ApocalypticaGM

Apocalyptica

Alright, so that's three of us with characters in Chico, two in Mackinac, and Firecracker, have you already posted a CS from before into the OOC? I noticed it's not in the OP, but I could have missed it as you've popped in and out. Just shoot up a journal-entry version of your old one and I'll add you in. As a note to everyone, I think we should avoid entering completely collaborated posts for a tick. We've gone down in numbers and in activity, and I think our constant collaborations have slowed us down. They're a wonderful tool that I support, but perhaps we should do our best to use them more effectively and more quickly. I know we lose some people when it takes too long to get into the meat of the RP and their inspiration whither. So let's deter that by getting an active posting routine back up. Sound good?

I'd say starting from here, let's all do our damnedest to get at least 1 post per week. Further, let's try to get chatty in the OOC. I know we communicate via PM, but frankly, we need the activity in here. Collaborate as needed, but please, if you notice a few days going by because a partner has other things going on, maybe figure out a way to work around that with them. Solid?

RPGN 4.25.14

Sherlock Holmes said
Nice interview with Brand.As a side note -- I am planning to bring back the Irregulars group once I'm settled with my move. (Things have just been too hectic to give it all the attention it would need, so I didn't want to start anything until I was sure I'd have adequate time to devote to it again.) It was nice to have a place where the artists of the site could get together, help each other improve, and offer support for those times where you're just in an artistic slump and need a little encouragement. I imagine it'll be back in time for the summer holidays, but I have no definite dates yet.

Glad you enjoyed it! Brand and I had been talking about this quite a bit and it seemed like an important conversation for the Guild. With the number of artists popping up in the Gallery and not receiving any attention, not to mention the names I remember from the Irregulars that have since stopped posting their work here, I thought it'd be good to bring that to light. Be sure to drop the RPGN a line when you do get the group started again and I'm sure we could help get the word out.

Those that Remain - Post-Apocalyptic Earth Invaded (Community Revived)

Pretty similar to before. Guamá and the Arawakan would serve to redefine this whole 'barbaric' and 'uncivilized' jazz by representing a tribal people less 'manifest destiny'-savage. I think it's important to recognize some people will just want blood, civil or otherwise.

Guamá

Name: Guamá Heylel

Age: 24

Appearance: Guamá stands an average height with relation to his father's tribe, though he is worrisomely slender. Hollow cheeks with high, defined bones give him a lengthy, gaunt -- eerie to some-- appearance. His skin is tan with a warm, earthy hue. While his walk and speech are in line with the 'civilized' United Trade Federation, his mannerisms are clearly more emotive, underscored by his thin limbs.

Skills/Abilities:

- Cultural Awareness: Guamá uses his own mixed heritage as a springboard. He listens to the traditions and stories of other peoples, noting how the customs relate and differ.

- Velvet Tongue: Words can enliven, imprison, enrage, and endanger. Guamá uses speech as his first weapon and defence, more apt to play on what he observes in another than to tempt fate in combat.

- Body Conscious: The world is often harsh and unpredictable, so Guamá keeps his connection to it honed. He sees his body as his vehicle. A strict diet mixed with yoga-like exercise has given him a realistic view of his limitations and comfort in his own skin.

- Trained in Leathercraft: Guamá offered his body to the community despite greater strength in the mind. Tanning and leathercraft became his physical contribution to society. The skills he holds today are passed down from his father, allowing him the ability to work leather in civilized or tribal style.

