I have a concept in mind though am curious on if there's any limitations regarding exactly how long someone has been in the caravan, as well on magic in general. Basic idea to boil down a lot of nuance and such is mysterious elven woman who has been around for a while and while she's quite the potent mage she specializes in "realm-walking". Basically creating portals between two fixed points that her kind are able to travel through. She has gone a little mad from the Astral though, and is not at all a combat character.
Mind, I'm on phone so it's a little harder for me to explain the concept fully lol.
I've got a tentative interest and a concept in play of sorts, though am wondering personally on the flexibility of the magic as described, if there's room for really expanding how each of these "domains" is used and such, as well as the possibility of other domains.
Also Elves. Considering my character concept at the moment is an elf, that one is a little more critical lmao.
Age: 16 Height: 5'3" Home: Dublin, Ohio United States Quirk: Perfect Recall
At first believed to be a late-bloomer or perhaps not aware of her own quirk, Julia's ability manifested in an unexpected way that led to a greater understanding of the way in which quirks often mix and merge together between families. Primarily driven off her father's Zoom and her mother's Introspection quirks, what has resulted is a mutation that allows Julia to theoretically permanently retain memories in both her mind and body. She can remember everything from the day she turned four, in intricate detail to the point of remembering scents and sensations of that particular moment. But that's not the primary ability of her quirk or the most useful by far, even if the potential for it is great. Where Julia has made maximum use of this quirk is in her physical ability, as it also affects her muscle memory. Every motion of her body, every slight adjustment of strength and agility, and every learned move she is able to recreate at a whim. This has resulted in a large number of mastered martial arts forms and a much more toned and fit body than even the most athletic people of her age.
Quirk Type:
Mutant/Accumulation
Quirk Weakness:
There are, of course, the very obvious weaknesses of a quirk such as this. Primarily and most obviously is that she can't recreate what she hasn't done before. She can make the attempts over and over again to execute a specific move, but if she hasn't done it then her quirk won't let her recreate it. So just because she may be a black belt in Krav Maga or a white belt in Pencak Silat, doesn't mean she can perform moves from Tai Chi. Then there is a more present downside in that while in a world of quirkless, Julia would potentially be quite potent and incredibly skilled… Her quirk tends to fall short when compared to people with laser eyes, gigantification or the ability to freeze others solid just for being a simp. It is a very subtle quirk that requires an intelligent application of force, and well… Julia can really only do the latter part of that at the moment. But there is also another downside which her mother has been documenting slowly over the course of her life, in that there is the theory that her quirk is more taxing on her body and brain than she may otherwise be aware, and that it may have been holding her back through much of her childhood. It's a theory, but considering Julia isn't exactly the brightest…
Strengths:
- Combat - Athletics - Friends :> - Loyalty - MOTIVATION - Quick decision making ability - Any problem that can be solved by punching
Weaknesses:
- Critical thinking, or thinking at all - Laser eyes probably - Stealth or subtlety of any kind - Any problem that can't be solved by punching - She wakes up every day and chooses violence - Prone to misunderstandings - Her name sounds like a Villain name, which it's not
Personality:
Everyone's first friend is Julia, one way or another. That's been her mindset for a while now, seeing everyone around her as a friend either now or later, and approaching everything with enough cheer to make even the preppy girls cringe a bit. Normally that, alongside her being a bit of a fucking weeb, would have put most people off from interacting with her, and initially it very much did. Julia however, lacks in social skills to the point of it looping around and leaving her rather ditzy and cheerful behavior actually kind of charming. It's the vibrant enthusiasm that leaves her to be sure to include literally everyone in group activities whether they like it or not, or the way she goes out of her way to introduce herself to each and every person in class, and of course that violent enthusiasm for friendship. With Julia there's a pretty high chance of beginning a long and eventful friendship with either a crushing handshake, a punch in the face or a random hug. She's still working on that last one though, since not everyone appreciates a random hug. Especially strangers, oddly enough.
Background:
For all that Julia is, that vibrancy and carefree nature that seems to infect those around her, it can often be easy to forget that her name is one very familiar to the world and a driving force behind many sectors. Falkenrath is an inheritance that she knows intimately for at the very least a drive through any major city will see the name across the top of buildings for one of the many subsidiaries, and a good third of modern heroes utilize support items from her family's company. Their meteoric rise coincided with much of her early childhood and just before, where her mother Clarissa Jahagirdar joined her biotech firm with then Falkenrath Industrial and met her father Isaac Falkenrath, the prodigal son as it were of Siegfried Falkenrath who brought about a new era of hero suit design. Within a few years they had formed the backbone of Falkenrath Group and the dozen companies under it, blossoming into a powerhouse of science and technology as well as a relationship between the two young pioneers.
And sixteen years ago as their names were on the lips of every major official from LA to Moscow, Julia was born between them and stood to inherit more than just the company. From an early age, almost as soon as she let out her first breath, she was put forward as the future of Falkenrath. Her mother wrote almost a hundred pages on the biology behind quirks and how they are inherited from one generation to the next, as well as factors such as potential intelligence, strength, natural beauty and so on. On the other hand, her father really just wanted her to be happy, and as the young heiress grew up it soon became clear who would win out on that debate. Because as she entered into school and started to establish herself more and more, her parents came to one stunning conclusion. Julia was dumb as shit. She had a pretty good memory for her age as she passed that threshold for displaying her quirk, and that was about all that seemed remarkable.
