III. Muffle
IV. Dragonskin (Racial)
Character Theme – Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinose
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Priscilla is 1.65 m tall. She has short light brown hair and a pair of now orange eyes. Her skin is fair, but not too pale to be unnatural unless she hasn’t fed in a while. Her face is beautiful with gentle lines and soft skin, a thing she inherited from her mother. Her body is rather thin and frail looking for she never spent much time on the field to help with the crops. She was almost always busy studying magic or practicing her enchanting.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Priscilla
【Alias】
Scylla
【Race】
Breton Vampire
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
23( is really 37)
【Sexuality】
Bisexual
【Birth Place】
Proud Visage – a now on existing shipwreck near Dawnstar
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent
【Profession】
Enchanter
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Scylla is a generally friendly person. She is polite to those she meet and is usually calm even when attacked. She doesn't enjoy her cursed body, but tries to make the best of it. She has no intention of ever continuing the curse or infect another person so she is very careful when she feeds. Usually she prefers to feed upon bandits and highwaymen so she can suck them dry, but when that's not possible she is ready to charm her way into the bed of men and women alike. The charm abilities of vampires and a calming magic usually make sure that her partner doesn't remember what happened during the night. Still she cannot charm, seduce or sneak on sleeping people all the time so they cannot remember what happened, so she often feeds on animal blood instead. It takes more blood, but in the long run it had saved her skin a lot of times..On a side note, she has also been known to take contracts about disposing of other vampires. Aside her profession, she enjoys cooking even though she cannot eat.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Priscilla was born in Skyrim. The ship her parents were on shipwrecked near Dawnstar a little before her birth. There was a huge storm a the time that continued for a long while so the few survivors from the incident had to stay at the remains of the ship and make an improvised shelter for the time being. It was then that Scylla was born.
It was a week later that the weather finally began to clear up and the survivors were able to reach Dawnstar. They didn't stay at the town for long though for it was never their destination. Some of them decided to head back south to return to their previous homes because they lost all their possessions with the wreck, but some like Scylla's parents decided to stay in Skyrim for the time being. Then then settled in Dawnstar for a few years. Worked like mad so they can raise their child in the harsh weather of the north. She was a bright child and quickly began picking up the craft of her mother. Her mother was an enchanter with some skill, but Scylla proved to have a natural born talent for it.
In the upcoming years she slowly learned more and more about enchanting while picking up a number of useful magic skills in the process she had not mastered any, but it was still a useful thing to have. When she was 15 her family decided to head back towards Cyrodiil. So they missed the chaos in Skyrim when Alduin appeared just in time. Eventually after a long journey they finally reached Cyrodiil after a few years of traveling. Their life was good for a while. They didn't pay much attention to the events unfolding far away, but thanks to that their work did seem to increase. She had already reached and slightly surpassed her mother's skill at enchanting by then so she got a lot of request to enchant weapons, armor and so on. That's why money wasn't too much of a problem. This ideal life continued for a few years before she got a request to go to another city. She quickly packed things up and headed over, but on the road during one night, she was attacked by a vampires and dragged away to their lair. Eventually transforming her into one of them, she was forced to enchant their gear.
She was lucky though, about a year after her capture, a bunch of soldiers appeared to cleanse the cave of it's vile inhabitants. At that time she was sleeping in a far deeper part of the cave, where they kept her chained to a wall behind a huge rock. It was by pure luck that the soldiers didn't find her. She woke as the fighting began, but was too afraid at the time to do anything. Eventually as the hours rolled by and the sounds of battle ended, everything was replaced by complete silence.
She waited for a whole day for someone to come for her, but no one appeared, just the silence. In the end Scylla just froze the interior of the lock of the chain until it opened on it's own. Slowly walking outward she found what remained from the lair. The soldiers had taken away almost everything of value, but she still managed to gather clothing to cover most of herself almost completely so she can walk outside. She will never forget her first walk to the sun in almost a year. It hurt so much, the light was almost unbearable, but she walked forward without stop. She wanted to return home.
When she finally reached her house, she found nothing there. The place was destroyed, burned to the ground. How many times she had said to her parents to buy a house within a city or at least closer to one, but no. They always replied that they liked it here in the wide open. In the end it proved their end...
After that she just wandered around, slowly getting together her old business of enchating. She had the time to practice now, she started learning magic again to aid in her undertakings. She learned to Soul trap so she can also create the soul gems in case of need. She now works for no one. She is just a wandering enchanter, she enchants the equipment of soldiers or mercenaries as long as they pay her the price she requests and she is known for being rather fair in her pricing. She had always wanted to become a human again, but finding a solution to that problem has proved itself quite hard.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Scylla is an enchanter first and foremost. It's her most trained and developed skill. She has learned to easily weave strong enchantments as long as the needed soul gems are present. In her travels she had picked up a decent number of enchantments she can use. Most are pretty standard and are mostly used for the soldiers that request her skills, but some she picked up are rarer and she use sparingly. Besides her enchanting skills, she trained herself to use electric magic, a little bit of ice and mind. Another skill she prides herself with is her cooking. While she can no longer eat it, she still loves to cook for others.
