BornOnBoard

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

"Prophecy..." Dereno said, and sighed, nodding to the woman. "Prophecy has ever cursed my people. But, the last time it was not properly heeded... you need not worry. I will heed your words, lady."

Dereno closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Despite the danger, the mist-heavy air smelled good. Refreshing. It was ever such when your life was on the line - was it not? Air itself became sweet, and every moment was hyper-accentuated.

Dereno held his staff out, turning it sideways. He gripped it with his other hand, then drew it through his fingers, as if the thing were a sheathe and he was removing a blade. Sweat began to form on his brow as he did so, his arms shaking with exertion. Then, he opened his eyes, and let out a focusing shout, drawing the staff through his hand all the way with a huge flourish.

The mist around Dereno blew away, his robes fluttering behind him as if blown by gale force winds. His staff was gone. Instead, in the hand that hand mimicked the draw of a sword, he held a weapon of terrible power. A bound daedric blade, almost as tall as he was, with a blade as black as midnight and as reflective as a mirror. Throughout the blade, ugly red veins pulsed with abhorrent life, and an eye inset into the hilt. A mouth near the end of the sword chittered with hungry anticipation.

The blade's name was Ekresh-Nar, and it hungered. It was the blade Dereno had always summoned, and it hungered for battle. Dereno whispered to the blade in Dunmerish, soothing it, preparing it for bloodletting. He nodded to the newly arrived woman with moon-white hair, sure in his own purpose and his resolve.

"Mastdar Dereno, Wizard of House Telvanni." He said, by way of introduction to the new woman, and his erstwhile companions. He smiled, his face crinkling into a quagmire of wrinkles. "Tonight, it seems, I will spend my time swatting bloodsuckers."

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Dereno had begun to nod off in the warm, cozy atmosphere of the Dancing Donkey, the conversations, the bard, the clink of glasses, thud of mugs, and the sound of the fire all had done their part to make the elderly Dunmer's head begin to dip. It had been a long time since he had been in such a cozy place. His mind drifted into the ethereal, wandering through his vast experiences, sampling memories at random until, like a spider weaving a web, the pastiche of a dream had been formed.

He was at home, suddenly. Not Tel Dereno, his tower on the outskirts of Tel Branora, but Vvardenfell itself. He stood in a large tower, surveying a scarred, ashen landscape. At the edge of his vision, he could just make out giant, shimmering energy walls. He furrowed his brows at the curious sight, attempting to place them. Was that the Ghostfence?

This wasn't the Vvardenfell he grew up in, then. The legendary fence had finally disappeared as Vivec's stolen power faded when the Heart had been struck to fell the mighty Dagoth Ur, the Sharmat. Not immediately, mind, but by the time he was strong enough to visit Red Mountain the fence had long gone.

Dereno felt a presence next to him, and looked to see who it was. An old nord, his hair balding into a tonsure, stared out over the scarred mountain and it's ashy foothills, and sniffed. He looked familiar to Dereno, in some distant way, some face he had seen everywhere but hardly remembered the specifics of due to familiarity.

"I find myself dreaming quite often these days." The old nord said, "I'm not young like I used to be. Sleep calls to me now more than it ever has."

The old nord regarded the old Dunmer, and smiled, his face crinkling into a mess of crags and scars, but the expression was warm.

"I think that the old sleep often to prepare themselves for the grave." He said, seriously, "What do you think?"

Dereno blinked, and found he had trouble speaking. His mouth flapped open and closed a few times, but no words came.

"It's alright. You have a while to think on it, I believe." The old nord looked out to Red Mountain again, the smile fading from his face. "You have more pressing concerns, Mastdar Dereno. You will be needed very soon."

The old nord raised his hand, slapped Dereno's back-

- and he woke up.

Dereno looked around. The tavern's welcoming atmosphere had suddenly cooled. The talk hadn't stopped, the bards hadn't stopped singing, but something was off. Hakon had moved from his table, and was halfway out the door. Dereno could only see one arm, his legs, and his back, but he could hear the blacksmith's deep voice. He stood up suddenly, without using his arms to balance himself, and, in a bit of Telvanni flair, summoned his staff. The staff, which he had laid on the floor next to him, stood up like it had been alive and shot into his hand with a satisfying thwack!