Well, at least until she was in elementary and discovered bullying. Being just a smol and not really caring much about other people's opinions even then, Julia had a love for anime and everything associated with it. So there she was at the age of 10 and just vibing with the loose-fitting t-shirt of G Gundam that she still loves, and someone decided to inform her that her opinion on anime was wrong in the way kids do. This was the moment where her mindset on things changed just ever so slightly, as even then she had a bit of a stubborn streak to her, and all she thought about was getting even. Cue the long conversation between her father and a ten year old with only one thing on her mind, and eventually as usual the adult gave in. Only problem was that her father wasn't exactly experienced with these things and her mother had insisted that calling the school and making a scene about it would only make everything significantly worse. That and just picking up and moving wouldn't solve anything either, so he did what any dad would do and reached out for a self-defense instructor.
And that's how after a month of training Julia ended up putting her instructor on the mat with only having done the moves once, showing for the first time her quirk in action. And that's also how after her father made the mistake of getting an instructor in Pencak Silat of all things, Julia was suspended from school for three months for putting a kid in the hospital with six broken bones.
So anyways, six years later and she's become a bit of a significant emotional event, going so far as to win a recommendation to a hero school of her choice through her middle-schools athletics programs. All of them. Not satisfied with just the regular track and cross-country, she competed in as many as she physically could and still have time for study, which was the only thing that kept her from failing her classes. As it turns out, when the entire curriculum is based around memorization, someone with perfect memory would find it very hard to fail even while being dumb as a box of rocks, which served as a point of frustration for more than just her mother for once. Though there was that bit of pride of sorts in seeing her daughter literally punch her way to a scholarship to any school of her choosing. And since she had somehow managed to pick up German from her father, Hindi from her mother, Japanese from anime and a couple other languages she could literally go anywhere.
But for Julia there was the one school above all others that had the hearts and minds of potential heroes everywhere. UA. Known to be the foremost in hero academies across the world and where some of the best came from, it was where someone went if they wanted to go pro, and for most graduates it was a guarantee. It was also the one place more than any other that could actually help her realize her quirk into something more than just something that made it convenient to memorize things. And when your classmates are looking to become heroes with things like laser eyes, lightning feet and all those other flashy powers, even someone as cheerful as Julia can sometimes feel just a little less than her friends.
How did you get into UA:
Recommendation
What was a fateful moment in the recommendation:
As it turns out, even when being recommended by her family's company Falkenrath Group, and having a scholarship from the US for punching real good, there are still a few things to sort out before just walking into class and calling it a day. First obstacle was to even get there, and right there on the day of the recommendation exams Julia managed to make it just in time with a late flight across the world. One task completed, then came the moment of dread. The Written Exam. Part of it was easy enough and she breezed through the first half since it was all things she could remember from school and watching various docu-dramas about heroes. The second part though… Well, to say she very nearly failed would be an understatement. There were a few concerned looks among the teachers reviewing her "Critical Thinking" section, noting how most of the problems just had a scribbled "Fuck them up!" as the answer. Even the hostage situations.
So with it pretty clear she wasn't exactly going to be a rescuer, they sent her ahead to the practical anyways where she met the third hurdle. The other students. One of them seemed very familiar to her somehow, like maybe it was at some convention or another, or maybe online, but she looked familiar. Mira as she was introduced, seemed to be nice enough, and well it's nigh impossible to get on Julia's bad side, so a friendship of sorts was started just before the shot that announced the beginning of the 6km footrace. When compared to some of the other quirks on display at first she felt a little disadvantaged and that she wasn't going to make it, but steadily she pressed on until her impressive stamina kept her consistent enough to gain some score back from the written exam. It was all in good fun for her, barely breaking a sweat as she laughed at the finish line and chatted with the other students, her easy-going nature already forgetting they had just been competing against each other for what had been explained as limited spots.
There was that small matter of the interview though, and as she talked with the resident guest-teacher Matsumoto Kiryu, it seemed as if she may not get that spot until asked why it was that she wanted to be a hero.
"I don't have much, no ability to fly or breathe fire, or even super strength, but I still want to help with everything I have."
And then the UA examiners had them spar, where she showed how she knew eight different martial arts and had to explain to Kiryu how the white belt was actually the highest rank in Pencak Silat while helping him up to a bit of mutual laughter.
Thought about fiddling with the formatting a bit more, but honestly it's been long enough so I decided to just send it. So here we go.
@Sir Lurksalot@Athol@Cuddles 1438 You are good to post when ready as ready, there is no post order until the Emperor arrives, so have at it. Can either lead in with a brief recall on the bar fight or just keep it to the cell, that's a decision for each of you.
@josephb@Krash And One more that I need to ping on the discord itself, but for you guys and anyone looking in either working on a CS or thinking of joining, until the Emperor arrives the party is still open for putting new faces in the cell. Only after the Emperor comes in and we start getting underway will the party be locked.
Dawn. A new day arose over the City of a Thousand Cults, home to well over a million souls and a god for every corner. It was where people came to make or lose their fortunes, to witness the beating heart of Tamriel and for many to become all that closer to the empire that binds it all together. Thousands come and go through the many gates of the city every day, so many that they have not shut in decades, not since the conclusion of the Simulacrum and when the Arena saw peace. Among those many who were waking to this new day and looking towards their own future was a man who also came from nothing, with only this ancient city's promises to act upon. The name Eldamil once could have been just a passing mention back home in the Summerset Isles. Perhaps he could have been a notable mage? Maybe a magistrate? He might have even found a trade and founded an empire of his own, but none of those things were enough for a boy with ideals. The Thalmor had been an ever evolving issue back home, lurking in the shadows and espousing their doctrine of Elven supremacy, and somehow the Empire seemed unconcerned.
