MacabreFox

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Heyyy! I’m back in town! I’ll get to work here soon within the next few days with Leif, and @Dervish and I are planning a collab with DK and Sevine.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@Gcold ahhhh I should have spoke up sooner, but I’ll be gone tomorrow until May 16th. I can do work from GDOCS for the time being.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

We got our collab up!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Of Love

A Collab by @Greenie and @MacabreFox

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With the issue of food having been taken care of, Meg couldn't help but cast an eye over the rest of her companions. She was almost reminded of the night before the expedition, when they had been sitting around a fire as well, learning each others names and about them in general. It was a little disheartening to see not all of them were with them. Though Meg had not cared much for the older Altmer, she wouldn't have wished upon him death by the hands of a dwemer soldier. The same could be said for the much better liked Balroth. Her shoulders fell as she let out a slow breath. And what of Latro? She could still remember the drunken prank they had played by drinking all of the beer in Brynja's pitcher... Speaking of, Meg spotted her fellow Nord and decided it would be best to spend her efforts on those who were there before her rather that remenisce and sadden herself with the memories of those missing. As she did, she pulled off her cloak, offering it to Brynja.

"How're you doin'?" she asked.

The warmth of the fire did little to chase away the chill she felt in her body, she would have preferred to remove her clothes and let them dry properly, but that was not a luxury she had now. She found comfort by leaning up against a tree. Megana's voice filtered into her mind, and when she lifted her head, breaking her cemented gaze from the dancing flames, she saw Megana before her. The young Nord held out her cloak, an offering, Brynja regarded it momentarily, before she claimed the cloak with trembling hands.

"Trying not to freeze my tits off." She said through gritted teeth, trying to force a smile, "How are you holding up?"

Meg let out a humourless chuckle, "Not as cold as you." They were from Skyrim, cold was something they were used to, so Brynja had to be extremely cold to say that. There was a small tinge of guilt that crept into her heart about having been able to stay dry and afloat while her companions had to spend their time shivering in the water. She didn't say any of that out loud though; she had spent enough time with the group, save the one named Raelyn, to know that they would wave it off. Brynja managed a grin at her words.

Taking a seat next to Brynja, Meg turned so that she was still facing the Nord. "I know what you're askin' 'bout though." A soft breath left her as she looked down, shaking her head; her voice was quiet as she continued to speak. "Truly? I don' know. I'm half scared the Dwemer's gonna be there in Skingrad too, an all of this caution's for nothin'. An' then..." Her hands clenched. "What if it's all 'cause of us? What if they're chasin' after us?" Thoughts she had been silent came tumbling out of Meg before she could stop herself.

Brynja didn't know what to say, she wanted to comfort her counterpart, but she didn't know Meg that well. What could she say? The truth.

"It probably is our fault. But the way I look at it, if it weren't for us slinking around in those forgotten ruins, whose to say that some other folks wouldn't have found it sooner or later?" Ok well that sounded horrible. Brynja rushed to soften the blow of her words, "I doubt they'll be in Skingrad, out of all the cities they went to first, they chose the Imperial City. They must've had a reason for it."

"I doubt they'll be interested in chasing us, it's not like we have anything of theirs that they want." Brynja added before a grin spread across her face, "Although, I'm not looking to die without my first kiss, so I've got something to keep on fighting for. What about you Megana? Don't you have someone sweet on you back home?"

Meg looked up, surprise written clearly on her face at the sudden question. "I uh... I don' rightly know," she replied, managing not to stumble too badly. "Could've been, but I'd never've known. I know I didn' much fancy the lads back in Whiterun, an' I'm pretty sure Pa would've scared 'em off with his hammer or sommat..." She chuckled at the thought, though it faded as her thoughts seemed to head in another direction.

"I did have someone I liked- not that he even knew, but he's not around anymore." She reached at her neck and pulled out the amulet of Mara for a couple of seconds before stuffing it back in. "Gave this to me once after treasure huntin', told me it was high time I found someone..." She shrugged a little before smiling wistfully. "Pa wouldn't've approved anyway, but some things your just can't help... 'sides, ain't like I like his wife much, but she makes him happy... that's enough for me."

She was quiet for a small moment before raising an eyebrow at Brynja. "What 'bout you?"