Vampire nature and innate skills: Scylla’s abilities as a vampire are largely ignored because she doesn’t want to rely on them too much. The only one she uses is Charm when her hunger reaches the needed strength. The rest she had tried once or twice, but decided to not use in the end. Her vampire body also reacts the way the tribe she is from does. When fed, she is almost impossible to distinguish from a normal human and she takes near no damage from sunlight, but it’s still quite unpleasant. That said, the more her hunger grows, the easier it is to find out what she is. Her skin loses color, her face becomes more twisted and she starts to take more and more damage under the rays of the sun.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Scyla doesn't use a robe like most mages do. She wears a pretty tight fitting white leather armor that covers all of her body except the head. The armor is composed of a tight fitting chest piece with long sleeves that cover her arms to her wrist. Once put on, it's tighten by a number of small belts and buckles. From the waist down, it's a tight short leather pants just reaching above her knee and a very tall boots that reach over her knees and overlap with the pants. In addition she also has a pair of leather gloves. She protects her head with a white hood.
Scylla carries two accessories. A simple silver earring that is enchanted with mana regeneration and a ring that makes her destruction spells easier to cast.
She also has a steel tanto that she uses when she has no other option and a small portable enchanting setup.
Magical Spells
Soul trap
Calm
Simple ward
Frost bolt
Shock bolt
Lightning strike – a more powerful version of the shock bolt
Lightning scythe – hurls a disk of lightning that damages and passes through a few enemies
Chain lightning – self explanatory
other minor spells
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Priscilla is 1.65 m tall. She has short light brown hair and a pair of now orange eyes. Her skin is fair, but not too pale to be unnatural unless she hasn’t fed in a while. Her face is beautiful with gentle lines and soft skin, a thing she inherited from her mother. Her body is rather thin and frail looking for she never spent much time on the field to help with the crops. She was almost always busy studying magic or practicing her enchanting.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Priscilla
【Alias】
Scylla
【Race】
Breton Vampire
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
23( is really 37)
【Sexuality】
Bisexual
【Birth Place】
Proud Visage – a now on existing shipwreck near Dawnstar
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent
【Profession】
Enchanter
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Scylla is a generally friendly person. She is polite to those she meet and is usually calm even when attacked. She doesn't enjoy her cursed body, but tries to make the best of it. She has no intention of ever continuing the curse or infect another person so she is very careful when she feeds. Usually she prefers to feed upon bandits and highwaymen so she can suck them dry, but when that's not possible she is ready to charm her way into the bed of men and women alike. The charm abilities of vampires and a calming magic usually make sure that her partner doesn't remember what happened during the night. Still she cannot charm, seduce or sneak on sleeping people all the time so they cannot remember what happened, so she often feeds on animal blood instead. It takes more blood, but in the long run it had saved her skin a lot of times..On a side note, she has also been known to take contracts about disposing of other vampires. Aside her profession, she enjoys cooking even though she cannot eat.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Priscilla was born in Skyrim. The ship her parents were on shipwrecked near Dawnstar a little before her birth. There was a huge storm a the time that continued for a long while so the few survivors from the incident had to stay at the remains of the ship and make an improvised shelter for the time being. It was then that Scylla was born.
It was a week later that the weather finally began to clear up and the survivors were able to reach Dawnstar. They didn't stay at the town for long though for it was never their destination. Some of them decided to head back south to return to their previous homes because they lost all their possessions with the wreck, but some like Scylla's parents decided to stay in Skyrim for the time being. Then then settled in Dawnstar for a few years. Worked like mad so they can raise their child in the harsh weather of the north. She was a bright child and quickly began picking up the craft of her mother. Her mother was an enchanter with some skill, but Scylla proved to have a natural born talent for it.
In the upcoming years she slowly learned more and more about enchanting while picking up a number of useful magic skills in the process she had not mastered any, but it was still a useful thing to have. When she was 15 her family decided to head back towards Cyrodiil. So they missed the chaos in Skyrim when Alduin appeared just in time. Eventually after a long journey they finally reached Cyrodiil after a few years of traveling. Their life was good for a while. They didn't pay much attention to the events unfolding far away, but thanks to that their work did seem to increase. She had already reached and slightly surpassed her mother's skill at enchanting by then so she got a lot of request to enchant weapons, armor and so on. That's why money wasn't too much of a problem. This ideal life continued for a few years before she got a request to go to another city. She quickly packed things up and headed over, but on the road during one night, she was attacked by a vampires and dragged away to their lair. Eventually transforming her into one of them, she was forced to enchant their gear.