For him though, it showed that there was something wrong with Tamriel, with this mundus. The Arena saw untold bloodshed spilling all across the provinces with grudges ancient and new forming the basis for wars, and the mortal realm shaking with the footsteps of Walkbrass. He had been there in Wayrest when the dragon broke, his mind fracturing as he had suddenly shifted from one life to another and another and another within those two days. Mortals had once more meddled with forces beyond their control and caused unending suffering to the entire realm, though they celebrated it in the aftermath with the so-called Miracle of Peace. He knew the truth though, and as he struggled to come to terms with it, that was when he first found that way of change he had been yearning for. A way to truly bring peace to the Mundus, to unite the realm in perpetual paradise and break the shackles that had so long bound them.
An end to mortality, to suffering, to disease, to petty conflicts and all other troubles of this imperfect realm. All that was needed was to usher in that new dawn, a hearkening towards the era when all was mutable and the chaos was a gift stolen away from man and mer alike. A gift that could be given once more, if but those wrongs were undone and Tamriel was made what it had always been meant to be. Under those ideals he had joined hands with other faithful, his purpose renewed, his idealism invigorated and a new goal in mind. The years passed and he proved himself useful time and time again to those of the order, working his way up and forward until the day came that he had been named a magistrate within the Imperial City itself. His duties had been simple but there was a purpose to them, and as days turned to weeks and months he slowly continued to move and advance until the time came for his true purpose to be fulfilled.
That day was this one, the 27th of Last Seed, in the year 433. His day began like all others, slowly contemplating the events on his schedule in the Imperial Palace and waiting for the Blade that would escort him until retiring for the night. Today was a momentous one for many reasons though, for one the engagement ball for Geldall Septim and his love Tamrialle, as well as the festivities being held across the Imperial City in celebration. The Arena District's exhibition match came to mind, where the Gray Prince would face one of the Companions of Skyrim, but his thoughts drifted slowly elsewhere as he turned another page in the book given to him by a man of ambition like himself. It told of all the ways this mundus was broken and twisted and how to bring about a new dawn, and he prided himself that despite the bloodshed that would take place on this day, he would be assisting in that great feat. But that was for later, for now he still had to wear the mask of a loyal servant of the Empire, and his Blade escort had knocked upon the door. So distracted was he by the day's events that he forgot something rather critical, stopping just outside as he noticed one of the palace servants working their way through the hall.
"Mr. Thraigyr, if you would be so kind as to lock up my study when you are done."
And that was that, Eldamil went off about his way towards the Elder Council chambers, unaware of the events he had just set in motion. Hours passed as morning gave way to day, and the sun sat high above. The time of the ball was soon and his own part to play was coming to bear. All he had to do was to excuse himself from the council meeting, something easily done as most had been invited to wish Geldall well this evening. Step by step he made his way back to his quarters in the upper palace, where all was just as he expected, the study locked and everything tidied up. It was a shame that he would not be able to return here after tonight, but small sacrifices for the salvation of Nirn. There was but one small problem that lay unnoticed as he gathered up the crimson robes from his wardrobe. A book was missing from his table that had been there when he left this morning, one that had not gone unnoticed by the humble servant, and had been dutifully reported to the Blades.
The Blades who just so happened to understand that warning for what it was and already were moving to desperately try and counter what he had set in motion. For some it was far too late, as conjured blades flashed in the dark across Tamriel seeking the hearts and throats of those Septims too far from the Imperial City and the watchful eyes of their guards. Geldall himself had received the warning too late, gasping on a mixture of wine and blood as his beloved cackled at the center of the ballroom only to be cut down herself in a storm of swords from the attending Blades. A dozen other members of the Imperial Family found the sharp end of a dagger within the chaos of the ball, though most managed to stumble their way from the fray and the battle of the Palace began as Legionnaires began fighting their own for the traitors hidden within their midst, and the Blades fell upon any who dared not sheathe their own in their presence.
Eldamil made his way through the tower as the flames lit the night sky in the Arena District, not knowing that the Gray Prince had been struck by debris from angry fans and the tensions of the fight had boiled over within the hour to escalate from a bar brawl to a full-on riot. Shouting from the city signaled the march of the Legions upon her own citizens, isolated squads forming shield walls and carving crescents of blood before them just to survive the onslaught. And there in the center of it forgotten by all, brothers Septim with their throats opened and left in the Arena stands.
All of that left just his task and that of another of their order. His comrade was already stalking the city for the most important duty, and he had just to find and deal with the grand-daughters of the Emperor within this very palace, who grew closer with every moment. All around him the halls were filled with rushing palace guards trying to make some sense of the chaos and the orders to shelter in place to lesser magistrates and the panicking servants. For him though they parted, and all he had to do was make his intention clear to them and soon an escort of two guards saw him speeding through all the way to the chambers of the Imperial Family. Now it was just through this door and… Immediately he noticed something was off, as both Juliana and Alexandria Septim stood before him, the younger seeming disappointed and hurt, the older enraged and hand upon the sword at her hip.
