Amaranth

Fantasy Romance! F for any! Kiss an elf! [Partner Found!]

Updated with some fun scenarios that came to me in a dream~

Fantasy Romance! F for any! Kiss an elf! [Partner Found!]

Changed some more stuff, updated notes. Come say hi!

Fantasy Romance! F for any! Kiss an elf! [Partner Found!]

Just updated! Yay!

Fantasy Romance! F for any! Kiss an elf! [Partner Found!]

Hey! It has been some time since I've logged onto here, but I was recently bitten by the RP bug again so here I am.

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The Details!

Hello all!
I've had a lot of fun writing sci-fi romance recently but now I am also feeling the urge to write romance in a more fantastical setting! Fantasy is obviously my first choice, could be original but an existing universe/fandom is also acceptable to me. Preferred choices would be something like DnD/Forgotten Realms, Dragon Age, Warhammer Fantasy/AoS, but I'm open to a wide range of ideas and settings, sword and sorcery, dark fantasy, high fantasy, historical fantasy, whatever! Romance should be the main focus though with some action/mystery/etc on the side as a framing device and way to keep the plot moving. I'm trying to keep this short and sweet, but I'm okay with most all types of romance. Slow burn, fast burn, forced together by trauma, enemies to lovers etc etc. My one request would be that in relation to the romance your character isn't too mean or abusive to my poor character (obviously this applies differently in the case of enemies to lovers). I'd prefer like, a 80-20 split of SFW content to NSFW content, violence and horror can be more but I don't just want to write smut. Also if we go with fantasy I will probably play an elf (maybe a tiefling if we go with Forgotten Realms), so keep that in mind.

Scenario Ideas:
(will add to this as I think of more)

• I'm a mage/scholar/squishy spellcaster of some type who needs to travel somewhere dangerous and so I hire you as my bodyguard
• You're a higher-up/noble in a court and I'm an elven emissary/diplomat, court romance ensues
• We're two fledgling adventurers who take the same quest! An easy one, this could be flexed into almost any type of scenario we want.
• Fish out of water type scenario, something like either I'm a stranger in your lands or you're a stranger in mine, could work in almost any fandom as well as an original thing too! Think Dragon Age dalish elf traveling deep into Ferelden or in Warhammer a wood elf heading into the heart of the Empire. Or for Forgotten Realms, a tiefling going almost anywhere not named Elturel.

Other notes:

• I am probably going to play as a lady.
• Another lady character would be great! I'm already writing some MxF stuff and I'm in the mood to write some more sapphic romances anyway. It isn't a big deal if you want to play a male but just keep this mind.
• Length of posts isn't a huge concern, though I would prefer a couple paragraphs just to give me stuff to bounce off of, since after all this is a collaborative hobby. I always try and give at least a few paragraphs in response, sometimes more just depending.
• Romance should be the focus, but I am open to other genres mixed in, horror, action, mystery, etc. Depending on the setting I have a few ideas though feel free to come with your own ideas too!
• Communicate with me! I don't mind if you have to drop out or take a break, just let me know. I promise I won't bite you.
• C'mon, you know you want to kiss an elf!

Lastly, if this sounds interesting to you at all, shoot me a DM and we can figure everything out!

The Elder Scrolls: Night of Pestilence

Sihava let out a heavy breath, ballooning her cheeks as she lost herself in thought. The road was long, and the night was beginning to fall. Far too early. Again. Strange.

Inzoliah continued her travels in the western end of High Rock, around Daggerfall. In her travels as of late, she had noticed that it seemed to get darker faster in this area of the province. It was only around 4 pm, she had estimated, and yet it appeared much later. Strange. Just as strange was the presence of another Dunmer a few strides ahead of her on the road. The Mage quickened her stride and came to match the other woman’s pace at her side. “Tis strange to see another Dunmer so far from Morrowind, or even Cyrodiil for that matter.”

Sihava glanced to the side, a little smile lighting up her face as she nodded. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she concentrated, biting the tip of her tongue. Through the magicka between them, she sent out a bright feeling of agreement and friendliness, and then one of the few words she could reliably communicate: Sihava. Following that, a brief feeling of inquisitiveness and the word name made it through. Hopefully the other woman wouldn’t find the thoughts too intrusive. She’d occasionally had a bit of trouble with that in the past.

As she turned more fully towards the much older woman, she noticed the faint shimmer of a huge stretch of illusion magic that covered nearly half her body. She raised an eyebrow, but made no other motion, refraining from gesturing at it. There was clearly a reason it was hidden, and it wouldn’t do to be rude.

The Mage Dunmer raised her eyebrow at the strange thoughts that entered her mind, but they were suddenly familiar. She recognised the strangeness as Mysticism magic, something she had seen other mages use many times back in the Synod in Cheydinhal. Inzoliah had only ever used it in the context of enchanting and soul gems, and that had been a lifetime ago, almost literally. “Ah, you speak through Mysticism?” Inzoliah inquired after feeling a thought wonder about a name creep through her mind. “My, that is curious. My name is Inzoliah, I’m somewhat of a mage.” The older woman smiled slyly at her own underplaying of her life’s work. She had learned that people generally found it off putting if you opened with ‘I’m a master fire mage, want to watch me burn this entire mountainside down?’ Inzoliah glanced up and down at the other Dunmer and tapped her chin as they walked, “I’m going to guess you’re a merchant? A trader of some kind? But, I wonder, what kind of merchant is a mute?”