She was lucky though, about a year after her capture, a bunch of soldiers appeared to cleanse the cave of it's vile inhabitants. At that time she was sleeping in a far deeper part of the cave, where they kept her chained to a wall behind a huge rock. It was by pure luck that the soldiers didn't find her. She woke as the fighting began, but was too afraid at the time to do anything. Eventually as the hours rolled by and the sounds of battle ended, everything was replaced by complete silence.
She waited for a whole day for someone to come for her, but no one appeared, just the silence. In the end Scylla just froze the interior of the lock of the chain until it opened on it's own. Slowly walking outward she found what remained from the lair. The soldiers had taken away almost everything of value, but she still managed to gather clothing to cover most of herself almost completely so she can walk outside. She will never forget her first walk to the sun in almost a year. It hurt so much, the light was almost unbearable, but she walked forward without stop. She wanted to return home.
When she finally reached her house, she found nothing there. The place was destroyed, burned to the ground. How many times she had said to her parents to buy a house within a city or at least closer to one, but no. They always replied that they liked it here in the wide open. In the end it proved their end...
After that she just wandered around, slowly getting together her old business of enchating. She had the time to practice now, she started learning magic again to aid in her undertakings. She learned to Soul trap so she can also create the soul gems in case of need. She now works for no one. She is just a wandering enchanter, she enchants the equipment of soldiers or mercenaries as long as they pay her the price she requests and she is known for being rather fair in her pricing. She had always wanted to become a human again, but finding a solution to that problem has proved itself quite hard.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Scylla is an enchanter first and foremost. It's her most trained and developed skill. She has learned to easily weave strong enchantments as long as the needed soul gems are present. In her travels she had picked up a decent number of enchantments she can use. Most are pretty standard and are mostly used for the soldiers that request her skills, but some she picked up are rarer and she use sparingly. Besides her enchanting skills, she trained herself to use electric magic, a little bit of ice and mind. Another skill she prides herself with is her cooking. While she can no longer eat it, she still loves to cook for others.
Vampire nature and innate skills: Scylla’s abilities as a vampire are largely ignored because she doesn’t want to rely on them too much. The only one she uses is Charm when her hunger reaches the needed strength. The rest she had tried once or twice, but decided to not use in the end. Her vampire body also reacts the way the tribe she is from does. When fed, she is almost impossible to distinguish from a normal human and she takes near no damage from sunlight, but it’s still quite unpleasant. That said, the more her hunger grows, the easier it is to find out what she is. Her skin loses color, her face becomes more twisted and she starts to take more and more damage under the rays of the sun.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Scyla doesn't use a robe like most mages do. She wears a pretty tight fitting white leather armor that covers all of her body except the head. The armor is composed of a tight fitting chest piece with long sleeves that cover her arms to her wrist. Once put on, it's tighten by a number of small belts and buckles. From the waist down, it's a tight short leather pants just reaching above her knee and a very tall boots that reach over her knees and overlap with the pants. In addition she also has a pair of leather gloves. She protects her head with a white hood.
Scylla carries two accessories. A simple silver earring that is enchanted with mana regeneration and a ring that makes her destruction spells easier to cast.
She also has a steel tanto that she uses when she has no other option and a small portable enchanting setup.
Magical Spells
Soul trap
Calm
Simple ward
Frost bolt
Shock bolt
Lightning strike – a more powerful version of the shock bolt
Lightning scythe – hurls a disk of lightning that damages and passes through a few enemies
Chain lightning – self explanatory
other minor spells
DJAtomika Second to Most
Member
Seen
8 days ago
Character Theme – Ghost von Frost by Ugress
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Jaza is a female Argonian, standing at roughly 5' 9", with a tail that's average length for her species. Her scales are a dark green in colour, and her little feathery extensions on her head are long and coloured tan. She wears leather armour as her norm, minus the helmet cause she doesn't like the helmet. Her quiver sits on her waist on the right, full of arrows, and her bow is normally slung across her chest. The sheathes of her daggers lay slung on her belt, criss-crossed against the small of her back.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Deejaza Mereetus
【Alias】
Jaza
【Race】
Argonian
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
33
【Sexuality】
Hetero
【Birth Place】
The Black Marsh
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent
【Profession】
Hunter/Ranger
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Jaza is a quiet, soft spoken lady. Not very prim or proper, what she lacks in social skills she makes up for in her focus and determination. While on a job she rarely speaks unless necessary, deeming focus to be more important.
However she is able to work in groups. More often than not she prefers to exercise what little social attributes she has making friends with her teammates. Jaza views this process as important, as it helps her build connections that she can later rely on for help.
When conversing, she chooses her words carefully, so as not to irritate or offend anyone she speaks to. She often comes across as shy and awkward, though she knows it is not so.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Jaza is an archer. Most Argonians didn't normally go into that line of work but the field of Archery, marksmanship and hunting seemed to call out to her.