"Excuse me, dear boy." Dereno said, sliding past Hakon - and Graunille, who he had been apparently talking to. The local enchanter and the blacksmith, eh? "Oh, and excuse me as well, Lady. I simply wish to take in the sea air."

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the moonlit night. He looked down, seeing the mist that was waist height, and the moon in the sky. It was large, and it was bright - too bright. A killing moon. A blood moon. It made his guts twist just to look at it sitting there in the sky.

He looked to the others, his face grave.

"I think something's about to happen." Dereno said to them both. "I'm sorry to be so forward; we don't know each other very well, but please be patient with this old Mer - this night is about to put us in peril."

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Mastdar Dereno

Name: Mastdar Dereno
Race: Dunmer (Telvanni)
Age: 300
Birthsign: The Lord
Family Origins: Dereno was sold into slavery as a child to a Telvanni wizard, whose name had been lost to the predations of the Red Year. He was uplifted from slavery to hireling status at the request of his master, who had witnessed young Dereno’s sorcerous potential when, without training, he was seen levitating shells from the sea instead of diving down into the dangerous water in the never-ending Telvanni search for red seashells. He spent most of his early life in Tel Branora.

Appearance:

Appearance

Personality: Dereno has been ground down from the harshness of life after the fall of the false Tribunal. Formerly a Telvanni wizard as proud and arrogant as any other, the tribulations of Morrowind and Vvardenfell in the Fourth Era have eroded that arrogance to quiet, contemplative sobriety, less interested in the power struggles and scheming of Telvanni intrigue, and more with the world around him. He is generous for a Dunmer, ready with a coin for a beggar or food for the dispossessed, and interested in the plight and stories of other, intelligent life.

He believes, sincerely, in the implication that the Tribunal was a trio of false prophets, and that their casting down was the providence of Azura, carried out by her chosen servant, the Nerevarine. Every subsequent trial then, surely, was punishment for the arrogance of the Dunmer race, and in order to reverse the poor fortunes of the Dunmer people, sincere change must be made.

Despite this, Dereno is, deep down, a Dunmer, and still finds parts of his old culture hard to let go. Bribery, for instance, being something frowned upon in Men's provinces never fails to illicit a superior sneer, and he’s never gotten over other wizards building their homes with stairs when surely their servants could turn away any dunce who couldn’t levitate up a sheer face instead.

Despite this, Mastdar does his best to be affable, approachable, and to do more good than bad in the world.

History: Dereno was, it seems, cursed to live in interesting times. Born just after his home, Vvardenfell, had been opened for settlement, and sold into slavery as a young scrapling when his family had been crippled by Blight, Dereno had become accustomed to hardship early. He had spent most of the subsequent years after the departure of the Nerevarine slowly climbing the ranks of House Telvanni, finally achieving Hireline status at the sprightly young age of 53. From there, his progress was more rapid, climbing to Wizard in a few short decades.

However, this seemed to coincide with the Red Year. Tel Branora, where his mushroom tower had been located, withered and died as the dust kicked up from the Ministry of Truth’s fall choked the alchemically grown buildings from sunlight. Even the mightiest Tel tower withered to nothingness. From there, Dereno’s life had been one humbling after another as the Dunmer people seemed to pay again and again for the hubris they had lived under during the Tribunal’s long reign. Stripped of most everything a Telvanni of his station was entitled to, Dereno began a journey of meditation and travel, going wherever his legs would take him, never staying in any one place long enough to put down roots.

As of the beginning of this tale, he has been doing this for hundreds of years, his mushroom stronghold in Tel Branora a distant memory.

Biggest Regret: Dereno always thinks back to his Argonian slave, and trusted lab assistant.He regrets having cut him loose in a fit of anger when his tower was wilting and dying, instead of setting up him up with supplies or even taking him with him on his journey, so he could take him back to his home. Dereno has never found out what happened to Whispers-Loudly, and that fact pains him even to this day.

Character Name ‘s Goal: Dereno is ultimately an atoner. Taking the decline of the Post-Tribunal Dunmer to heart, he travels the Nirn looking for a way to redeem his own magickal talent and Telvanni arrogance with some good deed or grand cause, perhaps one that would even allow him to regrow a new tower and practice sorcery with a newfound nobility, divorced from the self-serving and cruel Telvanni ways.