Looking up at the sky for a moment, Sihava wondered how she would quantify the concept of a vow of silence. Again with the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she parsed together a few images: the temple of the Divines, in Solitude. The feeling of prayer and exaltation. And a priest, finger pressed to his lips as if to say shhhhhh. And then, feeling just a little bit put off--you can't just ask someone what kind of merchant is mute! How rude!--she barely restrained herself from asking about the illusion cloak that Inzoliah wore. But doing so would give away her skill as an illusionist. Best not to reveal that so willy-nilly; mystery was the best defense she had.

Although...however rude the question might have been, it was still a question, and Sihava could still answer. Who knows, it might even net her a coin or two if she was lucky. A few quick images of some of her wares--fine clothes, a very fancy Dwemer necklace she’d found someone selling on Solstheim, some rapid flashes of various potions and ingredients, a pile of semiprecious stones, and a brightly gleaming soul gem--the word general--a shrug. She pointed to her pack with a quick jab of the thumb and gave Inzoliah a questioning glance as if to say, want to take a look?

Again, Inzoliah felt images infiltrate her mind. A large room, a chapel maybe. Hope and longing perhaps? The last one was definitely a priest, shushing someone. The Divines silenced this woman? It seemed odd to say the least but they say the Divines worked in mysterious ways, so who was Inzoliah to make heads or tails of the Aedra. She had never put much stock in them, personally. She shrugged, “Well, if that’s what happened, it sounds terrible.” Inzoliah dismissively waved her hand before continuing, “I’ve never bothered much with the Aedra. I’ve always put more faith in the arcane. Fire mostly.” She let the topic drop. Probably best not to insult someone’s faith after having just met them.

The other Dunmer girl made a ‘look over here’ gesture with her thumb and made a curious face. She wanted Inzoliah to look at her wares, the Mage realised after a moment had passed. “If you have any scrolls, I’ll take a look at them, or even just some vellum. Sometimes I make my own scrolls to sell to other adventurers.” This whole situation made Inzoliah feel as if she was doing more talking than she had ever done in her life. One-sided conversations were like that she supposed. “Are you headed there too?” The older Dunmer asked, pointing at the rapidly approaching inn.

A puff of bemused and frustrated breath escaped Sihava. Clearly, she hadn’t quite managed to communicate what she’d intended: whatever Inzoliah thought had happened to her, it wasn’t a vow taken in faith. But, she reasoned, she was more or less used to the miscommunications, so no harm done. She’d correct her with writing once they reached the inn. Though she’d initially planned to keep traveling through the strange darkness, yesterday’s preturnatual night had prickled at her in a way that she didn’t trust, and she thought that perhaps she’d seen faraway eyes shining in the gloom. She was in no hurry to repeat that particular experience, and so when Inzoliah asked if she was also heading to the inn, she responded with an emphatic nod.

She was lucky with the sales, too: she did have a few spell scrolls stored up in her pack. Nothing spectacular--mostly restoration and alteration, which she found were the easiest to sell to common folk--but hopefully, at least one would be to Inzoliah’s liking. In addition, she carried a tight roll of vellum with her wherever she went for communicative writing, and she had enough that she could spare some scrolls’ worth. Never let it be said that Sihava Blackthorn would turn down money.

“Yes, that’s my idea as well. I must confess, this early dusk doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve slept under the stars all over Tamriel and this is the only place where the dark sets my neck tingling.” The Dunmer Mage rolled her shoulders. “Well, if you do have some vellum, what say we conduct our business in the common room of the inn?” Seemed a little safer and easier than conducting a transaction while on the move, besides, the inn was only a little ways out now.

The smile returned to Sihava’s face, and she accelerated a touch, eager to get out of this odd shadow. She hadn’t eaten much that day, preoccupied as she’d been with finding an inn to stay at during the long night, so the prospect of a bowl of Daggerfall stew and a cup of hot spiced wine was welcome indeed. She was in the middle of fantasizing over soft, crusty bread by the time she clomped her leather boots up the wooden steps, stepping out of the rapidly falling dusk and finding a table near the fire to drop her backpack off.

The Loyal Hound was a nice place, she thought. Could’ve done without that many deer heads, but the decor was...charmingly rustic, she thought. It could have been nicer, and she would perhaps need to check the bed for bugs--one never knew at these roadside inns--but any kind of inn was a welcome sight after a day on the road. She was aching for the stew that she smelled wafting out of the kitchen. But business before pleasure, as the saying went. She wanted to be set up by the time Inzoliah came to her table, and so she rapidly dug through her bag and picked out what few scrolls she had, laying them down before taking out a tightly-sealed bottle of ink, uncorking it and dipping a quill pen in it before slicing off a piece of the vellum with her dagger, writing in elegant curling script:

My name is Sihava Blackthorn. I apologize for any misunderstandings on the road; I have taken a vow of silence in the name of…

She hesitated for a moment. Though Inzoliah had mentioned that she didn’t put much stock in the Divines, she still obviously didn’t want to reveal her true patron. Which Divine would fit the vow of silence best…?

...Arkay. In addition to the roll of vellum (I would rather not sell much of it, as I need it for messages such as this), I have five scrolls: one of Fast Healing, one of Heal Other, one of Waterbreath, one of Detect Living, and one of Ease Burden. 70, 90, 90, 110, and 80 Septim, respectively. You may make offers for the vellum, as I typically am not called on to sell it, and so I have no price for it.

With that done, she set aside the quill, corked the ink, and waited.

Inzoliah noticed the other woman’s pace pick up as she pointed out the closeness of the inn. She must be hungry. Or tired. Or eager to make some coin. Maybe all three. Regardless, she let the Mute Merchant pull ahead of her. Inzoliah felt no need to rush, a little more fresh air wouldn’t hurt. Especially if the inn was as packed as it sounded.

