josephb

TES: The Second Great War

I'll be working on mine on Thursday/Friday just to keep you updated.

TES: The Second Great War

Lucas

Player Name: Joseph or joe

Character name: Lucas Flavius

Race: Imperial

Age: 19

Sex: Male

Physical Description: Lucas is a beautiful looking Imperial even to an Imperials standard. He’s around six foot and incredible shape with hardly any fat on him. His thick wavy brown hair is pulled back to just above his shoulders and has a well-trimmed stubble. He’s usually tanned but being so far north for a while it’s started to fade and for someone who’s been a part of the legion for a few years he has hardly any scars and his teeth are still perfect. He has big dark brown eyes which make people believe he’s a nice and caring person.



Faith: Lucas acts like the pious saint when people in higher ranking positions are around but really, he doesn’t care or put much faith in the Gods believing they have nothing to do with someone’s outcome in life. He thinks if someone wants a better life they should go out and get it for themselves instead of praying. He usually looks down at people who worship the Daedra seeing them as barbaric.

Position: Hastati

Magic: He can cast a basic Oakflesh spell on himself.

Core: Lucas spent all of his early life in the dilapidated city of Bravil were he had to deal with living in squalor and his drunken father’s abuse. His father claimed to be an ex imperial officer who left the Legion with a lot of honours, but the older Lucas got the more he heard rumours of his father's desertion. At first Lucas defended his father but the older he got, the more it made sense. Living in a shack and having to scrounge for food made him start to realise. A few times though he did overhear his father crying to himself when he was a drunken state muttering about mages burning his men alive. Lucas always wanted to know what his father had witnessed but was always too scared to ask. Ever since he could remember though, he knew his father hated mages and magic believing it was evil. Lucas’s mother would always try and protect her son from her husband’s wrath but just in case she was ever not there she taught him some alteration in secret to protect himself.

When Lucas was around thirteen years old his mother passed away leaving him with just his father and quite a bitter out look on life. As soon as he turned of age, he left his father without saying good bye and enlisted in the army. Lucas spent the next few years in training because all the training he had was from fighting with sticks with his friends in the streets of Bravil. He also arrived very malnourished and skinny from years of not eating properly so he needed to bulk up and get a bit of muscle to deal with the heavy armour and weapons he had to carry. When he was in the boot camp he started to learn how to read and write knowing if he wanted to advance in the legion, he had to have those skills. He had no problem with being able to charm his commanders, but that could only take him so far. All he knew though was that he didn’t want to go back to his old life of basically living in the sewers and being a second-class citizen.

TES: The Second Great War

@Andreyich Updated it, if you wanna have a read through.

TES: The Second Great War

Hider

Player Name: Joseph or joe

Character name: Lucas Flavius

Race: Imperial

Age: 19

Sex: Male

Physical Description: Lucas is a beautiful looking Imperial even to an Imperials standard. He’s around six foot and incredible shape with hardly any fat on him. His thick wavy brown hair is pulled back to just above his shoulders and has a well-trimmed stubble. He’s usually tanned but being so far north for a while it’s started to fade and for someone who’s been a part of the legion for a few years he has hardly any scars and his teeth are still perfect. He has big dark brown eyes which make people believe he’s a nice and caring person.



Faith: Lucas acts like the pious saint when people in higher ranking positions are around but really, he doesn’t care or put much faith in the Gods believing they have nothing to do with someone’s outcome in life. He thinks if someone wants a better life they should go out and get it for themselves instead of praying. He usually looks down at people who worship the Daedra seeing them as barbaric.

Position: Hastati

Magic: He can cast a basic Oakflesh spell on himself.

Core: Lucas spent all of his early life in the dilapidated city of Bravil were he had to deal with living in squalor and his drunken father’s abuse. His father claimed to be an ex imperial officer who left the Legion with a lot of honours, but the older Lucas got the more he heard rumours of his father's desertion. At first Lucas defended his father but the older he got, the more it made sense. Living in a shack and having to scrounge for food made him start to realise. A few times though he did overhear his father crying to himself when he was a drunken state muttering about mages burning his men alive. Lucas always wanted to know what his father had witnessed but was always too scared to ask. Ever since he could remember though, he knew his father hated mages and magic believing it was evil. Lucas’s mother would always try and protect her son from her husband’s wrath but just in case she was ever not there she taught him some alteration in secret to protect himself.