Equipment:

- Crafting Tools: The tools of his trade are essential, as are the basic pieces to keep them operable. He has a set to travel with due to his regular visits into Arawakan territory.
- Ceramic Water Jug: Tall as one and a half lengths of the hand, the jug is wrapped in a thick leather for protection. Guamá uses ceramic in order to allow heating the jug, as advised by his mother when travelling.
- Macana: A common weapon among the Arawakan tribes, Guamá keeps one made of hardened wood with sharpened black stones for the edges. He has fashioned a grip at the end made of leather and maintains his macana with pride.
- Leather Satchel: Food, basic supplies, and items of interest lie in Guamá's satchel. It is the third bag he has made, and each incarnation has adapted to suite his needs. This one is specifically designed to sit close to the body with as much quickly accessible as is reasonably possible.
-Leather Gear: Atop fabric garments, Guamá will wear a poncho made of boiled leather around the shoulders and softens as it drapes down his crotch. He has created wrapped leather shoes, fingerless long gloves, and a spaulder. Besides the poncho and boots, he generally keeps the gear in his satchel or at home until the need arises.

History:

Guamá is the product of two powerful cultures. An objective scholar to the core, his mother gifted him with an undeniable link to the 'civilized' community. His father connected him to a progressive western tribe. The Arawakan peoples understood the importance of structure, governance, and a system of support, but according to his father, they were not keen to the idea of building lives atop a fallen society. His mother would point out the logic to that based on her studies. They always built off one another, aware of the cultural gap, but positive that understanding would solve all woes.

The Heylel family lived in the western portion of civilized Independence community. Such proximity to the border meant more exposure to tribal communities and usually less controversy. Because Guamá was born in the community, his deep tribal ties made him an object of desire. In their section of the community education was compulsory (in order to keep the peace, according to his mother). During lessons he was often asked to speak on behalf of all 'non-civilized' cultures and fetishized for his 'exotic' background. Leather work became Guamá's path to accepting his identity. Working alongside his father, he learned Arawakan and 'civilized' styles of leathercraft, as well as imagery he could carve into the armour speaking to stories of both peoples. He learned to see how others viewed him, then to use that to his benefit.

When Guamá reached sixteen his parents recognized their age. While his mother maintained a professional distance from any faith-community, his father felt the Arawakan beliefs to his very core. Guamá suspected the move also had to do their daughter, born eight years later, and her rambunctious ways. So with the help of their son, the three joined the Arawakan people. Since then Guamá has worked hard and taken apprentices in order to continue his family's good name. He travels to visit his parents and sister each season, taking the opportunity to stock up on uniquely Arawakan goods. Every couple months his sister, Anacaona, will stay with him for weeks at a time.

Since the more brutal tribes have roused hostility, Guamá and Anacaona have been forced to remain in the UTF's borders for more than a month. Their village rests south of Rockhelm near the western border that leads to Arawakan territory. Generally, the village is spared the attacks and brutality Rockhelm suffers. Much of the population are descendants of the tribe -- cousins, nieces, and nephews mostly. Defence has been of little concern for this reason and the village has predominately focused on its own prosperity.

Psychological Profile:

Guamá is softer than his sister. While he has been treated as different all his life, he has also refused to identify with the alienated. Some may attempt to cast him out or will disagree with him solely due to his roots, but he retaliates by refining his arguments in as agreeable a way possible. Guamá truly believes that by pleasing others he can be seen no different from them and accepted.

Exposed to the Arawakan and 'civilized' ways of life, he has strong opinion on society. Building off a collapsed people feels strange despite his loose adherence to superstition -- similar, to him, to camping on a graveyard. Guamá sees power in the tightly laced community of the Arawakan, but also values the freedom and ability to grow outside their people. He scowls at the idea of a 'civilized' people having seen the character of both communities. Like the Arawakan, he usually calls opposite community 'Reclaimers' for their aspirations for Lost Ways.

Finally, Guamá finds himself highly reflexive as of late. Since Anacaona apprenticed in hunting, tracking, and weapon craft, she has grown to be the opposite of him in many ways. The two agree that neither community stands superior. They also agree that a bridge can be made between the peoples. Where Guamá will speak softly, however, Anacaona comes in haughty and sharp. He is receptive, she is assertive. Guamá sees a power in her both physically and mentally, and honestly, he admires such strength.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

Anacaona Heylel: Sister, 16 years, Close
Family Heylel: Parents, 38-40 years, Close

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Thanks for the welcome everyone! Now I just need to read the 40...41 entry history... Oh lord... g. I'll absorb as much as I can and get to work on an introduction. I'll admit, I don't normally go for RPs directly built from existing creations, but this was too good to pass up. Can't wait to be involved!