When she did finally make it to the door she lingered a moment before finally going in. She had no particular reason for doing so, but it made her feel better nonetheless. The first thing she noticed was every source of the hated element in the room. Every torch, candle, lantern and hearthfire she mentally noted where they were and then tried to triangulate the area in which she could linger as far away from their menacing auras as possible. Unfortunately the other Dunmer seemed to have decided they should do business near the fire. Much too close to the fire for Inzoliah’s comfort. She exhaled slightly before heading over to the mute woman, who had set up all of her scrolls. The Mage quickly sat down at the table, positioning herself across from the fire, so she could keep an eye on it at all times. “Twould be best if we conducted our business with haste. I mislike being surrounded like this.” Of course she left out that she meant being surrounded by fire and not people, though she wasn’t particularly fond of the types of people that were found in inns such as these. Local drunks usually. Travelers who kept to themselves were alright in her book though.

Inzoliah used her hand to flatten the note that the other woman had set up and read it silently for a moment. “Sihava, an unique name. I have never heard it before, your parents must be very interesting people.” she commented plainly, sincere in her words though dryly delivered. “Since you would rather not part with much of your vellum and I lack the funds to purchase the other scrolls I shall be brief. I offer you 10 septims for a single scroll of vellum. ‘Tis more than I usually pay in a city, but we are not in a city and I am willing to part with more because I like to support fellow Dunmer.” As she finished her sentence she reached into a pouch around her waist and pulled out 10 septims and stacked them in a tower on the table.

Sihava nodded and grinned. Unrolling the vellum, she settled on a scroll’s length of it before shearing it off with the dagger again. Sliding it across the table to Inzoliah, she counted out the Septims--ten indeed--and rammed them into her purse, which responded with a satisfying jingle.

Picking up the pen with whatever remained of the ink inside it, she wrote out a pleasure doing business, before tossing the note offhandedly into the fire and sweeping the rest of the vellum and the scrolls back into her bag with a flourish. She’d organize it later, but for the moment, presentation trumped exactitude.

Then, abruptly, she stood. Now then, Sihava she thought, grin only growing, let’s see about that Daggerfall stew.

Inzoliah watched the other woman cut the vellum into the proper length for a scroll. Her dagger seemed of unusually high quality for a travelling merchant. She put the thought out of her mind and was just grateful Sihava found the price acceptable. She was really not in the mood to haggle. The Mage picked up the blank scroll deftly and slid it into her knapsack, watching as the Merchant wrote out a note of thanks and then cast it into the fire. That seemed a very ill omen indeed. As soon as Sihava had stood up and left, Inzoliah had evacuated the table as well, eager to be rid of the fire. She needed a cool drink after that.

The Elder Scrolls: Night of Pestilence

Inzoliah

Full Name: Inzoliah Assurnarairan

Race: Dunmer

Gender: Female

Age: Around 100 years

Birthsign: The Ritual

Origins: Somewhere in Morrowind

Appearance: Inzoliah appears, at first glance, and even second glance to be a rather fetching middle-aged Dunmer woman, her hair is quite long, a soft auburn and is usually done up in a ponytail so as to not interfere with her spellcasting. She possesses the sharp features common to her race, including a pointed chin, long swept back ears, and prominent cheekbones. Her skin is the typical ashen-grey of Dunmer and her eyes a lively red that seems to dance when light is played across them. Her body is matronly, to be somewhat expected of a mage. She isn't necessarily chubby, however, her body just has curves to it that say, a warrior might have worked off by now. She prefers wearing robes to anything else and doesn't shy away from showing off her bust. Her own personal travelling hedge-mage robes are dark green, almost black, with a hood and various pouches and other alchemical storage devices attached for ease of transport. It's obviously cared for and well-worn. Most tellingly is that the robes are singed around the edges and are almost always possessed of a layer of soot on them due to the nature of her... shall we say, personality.

If one possessed magical sight however, they would be able to lay eyes on Inzoliah's true appearance. For the most part she looks much the same, and from a distance there really is no difference. Her hair is the same, her face is the same, her body is largely unchanged. Maybe her makeup is less messy. But that would be impossible to notice, the major difference is that the right side of her face is a mass of burn scars, grossly discoloured and strange to the touch. These burns extend all down the right side of her body, down her arm and leg and partially her chest. Her right eyebrow is half gone, her ear an unrecognisable mess. It would be obvious to anyone who beholds her injuries why she disguises her appearance with Illusion magic, the sheer extent alone is shocking. Obviously she is quite secretive about her appearance and does her best to prevent anyone from seeing her true face. She even wears an amulet enchanted with a Fortify Illusion effect so as to prevent the façade from faltering.

---

History: Inzoliah is fairly tight-lipped about her past, but what is known is that she was born to two Dunmer refugees from Vvardenfell, who had traveled to mainland Morrowind after the Red Year decimated their home. They had set up a small refugee village in the Stonefalls region of the southwestern mainland. They eked out a bitter existence much like the Ashlander clans of their home island. It was a rough life for the Vvardenfell refugees, but it was somewhat stable. Things had not much improved 90-100 years later, when Inzoliah was born. The town had grown somewhat, and was a modest fishing port and trading post along the way to Ebonheart. Inzoliah's parents were respected in their community, her father was a skilled craftsman and her mother a healer and mage of some note.