Due to her exceptionally green scales, she found that she had less trouble hiding in vegetation than most other hunters, and owing to her practiced hand at archery, she soon became a very good hunter and marksman in the Black Marsh. Her village friends went to her if they needed an animal skinned or some fish or if a predator was stalking their livestock.
Jaza was a curious one though, and soon took her bow, arrows and daggers out of the Marsh and into the wilds of Skyrim, selling her services as an expert marksman for coins to live by.
Of course that soon led to a life of crime, as most people she was employed by had need of her bow in the ending of someone else's life. Soon her ways attracted the attention of some...conniving types. Schemers. Looking for a mercenary who was untraceable and independent. Sent by contract to Makarth, she lived there for several weeks, stalking a contact whom she was to get close to and kill.
As the third month drew to a close, Jaza found herself bored. The target was friends with her but she had received no correspondence for the kill.
And then, the nightmare.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Magical Spells
She learned novice-level healing from one of her hunting companions a long time ago. The only spell she ever bothered learning, since the biggest extent of her injuries were cuts and bruises.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jaza is a female Argonian, standing at roughly 5' 9", with a tail that's average length for her species. Her scales are a dark green in colour, and her little feathery extensions on her head are long and coloured tan. She wears leather armour as her norm, minus the helmet cause she doesn't like the helmet. Her quiver sits on her waist on the right, full of arrows, and her bow is normally slung across her chest. The sheathes of her daggers lay slung on her belt, criss-crossed against the small of her back.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Deejaza Mereetus
【Alias】
Jaza
【Race】
Argonian
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
33
【Sexuality】
Hetero
【Birth Place】
The Black Marsh
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent
【Profession】
Hunter/Ranger
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
Jaza is a quiet, soft spoken lady. Not very prim or proper, what she lacks in social skills she makes up for in her focus and determination. While on a job she rarely speaks unless necessary, deeming focus to be more important.
However she is able to work in groups. More often than not she prefers to exercise what little social attributes she has making friends with her teammates. Jaza views this process as important, as it helps her build connections that she can later rely on for help.
When conversing, she chooses her words carefully, so as not to irritate or offend anyone she speaks to. She often comes across as shy and awkward, though she knows it is not so.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Jaza is an archer. Most Argonians didn't normally go into that line of work but the field of Archery, marksmanship and hunting seemed to call out to her.
Due to her exceptionally green scales, she found that she had less trouble hiding in vegetation than most other hunters, and owing to her practiced hand at archery, she soon became a very good hunter and marksman in the Black Marsh. Her village friends went to her if they needed an animal skinned or some fish or if a predator was stalking their livestock.
Jaza was a curious one though, and soon took her bow, arrows and daggers out of the Marsh and into the wilds of Skyrim, selling her services as an expert marksman for coins to live by.
Of course that soon led to a life of crime, as most people she was employed by had need of her bow in the ending of someone else's life. Soon her ways attracted the attention of some...conniving types. Schemers. Looking for a mercenary who was untraceable and independent. Sent by contract to Makarth, she lived there for several weeks, stalking a contact whom she was to get close to and kill.
As the third month drew to a close, Jaza found herself bored. The target was friends with her but she had received no correspondence for the kill.
And then, the nightmare.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities】
Expert Skills
- Archery
- Sneak
- Light Armour
- Lockpicking
Adept Skills
- One-Handed
Novice Skills
- Medium Armour
Racial Skills
- Waterbreathing
- Histskin
- Resist Disease
- Archery
- Sneak
- Light Armour
- Lockpicking
Adept Skills
- One-Handed
Novice Skills
- Medium Armour
Racial Skills
- Waterbreathing
- Histskin
- Resist Disease
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
- A quiver of Iron Arrows
- A Long Bow
- Two Iron Daggers
- Leather Armour (minus the helmet cause those helmets never fit Argonian heads)
Magical Spells
She learned novice-level healing from one of her hunting companions a long time ago. The only spell she ever bothered learning, since the biggest extent of her injuries were cuts and bruises.