Those that Remain - Post-Apocalyptic Earth Invaded (Community Revived)

I'm probably going to still throw into this, just accepted a commission and have been all around for work though. Give me a little while and I'll edit my original sheet to fit the edits you made to the original. Well, I say this like it's an order, I mean to say, if this all good by you.

That one idea that you really like but no one seems interested in

mizushinzui said
So I was wondering if anyone else has the experience of coming up with an idea for an RP that you thought was a really, really good one and then when you posted it onto the interest check almost no one went for it ?

I always feel like it's a different feeling to having an RP die on you half way through, it's like a rejection almost when no one wants to RP your idea.

Your thoughts on this guys?

Sometimes it's formatting, sometimes it's the population, and sometimes it just isn't the time. Someone already spoke about formatting, so I'll elaborate on the latter bits. You can tell the general interests of our community by scanning a forum and keeping tabs on what is largely more prevalent and populated. There even seems to be a fixed number of certain types of RPs in some parts of the forum, where say there may only usually be 2-3 continuous zombie roleplays in Advanced. It can make starting a new one a bit more difficult as you're being constantly compared if a player senses some level of instability, they have a sort of lifeboat for their interest in those others. Content can absolutely change a roleplay to prevent there just being another 'run of zed' thing, but you've really got to hook people in from the start if you want that difference to be felt. I have also started Interest Checks formatted with reference to more popular RPs and my prior successes only to receive minimal responses. Timing can be a big part of initiating a RP. If there are three other RPs, or even just one other starting up with a common GM name, and you're both working with pretty similar ideas, it may not be the right time to jump in. You also want to walk this line between a text dump, well organized or not, and a barebones interest check. I've seen RPers pass up prospective RPs both because there was too much background and not enough.

My advice is to see what's in play and what's in popular, then decide how to launch your RP. Make the format readable, offer short versions of histories and the like, and remember that if your interest check doesn't take off it's not about you.

Tydosius said
I have an RP idea that I won't post simply because it doesn't seem like it would click with this community.I come from a HL2RP background, so all RP ideas I have keep combat to a fourth priority, below atmosphere, context and environment.But here, it feels like combat is second priority below context and above environment and atmosphere.I think I just need to get comfortable with this style of RP.

Oh, you too? I started with the HL Mod The Specialist (TSRP). I'd say that the combat priority bit changes when combat and tension actually means looking down the barrel of a virtual gun. Those types of RP always got me, because you could be anything, but when there wasn't a major RP going on you had to make money to buy a property and all this other jazz. A great mix of slice of life and something extraordinary.

