Jeddaven

alpine republic

I am god

TES: The Second Great War

Tylmaesa

Character Name: Tylmaesa Hlaalu

Race: Dunmer

Age: 77
Sex: Intersex, slightly female-presenting

Physical Description

Although their bluish-grey skin isn’t terribly unusual for a Dunmer, nor are their blood-red sclera, there is little else about Tylmaesa’s appearance that is typical for their species aside from their long, pointed ears.

Towering above most of their kin at an impressive 7’3”, Tylmaesa is, in a word, imposing, and everything about them aside from their hairstyle is cultivated to enhance this. Years upon years of incredibly harsh physical training have sculpted a body that would otherwise be disconcertingly lanky into a brick shithouse of a figure, a body packed with powerful, battle-toned muscle from head-to-toe. They’re not especially curvy as a result, likewise, having forgone femininity in favour of the pursuit of physical perfection. Their black hair, though not shaven down completely, is pulled together into an almost-painfully tight bun, kept well out of the way both during and outside of combat, rarely (if ever) framing the sharp, chiseled angles of their face.

The attention they pay to their appearance, then, can mostly be described as meticulous maintenance, rather than any effort to look pretty. They keep themself generally quite clean, though their skin is nonetheless badly marred by a number of scars, the most notable of which is a wicked gash across their chest. The skin on their left forearm has likewise been left mottled by an extremely old electrical burn, and a large bite mark is situated beneath their right shoulder blade.

Art (Commissioned)

[spoiler]

Faith

As with most Dunmer, Tylmaesa pays service to the three “Good Daedra”, Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala. Their faith in them is not necessarily worship, however, and is more accurately described as high respect for some of the ideals within their spheres, for a rebellious, counter-traditional Dunmer holds little love for dogged rules and persistent conservatism. Much of Their ‘faith’ follows this pattern of eclectic, syncretic ideals, so much so that Tylmaesa even pays respect to the Sugar God, though this is perhaps less surprising in the context of the last several years of their life. Among the Three, they most favor Boethiah.

At the forefront of their belief, however, is Saint Vehk - more specifically, the hidden notes of dogged self-actualization in its purest form scattered throughout his Sermons. His works, if one looks closely enough, are a guideline to perfection and independence of the self, much in the same way that the Khajiiti Two-Moons Dance is a guideline to another kind of self-perfection. In this sense, Tylmaesa’s faith verges on the cynical, despite the genuine respect they hold for the beings they draw their beliefs from.

Position: Auxilia

Magic

Although they don’t use magic, through their intense, decade-long (and still ongoing) study of the Khajiiti Claw-Dances, Tylmaesa is able to produce effects similar to magic, though they lack the potency of true magecraft. Their preference for Goutfang allows them to manipulate the flow of energy in themself and those they strike, enhancing the power of their blows, hardening their body, or disrupting the flow of magicka. Their study is still in its relative infancy, however - so while they make a fearsome warrior, they are well eclipsed by true masters of the arts, evidenced by the necessary use of weapons to supplement their budding skill.

Core

Born into a wealthy branch of the Hlaalu family, despite the recent misfortunes of their House, Tylmaesa had an ostensibly bright future ahead of them. Morrowind’s relatively rapid recovery under the watchful eyes of House Redoran offered plenty of opportunities for the growth of a business, even if it was in the ruins of the once-glorious House Hlaalu. Her parents took advantage of this situation to buy up enormous amounts of highly fertile farmland at extremely low prices, though Tylmaesa had far more interest in the business of their father - the captain of a mercenary company - than their mother, a merchant and full-blooded Hlaalu. She threw themself into swordwork wholeheartedly, often hunting down dangerous creatures simply to fight them. What time they didn’t spend fighting, they spent socializing or engrossing in the folk tales of their people; in particular, they found Vehk’s sermons to be the most interesting.

By the time they reached adulthood, Tylmaesa had become a fully-fledged warrior; an intelligent, powerful built woman that revelled in the thrills of battle. Still, despite the many duties they now found themself saddled with as both a mercenary and a noblewoman, they always managed to find plenty of time to immerse themself in the debauchery only the wealth of a noble could afford. In their case, that meant frequent trips to Elsewyr to spend time among the Bandaari, a developing tolerance for Moon Sugar, and a scandalous excess of lovers and other flings. Nonetheless, they remained mostly effective at their duties (when they bothered to pay them any attention, at least), leaving them plenty of opportunities to indulge in their various adventures.