At some point in her early childhood, a defining event happened for young Inzoliah. No one alive now knows how the fire started, and Inzoliah was asleep when the fast spreading flames came to her family's tent. Had she been awake, she might have turned out a very different person. Instead, she only woke when the tongues of flame were quite literally licking her face. The intense heat caused her to jolt awake and saved her life but half of her body was already horribly burned, the rest choked with soot from the rapidly conflagrating house. She woke her parents and they all managed to escape with their lives, but for the second time they had essentially lost everything. The only thing that saved their young girl's life was her natural fire resistance and the deft healing spells of her mother.

So for second time Inzoliah's family packed up and moved on. This time they headed into Cyrodiil, seeking a new start in a new land. They settled in Cheydinhal, a city noted for its large Dunmer population. Cheydinhal was still being partially rebuilt after a recent sacking and Inzoliah's father was able to find work helping to repair damaged buildings or help build new ones. This was also around the time that Inzoliah's affinity for the arcane began to manifest. Her mother began teaching her basic spells and the young Dunmer picked them up easily, but none held her attention like fire. In her mind's eye she could see the memory of the great fire that had scarred her in each flame she made erupt from her finger. It scared her, but it also thrilled her. Since the night of the fire, she had eschewed campfires and hearthfires in all their forms, preferring to sleep as far away from any source of heat as possible, but now that she had some measure of control over the flames, she was enraptured. Its beauty, its power. It had marked her skin, left a permanent reminder of the power and strength. Flame spells became an obsession. She spent hours each day in the fields around Cheydinhal burning leaves and sticks and even small animals, launching gouts of fire and flares into the sky just to watch them fizzle out in a flash. The Destruction lore of flames became second nature to Inzoliah by her teens and she devoted most of her time to studying new manners in which to control and harness fire. The local Synod took note of her prodigious Destruction talent and offered her membership, and she happily accepted. All was well for Inzoliah for the next years, her membership with the Synod gave her steady work and an outlet for her pyromania. She sent most of her gold earned from her Synod jobs back to her parents, allowing them to retire after a lifetime of struggle, and the little she kept she spent on food and little else. Though her talent and obsession with arcane flames grew endlessly, her hate and fear of natural flame never went away. Her quarters in the Synod hall were cold and dark, Inzoliah never letting even a single candle into her room. Food she cooked would be roasted with a flames spell and not with a cooking fire, and any light she needed during a job would be provided by magefire, not torchlight.

Around this time Inzoliah also began researching Illusion, though her study was much less passionate and more scholarly than her frantic and wild inhalation of any magickal lore related to fire. Eventually she developed a spell to disguise her appearance and hide her scars. Also around this time she begin to get suitors more frequently than she had ever had before. She also began singeing them to get them to leave her alone. In return for Destruction training she was taught alchemy by another of the Synod's mages and took to it quite well, finding it relaxing after a day of torching stuff.

Unfortunately, just before the outbreak of the Great War around 4E170-171, despite her good standing with the Synod she was forcibly expelled after a conflagration of her design consumed a farmstead and the surrounding fields. Though no one was harmed, it required the combined talents of three Ice Mages to contain the firestorm. Despite the sadness at having lost her job, the intensity of the blaze filled her with excitement and she had spent most of the day watching it scorch the landscape bare, enraptured at her creation.

A few months later, her parents passed away, both of them were into their second century and expired within a week of one another. Their deaths deeply saddened Inzoliah and she locked herself in her house for a week following her mother's death. Soon after, word that the Aldmeri had invaded reached Cheydinhal and a battalion of Dominion troops was spotted on the march towards the city. This got Inzoliah out of her depression. She raced out to meet them, ignoring the warnings of the town guard that'd she'd be killed. Without waiting to treat with them or even ascertain their intentions, Inzoliah conjured an enormous fireball, and hurled it into the mass of troops, turning the middle of the column into a funeral pyre. Immediately the Thalmor archers returned arrow fire and Inzoliah merely laughed, conjuring a wall of flame that incinerated the arrows before they could harm her. The rest were dispatched with lances of flame and deadly accurate firebolts. She returned to the grateful Cheydinhal, though most threw her more than one sideways glance after her 'demonstration'. Not long after this incident, her parents' old home burned down in a mysterious fire and Inzoliah disappeared from the city.

After this point, Inzoliah next pops up in High Rock, having made her way across Cyrodiil, making a name for herself as a hedge-wizard as she traveled. More than one bandit tried to rob her, only to end up as a smoking corpse in the Northern Wilds of Cyrodiil. Many caravans also hired her for protection during her travels, as having a Destruction mage was a good way to deter bandits and other brigands from robbing you blind. Once she arrived in High Rock, she took up residence in an inn and began selling her services as alchemist and mage to locals. Many farmers gladly paid to have a pack of wolves or a bear incinerated and many passing adventurers purchased her potions to prepare for whatever task they had set out on. Eventually she was approached by a local duke and offered a position as his court wizard. Inzoliah gladly accepted. She spent a few years in his service, mostly keeping to her own devices, studying Destruction and occasionally offering advice on aetherial matters. Unfortunately her service as court wizard came to an abrupt end with the incineration of a courtier who had threatened Inzoliah over a trivial matter. Since she had been threatened, the Duke merely banished her instead of having her executed. Again she took up her hedge-wizarding ways and sold her services to any who would pay, not particularly caring what needed burning just as long as something did. That is how Inzoliah found her way near Daggerfall, to a wayside tavern.