Apocalyptica

Hey everyone. You've noticed things have slowed down, and honestly, I've been sitting on my hands. I've tried contacting Aweena and haven't heard from her in a week or so. No t like her to up and disappear, I'm sure she'll be back, but I also recognize how her absence effects us all (including me). That said, I'd like to do a sound off. Who's here? I want to know. I know where characters are, I just need to know who is still active so I don't make an already crumbling plan.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Dervish said
Alrighty! Shon review time!(Insert fanfare trumpet)I actually quite like this submission, and it's clear care and craft went into it, so so far so good! I do rather like that despite the troubles of his youth, he found a pretty normal and happy life in Falkreath, which I think helps establish him as a pretty well adjusted individual. The Dark Brotherhood angle was interesting, although I do have a couple things I wouldn't mind having clarified. Shamoun has an understandable interest in finding out who the Brotherhood is is quite fine and rather compelling, but why would they seek him out and offer him the ultimatum? What had he stumbled across that would make him known to them and considered a threat? He was obviously rather discrete about what happened that night they killed the carriage driver, and I don't think they'd run the risk of being discovered by someone inquiring about a poison's alchemy reagents. If you could kind of go into more of the "why" they decided to confront him, that would be great. If mean, even if it's something like he interfered with a contract unintentionally, that would be fine, or like in Skyrim, took it upon himself.You also kind of glazed over his involvement with the Dark Brotherhood, which is unfortunate given how important it is to his history. What kinds of jobs did he take, what was his relationship with the other guild members? Notable successes and failures? It would be good to know exactly what he did with them and how it came to shape him so much. I mean, the build up from him trying to find them was a lot more detailed than what he actually did for them. Also, who sent him the letter and how did they get it off in time? The Dark Brotherhood sanctuary was raided and destroyed in a sudden raid by the Praetorians. Would it not make more sense for rumour to have reached him? He couldn't have returned to the sanctuary since it was occupied afterwards by the Praetorians. I quite like that you elaborated more on the partnership Skyrim and Hammerfell entered into after the Siege of Storms, which I'm surprised you didn't mention. How was Shamoun effected by the Auroras? Was he put under its thrall and discovering a loyalty of sorts to the Emperor? Did he notice the disappearances of people in the communities he lived in during that time period? How did he feel when the spell was broken? It was a big world changing event that lead to the Empire succeeding control of Skyrim to Rogvir the Ironheart, which would have changed the politics in Skyrim quite a bit. And most importantly now is how the dwemer invasion has effected Shamoun? Keep in mind Hammerfell is completely occupied and its armies were mostly crushed with an insurgency propping up resistance against the occupiers, and most of the surviving noble families are in hiding or swearing fealty to the occupiers. If I read that last paragraph right, he's back in Skyrim again, which is where the game will end up eventually, but not for some time. He should be in Hammerfell at this point, and what's going on in Skyrim right now is kind of being kept hush hush until the group arrives. If you could clear all that up, I'd appreciate it!

Took a few days of touch and go editing, but I hope I clarified the gaps. In all honesty, the sheer hulk of in-game and RP lore must have staggered me when referencing notable events. Apologies for that, I'm not used to making such basic slips.

Hope this is better. Let me know if you require any further edits!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Here's the CS. I took the bit about a thorough Background a bit too seriously, perhaps, so I hope the summarized paragraph above is helpful.

Name: Shamoun the Dark Pilgrim

Race: Redguard

Family Origins: Shamoun was born into a family bet against Hammerfell. His father often met with and worked for members of notable Houses. The man made connections across the borders as well, all too often wagering against the good of his people. Such business kept to the shadows and Shamoun was instead exposed to the ways of the merchant by his shop-owning mother. Unfortunately, she too made her profits trading with those who would see the Aldmeri Dominion conquer Hammerfell. When rumours of a treaty surfaced, the toddler Shamoun was sent away to Skyrim in 180 4E.

Appearance: Shamoun is half a head shorter than most men and of slender build. His arms, legs, and back are lean from years of labour, but his chest and gut have softened with age. The years have also carved a few thin lines arising from the crux of his brow and curving out from his nose. His cheekbones line with the nostrils of his nose, standing out due to his gaunt cheeks. A scar runs across one such cheek, ending just under his left eye. The mark does not grow hair and adds a peculiar, perhaps humorous line as it cuts into his the dark curls of his short beard. His hair descends to his shoulders, both braided and tied back.



Age: 35 Years too close to becoming a greybeard

Equipment:

• Well Loved Scimitar


• Curved Elvish Dagger


• Alik'r Robes Enforced w/ Hide & Hood all dyed Black


• Leather Bracers & Boots


• Short-bow & Small Quiver

Miscellanea:

• Leather Satchel for Supplies


• Hand-Size Leather bound Codex


• Small Jar of Writing Charcoal


• Leather Roll of Lockpicks


• Three Days of Rations


• Water-skin


• Wetstone & Polish for Blades


• Modest Collection of Healing & Poisonous Herbs (<3 Uses Each)


• Light Mortar & Pestle


• Documents tying him to House of Hammerfell

Favored Skills:
Highly Proficient Skill: One Handed, Every Redguard has the natural inclination for wielding a weapon and Shamoun has practiced that art all his life.