When Lucas was around thirteen years old his mother passed away leaving him with just his father and quite a bitter out look on life. As soon as he turned of age, he left his father without saying good bye and enlisted in the army. Lucas spent the next few years in training because all the training he had was from fighting with sticks with his friends in the streets of Bravil. He also arrived very malnourished and skinny from years of not eating properly so he needed to bulk up and get a bit of muscle to deal with the heavy armour and weapons he had to carry. When he was in the boot camp he started to learn how to read and write knowing if he wanted to advance in the legion, he had to have those skills. He had no problem with being able to charm his commanders, but that could only take him so far. All he knew though was that he didn’t want to go back to his old life of basically living in the sewers and being a second-class citizen.

Let me know if you want me to change or expand anything.

TES: The Second Great War

So sorry about not replying, just been a busy few days. Gunna get it up today.

TES: The Second Great War

Will hopefully have my CS up for tomorrow or Monday!

TES: The Second Great War

I'm very interested in this. :)

Crownless King

wip

Name: Will Blackledge

Age: 32

Description: Will is above average height and in fairly good shape for someone who drinks and eats as much as he does. He has a slight tanned complexion from being in the city of Azon but if he was in his homeland of Phars he’d be slightly paler. He’s got dirty blonde hair that comes just over his ears and looks slightly messy and has a slight stubble. His eyes are green and his nose is quite big and there is a slight bend to it from a past fight but he’s still good looking because all of this.

Personality: Will tries to act like a care free soul who doesn’t let anything bother him but deep down this isn’t really him. When Will cares for someone or a cause, he will fight to the death for that person or thing. He forever hates any sort of responsibility and will often make fun at people who live life too seriously. He comes across sarcastic, lazy and stubborn to people and to a certain extent that sums up his bad characteristics.

Background of Phars: Will is the fifth son of the King of Phars, the most northern of the Five Kingdoms. He grew up in the Capital, Phrainhold that is hidden in the Ravens wood. The Ravenswood is the biggest forest out of the five Kingdoms and takes up a lot of the land of Phars. If you take the wrong path, you could easily become lost in there. There’s a certain tree that grows only in Ravenswood, simply called the black tree, named after the colour of the wood, the bark though is white. They’re used to create the black bows which are some of the most powerful bows you can have. Most children from Phars learn how to use a bow from a very early age making people from Phars formidable archers. It also helps them easily defend their homeland as they’ll hide in the woods and ambush invaders with volleys of arrows.

Backstory: The Princes of Phars grow up with a certain expectation of what they’d become, obviously the first born would one day become the King whilst the younger ones would become Lords and priests of the Order or if they showed some sort of magical skills would be sent to the Synod.

Some of Wills older brothers moved to different cities or Kingdoms when their Father found something for them and when Will was sixteen, he was set to marry a daughter of one of his fathers Lords. The Lord had come to feast at Phrainhold to make a marriage pact until Will was discovered in bed with one of the Lords daughters, handmaidens. The Lord cancelled the marriage seeing it as an insult to his daughter and sent off the handmaiden to live in a nunnery. Wills Father was furious at him for the embarrassment caused and didn’t speak to him for years. This suited Will to be left alone and do what he wanted. Will left Phrainhold for a while going to the northern border of Phars fighting skirmishes against the Ashlanders. This was the lifestyle for Will: no responsibilities, fighting most days, getting drunk at nights with his friends and sleeping with the barmaids. It couldn’t last forever though as he was called home by his father.

When Will returned home his Father had told him that he was going to send him to the priesthood for the Order of the True Lord. The school was in one of the cities on the coast but this was the opposite of what Will wanted so one night he took as much as he could and fled. He travelled the Five Kingdoms for a few years fighting for different mercenary groups until he reached Azon and was given a room to stay in the castle. This was due to the fact he was distantly related to the King through past marriage alliances between his Kingdom and theirs. This is where he stayed spending most of his time in the inns of the city drinking. When he was not there, he was with Salazar who forced him to go out into the wilderness on jobs. Fighting creatures, dealing with peasants and gathering supplies. For whatever reason Salazar liked Will and made sure he didn’t just drink his life away.

Still working on the scene part of the CS but just wanted to put this up to see if the bit of world building was okay.

The Crownless King

You still accepting?

S̴T̴O̴R̴M̴C̴L̴O̴A̴K̴ : Rise of Tyranny (SHELVED, PM or DM me for inquiry.)