Skills:
Expert: Conjuration
Dereno early on saw the value in binding Daedric steel from the aether, and has long since given up openly wearing a weapon or armor, instead preferring to pull them from the thin air.

Adept: Long Blade, Heavy Armor
Many dunmer live by the blade, and Dereno is no different. Bladesmanship was often required in the various honor duels that were rife in Telvanni society - when magic failed, it always came down to the blade.

Heavy Armor came as a skill of necessity - Daedric armor often took the form of heavy plate. Although the weight was removed from the equation, bound armor still encumbered movement the same way as real steel would have, so thus Dereno became adept in its wearing.

Novice: Destruction, Restoration, Alchemy
The basic magickal skills, Dereno had lost interest in their study almost immediately after learning about them. Repairing the flesh, commanding the elements, and distilling the magic in the mundane were all terribly boring to him, but Dereno admits that without the principles imparted by these basic magicks, he would have never understood the craft well enough to make it to Wizard.

Spells:
Bound Sword and constituent Bound Armor pieces. Sometimes will summon bits and pieces, other times a full set. Often only summons the blade to save valuable Magicka.

Touch-range Destruction spells of the elements (fire, frost, and lightning). He never bothered to learn how to Drain attributes, or damage armor, or to cast such abilities from range, preferring up close.

Touch-range Healing spells. Again, very simple, never bothered to learn how to heal anything more threatening than physical injury. If you’ve been struck blind, or made too physically weak to move, he does not know how to help.

Equipment: Medium quality robes, shoes, gloves, and a mage’s staff with an Enchanted Restore Magicka effect.

Misc. Possessions: Water, food, and a small brace of healing, fatigue, and magicka potions. He tends to travel light, making or bartering for what he needs as he travels.

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Dereno sat, legs folded in, his hands between his legs, forming a triangle with his calloused, wizened fingers. He eyes were closed, and his breathing so slight as to be almost unnoticeable. It was an unnervingly corpse-like position, the wizened dunmer looking like the mummified corpses of his homeland’s burial mounds, but in truth he was meditating, his mind far off inside itself.

It was a favorite focus of his; alone was he, with a great chunk of vantablack ebony. Rasp in hand, he would file on the material, whatever shape it took, grinding away the unneeded excess. Dust covered the floor of this solemn workshop, in the interior of his mind, black, glossy, and irritating to the skin.

The goal was to shape the lump of material into a blade, but it was also to force the mind to carry out every laborious step, every process, to feel every ache in the hand and hear every scrape of the rasp’s steel. You also had to remember the shape the lump of ebony was in after you were finished, and start from that shape the next session. Over a lifetime of sessions, the mental exercise was said to be honed to perfection when a polished, sharp blade had been ground from the ebony.

The mind, see, did not operate the way the physical, the Mundis space did - it could skip ahead, visualize ideals, gloss over certain things and hyperfixate on others. Forcing it to aadhere to the laborious physical was the ultimate test of willpower. Dereno was proud that he could, after 250 years of practice, keep the exercise up long enough to have ground the lump of ebony into a shape resembling a blade - vaguely. If you squinted. It was not honed, nor carved, nor adorned, but you could pick it up in two hands, even swing it. He traced a few clumsy cuts into the air, the filed bar of ebony whooshing instead of swishing like a sword truly would, but pride in his progress surged through him. He would yet make a killing edge - he was sure of it.

Keys jingled somewhere far in the distance. Dereno, in his mindscape, placed the ebony bar onto his work table, and opened the door -

- snapping awake to the Mundis.

He was in a holding cell in the Anvil guard barracks. He stood up from his full lotus pose, stretching his arms over his head. A chorus of satisfying pops accompanied this action. A guard, wearing the Anvil red brigandine, fumbled with a keyring at the cell door, the act that had awoken him from his meditation.

“Apologies sir, for the incarceration.” The guard said, his voice resonant and deep, “There’s been an investigation to your case, and it appears everything was as you said.”

Dereno shrugged. “I had no reason to lie, but I understand. My compliance was, I hope you understand, purely voluntary.”