Nyxella Delphic Dame
Member
Seen
5 mos ago
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Measuring below average at a lean 5'9", Swanhilde is a comparative featherweight among Nords. The small deposits of muscle in her arms, legs and core evidence physical feats that are acrobatic in nature. Being lighter also has the advantage of moving around less weight when traipsing roof- and treetops, or creeping through hostile territory. Reaching the centre of her back are two tight braids that keep the golden mess from obscuring her dark, blue eyes, and sharp, pale features. Her everyday wear consists of leggings, tunics, vests and loose pantaloons, while on jobs she'll don light armour and a hooded cloak, favouring the style and functionality of hardened leather riveted to flexible hide. Either sets of attire are likely to show skin wreathed with scars.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Swanhilde Sea-Swift
【Alias】
Hilda the Swift, Swan (rare)
【Race】
Nord
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
28
【Sexuality】
Undefined
【Birth Place】
Brunvar Steading, The Rift
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent Ex-Patriate of Skyrim
【Profession】
Mercenary Sentinel
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
An opportunistic soul, she prefers the quick gain over a long and drawn-out, planned approach, and therefore pursues business and pleasure with impetuous gusto. As reliably honest as she is blunt it can prove difficult to gauge her mood from under that ill-temper. Whilst she is resourceful, capable of talking her way out from under a blade and pacifying the ire brought upon herself through conflict, she is still prone to the pratfalls of hastily made, sometimes irrational, decisions. A bold and haughty tongue persists in compromising situations, and her tone rings with arrogance still when encountering loss, embarrassment or failure. At the very least the promise of a reward keeps rebellious airs in check when self-preservation fails to. If Swanhilde was to ever regret anything in hindsight, she is too possessed of stubbornness and pride to admit it. It takes a strong argument to persuade her loyalty, but once won over, her promises and efforts hold stronger than steel.
Surprisingly, her interests don’t all fall under a fixation on military culture or a love of the sea. Sketching land formations to assist a Pirate Sailing Master developed into a pastime, with her favourite subjects being ancient landmarks and people. It draws from her impeccable memory which unfortunately escapes her when pressed to reveal the entirety of what her keen ears and eyes catch. An awareness of regional events and politics is more of an occupational necessity than a chosen interest, but it arouses her curiosity all the same. She has the provisioning skill of an able apprentice, and a penchant for alchemy that is of practical use. Whilst acquired through experience rather than study, her knowledge has the potential to launch promising careers in either field, should she ever slow down.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Whilst her spoken accounts are far from fiction, they are not a complete picture of the truth.
Born in 4E 196, the fifth child of Brunvar, a self-made businessman of the respected Sea-Swift clan, and Jaedis, an advisor in Laila Law-Giver’s court, Swanhilde was to become a valuable asset in her family’s plans for expansion. Located on the southern shores of Lake Honrich, the family residence, small fruit orchard, and the vast crops of wheat, hops and barley surrounding it, comprised Brunvar Steading. It was the base of operations for Bruvar's export trade, helped along with the financial backing of Adelveig, Jaedis’ brother, and their Breton friend from the Great War, Ainmire.
The advantages of operating on the flanks of Skyrim’s trade gateway ensured steady growth at the cost of stability. Heated competition between rival breweries caused fluctuation in crop prices, and if people weren’t already too afraid to peddle his stock, the Dragon crisis and Civil War made transport alone a lucrative business. The steep rise in criminal activity would be the only remnant effect of the tumultuous period between 4E 201-202. Mercenaries profited from both their business and their predicament, filling the void left over by an apparently understaffed Town Guard. As their only daughter, Swanhilde was trained for her familial duty in seclusion, receiving private lessons in academia and etiquette that would mold her into a highly sought after candidate for betrothal.
Living out her childhood regime during events that would become legend, Swanhilde was taken captive by wild dreams of what lay beyond their heavy gates. She wanted what the bards sang about, to feature in a story that traded lute-tootling for swordplay, wound up tutors for mythical creatures, and a life sentence enforced by her mother’s “rule”, for a life questing with heroes of folklore. The growing weight of unmet desires would become increasingly difficult to reckon with as she grew older. Later she would learn how to harbour this restlessness and resentment, but until then she coped by wreaking discord from her ornate prison cell.
Unlike her elder half-sister, the uncounted sixth child born before her mother married, Swanhilde couldn’t settle for domestic, leisurely bliss and took every opportunity to exercise her free-will. She made a regular game out of hiding from her retainers and testing security perimeters by sneaking out, and her efforts only grew bolder by the year. At ten, she was baiting mercenary guards into teaching her how to wield a dagger and throw fists. At twelve, she was an able enough cook to avoid the never ending parade of dinner parties. Despite her mother’s strict disciplinary efforts, Swanhilde grew from a mischievous little girl into an increasingly reckless and inconsiderate youth. By her sixteenth birthday, her reputation was so widespread, private tutelage was no longer an option and she was barred from visiting Riften to see her father. She was confined to her own wing, with books and set exercises her only pastime between family engagements. For two years, she was virtually hidden from the public eye.