Personality: To put it lightly, fire has consumed Inzoliah's life. There is nothing she enjoys more than burning things. Living things, dead things, animate things, inanimate things. If it's flammable she will burn it. If it is not, she will try anyway. However this only applies to arcane fire. Natural fire scares the wits out of her. She can't stand to be near it in any form. Cooking fires, torches, hearthfires, they all repulse her. Many fellow mages have tried to argue with her that there's essentially no difference between the two but Inzoliah will not hear of it. To her there is fire that can be controlled and fire that cannot. To say she is slightly loose with her application of fire is one way of putting it, and many mages have called her hypocritical in this fashion, though never to her face of course. Away from fire she is fairly normal for a mage, many expect mages to be a little 'quirky' and so any of her other fire-related personality traits are waved away as merely the eccentricities of another mage who spent one too many times casting 'Drain Personality' spells. She enjoys idle chatting (though never about her or her past) and will gladly talk your ear off about fire magicks. She can be extremely arbitrary at times and will do things for no other reason than she decided she needs to, but at the same time is flexible as can be (as evidenced by the multiple jobs she's held). As far as the typical Dunmer go, she is fairly personable and willing to help strangers, usually for a favour or coin or a gift. She still prefers to keep some secrets and she isn't necessarily quick to trust others with her life. Other races might describe her attitude as 'mercenary'.

Her romantic life has been less than fruitful. Though she has attracted her fair share of suitors and otherwise, she usually dissuades them from pursuing her much further than a gift or two. Partially because she is too enraptured by Arcane Flames to have much time for romance. Though on the other hand she definitely wouldn't say no to every eligible man in Tamriel, but of course that would require finding a man she trusts and feels comfortable enough around to show her true appearance to. Which hasn't happened yet and it's been a good half century or so.

Though she enjoys the company of others, she isn't totally comfortable in large crowds and is perfectly capable of spending long periods alone. She also seems mostly aware that her obsession with fire borders on the intensely unhealthy but either doesn't care or can't stop. She is of course, capable of managing her addiction to flames, especially where income is concerned and she generally attempts to find outlets for her need to torch things. Many former colleagues have described working with her like using a damaged staff of fireballs, it works fine, though you get the uneasy feeling it might explode and burn everyone around it at some point. You also usually get singed. In conclusion, Inzoliah is a pyrophobic pyromaniac, a glass mirror that might be broken but you can't quite tell from this angle.

Equipment:
- Well Worn (and slightly burnt) Robes of Fortify Destruction, enchanted by a member of the Synod in Cheydinhal
- Steel dagger, kept mostly for utility as opposed to defense
- Amulet of Fortify Illusion, never taken off
- Knapsack, as befits a hedge-wizard
Misc. Possessions:
- Pouch of septims, contains around 50 at the moment
- Various basic potions, 2x potions of healing, 3x potions of restore magicka
- Assorted common alchemy supplies, picked on her way to the tavern
- A bedroll
Family and Associations:
No living family
Barred from the Synod
Banished from a Duke's lands in the south of High Rock

Favoured Attributes:
Major: Intelligence
Minor: Luck

Favoured Skills:
Highly Proficient: Destruction (Fire Damage is the only Lore she uses)

Moderately Proficient: Illusion, Alchemy, Mysticism

Somewhat Proficient: Enchanting, Sneak, Restoration

Spell List:
Flames
Firebolt
Fireball
Fire Storm
Wall of Flames
Burning Spear
Incinerate

The Elder Scrolls: Night of Pestilence

Inzoliah

Full Name: Inzoliah Assurnarairan

Race: Dunmer

Gender: Female

Age: Around 100 years

Birthsign: The Ritual

Origins: Somewhere in Morrowind

Appearance: Inzoliah appears, at first glance, and even second glance to be a rather fetching middle-aged Dunmer woman, her hair is quite long, a soft auburn and is usually done up in a ponytail so as to not interfere with her spellcasting. She possesses the sharp features common to her race, including a pointed chin, long swept back ears, and prominent cheekbones. Her skin is the typical ashen-grey of Dunmer and her eyes a lively red that seems to dance when light is played across them. Her body is matronly, to be somewhat expected of a mage. She isn't necessarily chubby, however, her body just has curves to it that say, a warrior might have worked off by now. She prefers wearing robes to anything else and doesn't shy away from showing off her bust. Her own personal travelling hedge-mage robes are dark green, almost black, with a hood and various pouches and other alchemical storage devices attached for ease of transport. It's obviously cared for and well-worn. Most tellingly is that the robes are singed around the edges and are almost always possessed of a layer of soot on them due to the nature of her... shall we say, personality.

If one possessed magical sight however, they would be able to lay eyes on Inzoliah's true appearance. For the most part she looks much the same, and from a distance there really is no difference. Her hair is the same, her face is the same, her body is largely unchanged. Maybe her makeup is less messy. But that would be impossible to notice, the major difference is that the right side of her face is a mass of burn scars, grossly discoloured and strange to the touch. These burns extend all down the right side of her body, down her arm and leg and partially her chest. Her right eyebrow is half gone, her ear an unrecognisable mess. It would be obvious to anyone who beholds her injuries why she disguises her appearance with Illusion magic, the sheer extent alone is shocking. Obviously she is quite secretive about her appearance and does her best to prevent anyone from seeing her true face. She even wears an amulet enchanted with a Fortify Illusion effect so as to prevent the façade from faltering.

---

History: Inzoliah is fairly tight-lipped about her past, but what is known is that she was born to two Dunmer refugees from Vvardenfell, who had traveled to mainland Morrowind after the Red Year decimated their home. They had set up a small refugee village in the Stonefalls region of the southwestern mainland. They eked out a bitter existence much like the Ashlander clans of their home island. It was a rough life for the Vvardenfell refugees, but it was somewhat stable. Things had not much improved 90-100 years later, when Inzoliah was born. The town had grown somewhat, and was a modest fishing port and trading post along the way to Ebonheart. Inzoliah's parents were respected in their community, her father was a skilled craftsman and her mother a healer and mage of some note.