She grinned, a silly stupid grin at Megana’s words. It warmed her heart knowing that someone had taken a fancy to her. Enough to make tears fill her eyes. She let out a long, slow whistle. Brynja found comfort in Megana's presence, something like an old friend coming to chase away the wintertime blues and tell tall tales around the hearth. Maybe the reason why Brynja liked Megana so much, was the fact that she reminded her of Elyse, her youngest sister. She was a spunky girl, much like herself as a child, and while she kindly abided to their mother's wishes, there were many late night conversations where Brynja soothed Elyse's frayed nerves.

”Never was. You see the size of me? Most men think of me as some great beast to conquer. That, or I’m something terrible to even consider as a partner.”

She fell silent for a moment before adding in, “I thought I loved someone. Thought him a noble man. Thought the whole bloody fuckin world of him, and in the end he was just as bad as these other walking pigheads. There was a woman that...” Brynja’s words faltered, was she certain she wanted to bring that up?

”No...” She shook her head, “Tell me about this lad. What made him so special in your eyes? Couldn’t have just been a pretty trinket, mm?”

J'raij wasn't the easiest subject for Meg to talk about, but she could tell that the subject of special persons was harder on her companion that herself. "I actually met him when I was like... this high?" She put a hand up to show the height of a young child. "Back in Riften. Pa wasn't 'round much an' it was boring just stayin' in the city. I headed out an'..." She looked slightly sheepish. "Never met a khajiit before that. J'raij was nice though, nothin' like the people would say of his kind... well, 'least I thought so." A chuckle escaped her. "Did teach me how t'pick locks an' pockets. He left soon after though. Didn't think I'd meet him again, but when I finally left Winterun, I met him once more on the road. We'd become partners, go treasure huntin' and tomb raidin' together." Unknowingly she had started swaying back and forth, a small smile lingering on her lips. "It was fun while it lasted."

"Seems like how that always goes, doesn't it? We fall in love, and we're willing to do anything to help them." Brynja gazed on steadily at Meg before her shoulders drooped. "I don't think I've ever told anyone this... it was when I served under Rorik as his Housecarl...I won't deny that I had feelings for him. He was a handsome Nord, tall, kind, adventurous... I followed that man everywhere, and I would have followed him to the ends of Nirn. I was sworn to carry his burdens after all. We did the Jarl's bidding. We exterminated rabid wolves terrorizing farmer's flocks, we reclaimed lost treasures, hell, we even once killed a Hagraven together. Nasty blights they are." She paused in remembering those years past, it was as if she were swimming in uncharted waters now, falling off a waterfall she would never be able to climb up again.

"Suppose I didn't know him that well. One day, the house was up in chaos as we caught wind that we were to prepare a feast. And I remember that day just like it was yesterday. I was out in the garden picking lavender for our cook. She wanted to make pastries, and needed fresh lavender. I can still hear how his voice called my name. I remember standing up, and I looked right at him. I watched him come right over to me... and he kissed me, Megana. That was the first time I've been kissed. Gave me a rose as a token of his affection." She sighed, not out of nostalgia, but about what she was going to say next.

"That night, as I lay awake in bed, someone knocked on my door. When I went to open it, I saw this young lass, perhaps no older than yourself... and she asked me to take her back home. Made me swear not to tell anyone. I never questioned it. She was one of the guests from the feast that day, so I just assumed she must have fallen asleep and missed her carriage ride home. I took her back to Windhelm, and by dawn I was home in my bed again. I thought that was the last I would see of her..." Her throat tightened, tears stinging her eyes again. That unbearable lump formed in her throat.

"That was until three months went by, and Rorik sent me to Windhelm to fetch the lass along with a priest. When I claimed her, I could see that... she was with child. I knew what happened then, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you what happened. When I returned, Rorik and Iona were wed. That was her name, Iona. And..." Brynja's chest heaved as she fought to keep her composure. If the world was ending by return of Dwemer and their giant fuckoff airships, then she might as well get it all out before she died.

"I thought that I would get along fine with Rorik marrying this woman. He was doing the right thing after all, marrying her out of wedlock. It's what I would expect from my brothers if they had done something similar. I was charged with helping Iona, anything to ensure that she would bring Rorik a healthy child. I helped bathe her, rubbed her swollen feet; I even helped prepare potions to help her with the nausea. It wasn't until another three months later when she asked me one night, something that haunts me to this day. She wanted my help... to end her pregnancy. Iona told me that the night of the feast, her parents had been in attendance. They purposefully left early so that Iona and Rorik could be together. Iona told me that Rorik was drunk that night, and I knew it as well. He forced himself on her, she didn't know what to do. She didn't even want to go to that feast. She had someone she truly loved back in Windhelm. Someone her parents didn't approve of. She wanted me to end her pregnancy, and elope with her lover... Alezzio was his name."