News of her father expanding the business into Cyrodiil reached her by courier, but the summons to join him was only extended to her mother and half-sister. By then, her brothers each had families and roles in the business to call their own, and her mother’s ambitions were focused solely on Signe, the daughter who hadn’t completely “ruined” her eligibility for marriage. The homestead was bequeathed to Brunvar’s youngest son, a strategic genius of a dandy, whose first order of business was to relocate Swanhilde to one of his apartments in Solitude. During the perilous ride she broke away with a portion of her allotted fortune and made for Markarth. In the three years that followed, she changed her name, learned to hunt, became a barmaid, and eked out an uneventful existence, until the day she ran afoul of some powerful figures. They were most likely advisors from the Jarl’s court, and were alerted to her in reports of an informant leaking town guard patterns to a skooma dealer. By miracle of jurisdiction, she and the dealer escaped head hunters into neighbouring Jehanna, where he hastily palmed her off to a band of scavengers he knew, promising to return later.
A year later, after amassing a humble fortune picking valuable dust particles and the occasional relic from abandoned mine shafts, she joined a splinter group that pooled their earnings together and invested in a small schooner. Their attempt at an honest trade in the fishing industry, however well-intended, was naive, and lasted only a season. As a result of political uprisings, resources were invested in the containment of chaos on land, leaving large stretches of Tamriel’s northwestern seas under light patrol, if any. Hardened by their rocky start, what remained of the crew adapted to the capriciously fickle circumstances, essentially becoming pirates, cutthroats and daredevils themselves. Through the salvaging of wrecks they applied upgrades to their ship, amassed a larger crew, and eventually developed an appetite for live prey once they acquired the “capabilities” to pursue it. Now a young woman, Swanhilde was competent in her role assisting the Sailing Master. Her new alias “Hilda the Swift” was given for her bird-like precision in spotting ships from the Crow’s Nest, and her swiftness in scaling the terrain, be it slippery spurs and masts, or treetops and slopes when surveying terraforms before landings.
Clearer than the path in front of her was the memory of being separated from her crew. From the islet Swanhilde washed up on, she managed to signal a small fishing vessel making its return voyage to the Gold Coast from Stros M’kai. A slave ship travelling in the direction of Valenwood was sighted not far from their destination. Outfitted with heavy cannons befitting its ambitious route into Dominion territory, it was given wide berth, yet on its upper decks Swanhilde spotted prisoners that resembled members of her crew. Once ashore, Hilda’s luck headed much in the same direction. Her determination to find passage eastwards was allayed by naval activity off the coast of Leyawiin, and a year later, the situation in Elsweyr compromised her livelihood, as work began drying up on the seas. The quest to reunite with her fellows was quickly suspended for the more pressing need to find her own means of survival. Rumours arose of a group operating out of a nearby smuggler’s den. At the time, she was harvesting rare alchemical ingredients, and signed on without hesitation. The work entailed guarding convoys that peddled their pilfered stores to all walks of life, from needy nobles to outposts and encampments cut off from military supply lines.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities
Speed and endurance are her flagship traits. An expert at evasion and sneaking, she can incorporate acrobatics to a make more difficult target of herself, and has the stamina to cover great distances on foot.
Short-swords and daggers facilitate a fluid fighting style where her fine footwork and evasive rolls are used to outmanoeuvre an opponent and strike from compromising angles. She is capable of pairing sword with dagger, and using either or, but favours dual shortswords, which she expertly wields with the only semblance of grace she possesses.
A light shield and sword are employed in larger-scale battles, where the targets are numerous, and there are less opportunities to gain distance in retreat. While only matching an apprentice’s level of blocking skill, she retains her competence with a sword, and uses her shield to lessen the shock and severity of blows that may find her blindside.
Growing up on a farm that supplied breweries, plus time spent exploring the wilderness, instilled her with an adept’s aptitude for identifying reagents and memorising their properties and uses. She is as proficient in alchemy as she is in provisioning, knowing how prolong the life of perishables through smoking, curing, pickling and preserving, as well as livening up bland staples using herbs and spices.