At some point in her early childhood, a defining event happened for young Inzoliah. No one alive now knows how the fire started, and Inzoliah was asleep when the fast spreading flames came to her family's tent. Had she been awake, she might have turned out a very different person. Instead, she only woke when the tongues of flame were quite literally licking her face. The intense heat caused her to jolt awake and saved her life but half of her body was already horribly burned, the rest choked with soot from the rapidly conflagrating house. She woke her parents and they all managed to escape with their lives, but for the second time they had essentially lost everything. The only thing that saved their young girl's life was her natural fire resistance and the deft healing spells of her mother.

So for second time Inzoliah's family packed up and moved on. This time they headed into Cyrodiil, seeking a new start in a new land. They settled in Cheydinhal, a city noted for its large Dunmer population. Cheydinhal was still being partially rebuilt after a recent sacking and Inzoliah's father was able to find work helping to repair damaged buildings or help build new ones. This was also around the time that Inzoliah's affinity for the arcane began to manifest. Her mother began teaching her basic spells and the young Dunmer picked them up easily, but none held her attention like fire. In her mind's eye she could see the memory of the great fire that had scarred her in each flame she made erupt from her finger. It scared her, but it also thrilled her. Since the night of the fire, she had eschewed campfires and hearthfires in all their forms, preferring to sleep as far away from any source of heat as possible, but now that she had some measure of control over the flames, she was enraptured. Its beauty, its power. It had marked her skin, left a permanent reminder of the power and strength. Flame spells became an obsession. She spent hours each day in the fields around Cheydinhal burning leaves and sticks and even small animals, launching gouts of fire and flares into the sky just to watch them fizzle out in a flash. The Destruction lore of flames became second nature to Inzoliah by her teens and she devoted most of her time to studying new manners in which to control and harness fire. The local Synod took note of her prodigious Destruction talent and offered her membership, and she happily accepted. All was well for Inzoliah for the next years, her membership with the Synod gave her steady work and an outlet for her pyromania. She sent most of her gold earned from her Synod jobs back to her parents, allowing them to retire after a lifetime of struggle, and the little she kept she spent on food and little else. Though her talent and obsession with arcane flames grew endlessly, her hate and fear of natural flame never went away. Her quarters in the Synod hall were cold and dark, Inzoliah never letting even a single candle into her room. Food she cooked would be roasted with a flames spell and not with a cooking fire, and any light she needed during a job would be provided by magefire, not torchlight.

Around this time Inzoliah also began researching Illusion, though her study was much less passionate and more scholarly than her frantic and wild inhalation of any magickal lore related to fire. Eventually she developed a spell to disguise her appearance and hide her scars. Also around this time she begin to get suitors more frequently than she had ever had before. She also began singeing them to get them to leave her alone. In return for Destruction training she was taught alchemy by another of the Synod's mages and took to it quite well, finding it relaxing after a day of torching stuff.

Unfortunately, just before the outbreak of the Great War around 4E170-171, despite her good standing with the Synod she was forcibly expelled after a conflagration of her design consumed a farmstead and the surrounding fields. Though no one was harmed, it required the combined talents of three Ice Mages to contain the firestorm. Despite the sadness at having lost her job, the intensity of the blaze filled her with excitement and she had spent most of the day watching it scorch the landscape bare, enraptured at her creation.

A few months later, her parents passed away, both of them were into their second century and expired within a week of one another. Their deaths deeply saddened Inzoliah and she locked herself in her house for a week following her mother's death. Soon after, word that the Aldmeri had invaded reached Cheydinhal and a battalion of Dominion troops was spotted on the march towards the city. This got Inzoliah out of her depression. She raced out to meet them, ignoring the warnings of the town guard that'd she'd be killed. Without waiting to treat with them or even ascertain their intentions, Inzoliah conjured an enormous fireball, and hurled it into the mass of troops, turning the middle of the column into a funeral pyre. Immediately the Thalmor archers returned arrow fire and Inzoliah merely laughed, conjuring a wall of flame that incinerated the arrows before they could harm her. The rest were dispatched with lances of flame and deadly accurate firebolts. She returned to the grateful Cheydinhal, though most threw her more than one sideways glance after her 'demonstration'. Not long after this incident, her parents' old home burned down in a mysterious fire and Inzoliah disappeared from the city.

After this point, Inzoliah next pops up in High Rock, having made her way across Cyrodiil, making a name for herself as a hedge-wizard as she traveled. More than one bandit tried to rob her, only to end up as a smoking corpse in the Northern Wilds of Cyrodiil. Many caravans also hired her for protection during her travels, as having a Destruction mage was a good way to deter bandits and other brigands from robbing you blind. Once she arrived in High Rock, she took up residence in an inn and began selling her services as alchemist and mage to locals. Many farmers gladly paid to have a pack of wolves or a bear incinerated and many passing adventurers purchased her potions to prepare for whatever task they had set out on. Eventually she was approached by a local duke and offered a position as his court wizard. Inzoliah gladly accepted. She spent a few years in his service, mostly keeping to her own devices, studying Destruction and occasionally offering advice on aetherial matters. Unfortunately her service as court wizard came to an abrupt end with the incineration of a courtier who had threatened Inzoliah over a trivial matter. Since she had been threatened, the Duke merely banished her instead of having her executed. Again she took up her hedge-wizarding ways and sold her services to any who would pay, not particularly caring what needed burning just as long as something did. That is how Inzoliah found her way near Daggerfall, to a wayside tavern.