"I... I don't know why I did it, Megana. I should have told her no, that such foolish fantasies would never come to pass. But the look on her face... I knew she wouldn't be happy under that roof. So I did what she asked of me. I used a bottle of Essence of Nightshade. I remembered back in the war, there was an Altmer woman, Cerys was her name, who taught me how to heal outside the use of magick. I remembered her using that bottle to help ease the pain for the wounded soldiers, and even to knock them unconscious. There was a rhythm she taught me long ago, and I fucked it all up that night. I was suppose to give Iona four drops of nightshade... and instead I gave her seven." Brynja covered her face with one hand, her face twisting in anguish upon reliving that horrible night.

"There was so much blood... I didn't know what to do... I just held her... Rorik wasn't home, and all the other help were either gone or retired for the night. When dawn came... I cleaned up what blood I could..." She was a shaking mess by now, "I didn't dare dream of going to sleep, instead I went into the garden to wait for Rorik to return. I didn't say a damned word about what I had done. I let them all believe that she had miscarried. We buried her soon after and Rorik went into mourning... I started to resent him by then... I couldn't stand him anymore. The more I watched him, the more I saw that he didn't give much a damn about Iona. His head hovered in the clouds, and he started chasing women. I never once saw that man cry after we buried her. It was like Iona hadn't existed at all. He remarried not before long. Said he was ending my service because he didn't want to cause any conflict between Ethelred and I." Her trembling had eased, and a profound calm came over her. How long had she bottled that up? How long had she held onto that dark secret. She sought for something to say now, but she couldn't find any words. Part of her questioned whether or not Megana would turn against her.

For a moment Meg remained as she was, quiet and motionless, eyes cast to the ground. Yet she couldn't remain that way for long, her heart aching for what Brynja had been through. She didn't hesitate, reaching out to take hold of the other Nord's hand, giving it a small squeeze. "I'm sorry Brynja." How hard must it have been for her to hold something like that inside for so long? All those feelings... how hadn't they burned a hole through the woman already? Meg's eyes stung just thinking about it.

"I'm sorry you had t'go through somethin' like that," she continued softly, shaking her head. "I know... people go through all sortsa shit, but still... don't mean it's any less." She bit on the inside of her lip, catching herself from becoming too emotional. "But... thanks for trustin' me enough to tell me. An'... well... I'm kinda glad you're not there no more, y'know? 'cause that means you're here. I mean... well, I'm not glad we're stuck in this situation... but at least I know someone like you's got my back." It was a rather awkward attempt at a compliment, so Meg decided to pipe down thereafter.

Megana's hand around hers was unexpected, though Brynja welcomed the gesture. She sniffed, and with one hand wiped away the tears. What a sight she must be, a massive Nord woman almost seven feet tall crying her eyes out. She could only imagine the social strain she must have placed on Megana, she sighed, as if she couldn't quite catch her breath.

"Sometimes, we do stupid things for love." Her storm-blue eyes locked with Meg's, "And don't you worry lass. I'll always have your back." Her eyes scanned the area, there were faces missing from the original party.

"I hope Solandil made it out alive.... he's quite a bit of a handsome fellow." She mused, a small smile spreading across her face before she winked at Meg. "What do you think? Who do you think is handsome in our group, eh? Alim?"

For the second time, Meg was caught by surprise, though this time she didn't stumble, letting out a small chuckle instead. "Hm..." she murmured, putting her free hand to her chin as if she was actually giving a serious thought to the question. "It'd be a lie to say most of the lads here ain't pretty." Her lips twisted into a smirk as she cast a glance over the rest of those gathers. "So few of 'em too. Not too sure whether they'd be keepers though." She could help but snicker. "Seein' least one of them brings tag alongs." She looked to Raelyn, still quite unsure about the Breton.

"She looks like she's got a stick up her ass, that one, " She said nodding at Raelyn as well. It was like Anifaire, but as a Breton. Brynja hoped that the newest member to the company wasn't entirely useless. Though to be fair, she hadn't even spoke a single sentence to the Breton.