With the beginning of the Skyrim Civil War and the death of their parents due to old age, Tylmaesa found themself thrust into a position of leadership, managing their family's branch of the House. She quickly found themself more interested in the opportunity offered by the Civil War, offering their services to the Imperials as a mercenary. Though the Stormcloaks outwardly despised the Empire, Tylmaesa could not abide by the rampant racism in their ranks (though the Empire was itself hardly immune to such things), and their more politically savvy hatred of the Altmer made them see a strengthened Empire as a necessary bastion against the Aldmeri Dominion, especially with the continued control of their Khajiiti friends, many of whom, they insisted, had been duped into loyalty that was slavery in all but name. Her stint of service, though somewhat meritorious, was brief, quickly moving on from it as they did many other things.

Eventually, however, they were made aware of the Empire's attempts to bring Morrowind back into the fold, and although they preferred their home country's independence, their opinions on the Dominion hadn't changed. More importantly, however, they grew increasingly dissatisfied with Dunmeri politicking, to the point where it eventually became naught but a distraction from their self-perfection. Increasingly shifting their duties to trusted, skilled advisors, they eventually departed Morrowind to study under Khajiiti masters of the Claw-Dances, abandoning spellcraft entirely, in hopes of honing their body into a powerful weapon all on its own. They spent the next decade in deep study, until the Empire declared war on the Aldmeri Dominion.

Tylmaesa was quick to offer their services as a mercenary yet again, and was shipped off to Skyrim, hoping to temper the drastic shift in their martial focus in the hostile North.

Misc.: Due to the unusual, esoteric nature of the martial arts Tylmaesa practices, Tylmaesa uses a pair of unique weapons to compensate for their lack of claws - clawed weapons with protruding blades, similar to some forms of the Indian 'tiger claws' of the real world. She fights mostly unarmored, though their fighting style and experience make them more resilient than normal, as might be expected of someone born under the Steed.

TES: The Second Great War

Tylmaesa Hlaalu

Character Name: Tylmaesa Hlaalu

Race: Dunmer

Age: 77
Sex: Intersex, slightly female-presenting

Physical Description

Although their bluish-grey skin isn’t terribly unusual for a Dunmer, nor are their blood-red sclera, there is little else about Tylmaesa’s appearance that is typical for their species aside from their long, pointed ears.

Towering above most of their kin at an impressive 7’3”, Tylmaesa is, in a word, imposing, and everything about them aside from her hairstyle is cultivated to enhance this. Years upon years of incredibly harsh physical training have sculpted a body that would otherwise be disconcertingly lanky into a brick shithouse of a figure, a body packed with powerful, battle-toned muscle from head-to-toe. They’re not especially curvy as a result, likewise, having forgone femininity in favour of the pursuit of physical perfection. Her black hair, though not shaven down completely, is pulled together into an almost-painfully tight bun, kept well out of the way both during and outside of combat, rarely (if ever) framing the sharp, chiseled angles of her face.

The attention they pay to their appearance, then, can mostly be described as meticulous maintenance, rather than any effort to look pretty. They keep themself generally quite clean, though their skin is nonetheless badly marred by a number of scars, the most notable of which is a wicked gash across her chest. The skin on her left forearm has likewise been left mottled by an extremely old electrical burn, and a large bite mark is situated beneath her right shoulder blade.

Art (Commissioned)

[spoiler]

Faith

As with most Dunmer, Tylmaesa pays service to the three “Good Daedra”, Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala. Their faith in them is not necessarily worship, however, and is more accurately described as high respect for some of the ideals within their spheres, for a rebellious, counter-traditional Dunmer holds little love for dogged rules and persistent conservatism. Much of Their ‘faith’ follows this pattern of eclectic, syncretic ideals, so much so that Tylmaesa even pays respect to the Sugar God, though this is perhaps less surprising in the context of the last several years of their life. Among the Three, they most favor Boethiah.

At the forefront of their belief, however, is Saint Vehk - more specifically, the hidden notes of dogged self-actualization in its purest form scattered throughout his Sermons. His works, if one looks closely enough, are a guideline to perfection and independence of the self, much in the same way that the Khajiiti Two-Moons Dance is a guideline to another kind of self-perfection. In this sense, Tylmaesa’s faith verges on the cynical, despite the genuine respect they hold for the beings they draw their beliefs from.

Position: Auxilia

Magic

Although they don’t use magic, through their intense, decade-long (and still ongoing) study of the Khajiiti Claw-Dances, Tylmaesa is able to produce effects similar to magic, though they lack the potency of true magecraft. Their preference for Goutfang allows them to manipulate the flow of energy in themself and those they strike, enhancing the power of their blows, hardening their body, or disrupting the flow of magicka. Their study is still in its relative infancy, however - so while they make a fearsome warrior, they are well eclipsed by true masters of the arts, evidenced by the necessary use of weapons to supplement their budding skill.