Personality: To put it lightly, fire has consumed Inzoliah's life. There is nothing she enjoys more than burning things. Living things, dead things, animate things, inanimate things. If it's flammable she will burn it. If it is not, she will try anyway. However this only applies to arcane fire. Natural fire scares the wits out of her. She can't stand to be near it in any form. Cooking fires, torches, hearthfires, they all repulse her. Many fellow mages have tried to argue with her that there's essentially no difference between the two but Inzoliah will not hear of it. To her there is fire that can be controlled and fire that cannot. To say she is slightly loose with her application of fire is one way of putting it, and many mages have called her hypocritical in this fashion, though never to her face of course. Away from fire she is fairly normal for a mage, many expect mages to be a little 'quirky' and so any of her other fire-related personality traits are waved away as merely the eccentricities of another mage who spent one too many times casting 'Drain Personality' spells. She enjoys idle chatting (though never about her or her past) and will gladly talk your ear off about fire magicks. She can be extremely arbitrary at times and will do things for no other reason than she decided she needs to, but at the same time is flexible as can be (as evidenced by the multiple jobs she's held). As far as the typical Dunmer go, she is fairly personable and willing to help strangers, usually for a favour or coin or a gift. She still prefers to keep some secrets and she isn't necessarily quick to trust others with her life. Other races might describe her attitude as 'mercenary'.

Her romantic life has been less than fruitful. Though she has attracted her fair share of suitors and otherwise, she usually dissuades them from pursuing her much further than a gift or two. Partially because she is too enraptured by Arcane Flames to have much time for romance. Though on the other hand she definitely wouldn't say no to every eligible man in Tamriel, but of course that would require finding a man she trusts and feels comfortable enough around to show her true appearance to. Which hasn't happened yet and it's been a good half century or so.

Though she enjoys the company of others, she isn't totally comfortable in large crowds and is perfectly capable of spending long periods alone. She also seems mostly aware that her obsession with fire borders on the intensely unhealthy but either doesn't care or can't stop. She is of course, capable of managing her addiction to flames, especially where income is concerned and she generally attempts to find outlets for her need to torch things. Many former colleagues have described working with her like using a damaged staff of fireballs, it works fine, though you get the uneasy feeling it might explode and burn everyone around it at some point. You also usually get singed. In conclusion, Inzoliah is a pyrophobic pyromaniac, a glass mirror that might be broken but you can't quite tell from this angle.

Equipment:
- Well Worn (and slightly burnt) Robes of Fortify Destruction, enchanted by a member of the Synod in Cheydinhal
- Steel dagger, kept mostly for utility as opposed to defense
- Amulet of Fortify Illusion, never taken off
- Knapsack, as befits a hedge-wizard
Misc. Possessions:
- Pouch of septims, contains around 50 at the moment
- Various basic potions, 2x potions of healing, 3x potions of restore magicka
- Assorted common alchemy supplies, picked on her way to the tavern
- A bedroll
Family and Associations:
No living family
Barred from the Synod
Banished from a Duke's lands in the south of High Rock

Favoured Attributes:
Major: Intelligence
Minor: Luck

Favoured Skills:
Highly Proficient: Destruction (Fire Damage is the only Lore she uses)

Moderately Proficient: Illusion, Alchemy, Mysticism

Somewhat Proficient: Enchanting, Sneak, Restoration

Spell List:
Flames
Firebolt
Fireball
Fire Storm
Wall of Flames
Burning Spear
Incinerate

Done! Hopefully I didn't make too many mistakes as I banged this one out in one sitting, let me know if you spot any I missed.

Off the Map (High Seas Adventure RP)

Tentatively interested!

Star Wars idea I’ve been sitting on for ages

Hello, I’m Amaranth.

I’m not great with fancy formatting so I’ll make this straight and to the point. I’ve been wanting to do a Star Wars 1x1 featuring a Jedi and a Padawan and their adventures through our chosen era. You know, like Anakin and Obi-wan or Obi-wan and Qui-gon or Anakin and Ahsoka or Luminara and Barriss. Something like that. I’ve always felt like it’s a pretty obvious idea but I’ve never seen anyone suggest it. Anyways, we could choose any era we wanted, I’m not picky, each one would have its own quirks that would be fun to do. I’m even open to post-ROTJ legends if that’s what you’re into.

Now onto expectations and rules.

The basics all apply, no godmodding, no ghosting (at least without letting me know first), no real-life racism/bigotry etc etc. You know, the basics.

I’d expect this to be high casual to advanced. A lot of people say that but I’m going to try and define it. Basically I just want to know that you are at least capable of typing out an advanced post. I don’t want or expect you to put out five paragraphs every response but I’d like you to have some effort and thought behind your posts. I’d also like you to exercise at least decent grammar and spelling. That’s all really. Just put some thought and effort into your posts and I’ll be happy. As for posting rate, I’m not too impatient, just one or two posts a week is fine, though more is welcomed as well as long as you are putting effort and thought into them. I’ll try and match your pace if you’d like as well.

Some other miscellaneous stuff that may or may not be relevant.

Any species is fine, same with any gender, just no droids for obvious reasons. I’m up for paying either the master or the padawan so if you want to play the maverick Jedi Master that’s cool and if you want to play the hothead Padawan that’s also cool. I’d be open to trying an opposite alignment version but I’d need a pitch first. Mature themes should probably be expected but we should probably discuss how far that will extend once we have a scenario locked down.