Vital to any survivalist is the knowledge of how to hunt, which Swanhilde possesses to the same level as an apprenticing archer. The use of a bow is only complimentary in battle, she can nock, aim and shoot, but under pressure these capabilities suffer. Being able to fish and trap small game means she hasn’t needed to rely heavily on archery off the battlefield, either.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Leather Armour
2 x Steel Daggers (alt: a shortsword and light shield from the den's armory)
Hunter’s Bow
Iron Arrows (x20)
A pack containing:
2 x waterskins
2 x red apples
Cured meat (three days’ ration)
Bandages and wadding for minor bleeds
A worn and dented hip-flask, three-quarter’s full of health potion (weak)
A repair kit for mending rips and dents, and polishing the blood from her armour and weaponry
Charcoal and a leather-bound journal
Flint and tinder
Whetstone
Measuring below average at a lean 5'9", Swanhilde is a comparative featherweight among Nords. The small deposits of muscle in her arms, legs and core evidence physical feats that are acrobatic in nature. Being lighter also has the advantage of moving around less weight when traipsing roof- and treetops, or creeping through hostile territory. Reaching the centre of her back are two tight braids that keep the golden mess from obscuring her dark, blue eyes, and sharp, pale features. Her everyday wear consists of leggings, tunics, vests and loose pantaloons, while on jobs she'll don light armour and a hooded cloak, favouring the style and functionality of hardened leather riveted to flexible hide. Either sets of attire are likely to show skin wreathed with scars.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Swanhilde Sea-Swift
【Alias】
Hilda the Swift, Swan (rare)
【Race】
Nord
【Gender】
Female
【Age】
28
【Sexuality】
Undefined
【Birth Place】
Brunvar Steading, The Rift
【Nation/Allegiance】
Independent Ex-Patriate of Skyrim
【Profession】
Mercenary Sentinel
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Personality】
An opportunistic soul, she prefers the quick gain over a long and drawn-out, planned approach, and therefore pursues business and pleasure with impetuous gusto. As reliably honest as she is blunt it can prove difficult to gauge her mood from under that ill-temper. Whilst she is resourceful, capable of talking her way out from under a blade and pacifying the ire brought upon herself through conflict, she is still prone to the pratfalls of hastily made, sometimes irrational, decisions. A bold and haughty tongue persists in compromising situations, and her tone rings with arrogance still when encountering loss, embarrassment or failure. At the very least the promise of a reward keeps rebellious airs in check when self-preservation fails to. If Swanhilde was to ever regret anything in hindsight, she is too possessed of stubbornness and pride to admit it. It takes a strong argument to persuade her loyalty, but once won over, her promises and efforts hold stronger than steel.
Surprisingly, her interests don’t all fall under a fixation on military culture or a love of the sea. Sketching land formations to assist a Pirate Sailing Master developed into a pastime, with her favourite subjects being ancient landmarks and people. It draws from her impeccable memory which unfortunately escapes her when pressed to reveal the entirety of what her keen ears and eyes catch. An awareness of regional events and politics is more of an occupational necessity than a chosen interest, but it arouses her curiosity all the same. She has the provisioning skill of an able apprentice, and a penchant for alchemy that is of practical use. Whilst acquired through experience rather than study, her knowledge has the potential to launch promising careers in either field, should she ever slow down.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【History】
Whilst her spoken accounts are far from fiction, they are not a complete picture of the truth.
Born in 4E 196, the fifth child of Brunvar, a self-made businessman of the respected Sea-Swift clan, and Jaedis, an advisor in Laila Law-Giver’s court, Swanhilde was to become a valuable asset in her family’s plans for expansion. Located on the southern shores of Lake Honrich, the family residence, small fruit orchard, and the vast crops of wheat, hops and barley surrounding it, comprised Brunvar Steading. It was the base of operations for Bruvar's export trade, helped along with the financial backing of Adelveig, Jaedis’ brother, and their Breton friend from the Great War, Ainmire.
The advantages of operating on the flanks of Skyrim’s trade gateway ensured steady growth at the cost of stability. Heated competition between rival breweries caused fluctuation in crop prices, and if people weren’t already too afraid to peddle his stock, the Dragon crisis and Civil War made transport alone a lucrative business. The steep rise in criminal activity would be the only remnant effect of the tumultuous period between 4E 201-202. Mercenaries profited from both their business and their predicament, filling the void left over by an apparently understaffed Town Guard. As their only daughter, Swanhilde was trained for her familial duty in seclusion, receiving private lessons in academia and etiquette that would mold her into a highly sought after candidate for betrothal.
Living out her childhood regime during events that would become legend, Swanhilde was taken captive by wild dreams of what lay beyond their heavy gates. She wanted what the bards sang about, to feature in a story that traded lute-tootling for swordplay, wound up tutors for mythical creatures, and a life sentence enforced by her mother’s “rule”, for a life questing with heroes of folklore. The growing weight of unmet desires would become increasingly difficult to reckon with as she grew older. Later she would learn how to harbour this restlessness and resentment, but until then she coped by wreaking discord from her ornate prison cell.
Unlike her elder half-sister, the uncounted sixth child born before her mother married, Swanhilde couldn’t settle for domestic, leisurely bliss and took every opportunity to exercise her free-will. She made a regular game out of hiding from her retainers and testing security perimeters by sneaking out, and her efforts only grew bolder by the year. At ten, she was baiting mercenary guards into teaching her how to wield a dagger and throw fists. At twelve, she was an able enough cook to avoid the never ending parade of dinner parties. Despite her mother’s strict disciplinary efforts, Swanhilde grew from a mischievous little girl into an increasingly reckless and inconsiderate youth. By her sixteenth birthday, her reputation was so widespread, private tutelage was no longer an option and she was barred from visiting Riften to see her father. She was confined to her own wing, with books and set exercises her only pastime between family engagements. For two years, she was virtually hidden from the public eye.