"Well if I were an entire foot shorter, some of the might look my way." She chuckled, "Some bloke once boasted that he'd like to climb me like a tree. So I poured my ale over his head." Her eyes shifted, "Latro wasn't too hard on the eyes either. And I suppose Gaius isn't half bad looking either, at least he's aging well." She caught sight of Rhea by the fire.

"I'm not too particular with my choices in a partner, but Rhea is one fine woman. Though I guess you're right. I doubt any of them would be proper to bring home to Ma." She let out a low chuckle, in her mind's eye she pictured how her mother and brother would react if she were to waltz through the door of their home with anyone on her arm.

"I never thought of a lass for a lover," Meg mused, speaking more to herself than to Brynja, though it was loud enough for her to hear. "I don' rightly know what Pa would think of that though I'm bettin' he's open to anythin' so long as they're no khajiit or argonian." She shrugged her shoulders. "He still has the wrong notions 'bout them, an' it ain't like he'd listen to reason..." She blinked. "He's not bad though! Just kinda..." She shrugged. "Set in his thoughts."

“Aye, I’m not sure how my mother would take to me bringing home a woman either. Though, I don’t think her or my father were stuffy about race or gender. Heck, I think they’d just be surprised in general!” Brynja said mulling over the idea. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so hard in his ways if you brought home Judena? She’s got a tender heart, and of course, a soft head.” She chuckled, giving Meg a gentle pat on the knee.

”He’d probably be in an uproar if you brought home Daro’Vasora in that case.” She added, her gaze shifting to the forlorn Khajiit sitting by herself.

”You mentioned him earlier, the one that gave you the Amulet. J’raij? Was that his name?”

"That's right," Meg replied with a nod. "J'raij. I thought he was a merchant when I was a child. Well..." She laughed once more. "I s'pose he was, just not the honest kind. As for the amulet, I don' really need it... not really lookin' for anythin'. I like keepin' it though, like my sword and chest piece. Reminders. They don' make me sad- well, a little sometimes, but mostly just grateful? That I knew 'em even if they had t'go."

It felt different though, when she didn't know if someone was still alive or gone. Not for the first time that day, she silently prayed that Latro and Balroth were safe, wherever they were.

Brynja nodded at her words, "You have your trinkets to help your remember, and me... I have my bottles to help me forget. We all have our ways to cope." She paused again, looking Megana over, she wanted to ask more about J'raij, but maybe now wouldn't be the best of times. She peeled away the cloak, and handed it over to Megana.

"Best get some sleep while you can, lass. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

I'm gonna apply with you cool kids. Gotta knock a character sheet into shape and read up on whos who and get an idea of the shenanigrams going on in the last game.

@DearTrickster

awww yisss!

There's a summary on the page prior :D

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Leif Raven-Stone

Leif Raven-Stone

Male Nord | 31 | Shadow

Profile

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§ Birthplace

Windhelm, Skyrim

§ Appearance

Leif shares similar features found in many Nord men, while rugged in appearance, he is far more handsome than some of his countrymen. His shoulder-length brown hair hangs free, save for two braids at each temple. His eyes are sky-blue, where they sit beneath a smooth forehead, and twin set of bushy brows. A large grin often splits his face in two, whether he is smirking, laughing, or simply engaging in conversation. A scar on his left cheek serves as a reminder from his service in the Civil War. His jaw is hard, and square, much like granite. An aquiline nose dominates his face.

While not impressively tall compared to other Nords, Leif stands in at 6'2", and weighing in at 185lbs, all of which is corded muscle, accrued from the hard-work of sailing, and honed throughout the course of the war. Having a lack of fashion-sense has earned him some irksome remarks from a particular seamstress in Solitude, so to speak, Leif doesn't bother with the latest fashions, as he believes that fashion is for the fairer sex, and even then, it doesn't matter what a woman wears, for he's too busy undressing them with his eyes. Regardless, he is happy with a set of breeches, and a loose tunic. Were such a lucky lady to take a closer peak at that loosely strung tunic, they would note the bulging pectoral muscles beneath a swath of thick chest hair. When he speaks, his voice is rocky, and masculine in every sense; even more impressive is his singing voice, though don't be alarmed when he belts out a blushing sea-shanty about bedding some fair maiden. He could have been a bard if he'd wanted to.