Anyway that’s all I can think of for now. Send me a PM if you like the idea or if you have a question or if you want to talk :)

The Elder Scrolls: Days of Night

17th Sun's Dawn ... or maybe the 16th, who could know these things?
Daggerfall, High Rock

---

Frygga staggered her way from a tavern, clutching her glaive for support. She had spent the night drinking and brawling, as all good sellswords do, and was not the only one stumbling from a tavern. Some, she could see, supported themselves on greatswords as they puked their guts out on the streets. Others relied on large longbows as walking sticks as they swayed back to wherever their next job would find them. Frygga was not weak enough to lose her breakfast over some watered-down Breton ale and instead leaned on her glaive as she watched the early morning scenes unfold. She was getting out of here. On a ship, yes, she had booked passage on some Redguard's ship that was bound to leave today... or maybe tomorrow. Either way she needed to get to the harbour. She would sleep off the headache on the ship that was sure to come soon whether they left today or tomorrow. The large Nord hefted herself from her glaive and rolled her shoulders before stalking down the street towards the sound of gulls and the smell of fish.

It had been her last night in this forsaken city of greedy nobles and court schemes and she had properly celebrated her departure with rounds of ale for every man in the tavern, as well as plenty of impromptu wrestling matches over who could drink more. The answer was Frygga. It was always Frygga. If she could not out drink you, she would certainly convince you she could when she picked you up and threatened to snap you in half like a twig. But it was all in humour of course. Sellswords had an odd sense of humour and Frygga even more so. You had to in that kind of work. When your two greatest enemies are boredom and death, your view of things tended to become a little warped. So sellswords found it intensely funny when Frygga picked up a smaller man and told him he would be inside out if he didn't admit she could drink more than him. And it was even more uproariously funny when the man's Orcish friend told Frygga she would be in two pieces if she didn't leave his friend alone. And the best joke of the night was when both of them came to blows and ended up bruised and bleeding but convivial on the floor of the tavern. Frygga rubbed her sore neck at the memory. That was one thing she would miss about Daggerfall. The fights.

The docks smelled heavily of fish and it reminded the Nord of Skyrim. The cool air and creak of ships invigorated her and helped to wake her up a bit. She brushed off her fur and leather tunic and adjusted the one good sleeve of the thing- Don't want to looktoo much like she just woke up- and looked around for the ship she had booked passage on. It was a fairly distinctive ship and she let her animal instincts tell her the proper area to look.

It didn't take long for her to find 'the Kismet' and she thumped her way up the gangplank with her glaive, her free hand instinctively checking her baldric for her double war-axes. You could never be too careful with seamen. They were often as treacherous and fickle as the sea on which they sailed. Damned gods-above knew how many had attempted to rob her and had been counter-robbed in the process or how many nobles had paid her to toss unruly sailors into this very harbour. Still, she knew not to provoke the seafarers and so she patted her axes to make sure she still had them, and then dropped her hand to her side again as she stepped onto the ship. She recognised the Captain and he seemed to recognise her and, even though he was engaged in some no-doubt frivolous conversation with a blonde strumpet, gave her a knowing nod that was sea captain speak for 'Yes I saw you board my ship and yes, I am okay with it.' Frygga responded with her own nod that was Frygga for 'Thanks.' and dragged herself like a wounded wolf below decks to find a bunk to hunker down in.

The bunk she settled on was a corner bunk, chosen because for one, it had no items scattered around it, which suggested it was free and two, it was a corner bunk, which meant it was harder for anyone who wished to run her through to sneak up on her while she was sleeping. Not that she suspected anyone would want to do that to her here, but well, old habits.

Frygga lodged her glaive between the roof, the wall, and the floor so it wouldn't fly off and hack an arm off while the ship rocked back and forth and clambered into her hammock. She nodded at a passing sailor and removed an axe from her belt and began to dig under the nail of her finger for dirt with the blade. Her stomach growled and Frygga growled back. She really just wanted to slowly drift into sleep, rocked gently by the ship, but alas, it appeared her stomach would not permit it. She slung her axe back into her belt and swung her legs onto the deck. Rubbing the bridge of her nose in annoyance, the Nord stood up and set out to find the galley. She swayed slightly and took a deep breath in response. Nords were natural sailors of course, so it wouldn’t take her long to find her sea legs. The swaying wasn’t from the ship alone. Frygga started thudding down the cramped quarters, intent on interrogating the first sailor she encountered about the location of food on this creaking tub.

The first unfortunate soul was sleeping soundly and snoring unsoundly in a hammock a few rows down. Frygga knelt over him, and narrowed her gaze, focusing hard on his face, as if through sheer will she could wake him. No, but she was merely steadying her mind and her body. Instead she shook the man violently, speaking to him in an angry hiss that she used to wake up comrades when they were being attacked during the night. It spoke of imminent danger and a need to pay attention immediately. The poor sailor woke right up and his hand fumbled for his boots, but Frygga just barked harsh laughter and spoke in what passed as a normal tone of voice for her. "The Galley, man. Which way?" The bewildered seaman grumbled a curse under his breath and pointed before flopping back down. Frygga laughed another bolt of laughter and resumed her thudding down the corridor towards the galley.

The ship's galley seemed empty save for the presumed cook, a young boy, not yet fit to be called a man. But he did have the look of a Nord, which raised Frygga's opinion of him slightly. "Speak pup, are you the cook?" She thundered, already ransacking a cupboard for anything vaguely edible. The Nordic woman did not wait for an answer and was already eating a hunk of bread, ignoring anything the boy was saying. Despite her nonchalance, she clapped the boy on the back jovially with one hand, the other still holding the chunk of half-eaten bread. "Thanks, pup." Frygga stated as she allowed herself to crash back into one of the galley chairs, nearly instantly falling asleep.