News of her father expanding the business into Cyrodiil reached her by courier, but the summons to join him was only extended to her mother and half-sister. By then, her brothers each had families and roles in the business to call their own, and her mother’s ambitions were focused solely on Signe, the daughter who hadn’t completely “ruined” her eligibility for marriage. The homestead was bequeathed to Brunvar’s youngest son, a strategic genius of a dandy, whose first order of business was to relocate Swanhilde to one of his apartments in Solitude. During the perilous ride she broke away with a portion of her allotted fortune and made for Markarth. In the three years that followed, she changed her name, learned to hunt, became a barmaid, and eked out an uneventful existence, until the day she ran afoul of some powerful figures. They were most likely advisors from the Jarl’s court, and were alerted to her in reports of an informant leaking town guard patterns to a skooma dealer. By miracle of jurisdiction, she and the dealer escaped head hunters into neighbouring Jehanna, where he hastily palmed her off to a band of scavengers he knew, promising to return later.
A year later, after amassing a humble fortune picking valuable dust particles and the occasional relic from abandoned mine shafts, she joined a splinter group that pooled their earnings together and invested in a small schooner. Their attempt at an honest trade in the fishing industry, however well-intended, was naive, and lasted only a season. As a result of political uprisings, resources were invested in the containment of chaos on land, leaving large stretches of Tamriel’s northwestern seas under light patrol, if any. Hardened by their rocky start, what remained of the crew adapted to the capriciously fickle circumstances, essentially becoming pirates, cutthroats and daredevils themselves. Through the salvaging of wrecks they applied upgrades to their ship, amassed a larger crew, and eventually developed an appetite for live prey once they acquired the “capabilities” to pursue it. Now a young woman, Swanhilde was competent in her role assisting the Sailing Master. Her new alias “Hilda the Swift” was given for her bird-like precision in spotting ships from the Crow’s Nest, and her swiftness in scaling the terrain, be it slippery spurs and masts, or treetops and slopes when surveying terraforms before landings.
Clearer than the path in front of her was the memory of being separated from her crew. From the islet Swanhilde washed up on, she managed to signal a small fishing vessel making its return voyage to the Gold Coast from Stros M’kai. A slave ship travelling in the direction of Valenwood was sighted not far from their destination. Outfitted with heavy cannons befitting its ambitious route into Dominion territory, it was given wide berth, yet on its upper decks Swanhilde spotted prisoners that resembled members of her crew. Once ashore, Hilda’s luck headed much in the same direction. Her determination to find passage eastwards was allayed by naval activity off the coast of Leyawiin, and a year later, the situation in Elsweyr compromised her livelihood, as work began drying up on the seas. The quest to reunite with her fellows was quickly suspended for the more pressing need to find her own means of survival. Rumours arose of a group operating out of a nearby smuggler’s den. At the time, she was harvesting rare alchemical ingredients, and signed on without hesitation. The work entailed guarding convoys that peddled their pilfered stores to all walks of life, from needy nobles to outposts and encampments cut off from military supply lines.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Skills and Abilities
Speed and endurance are her flagship traits. An expert at evasion and sneaking, she can incorporate acrobatics to a make more difficult target of herself, and has the stamina to cover great distances on foot.
Short-swords and daggers facilitate a fluid fighting style where her fine footwork and evasive rolls are used to outmanoeuvre an opponent and strike from compromising angles. She is capable of pairing sword with dagger, and using either or, but favours dual shortswords, which she expertly wields with the only semblance of grace she possesses.
A light shield and sword are employed in larger-scale battles, where the targets are numerous, and there are less opportunities to gain distance in retreat. While only matching an apprentice’s level of blocking skill, she retains her competence with a sword, and uses her shield to lessen the shock and severity of blows that may find her blindside.
Growing up on a farm that supplied breweries, plus time spent exploring the wilderness, instilled her with an adept’s aptitude for identifying reagents and memorising their properties and uses. She is as proficient in alchemy as she is in provisioning, knowing how prolong the life of perishables through smoking, curing, pickling and preserving, as well as livening up bland staples using herbs and spices.
Vital to any survivalist is the knowledge of how to hunt, which Swanhilde possesses to the same level as an apprenticing archer. The use of a bow is only complimentary in battle, she can nock, aim and shoot, but under pressure these capabilities suffer. Being able to fish and trap small game means she hasn’t needed to rely heavily on archery off the battlefield, either.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Weapons/Tools and Magic
Weapons/Tools/Armour
Leather Armour
2 x Steel Daggers (alt: a shortsword and light shield from the den's armory)
Hunter’s Bow
Iron Arrows (x20)
A pack containing:
2 x waterskins
2 x red apples
Cured meat (three days’ ration)
Bandages and wadding for minor bleeds
A worn and dented hip-flask, three-quarter’s full of health potion (weak)
A repair kit for mending rips and dents, and polishing the blood from her armour and weaponry
Charcoal and a leather-bound journal
Flint and tinder
Whetstone
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