Core

Born into a wealthy branch of the Hlaalu family, despite the recent misfortunes of her House, Tylmaesa had an ostensibly bright future ahead of her. Morrowind’s relatively rapid recovery under the watchful eyes of House Redoran offered plenty of opportunities for the growth of a business, even if it was in the ruins of the once-glorious House Hlaalu. Her parents took advantage of this situation to buy up enormous amounts of highly fertile farmland at extremely low prices, though Tylmaesa had far more interest in the business of her father - the captain of a mercenary company - than her mother, a merchant and full-blooded Hlaalu. She threw herself into swordwork wholeheartedly, often hunting down dangerous creatures simply to fight them. What time she didn’t spend fighting, she spent socializing or engrossing in the folk tales of her people; in particular, she found Vehk’s sermons to be the most interesting.

By the time she reached adulthood, Tylmaesa had become a fully-fledged warrior; an intelligent, powerful built woman that revelled in the thrills of battle. Still, despite the many duties she now found herself saddled with as both a mercenary and a noblewoman, she always managed to find plenty of time to immerse herself in the debauchery only the wealth of a noble could afford. In her case, that meant frequent trips to Elsewyr to spend time among the Bandaari, a developing tolerance for Moon Sugar, and a scandalous excess of lovers and other flings. Nonetheless, she remained mostly effective at her duties (when she bothered to pay them any attention, at least), leaving her plenty of opportunities to indulge in her various adventures.

With the beginning of the Skyrim Civil War and the death of her parents due to old age, Tylmaesa found herself thrust into a position of leadership, managing her family's branch of the House. She quickly found herself more interested in the opportunity offered by the Civil War, offering her services to the Imperials as a mercenary. Though the Stormcloaks outwardly despised the Empire, Tylmaesa could not abide by the rampant racism in their ranks (though the Empire was itself hardly immune to such things), and her more politically savvy hatred of the Altmer made her see a strengthened Empire as a necessary bastion against the Aldmeri Dominion, especially with the continued control of her Khajiiti friends, many of whom, she insisted, had been duped into loyalty that was slavery in all but name. Her stint of service, though somewhat meritorious, was brief, quickly moving on from it as she did many other things.

Eventually, however, she wasNo made aware of the Empire's attempts to bring Morrowind back into the fold, and although she preferred her home country's independence, her opinions on the Dominion hadn't changed. More importantly, however, they grew increasingly dissatisfied with Dunmeri politicking, to the point where it eventually became naught but a distraction from their self-perfection. Increasingly shifting her duties to trusted, skilled advisors, they eventually departed Morrowind to study under Khajiiti masters of the Claw-Dances, abandoning spellcraft entirely, in hopes of honing her body into a powerful weapon all on its own. They spent the next decade in deep study, until the Empire declared war on the Aldmeri Dominion.

Tylmaesa was quick to offer their services as a mercenary yet again, and was shipped off to Skyrim, hoping to temper the drastic shift in their martial focus in the hostile North.

Misc.: Due to the unusual, esoteric nature of the martial arts Tylmaesa practices, Tylmaesa uses a pair of unique weapons to compensate for their lack of claws - clawed weapons with protruding blades, similar to some forms of the Indian 'tiger claws' of the real world. They fight mostly unarmored, though their fighting style and experience make them more resilient than normal.

N.E.O. - New Earth Oracle

Somewhere deep within the Santa Cruz mountains, four men sat astride a large nondescript white van, clad in an eclectic motley of hiking gear and thick jackets, semi-automatic rifles slung across their backs. One quietly puffed away at a cigarette, wispy trails of smoke rising from the smouldering tip, curling through the needle-studded branches of the Santa Cruz Cypress he was leaning against. The men rarely moved, occasionally moving about to readjust their positions...

Or, every once in a while, to water the shrubbery behind the tree.

It didn’t take a genius to see that they were bored, and incredibly so, even though they’d only arrived mere minutes earlier. Perhaps they simply didn’t like to wait.

The tallest of the men, his face hidden behind a balaclava, let out a yawn.

His eyes widened. He pointed down a nearby paved road, leading toward the path they themselves stood beside.

“Shit, shit!” The smoker sputtered, his cigarette dropping to the ground as he extinguished it with his own urine, feverishly zipping up his pants. By the time he’d reached the van and had swung his rifle around to his front, his comrades were already prepared, cradling their weapons at a lazy state of low readiness.