That was not what concerned him the most though, that was the coppery taste in his mouth, the strange sensation of tension in his chest that only became clear when he looked down. A longsword had seemed to sprout from his heart, steel reddened and fabric clinging to the worked blade. This… This wasn't right. And that was when he realized the mistake. He had left his robes within his wardrobe, which while suspicious in and of itself, there was that book written by the hand of a man whose name portended disaster in his wake. He couldn't even mouth the words as Baurus withdrew the sword from his chest, leaving him to slowly fade from this world and into Paradise where his master Mankar Camaron awaited… Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.
The battered guards took what time they had to catch their breath, each of them having taken abuse from not just the patrons of Daggerfall Dan's, but also the countless civilians rioting in the city. Everything had seemed to collapse all at once, a lit match tossed into a tinderbox for all they knew. The true scope of the night's events were of course lost on them in the mad rush out of the Arena district with those they had barely managed to escort from the riots. There was a sense of relief for only a moment as they took the time to recover, several of them bruised and cut from debris and improvised weapons, another with his finger still stitching back to his hand and not letting any of the others forget how he had almost lost it. Each time his grumbling was heard there was of course the chorus of chiding back on how foolish it was to stick his finger in an orc's mouth.
Down below and where the voices of the guards were just fair mumbling at the top of the lit stairwell, a rather impromptu party sat in just the same state as those above. One just barely a man, sporting a rather impressive mark across his face where it looked every bit like he had struck the pavers or something just as unyielding. Another fairly pickled mage who seemed too drunk to be aware of how roughly the guards had dragged him into the cell, and beside him a battered and bruised redguard who seemed rather pleased with himself despite the beating. A pair of half-orcs sat at the back of the cell, siblings by the look of them with their ruddy almost verdigris colored skin, the male sighing as he tried to calm down his sister, who had been shackled to the wall and muzzled for her actions earlier. Most of the group kept their distance from her, knowing her to be the one to have started the entire ordeal in the bar, though equally they kept from the Argonian in the room, who seemed eerily at peace with everything that had transpired.
But of course it wasn't just their cell that had been crowded, as guards came down in groups filling each of the others except the one directly across from them, the smug face of a Dunmer taking turns mocking the guards and dodging the mace blows against the door. This was where it would all begin in truth, the bar simply a prelude to a life-changing experience…
Alright folks, I've added Khaliya to the character tab and soon enough we're going to have the IC post up. Once the post is up everyone will be free to post from there, preferably with at least a mention of what they were doing in Daggerfall Dan's before everything went tits up as the saying goes.
Just for anyone not in the discord and still working on a character, which honestly should come in and have a chat with us lol, but I'll be pushing us out by another week so that I can have the IC start in a better position and offer some more time to anyone that wants to start in the actual cell. We're going to be a bit limited on random NPCs at the start, so it will be just those ready to go by the time things get rolling.
Not to say that no one can join in after we get started, but we'll have to work you in with alternative entrances.
Wrapped in layers of masks and deceit, what may appear at first to be a noble lady of Rihad like her namesake with her rosy, almost light tones to her tanned and smooth skin, there is far more to her than at that first glance. It starts with the way she bears herself, just ever so distinctly aloof and with a subtle difference to those of the shaded cities. Every step is with a purpose, and a skilled eye can easily tell that it's not because she feels herself to own the very ground she walks upon, but that her mind is focused and determined. It comes with the sudden tensing of muscle that hadn't been obvious before, a woman who seemed rather soft and pampered suddenly revealing a life of hardship with the first tell of danger. With her heritage as a nomad of an Alik'ri tribe, all of this comes rather easily to Khaliya though, who bears the scars of that life plainly beneath soft silks, rough traveling leathers and ever so rarely the pale light of the moons. Small pink tears dot her sides and back where arrows or fangs broke skin, a few savage gashes ever so distinctly forming the shape of a large creature's maw framing her body showing where death nearly took her, and the calluses on her hands and feet tell the story of a young woman who did not have that easy life. But dark flowing ink also shows where she not only survived these encounters, but surpassed them and learned from them to better herself. In the twists and turns of the flowing Yokudan style, her accomplishments are there to be read by any fluent enough in the forgotten language, most prominent of which is the wyrm coiling around her arms up to her shoulders and neck to depict the greater duneripper that nearly took her life. But for all the hidden meanings and openly obvious signs of who and what she is, there is perhaps the most obvious. Despite how often she finds herself in combat or pretending to be someone she's not, there is always that rather girlish pixie-cut style she wears her white-blonde hair in, two long tails of hair banded with small Yokudan charms. And then there is that eerie silver tint to storm-gray eyes that shows her mixed heritage, a woman of many different worlds doing her best to blend in.
Personality
Tempered by a childhood living along the dunes of the Alik'r desert and the few years since leaving those familiar sands for the varied provinces of the Empire, Khaliya can be a woman hard to read at times, and quite straight forward at others. There is a genuineness to her willingness to help at a moment's notice, where she makes herself available to those in need to help guide them through whatever troubles they may have come into. Yet there is also that subtle ulterior motive as she learned while traveling with her people, in that it can always be easier to gain a read on someone when their own guard has come down. It is a subtle cunning in a way that is just barely visible in her eyes as she carefully watches her surroundings, constantly aware of herself as others view her, and the ever evolving way a person can be around others. To that end, who she really is, the quietly energetic and upbeat young woman looking towards an adventure around every corner, can often be masked by the practicality of wearing another face for the sake of learning more. But despite the cloak and dagger routine of her life's task, she still has a good heart and still seeks the best of others. That is because ultimately, she wants only to leave the world a better place than it was when she came to know it, just as her Yokudan ancestors taught.