§ Personality

When first meeting Leif, one immediately take notes of how loud he really is; obnoxiously loud, that is. He always seems to be shouting, and when he is drunk, the man is practically screaming till he is red in the face; not in anger, but from telling exaggerated stories, and with laughter and excitement. And the man does love to drink, though he is far from being considered an alcoholic. Some would call Leif a brash, and abrasive man, but this just comes from living on the sea in a ship with other men for long periods of time.

He keeps his faith in Talos, and doesn’t waver in practicing his beliefs openly. Leif doesn’t have any problems with other races, despite Windhelm’s notorious treatment of the Dunmer in the Gray Quarter, although he can be quite suspicious of Altmer and Khajiit alike. In truth, Leif is a man of good word and honor. He doesn’t believe in stealing, nor meaningless killings. If anything Leif is a proud, open-minded Nord that has a passionate fever to woo all women in Skyrim. If he had not gone off to be a sailor, Leif would’ve had a promising life as a Bard, or even becoming a Skald.

§ Background

Born in the icy city of Windhelm in 4E 174 on the twenty-fourth of Second Seed, to a modest family living in the Gray Quarter, Leif entered the realm of the living in a rather... dull manner. His parents were honest, hard-working folks that taught Leif the idea of never taking anything for granted, one he still adheres to this day. The snowy blizzards that plagued the northern-most city in Skyrim proved to be something that Leif treasured as a child, his favorite childhood past-time spent slinging snowballs at unsuspecting victims in the streets. His father, Jorrlak, worked the local forge for many years as an apprentice, while his mother Sanja, ran a market-stall selling odds-and-ends from which she acquired from travelers passing through Eastmarch. Leif's parents saw to it that their only son never went to bed hungry. Carefully raised under their guidance, they strove to make their son into an honourable man by instilling the belief of Talos in him at an early age. As the Dragon of the North, and worshipped openly across Skyrim, Sanja and Jorrlak saw to it that Leif attended the Temple of Talos on a weekly basis. He found relative comfort in Talos, and often sought guidance for his future, as a deep desire to become a proud Nord man fueled his fire.

Upon reaching the age of fifteen, Leif overheard one evening his mother's concerns for what Leif would become. In their eyes, they were proud of him. He had turned into a strong, healthy young lad, yet he wasted his time foolishly flirting with the girls in the city; he expressed no interest in taking up any skill, whether it be learning alchemy, blacksmithing, or even enlisting in the local guard. Jorrlak could only soothe his wife's strained and worried nerves, reassuring her that Talos would Leif in the right direction, emphasizing that they must keep faith. For the rest of the night, Leif lay awake, tossing and turning, full of guilt that he might bring disappointment to his family after all.

In a desperate attempt to placate his parents growing concerns for him finding a secure source of income, he volunteered his time down the road at Hollyfrost Farm, helping to plow the fields, and reap the harvests alongside another Nord man by the name of Tulvur. Simple and easy in nature, Leif enjoyed his time spent at the farm. Though Torsten Cruel-Sea owned the farm, he did not pay Leif for his hard work, instead, divvied up a percentage of the crops to bring home to his family. While this quieted his father’s concerns, the worried whispers of his mother continued; she blamed herself for failing as a mother, that she were the one at fault for not instilling a passion in her son. Frustrated with the displeasure of his mother, Leif, now seventeen, felt at a loss for once in his life. His parents provided a good life for him, and yet, he could not repay the favour. Did they see him as a spoilt brat? Why did Talos evade his weekly prayers for guidance in a time like this? He set out around the city, lending a hand to any who would pay him. He mucked the stalls for the guards, scoured the floors at the Candlehearth Inn, and lent a hand cooking food.

By the time Leif turned nineteen on the twenty-fourth of Second Seed, he pulled out of hiding a satchel full of septims that he had gathered from odd jobs around the city, and headed out to explore the surrounding area. He left in the middle of the night, leaving only a short letter on his bedside table that summarized his reasons for leaving: to leave the safety of the city walls, and to see what the world held. Pleasant weather in Second Seed allowed Leif to travel as far as Darkwater Crossing, by this point, he ran out of septims to carry on his expedition.