Each man, rifles at the ready, peered down the road toward the set of headlights crawling downhill toward them, beams of light occasionally flashing through the trees. With every second that passed, the lights drew ever closer, until a second van became visible, carefully snaking its way down the road, through the trees.

The three men tensed, ever-so-slightly pulling their guns upward, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

The van came closer.

Closer.

Closer.

It was only a few moments before the thing was practically staring them in the face, a mere handful of meters away... And then, pulling to the opposite side of the road, it stopped. The driver Didn’t bother to turn the key, instead allowing the near-silent electrical engine to thrum away as the car’s side door slid open, and out stepped two more men, a third cradling a large, sagging messenger bag in his arms.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” One of the new arrivals said, evenly eyeing the smoker.. “Sure as shit isn’t nice as it was before the visitation, I bed, but you almost forget the world’s FUBAR in places like this.”

The smoker nodded back at him. “My dad used to love these mountains. Took me out here all the time as a kid. I still miss him.”

The new arrival nodded back, gesturing toward the man carrying the bag. He nodded back, bent down, and pulled open the zipper, only to reveal stacks upon stacks of hundred dollar bills.

“Is there more?” Came a voice from inside the van, rough and gravelly, so slow and drawling that it seemed like he was frustrated to even be there, like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

“We brought a dozen more bags. Unmarked, like you asked. The bags, too - should be untraceable. Will that satisfy the seller?” The first new arrival said, his hand wandering toward a small pistol at his hip.

“Check the bag. Make sure it’s legitimate.” The voice continued. The smoker nodded, though whoever the voice originated from couldn’t even see him, and bent down to inspect the bills, shining a UV light at a few handfuls as he went about his work, simply visually inspecting others.

After a few silent, tense minutes, each of the men present itching to pull a trigger, he rose back to his feet. “It’s real. Much as I can tell without spending five hours rifling through this shit, anyways.”

The smoker and the new arrival exchanged a quick nod, beginning the process of transferring bags between their vehicles. With a team of five, it was relatively easy work, despite the weight - and then, the three men briefly crawled back in their own truck. Wheeling out a tall, unusually long cart, down a ramp that unfurled from the open side of the van. They pushed it into the car opposite, and then, their mysterious business complete, the five men each piled back into their cars.

“Think this thing’ll blow up on us before we get back to Rio?” The driver said, glancing back over his shoulder at his comrades.

Then men gave a collective shrug in response.

Marooned - Survival roleplay on a hostile alien planet

Reeeeee

Marooned - Survival roleplay on a hostile alien planet

We chatted briefly on discord about this, but I'm definitely interested in this, particularly in playing an Android - I'm not sure exactly what their role would be (especially at such an early stage), but I do know I want to emphasize the "alien" nature of said android's thoughts, though I also don't see them falling into the 'rah rah kill all humans' tropes. They'd be ostensibly helpful to the survivors, but most likely in ways that are unusual or perhaps as alien as whatever's crawling around on this world.

War Never Changes III: Annals of the East

<Snipped quote by Jeddaven>

Fair enough, we can certainly do that.

@Andronicus23

Sweet. DMed you on discord!
Edit: No idea why it double posted, or how to delete a post.

War Never Changes III: Annals of the East

<Snipped quote by Jeddaven>

Fair enough, we can certainly do that.

@Andronicus23

Sweet. DMed you on discord!

War Never Changes III: Annals of the East

<Snipped quote by Jeddaven>

Honestly, what you just suggested is pretty much my plan. If anyone is interested in contacting The Institute, they could have a Synth arrive at their territory or otherwise learn of them/bump into their representatives and then through the Synth contact The Institute. I can write for the Synth, or you could CC them. Either way is fine.

The Institute has such a small out of the way territory, I figured this was a good way to enable contact and get a network with larger nations going.

@Andronicus23

I think I'd prefer to do a collab, when it comes to first contact, and especially with Synths - I'm not especially comfortable controlling people from someone else's 'nation', even with explicit permission.

War Never Changes III: Annals of the East

@Andronicus23Did you have specific plans for your scouting Synths? I don't want to intrude, but I'd love to have Ronto approach the Institute for help improving crop yields, especially as they'd be sending out Pathfinders and diplomats to make contact with other wasteland factions. There's also the sheer number of radio transmitters operating in Rontonian territory (compared to the rest of the wasteland), and while I can't imagine getting great reception at all, they'd probably at least be able to notice the noise at night - or bump into some Pathfinders!