Skills
Bladed Weapons
Borne of a life among the sands with her nomadic tribe, Khaliya was taught from an early age to familiarize herself with a sword and other manner of weapons to protect the tribe and hunt for it. While her skill with a bow leaves much to be desired, she took up enthusiasm for the sword and over years has become adept enough with it to have been named one of the foremost experts among her people. This was accelerated by her study of the Book of Circles and varied Yokudan legends until she was regarded as the first true Ansei in centuries. Truly Khaliya may have many skills and passions, but it is with a sword that she will always excel.
Armor Training
Almost as a matter of course, with a nomadic life there comes the need to be able to protect one's self with more than just a sword. Even the most skilled swordsman can still be taken out with an arrow to an uncovered head, and the sands of the Alik'r can be all the more deadly for those without the knowledge of how to dress for them while still maintaining protection. Primary for Khaliya and others in the tribe is learning how to dress for the heat of the day and the cold of the night, as well as how to fully utilize the bare minimum for protection against blades, arrows and worse. So it is that she's able to work folds of cloth mid-combat to snare blades when up close, using the cutting power against her opponent or reflexively bunching material up to soften concussive blows. But while she is adept in unarmored combat, she has also adapted quite well to lighter armors such as leather, cloth and even Altmeri/glass. Anything heavier would have been a detriment to someone of her size while traveling, so she remains unskilled in such things.
Escape Artist
Alongside the traditions of her people in song, dance and of course the martial arts of ancient Yokuda, there has also been another aspect of living the life of Alik'ri nomads. Because of how her people are regarded by most Redguards, Khaliya herself has learned the valued skill of masking who she is and wearing another persona like anyone else wears clothes. Names are like masks with histories draped over them, and the right name, the right mannerisms, the right way of speaking can get someone anywhere they want. It's become second nature to adapt to those around her to the point that she can even vanish in broad daylight, simply fading back into a crowd as if she was just another passerby. She also has a remarkable ability to find the quickest exit from a situation, both metaphorically and quite literally.
Infiltrator/Light Fingers
While not endorsed whatsoever by her father or her tribe, Khaliya did manage to pick up a few tricks from some rather unsavory contacts while among the cities of Hammerfell. It became first a game to play with the local Thieves Guild representatives as they communicated what information they had with the elders, and slowly she learned the makings of a good mark, how to read people and their potential wealth, as well as how to make it hers. It came with the ability to casually put her fingers in places they were certainly not welcome all the while with her mark right there oblivious until long after she had left. Her deftness also made her ideally suited for lockpicking, able to intuitively feel out the motions of the tumblers as they fall into place one by one. Of course it's not all picking pockets, locks and dealing in the shadows, as these primary skills in determining who to pick has made her ability to blend into crowds and social strata all the more potent.
Alchemy
While not particularly her forte, there is a degree of understanding of native flora and how best to use them, due in part from a life among the harsh sands of the Alik'r and the desolate eastern reaches of Hammerfell. Her mother also played a large part in teaching her what heals and what harms, focusing primarily on restorative medicine with limited resources.
Magic
Shehai- Second Class Ansei
Where the first spark came from can be argued as to whether it was her Yokudan heritage that she just so happened to inherit this gift, or the long study of the myths and realities of the Sword-Singers, or perhaps more practically when she first properly manifested the blade of light-made-steel. It is regardless, a gift that has not been seen for centuries, perhaps even thousands of years despite being what allowed those first Yokudans to settle Hammerfell and eventually become Redguards. Whether she goes by Ansei, Sword-Singer or even the more esoteric Sword-Saint, the truth of the matter is the same in that she has manifested the gift of the Shehai. First forged out of the battle of life and death she faced in the sands of the Alik'r, it is a weapon of unparralleled quality and might, and forever within her grasp so long as her will remains unbroken. Exactly what the Shehai is had always been debated fiercely of course, with the Psijic Order calling it a unique and unstudied magic native to Yokuda, implying that it may not be exclusive to them. The Yokudans of the First Era called it a manifestation of will, their warrior spirit in blade form. To Khaliya though, it is her make-way for lack of better words. From either hand she can summon the ethereal blades, the shape shifting depending on what she wills it to in the moment, from the curved scimitars native to her homeland to Legionary gladii and even the jagged edges of Morrowind glass.
Of course it is still no small feat to manifest the Shehai at all, and it is something she is always training in to keep it active for as long as possible. At first she was only able to manifest a single blade and for but a moment, but since her recovery and further practice she has now been able to keep it active for much longer and in both hands, something only rumored of the old Sword-Saints. There is a small matter though in her ascending to Second Rank Ansei, a rite in which she gave up a blade of significant importance to her to go further beyond her limitations. In seeking greater understanding of the Shehai mortal blades now no longer sit comfortably in her hands. Where before she could work a sword as if an extension of herself, it is becoming more and more difficult to hold a sword steady, her hands shaking as if unused to the weight. But for Khaliya it is a minor sacrifice to make when she knows she will always have her Shehai at the ready, and there is still much to learn.