Moderately Proficient Skills: Sneak, Alchemy, Speech, His short time with the Dark Brotherhood focused on honing his ability to Sneak and he has continued practising ever since. Alchemy started as a passing fancy, but upon finding poisons and healing poultices, what amounted to mindless dabbling grew into a hobby. Finally, Shamoun was raised around honeyed words and keeps them readied as but another tool.

Somewhat Proficient Skills: Smithing, Archery, & Lockpicking, Maintaining one's own weapon is important when that weapon is far from home. Shamoun keeps basic tools and knows enough to keep his weapons in decent condition. Archery started as a skill taught in his youth and persists today chiefly as a means to hunt. He was exposed to the latter art first within the Brotherhood, and then while working for the more paranoid Houses within Hammerfell.

Background and a "brief" history:

Every chill night spent in the Skyrim brings back memories colder than the region's harsh winters. In his eyes being sent away as a child was a blessing. Shamoun discovered a tenacity within himself to make ends meet while maintaining his personal codes. He found strength and endured an attack by the omnipotent shadow, the Dark Brotherhood. Better, in a relatively short time he found the group without making enemies of them. He abandoned everything he'd worked for before then to take a chance. Five years later, he'd found his reward painfully short. So Shamoun found a group with devotion so blind it pained him to feign belief and followed those years up serving the rich, no matter how corrupt. Nevertheless, despite all the bittern truths laid before him, Shamoun felt a warmth deep in his chest. The Dark Brotherhood was not simply flesh -- it was omnipotent. An idea can never die, a history will only vanish if forgotten, but he believed and he remembered. Every chill night Skyrim mustered, Shamoun looked back to his memories and knew that he would endure. The harshest of winters would not deter the return of his Brotherhood.

Full History

The life of Shamoun began shortly after the Aldmeri Dominion invaded the Imperial provinces within Hammerfell. Unbeknownst to him, the financial success of his parents tied directly to the outsiders, though quietly. Little more than a babe, he enjoyed more luxury as a toddler than ever since. When the tides of war showed favour on Hammerfell, an anxiety built in the home. Rumours spread of the possibility of a treaty, and for his safety, the boy Shamoun was spirited away by a trusted merchant. By the time he arrived to Skyrim, The Second Treaty of Stros M'kai was signed.

Shamoun arrived in Skyrim with a modest array of belongings and a trust in the merchant he inherited from his mother. Just past the border the boy and the merchant met a small group of bandits. There was an exchange of words, then belongings, and the boy. When it became clear the bandits meant to kill the merchant regardless, there was a struggle. A weak flame shot from the merchant's hands and the fight started. The boy escaped into the forests during the fray. Shamoun wandered into Falkreath before nightfall where he met with great kindness.

Fifteen years embedded him deep within the community. The boy worked the stables first, then assisted the carriage driver, and when none might deny his manhood, he offered security for the carriage. Bandits tried their luck attacking carriage from time to time, but turned tail when one or two fell. Shamoun trained with the Falkreath Guard when home, and when away with the carriage picked the brains of the local warriors at each stop. The work was satisfying and felt akin to that of an adventurer. One trip seemed especially daring when the customer had no precise destination in mind. He described a place somewhere in the wood around town, and when the driver warned the land may not be kind, they did not care. Shamoun sat beside the driver with an iron sword splayed across his lap. Despite a watchful eye, a dark cloud gathered amidst the branches of the forest. They felt a mist, saw flashes in the strangely low cloud, and then the lightning struck. Both horses collapsed, then the driver, then Shamoun. His body seized and jerked as he fell off the carriage and into a ditch. In a haze, he watched shadowed figures emerge from the trees. The customer met a black dagger to the gut and a fear grew deep within the young man's chest. When a figure approached him, Shamoun felt tears running along his cheeks. His body would not respond, instead just twitching, helpless. The figure held a vial to his nose. Spices, some mix of herbs, whatever it was, it made the world go dark.