The guardsman looked at the Dunmer, preparing to give an admonishing speech about the importance of rule of law, but he’d seen the state Mastdar Dereno had left his attempted muggers in. The old mer had been set upon by three thugs, out of an independent trader called the Tiber, two armed with daggers, one with a short stabbing sword. With only a staff, Dereno had clobbered the three of them, two cracked skulls, a broken hand, and a crushed windpipe. All three had been dumped in the barrack’s apothecarium, where they were now groaning in pain and awaiting sentencing.

There was no bravado in the ancient dunmer, no desire to inflate his ego. On sober reflection, the guard did believe that Dereno would have no trouble walking out of the Anvil guard barracks on his own terms, and decided to be candid with the old mer.

“It’s just… six killings sir. With blunt force to the head. Y’didn’t kill ‘em, y’muggers I mean, but you came damned close, and…” The guardsman opened the cell door, and stood aside. “In any case, the blows your staff laid on ‘em didn’t match the wounds on the victims we’ve been havin’, so that’s what sprung you.

Dereno nodded. Had he been an ordinator in the guardsman’s position, he’d do the exact same, inconvenient as it was.

“I’m free to go, then?” Dereno asked.

The guardsman shook his head. “No, no, y’ve t’sign for yer possessions, sir, unless you want to put ‘em up for auction.”

Dereno shook his head. “No no, I’m quite fond of my staff. Lead the way.”

A brief stop at the office, and Dereno was a free mer, standing on the cobblestones of an Anvil gearing up for the night. Tradesmen and shopkeepers were locking doors and sailors were filing into the taverns. Dereno tapped his staff, a stout piece of hardwood, around four feet in length and capped with steel, against the street and looked up at the stars, his face screwed up in thought. Where was the nearest tavern? Someplace not too rowdy, but not too classy either - the dunmer wished to listen to lively conversation.

The Dancing Donkey was fairly close, he remembered. A nice place. Cheap ale, and nobody minded if you smoked a little Heckle-Lo leaf in a corner. He nodded, stepping towards an alleyway and stopped. His wizened face broke into a sardonic grin. No, no, alleyways wouldn’t do, unless another trio of thugs were to grace the guardsman’s sick bay. He would take the main streets for his time’s sake, and for the wellbeing of Anvil’s criminal element.

He walked, leaning on his staff, his free arm folded inside his mud-brown robes. He nodded at the blacksmith as he passed, a dour Nord he couldn’t quite remember the name of, and soon reached the tavern. He pushed the doors open and sat down at the closest table he could find, the inviting warmth of the Dancing Donkey washing over him. The doors swung shut behind, swinging ever so slightly behind him as the killing moon began to rise over the seaside town.

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Far be it from me to be answering GM setting stuff but the concept of a wandering apothecary is definitely not beyond Elder Scrolls. Healers, whether they be alchemists, restoration mages, clerics of the Temple, or conventional doctors are prized professionals and would be welcomed, even sought after by not just adventuring parties but professional organizations as well. In Morrowind (which is admittedly distanced from this thread's setting) the Tribunal Temple even mandated that its members go out and heal the sick and help the poor as doctrine, so there's lots of ways to do that type of character in universe. Hope that helps, and of course, the GM is the final say, I don't mean to tread on toes.

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

I am interested. I have a character sheet mostly done. Forgive me, as I do not post much, would I post a potential sheet here in OOC? If so, I have included my potential character below in a spoiler.

Mastdar Dereno

Name: Mastdar Dereno
Race: Dunmer (Telvanni)
Age: 300
Birthsign: The Lord
Family Origins: Dereno was sold into slavery as a child to a Telvanni wizard, whose name had been lost to the predations of the Red Year. He was uplifted from slavery to hireling status at the request of his master, who had witnessed young Dereno’s sorcerous potential when, without training, he was seen levitating shells from the sea instead of diving down into the dangerous water in the never-ending Telvanni search for red seashells. He spent most of his early life in Tel Branora.

Appearance:

Appearance

Personality: Dereno has been ground down from the harshness of life after the fall of the false Tribunal. Formerly a Telvanni wizard as proud and arrogant as any other, the tribulations of Morrowind and Vvardenfell in the Fourth Era have eroded that arrogance to quiet, contemplative sobriety, less interested in the power struggles and scheming of Telvanni intrigue, and more with the world around him. He is generous for a Dunmer, ready with a coin for a beggar or food for the dispossessed, and interested in the plight and stories of other, intelligent life.