Equipment
Personal Items
Work Clothes - Waitress outfit for Daggerfall Dan's Small leather fold with Imperial papers within identifying her as Khaliya al-Rihad and a handful of septims Caddach's wallet Darmon's coin-purse, minus the septims Brita's coin-purse, also minus the septims Set of keys to Daggerfall Dan's
Lockbox
- None -
Stored Items
Collection of books from home, including the Book of Circles Central Tamriel-geared traveling equipment, including fire-starting utensils, a small cookpot and a single bedroll with weather-proof leather tent. Assorted armor/clothing such as traditional Hammerfell Knight armor, light traveling leathers, a hooded poncho, a light furred coat and a set of priestess of Dibella vestments.
As with many of the Yokudan myths and legends, the woman who would become Ansei did not start out gifted or soft in any way. Her life from birth had been one of the harsh desert sands, born among the nomadic tribes of the Alik'r who for one reason or another rarely visited the shade of the cities. Though in a way her life was a miracle in a way, as it had nearly never happened at all for her tribe's varied conflicts with neighboring provinces and within Hammerfell itself. One of those few who still hold true to the Warrior Wave philosophy, her people have lived a life of hardship for hundreds of years, seeking out any threats to Hammerfell no matter where they may dwell, and destroying them utterly. Whether it be the revered undead or a clan of Orsimer cursed by Malacath with a blood rage. It was the latter that brought her mother to her father, an Altmer woman gifted in restoration and dead set on sharing that gift with any in need of it. Her wanderings had brought her to a clan of Orcs beset by one tragedy after another, and soon she had been wed to the Chief and the thing thought impossible came to their clan. Peace.
But it didn't last long, as their blood boiled from the merest of slights, and eventually one of their clan struck a Redguard merchant down in cold blood, drawing the attention of the Alik'ri tribe. A mission of destruction was undertaken, with the only survivors being the youngest and eldest of Orcs, as well as Terandil of Shimmerene and her two unborn children. Jakir, the chief of the Alik'ri tribe, walked out of the main building of the stronghold a shaken man and gave the order himself, what had transpired between himself and the Orsimer chief remaining secret to this day. Of course, news spread quickly of the razing of the clan's land and soon an army began to draw against the Alik'ri. Little by little they were driven into a pass that was to be their grave until Jakir himself negotiated with the Reachman warleader, and showed that his people had taken in the most vulnerable of the Orcs as well as the Altmer Terandil.
Many tense years passed since that day, and on the eve of the seventh Khaliya was born to Terandil and Jakir, the two having found a love for each other in their time among the sands. Of course her childhood was a rather rough one though, not just for the biting winds of blown sand, or of the merciless sun during the day and the bone-chilling cold of night, but for her older step-siblings Yashar and Roshanara who had been fully adopted by the Alik'r since then. With half-orcs as siblings, she quickly learned to toughen up for the rough-housing of children, and over the years was made all the better for it. While her kin and tribespeople were given towards more martial skills because of their lifestyle, Khaliya found herself gifted in particular with the blade. As others branched and learned more of song, dance, pottery or weaving she did much the same, but always her eye was drawn more and more to the sword.
It was found all the more in the tales of the Ansei and her people's Yokudan history told through the songs of her tribe. Each was a tale of great heroes fighting the demons of their homeland, or fighting to secure a new home which future generations would call Hammerfell. And while most were told their song, dance and copious embellishment, there were a rare few which Khaliya became uniquely suited for. It started as just a whim on a visit to Rihad, she was a fresh teenager and already assisting on the hunts and defense rotas, and her father and uncle had just begun a tale of Frandar Hunding. Normally the tale would be told with a sword-dancer playing out the role of the hero himself as the elders spoke in reverent tones of his many deeds, but for some time her cousin who would have normally performed the role had been working off an injury. So without even asking for permission or waiting for the two to say something against it, she took up the ceremonial swords and simply joined in mid-act.
At first it was simply the usual crowd of spectators, a few elders watching with respect and curious younger passerby who perhaps had not heard the stories told in such a way. Steel caught the light as trailing red cloth painted the strokes of killing blows millenia past, Khaliya putting to work all the practice over the last few years to try and recreate what she had seen. She knew the steps as well as anyone else in the tribe, and she knew the story better than even her father at times, it being a favorite of hers. There was something else about acting it out though. More and more she let the crowd fade and the words guide her hands and feet, until at last she came to a standing rest and felt the heat of dozens of eyes staring at her and the wave of applause. Her performance had drawn quite the crowd with her easy motions, the swords lighter than air in her hands and acting more like an extension of herself than steel and silk. It was certainly a surprise, but she made herself quite scarce after a few stepped forward asking her name, the calls following her family as they headed back to the caravan to count coin and get ready for the night.
But it wouldn't be quite over for her by any means. Over the next few days as they rested and traded within Rihad there came numerous requests both to have another performance with the young sword-dancer and to know her name. Her father was equal parts frustrated and proud, one in having seen his daughter take up an honored role with such excellence, and the other in having to now deal with repeated advances from Hammerfell knights wanting to bring her into their order. Crimson Sands, Opal Watch, Rihadi Wardens, even the Sentinel White-Cloaks, each of them made it a point to try and speak with Khaliya either with or without her father present in order to convince her to give up the nomadic life and become a knight. "One with such skills cannot belong to the sands alone." As they said repeatedly, their goals clear as they sought her only for her skills and the potential glory for their own individual orders. All were of course turned away, and not always by her father. His word was final, but she had found her frustration mounting as the day they would leave Rihad could not come faster.