Shamoun awoke two days later in an abandoned shack far in northern Skyrim. Old blood painted the walls, chains hung from the rafters, but he found himself on a modest bed of hay. He found a bit of paper beside him with a hand-print and brief message, "Be thee silent, for the Night Mother offers no quarter, and her mercy comes and goes like a winter's storm." The words would remain with the young man for days. He layered himself with the tattered robes within the shack and made his way to Morthal. Rather than return to Falkreath and face an onslaught of questions, and perhaps for fear of the cryptic warning, Shamoun decided to travel. On his journey he collected herbs and other ingredients, comparing them to the scent used on him in the attack. He questioned warriors, bards, and wizards about what he described as a 'vision from a dream'. The obsession inspired him to dabble in alchemy in order to recreate the strange mix. Days turned to weeks, yet despite the passing of season into the next Shamoun persisted.

After five years of searching, Shamoun had learned much. Besides coming across the shadow's name, he uncovered bits of lore to do with the Dark Brotherhood. The stories fuelled Shamoun's obsession and as well as his impatience. He had pieces of a legend that seemed to reach back through the eras. Stories of ruthless killers, deft archers, and brilliant alchemists who gave their skills to this Brotherhood. Yet, despite the years of dedicated, Shamoun had doubt. He obscured his search, yes, but after five years he wondered if the great stories mere pomp. When the doubts came to a head, Shamoun crafted a poison as described in information he'd uncovered. He picked an inn at random. Labourers drinking off their troubles sat shoulder to shoulder at the bar and near the fire, but the Pilgrim saw only one. Amidst the relatively well mannered bunch, a particularly brutish man sat belching and grabbing at every passing female. Shamoun approached the counter and with a feigned smile ordered a Nordic Mead. When the stein came, Shamoun took a swig, then added a red liquid from a vial. He lingered a while before setting it beside the brute, explaining much too fast the origin of the drink. The brute pushed Shamoun back with a monstrous hand and began draining the stein. Shamoun had disappeared back into the crowd when the brute's moronic barking turned to violent, thick coughs. When the brute collapsed, foam and vomit dribbling down his cheek, Shamoun ordered a wine both in celebration and shock. He rented a room and drank himself into a deep sleep.

Shamoun awoke in a homely cavern tied to a padded post, standing. A dark, yet familiarly garbed figure introduced himself as Nazir, before identifying the 'bit of wood and string in his hands' as 'his friend Bow'. Nazir told his hostage of a story that mirrored Shamoun's five year investigation, but broke off all too soon with a poisoned dagger. A poison, Nazir told him, which Shamoun had imitated the night before -- if poorly. When the story took a threatening edge, Shamoun found himself both fearful and complimented. Eventually, Nazir made an offer. Continue learning about the Brotherhood as a member, or, take this moment to congratulate himself for finding them before his death. The lore Shamoun had uncovered illustrated an image of the Dark Brotherhood that, even half true, was more than he could pass up. How could he turn away from a group beyond social pressure and the corrosive passing of time? Shamoun accepted without hesitation.