He believes, sincerely, in the implication that the Tribunal was a trio of false prophets, and that their casting down was the providence of Azura, carried out by her chosen servant, the Nerevarine. Every subsequent trial then, surely, was punishment for the arrogance of the Dunmer race, and in order to reverse the poor fortunes of the Dunmer people, sincere change must be made.

Despite this, Dereno is, deep down, a Dunmer, and still finds parts of his old culture hard to let go. Bribery, for instance, being something frowned upon in Men's provinces never fails to illicit a superior sneer, and he’s never gotten over other wizards building their homes with stairs when surely their servants could turn away any dunce who couldn’t levitate up a sheer face instead.

Despite this, Mastdar does his best to be affable, approachable, and to do more good than bad in the world.

History: Dereno was, it seems, cursed to live in interesting times. Born just after his home, Vvardenfell, had been opened for settlement, and sold into slavery as a young scrapling when his family had been crippled by Blight, Dereno had become accustomed to hardship early. He had spent most of the subsequent years after the departure of the Nerevarine slowly climbing the ranks of House Telvanni, finally achieving Hireline status at the sprightly young age of 53. From there, his progress was more rapid, climbing to Wizard in a few short decades.

However, this seemed to coincide with the Red Year. Tel Branora, where his mushroom tower had been located, withered and died as the dust kicked up from the Ministry of Truth’s fall choked the alchemically grown buildings from sunlight. Even the mightiest Tel tower withered to nothingness. From there, Dereno’s life had been one humbling after another as the Dunmer people seemed to pay again and again for the hubris they had lived under during the Tribunal’s long reign. Stripped of most everything a Telvanni of his station was entitled to, Dereno began a journey of meditation and travel, going wherever his legs would take him, never staying in any one place long enough to put down roots.

As of the beginning of this tale, he has been doing this for hundreds of years, his mushroom stronghold in Tel Branora a distant memory.

Biggest Regret: Dereno always thinks back to his Argonian slave, and trusted lab assistant.He regrets having cut him loose in a fit of anger when his tower was wilting and dying, instead of setting up him up with supplies or even taking him with him on his journey, so he could take him back to his home. Dereno has never found out what happened to Whispers-Loudly, and that fact pains him even to this day.

Character Name ‘s Goal: Dereno is ultimately an atoner. Taking the decline of the Post-Tribunal Dunmer to heart, he travels the Nirn looking for a way to redeem his own magickal talent and Telvanni arrogance with some good deed or grand cause, perhaps one that would even allow him to regrow a new tower and practice sorcery with a newfound nobility, divorced from the self-serving and cruel Telvanni ways.

Skills:
Expert: Conjuration
Dereno early on saw the value in binding Daedric steel from the aether, and has long since given up openly wearing a weapon or armor, instead preferring to pull them from the thin air.

Adept: Long Blade, Heavy Armor
Many dunmer live by the blade, and Dereno is no different. Bladesmanship was often required in the various honor duels that were rife in Telvanni society - when magic failed, it always came down to the blade.

Heavy Armor came as a skill of necessity - Daedric armor often took the form of heavy plate. Although the weight was removed from the equation, bound armor still encumbered movement the same way as real steel would have, so thus Dereno became adept in its wearing.

Novice: Destruction, Restoration, Alchemy
The basic magickal skills, Dereno had lost interest in their study almost immediately after learning about them. Repairing the flesh, commanding the elements, and distilling the magic in the mundane were all terribly boring to him, but Dereno admits that without the principles imparted by these basic magicks, he would have never understood the craft well enough to make it to Wizard.

Spells:
Bound Sword and constituent Bound Armor pieces. Sometimes will summon bits and pieces, other times a full set. Often only summons the blade to save valuable Magicka.

Touch-range Destruction spells of the elements (fire, frost, and lightning). He never bothered to learn how to Drain attributes, or damage armor, or to cast such abilities from range, preferring up close.

Touch-range Healing spells. Again, very simple, never bothered to learn how to heal anything more threatening than physical injury. If you’ve been struck blind, or made too physically weak to move, he does not know how to help.

Equipment: Medium quality robes, shoes, gloves, and a mage’s staff with an Enchanted Restore Magicka effect.

Misc. Possessions: Water, food, and a small brace of healing, fatigue, and magicka potions. He tends to travel light, making or bartering for what he needs as he travels.