On the final day her last admirer arrived at the camp, just as they were hitching the camels and packing the last of their goods for the long road. Unlike the varied orders he came not with a grand escort, no banners, no emblems or symbols of office. There was no intent to impress, ingratiate, beg or intimidate for her attention. Instead the aging man presented himself to her and her father as a keeper of the old ways. He was just a man with a book, one that could be of use to a girl with so much potential, as he said of Khaliya. The book itself looked every bit older than the man, wrapped in delicate silks that preserved it from the arid heat and showed that while he himself looked nearly destitute, that it held more wealth than all of Hammerfell to him. It was offered freely with no expectations, the old man merely suggesting that it would be of interest to Khaliya and could help her make her own way some day in the future.
The significance of this gesture wouldn't be understood until far from Rihad, when she unwrapped the silks and stared at the interlocking rings on the cover, Yokudan script showing the title and author as something quite extraordinary. Within her hands was the Book of Circles, and not just some copy done clumsily by Cyrodillic hands or some Scholar who had never held a blade before. It was done in the tradition of the old Ansei, passed from teacher to student with the intent for them to one day write their own. The pages were old and weathered, the ink older than her entire tribe and calling back to another age where their traditions were a way of life to more than just a scant hundred. And there on the first page in the flowing script of a warrior wielding a pen instead of a blade, the name "Frandar Hunding". All of these books were written much the same, the man who had written the first given the honor of the first page of every copy written by every following Sword-Saint. This was to Khaliya, one of the most significant treasures she had ever seen, and her family knew it as well, allowing her the time to study it more than she had ever delved into any book before.
Days turned to weeks on the road, her feet stirring the sands in one rota after the other. Weeks became months, the sword of her father singing along the wind with a fervor of a woman who had realized her life's purpose. Months shifted into years one after the other and Khaliya had read the Book of Circles front to back, practiced every maneuver back to front and almost memorized the sword strokes that were meant for a blade infinitely lighter than the steel she held.
With three, almost four years passing since being gifted the Book of Circles, life had shifted quite drastically for Khaliya. Now sixteen she was leading expeditions across the sands ahead of the tribe, pathfinding for her people to avoid the dangers lurking beneath the dunes. The slightest mistake could lead to the death of dozens, far too many for any tribe, much less one who had made themselves known to seek out and destroy the undead, a taboo among all Redguard. That was why a good eye was often times more valuable than a strong arm, and she had learned all too well the little details that others missed. The way the dunes shift ever so slightly in the distance, ripples across the surface and the occasional breach of stone hinting at the lurking teeth and claws waiting for passing prey. Heat hazes could distort the horizon in more subtle ways, making one think an oasis was far closer than reality, if it was even there to begin with. Of course the haze was the lesser effect of such punishing heat, and she knew that spending too much time on the sands was lethal even under the shade of the main caravan.
So she learned to read the sands, to listen to and feel the winds, taking in all the signs that a skilled navigator could use to find their way to the sea. Yet it was on a day when she was relied upon most that she would be challenged by her greatest foe. Her brother Yashar had been spending the last couple years with her uncle along the northern shores, and Roshanara primarily stuck with their mother and the main caravan in case some danger bypassed the sentries. On this day she was out ahead with a dozen men walking the sands, feeling out a safe route towards Sentinel and avoiding the fringes of Craglorn. The sands had been whipped into a frenzy by westerly winds heated by the sun and driving the dune rippers into a maddened hunger. Each of the western sentry groups had encountered lesser rippers that would have normally never attacked a group like that, and the tribe as a whole knew that soon there would need to be a decision made. Either press on towards Sentinel regardless of the rippers and the approaching sandstorm, or break east and enter Sunforge. The latter had been regarded as a non-starter for years, ever since the conflict at the pass had nearly destroyed their tribe in Craglorn, they had kept their distance from the region and the many Orsimer strongholds that retained a grudge.
Sentinel though… Yashar was likely to be there, but the most pressing issue was that it was still more than three days of hard travel even if the camels were pressed without rest. All that could be done was to continue on with caution, to keep both options open until the very last moment. That was as her father had taught her, to never close a door until sure that it held no benefit. Pressing forward through the gusting winds and darkening skies there was the ever present looming danger of what may lie beneath, Khaliya herself on point and cresting each dune carefully. Little by little they made their way, glancing between the skies above, to the west and east, and in the far distance the banners of their tribe showing them on their way. That was a distraction though and she knew it. The tribe would be fine as long as they focused on their duty, to keep any dangers from the main caravan. Just one last dune before they would enter into the hinterlands where the sand would start to shift to rock and dirt. The wind shifted the sands around this one as it crested high into the horizon, looming like a barrier in their journey and curling towards them as a break against sea-borne winds. Though the closer her party got to the dune the more something seemed off. It was as if the dune had not formed over eons of gentle desert winds but… Too late they realized the danger they had come upon, one that they were trying to deliberately steer the caravan away from. Without hesitation Khaliya ordered a runner back to divert the tribe east and closer to the border to Sunforge. All she and her scouts needed to do was carefully maneuver themselves around the dune and leave marks for those to follow. But as they closed in and began to skirt around, the sands shifted. Great spires of hardened carapace erupted from the peaks of the dune, pitted and scored by years of desert life. A rumbling came from beneath them, disturbing the sands under their feet as the shape of the dune writhed back and forth lazily, and for a fraction of a moment in the darkening twilight of the impending sandstorm, they saw it.