Eastmarch wilderness, 11th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 205

Rorik

It was another cloudy day in Eastmarch as Rorik waited impatiently just out of sight of the walls of Windhelm. He’d been camped here for close to a week now, waiting for Orla, a Nord woman who grew up with Rorik on the same farmstead. They came across each other’s paths as she was returning from Windhelm after delivering some vegetables to the capital. They’d spoken for a little while and about the reasons why he’d deserted the Stormcloaks. It turned out it was big news on the farm when soldiers had come looking for him at his home. Rorik hadn’t been home to see his parents and siblings since he did it, feeling too ashamed and believing they wouldn’t understand his reasons for leaving. He told her about needing to get into the city but for obvious reasons he couldn’t just walk through the front gates, this is when she agreed to smuggle him in the next time she was going into the city to sell food. The first night after he spoke to her, he hadn’t slept not knowing whether she would tell someone about him holding up close by. After a few days though he believed she had kept her promise.

It was early morning when she arrived on a big cart with two horse towing it. The cart was full of all sorts of veg and a few butchered pigs. Also, two big barrels at the front of the cart. Rorik smiled when he first saw her, Orla was the first woman he’d ever kissed and he had liked her ever since he could remember. She was a year older than him and when they were younger, she was always taller than him and stronger and when they wrestled with each other, it was always Orla who ended up pinning him, but Rorik had never really been too upset about that. “Hello Orla, I’m glad you to see you.” He shouted down to her as she got closer.

“I’m sure you are little Rori.” She replied using the same name she had always used for him, when they were younger everyone had called him that but now he was probably the tallest from his farmstead and she only said it to tease him. Orla laughed when she saw the expression on his face. “Do you still get upset with that name?”

“Well… no one really calls me that anymore.” Rorik answered. “Also, I’m a head taller than you so it doesn’t make sense.” Rorik studied her thinking she was just as beautiful as he remembered. She had golden blonde hair that was platted down to her waist and the colour of her eyes were a deep blue, you couldn’t help but stare at her eyes.

Orla smiled devilishly at him. “Well, you’ll always be little Rori to me.” She jumped off the back of the wagon and pointed to one of the big barrels. “Come and take one of these off and empty it. Well, you might as well go and pour it near your horse, give him something good to eat.” She looked at the little camp he’d made for himself. “No one really comes down this path so I can’t see anyone finding him or your camp.”

Rorik heaved the massive barrel onto his shoulder and it was heavier than he had expected it to be. He moved as quick as he possibly could and dumped a massive pile of leeks out next to his horse and dropped the barrel next to him. Rorik looked up at his horse who was just looking right back him. “Don’t worry fella, you’ve plenty to eat and drink and I can’t see myself being longer than a day… hopefully.” He patted the horse’s neck then turned back around. “So where will I be hiding?”

Orla shook her head and answered with a question. “Why do you think you emptied that barrel for?”

“Will I fit?” Rorik asked staring down at the barrel unsure.

“You will… you’ll be very uncomfortable but you’ll fit.”

Before he went back to the cart, he took one final look to make sure his armour and axe were hidden well enough inside a hollow tree where he had made the camp. He thought he didn’t want to look too suspicious with armour on so he decided on just plain clothes, a cloak and a dagger. Grabbing the barrel, he went to the cart and put it back on and jumped onto the cart and looked at Orla. “Thank you, Orla. I really needed your help.”

Orla smiled at him and replied, “Stop being so soppy and get in the barrel. Besides I know you’ll make it up to me one day.” She winked at him making him blush.

He folded his knees in the barrel and curled into some ball and suddenly it went dark when Orla put the lid on the barrel. “Please keep me safe Talos.” Rorik whispered a little prayer to himself, trying to think whether this was the smartest of plans but he knew he couldn’t stay in hiding for the rest of his life. A second later the cart started to move, it was too late for him to back out now.

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The journey felt like an eternity to Rorik, he was just too big to be stuffed inside a barrel. The longer he stayed in there, the more he started to think he could have just hidden under a blanket in the back of the cart and Orla put him in there as a joke. They got through the gates easy enough. The guards both knew her seeing that she’d go into the city every week. Even if they didn’t know her, she was so beautiful that she could convince the guards to let her through without checking what she had.

A few minutes later, light flooded back into the barrel and Rorik got a tap on the head. “Come on you can get out now.” Orla said and straight away Rorik shot out then started to stretch, his back had gotten very stiff being hunched over for so long. He looked around to see that they were in an alleyway with no one around. “Are you sure you want to go through with this Rorik? It’s not too late to go back on this plan… I just don’t think you’ve thought it out well enough.” Orla stared at him as he got out of the barrel and instead of her usual teasing smile, she actually looked concerned. “I’ll take you back out the city tonight when I’m leaving… I… I just don’t want you getting into any harm for some stupid cause.”