The Dark Brotherhood of Skyrim stood uniquely amongst the stories. For weeks at a time Shamoun assisted each member of the guild, offering extra hands, while learning what he could. Festus Krex told stories of great battles fought only with magic. Targets slain by strange spectral blades, summoned phantoms, and small storms made by his hands. The mage eyed the young Redguard when telling the last, mostly keeping away thereafter. This suited Shamoun, as like most Redguard, he kept away from magical arts beyond simple attempts at self-healing. Unlike the old man, Babette welcomed his company. Whether she enjoyed his honest curiosity in alchemy or thought him a potential snack, the supposed-youth took him under her wing. Shamoun assisted her with potions, poisons, and gathering difficult ingredients in order to supply the team. Their connection continued as Shamoun trained with Nazir and Veezara. The duo came like an icy gust. Under their tutelage, the young Redguard began his official duties for the Brotherhood. With the help of Nazir, Shamoun not only absorbed a deeper comfort in his own body, but crafted robes tailoured to their work and culture. Veezara accompanied Shamoun on his first missions, otherwise, shadowing the young man without his knowledge. Each job collected information on behalf of Astrid, their respected leader. Shamoun quickly fell into the routine. Astrid approached him in the company of Nazir and offered an overview for a job. Sometimes it would mean basic scouting, other times establishing contacts, or generally keeping a finger on Skyrim's pulse. Each mission offered an inch more rope, and every inch climbed, he felt the acceptance of his comrades grow. For nearly a year Shamoun served in this way, a mere initiate, until there came a special job. As Nazir executed another contract, Astrid approached Shamoun personally. This could be his opportunity to be validated as a true Assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, she said, or else his first and last failure. The Redguard was not deterred.

A month later Shamoun found himself stalking a caravan in the mountains near Windhelm. He'd sent a letter to the Brotherhood by courier two weeks prior, but received no word. When the caravan took lodging in Windhelm, Shamoun sought the local courier to no avail. He knew the guild had endured wars, politicians, and loose lip, yet somehow he could not escape the gnawing discomfort stuck in his core. Shamoun visited the local inn for relief. Not two cups into his spiced wine, there came whispered rumour. Fires near Falkreath, the voices murmured, and a cavern-turned-funeral pyre for the Dark Bastards. Alcohol eased his blood to a boil, but the Redguard restrained himself. Shamoun ventured about the city only to find variations of the same horror -- they were dead. Most agreed the Imperials had a hand in the massacre. Even if Shamoun killed every soldier involved, they would only send ten for each he dispatched. He was too far to make a difference now. Too new to piece together some intricate plot for revenge. With a heavy heart, Shamoun packed his things and wandered once more. Before he could make any moves the tension would need to calm. The Imperials must think every member of the Child of Sithis dead.

The return to Hammerfell was simpler than expected. Shamoun had not thought of his family since leaving early in his childhood. He felt no love for them after his guardian's betrayal. Knowing the Brotherhood, the group which he dedicated five years of long nights and venturing to discover, had fallen shook him. The realization that his dreams would not be realized left a pit and the looming sense of failure. Shamoun served in no notable way while with the Brotherhood, merely training, collecting information, and joining the more experienced assassins as support. He had no rumours following close behind. So when he crossed the border into Hammerfell, Shamoun came without the confidence to lead, yet with all the freedom of a man without ties. Distraught and aimless, he wandered the lands, mindless of his dark tattered clothes from the Brotherhood.

Some weeks into his wandering a monk approached and invited him to find purpose with their order. Shamoun followed without question. Meditation honed his body while their unique style of swordsmanship adapted his skills. Two years into his training the Auroras became fixed. When followers began to disappear, the elders accounted it to weakness of the body and spirit. Somehow, despite, another year with the monastery, the Redguard never questioned what he was told. He felt drawn to his elders, who in turn honoured the Emperor, and just knowing that filled him with a strange satisfaction. After a total of four years Shamoun emerged from the monastery. He felt a growing compulsion to better serve the Emperor and subsequently took on work for a substantial House. Politicians mostly, the House involved itself deeply with foreign affairs, and always to the benefit of the Imperials. In his work with the Brotherhood, Shamoun had always enjoyed standing outside the control of the rich and the powerful. Yet, somehow, he found himself a sword entrusted to those very people. After a year in the service of the House, the Auroras disappeared. Shamoun found himself embedded into a system he had long worked to avoid. He hadn't the chance for self pity, however, as with the passing of the spell above so emerged the Siege of Storms. Like him, many felt hungry to break away and yet the pressure to maintain order. Riots broke out surrounding the House, to which Shamoun was tasked with pacifying. The Redguard defended himself and his employers with a hardened heart, enduring only by promising himself some future escape. While Hammerfell did not exist under the Empire, when the new Emperor Tactus Mede began his campaign for peace, they too felt the ensuing calm. Shamoun took the change as a sign. At once, the Redguard began to plan for the future of his dreams.