Murderous intent gleaming behind eyes that had seen many tribes such as hers come and go, the shifting of sands across eras and the death of empires. It was a creature as old as the sands themselves and one of the most feared beings in all the Alik'r. To the Forebears within their safe cities and the Imperial travelers, it was just myth and legend, some creature from the Merethic that had long since passed. For her and the other Alik'ri tribes though, they knew it as the Greater Duneripper. A duneripper that had survived through its adulthood to become an elder and like all of their kind, old age was barely an inconvenience. All Khaliya remembered of what was to follow was a whisper under the howling sands as the creature slowly dove into the earth, meter after meter of ancient terror…
Dunefather. It would be several weeks later that Khaliya would find herself in Sentinel, her mother resting beside the bed she lay in and a dull pain all over her body that told her that she had been through something rather significant. Fresh scars lay under the bandages wrapping her entire torso and lower body, flashes of that encounter in the sands and a bright spear of light erupting from her hands in a moment of stress. Her family would take the next few days between her resting to fill her in on what had happened. During the sandstorm that had engulfed the tribe's caravan and the scouting parties, her own had encountered a greater duneripper of significant size, one believed to be the Dunefather himself. That was something of debate among the tribe though, but they knew it to be a rather significant threat and six of their people were dead with several others wounded just as Khaliya had been. What was of particular note though was not their harrowing encounter with the Duneripper or the hastened march towards Sentinel, but in how it had been fended off and sent back into the sands. The survivors of her party spoke of how one by one each of them had been pulled beneath the sand screaming, only blood and cloth remaining as they were picked off. Suddenly Khaliya had been dragged down next, and the duneripper crested from the surface with her clinging on as best she could, sword simply slipping off the carapace of the beast. Everyone had thought her lost as she disappeared into its maw, only for a moment later to hear her voice knowing it to be one of anguish, and instead a blade made of pure starlight erupting from the top of the duneripper's skull and swinging outward. That had been enough for it to drop the wounded woman back onto the sands and retreat, not willing to continue that fight.
Luckily for her the main caravan had hastened to catch up once the sandstorm hit, and that had been when her mother saw the bloodied sands and her daughter barely clinging to life. From there they had set a maddened pace all the way to Sentinel, their rush nearly finding the city guard upon them if it weren't for Yashar there to vouch for them and the state of many of their scouts. But it was all past now, and all she had to do was look towards the future, one that seemed a little strange especially for she remembered little of the event. One visitor in particular though provided some insights, the same elder who had given her the Book of Circles now came to her as she recovered from her ordeal, and just as before he came with a gift free of expectations and once more, he gave her a choice. He sat beside her bed and offered the stories of old Yokuda and the Warrior Waves, some of which she knew already but not in the same ways. There were the same figures of old, the same heroic deeds, but this time a sudden clarity on those myths. Ansei they were called, a word whose meaning had been lost over the eras and merely relegated to the ancient heroes. Gone had been the truth of it, and the myths of warriors of peerless skill losing the why and how. To be an Ansei was to be a Sword-Singer of pre-eminent skill, a holder of the Shehai and one of unshakeable will and righteousness.
And what the Shehai was, it was something she had awakened within herself. The sons and daughters of Yokuda all held this gift within themselves, as the elder told her, but some were more capable of reaching for it than others, and of them there were further separations still. As he taught her of this ancient art, he told her of how she had taken the first step. Through a moment of extreme stress and a display of incredible willpower, she had refused to accept her death and chose to make-way in whatever manner she could. That was when the Shehai erupted from her hands in a display of starlight-made-steel. Try as she might though, she couldn't replicate the same blade she had awoken, only vague shapes clinging to her palms. Even that was remarkable, as all who witnessed it seemed to find their faith in Hoonding there before her, but she would need to steel herself in order to surpass this, and that was a final gift given without expectation.
Three weeks after her awakening of sorts, she embraced her mother and father for what may be the last time, having settled on what she must do with her life. The book had shown her another way of life, anchored her passions into something real. The duneripper had challenged her and through force of will she had not been found wanting. The elder had given her a light along the path before her and signposts pointing the way. With those three she was for the first time filled with determination, something her father Jakir would not stand in the way of, and her mother Terandil would see to it that at least she would have someone to rely upon along the way. Though their hearts ached for it, she was given her father's sword once more, even knowing what must be done with it, and her elder brother and sister would accompany her to provide some much needed assistance when needed, but to also ensure she would never be without a friend. Then with all said and done, she set out for that first step on the road to becoming a true Sword-Saint. It was a simple matter on the surface, to give up her most prized possession to Hoonding and offer it as a blade for those in need. Yet one never does give up their father's sword with ease…
That was two years ago and since then Khaliya has been steadily advancing towards a dream she never knew. The Shehai comes to her hands when called, a blade shimmering and sharper than any she had ever known or ever will know, so long as her will is focused. What lies ahead she can't possibly guess, though at the moment with her pockets filled with other people's wallets and sitting in the Imperial Prison, things seem to be a bit dark. At the very least the guards don't seem keen to keep them all there, having turned from gathering those beside her as potential belligerents in the bar-brawl turned riot, to escorting them to safety and keeping them away from the Imperial City proper. The City of a Thousand Cults and it seemed they found the one day where it was most inconvenient to visit…
Lunamaria Hawke
Andre Valias
FourtyTwo
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vietmyke
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