Rorik looked at her and smiled, “A stupid cause for a stupid person.” He said as he jumped into the street. He held her hand and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Orla.” They looked at each other in the eyes before Rorik continued to speak. “I have to go though, I don’t think I can just sit by and not do anything, I need to fight for my country.”

A tear started to run down her face before she wiped it away and laughed. “If anything does happen to you though, I’ll come to Sovengarde myself and beat you up… just because you’re bigger than me now doesn’t mean I couldn’t take you out.” Suddenly she grabbed him by the collar, pulled him close and kissed him. When they broke apart Rorik still had his eyes closed, he tried to speak but only a moan came out. “Well, it’s good to know I can still make you speechless.” She said as she rode off. Rorik just stood there and watched her.

Say something to her you fool, Rorik thought to himself. “Look after my horse if I’m gone for a while.” He shouted to her as she was halfway down the street. He turned around and shook his. “Out of everything you could have said you talk about your horse.” Rorik said out loud to himself feeling like a fool for the hundredth time as he slapped his head.

The first and only place he thought about going was The Boars head Inn, a tavern that was opened up by his old commander who had retired a few years before named, Bjorn. The commander was an angry Nord but one who also fair and kind to people who needed it and would always do what was morally right. Rorik saw him as a father figure.

Rorik lifted the hood of his cloak and went to the inn. The walk there was uneventful with the streets being busy and everyone more bothered about their own business.

The Boars Head was a very standard tavern in the same style as most of the other taverns in Skyrim. There was a long table in the centre with all smaller tables running along the side, at one end there was a huge fire place and above it a boards head hung on the wall. A few people sat drinking and a Nord woman was singing a slow sad song, it wasn’t really the happy environment someone would want from a tavern, but everyone seemed to be sticking to themselves which suited Rorik.

As he looked around the place, Rorik saw Bjorn leaning against the bar, the same scowl on his face that he always had. When Rorik walked over to him the expression stayed the same, the one eye that Rorik had left just stared straight at Rorik. His chest and arms were as big as a bear and he was as hairy as one except for the top of his head since he’d become bald. “Didn’t expect to see you in these parts again lad.” Bjorn said with a slight nod.

Rorik walked over and sat on a stool next to the bar, Bjorn pushed a mug of ale towards him. Rorik started to speak, “Yes, I didn’t really expect to be in this city again, but I needed to come back.” He took a swig of the drink.

“Do I even want to know why you’ve come back.”

Rorik looked around and leant in, whispering, “I heard about a res…”

“Shut your bloody mouth right now.” Bjorn interrupted him and pointed his finger right into his face and then pointed to a door behind him. “Get in the back right now.” Rorik marched into the back without questioning his commands. As he walked into the back, Bjorn pushed him forward to get in quicker, he was smaller than Rorik and a few decades older but was still stronger. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Are you actually serious Rorik, you’re here to join the bloody resistance.” You could see the anger in his eye but he kept his deep voice low. “Are you wanting your head on a pike outside the walls, because that’s the way you’re heading lad.” Bjorn just shook his head at him. “To be honest I don’t think losing your head would do you much harm.” He let out a raspy chuckle but went back to the usual stern face straight after. “You’re really ready to betray your brothers and sisters for people who aren’t even your own?”

Rorik just looked at him with an almost sad expression. “I’ll never betray my own and I’ll always want Skyrim to be ruled by us, but we can’t get there on the back of others, this isn’t the right way.”

There was a short silence before Bjorn let out a sigh and sat down on a chair. “I’m afraid you might be right, I never thought I’d see the day that you’re right but you are. Skyrim’s becoming a country I don’t recognize anymore, our fight for freedom quickly changed to just enslaving others.” He sat there and thought for a while, “I have heard whispers and rumours of people in here talking, give me day or two I’ll find someone you can speak with.”

“Cheers Bjorn.” Was all that Rorik managed to say.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful, but you don’t need to get sentimental. You’re not leaving my attic though until I find someone, you’ll definitely get caught if you start wondering around Windhelm blabbering about a resistance.”

They stayed in the back for a while chatting about old memories and catching up, it was nice for Rorik, he’d not really made a friend since leaving the army.