When Hammerfell and Rovgir promised mutual support, Shamoun volunteered himself within the bargain. His positioning was an attempt to leave the region without suspicion or seemingly bold action. However, when the Dwemer emerged, the decision nearly ended the Redguard. Shamoun held back during the initial outbreaks of fighting. Coldly, he observed the situation to gather what insights he could. Confident in what he had learned, Shamoun rode into combat alongside others sworn to his House. What ensued walked the line between battle and massacre. The Dwemer tore men and mer apart, all too often literally, and by fortune alone only left Shamoun for dead. When the invaders moved on, the Redguard came to and escaped the field of battle. He met with other survivors and deserters. In time, the battered lot threw in with a group of insurgents fighting for Hammerfell.

Fighting Style: Shamoun found strength in the flowing movements of standard Alik'r form. Over the years, and with much instruction, he developed his abilities to string each movement into a continuous, responsive, and fast-striking series. He has drawn and written much of his findings in his journal, jokingly naming his 'style' as the Wanderer's Dance. Dance, because the movements bend and move with motions quite fluid compared to a Nord's swing of a battleaxe. Instead of focusing on a few powerful blows, Shamoun uses the speed and endless motions score many shallow wounds. The Wanderer's Dance is such that the more a fight draws out, the greater the damage the opponent will suffer.

While Shamoun has spent many years refining his natural abilities, he is also aware of the power outside of combat. When cool-headed, he will always choose the path without bloodshed. Sneaking is his second best asset and the Dance was crafted with that in mind.

Personality: Shamoun has experienced pain, disappointment, and abandonment, but through every challenge he maintained a strength. He survived and through all of it has developed a faith in his own abilities. For decades he has endured much that might lead others to fall and knowing he made it through feeds a healthy self-confidence. Shamoun feels age approaching, he knows his body has another decade or so if given the proper care. He uses the ambition to bring back the Dark Brotherhood as the source of his strength and courage as it stands, in his eyes, as a dream dashes too soon. Because of his dreams, he is focused on learning skills he remembers made the Brotherhood strong. Beyond the obvious abilities to move with stealth and down a foe despite size or armour, he remembers them for their deep understanding of alchemy, magic, and deceit. Shamoun treats the resurrection of the Brotherhood as his sole obligation. The pressure keeps him thinking away within himself most of the time, often leaving his exterior both cold and stoic. That said, Shamoun finds himself flamboyant, highly expressive, and deeply invested in the world when in combat. The Wander's Dance is to him like painting to an artist or music to a bard.

Ultimately, Shamoun is a Pilgrim in name and spirit. He is all too used to a world where one's dreams are solely theirs to craft, and though he may not realize it, does not yet know how to trust well. Perhaps this also stems from the abandonment of his parents and the betrayal by the merchant. Deep down, he expects to lose every good thing he comes across in life. He fears that when he dies all his years will be for not, that he will only be the Man who Tried. So Shamoun hardens himself and acts as if failure is not an option, because if he is to continue on emotionally, it really isn't.

Underrated Video Games

Way of the Samurai was it for me. Fixed number of days to figure out the local politics between two powerful groups, how you act gets you associated or targetted, and if you survive, you deal with the powederkeg... Ugh, I couldn't believe it wasn't more popular.