There in the small mining village, he helped mine ore from Goldenrock Mine, and procured an agreeable profit from his hard labor in harvesting the corundum ore. Leif stayed in Darkwater Crossing for six months before returning home to Windhelm. Upon returning home, he bought himself a steel longsword, and a suit of leather armor. After visiting the market, he learned the heartbreaking news that his mother suffered from Ataxia during his time away, though she swore she hadn’t received a bite from a skeever. Her lack of strength, and poor dexterity forced her to close down her stall in the market, which then resulted in Jorrlak becoming the main breadwinner. Without the added income of Sanja, Jorrlak struggled to feed himself, and his wife. When Leif returned unexpectedly from his expedition, his father greeted him with words full of anger, and frustration. How could he choose to run away from home at a time like this? How could he be so careless, and cause his poor mother such hardship? Furious with his father’s narrow-mindedness, Leif purchased a potion of Cure Disease from the White Phial, and cured his mother.

While he did not openly admit to his father, the regret he felt for leaving home so unexpectedly, he hoped that with being able to cure his mother, he would earn favor in their eyes again. This did not prove to be the case, as Leif and his father argued for hours. A sensible Nord man would not have left his family in a precarious position, and without the passion, would have found a well-paying job to take care of his own kin. Leif felt frustrated, his family expected him to do so much with his life, yet they couldn’t provide him with any general direction, and nor could he make up his own mind.

Shunned and angry, Leif headed for the docks. With his last bit of coin, he paid passage to Solitude on a ship called, The Courtesan. By the time the ship docked in Solitude, Leif had found a job amongst the crew. There, he spent the next eight years as a sailor. He encountered daunting marauders, who would have dissuaded a younger Leif, but he found the brevity of the situations exciting. Over the course of time, a man by the name of Halvar taught him the art of swords, how to swing a blade proper, how to thrust, and how to parry oncoming blows. The other members of the ship each carried a weapon to help fend off any unwanted foes. The time spent onboard The Courtesan were his favorite years in life, where he learned how to become a man. The winter's spent sailing on the Sea of Ghosts were perilous as the men aboard the ship raced against time to avoid the approach of ice that would leave them frozen in the middle of nowhere. Tales of men stranded on the islands in the Sea of Ghosts, suffering from frostbite, ice wraiths, and even horkers kept the men on their toes.

Through the years, Leif earned his keep aboard the ship, and grew to know the men well. He made fast friends with his fellow companions, Captain Atgeir Frost-Beard, Bjorn Strong-Fist, Halvar Rock-Jaw, and Orvar Red-Tree. On nights when they would dock in Dawnstar, or in Solitude, he found himself in the arms of a lovely lass that he managed to utter sweet-nothings too, and believed him. Halvar also taught Leif the art of poetry, and more importantly, how to write his own name; the purpose solely being to teach Leif how to woo a woman proper. Not only did Halvar teach Leif how to read, but it was Orvar that taught him the healing art of Restoration. Leif became a subsequent pupil under Orvar, and with his guidance Leif learned how to heal wounds, mend torn muscles, and heal broken bones (though this still leaves him feeling rather weakened afterwards).

By the time the imminent war broke out in 4E 201, Leif finally returned home to Windhelm, not to see his family, for during his time away on the seas Jorrlak passed of consumption, and Sanja soon after of a broken heart only weeks later. His family home remained under lock-and-key, as septims were tight with so many citizens in the city, and none cared to invest in a home in the Gray Quarter, especially where the Dunmeri folk ran rampant. Soon after his return, he enlisted with Stormcloaks, as he had no one else to turn to, nor anywhere else to go. Leif found it fitting to fight alongside his fellow kinsmen, as the Aldmeri Dominion had no authority bossing them around, dictating who they could worship, and who they could not. He felt personally insulted by the Dominion when they outlawed the teaching and practice of Talos, but those like him, were called to Windhelm to defend their beloved country from those blasted Thalmor.

As fate would have it, Leif Raven-Stone ended up in Sevine Varg-t’uk’s division, headed by Ralki the Bear, where the two became close friends in the midst of war. One could say that Leif shared a mutual attraction towards the Huntress, and in vain, attempted to woo her on several occasions. Of course, Sevine thought him to be joking. Who would dare to try to woo her? She had no time for love, especially when there was a war to be fought. Fighting side-by-side in many battles together, Leif and Sevine rescued each other from many close calls with death.

When the war came to an end, Sevine and Leif parted ways, each promising to exchange letters, but none ever followed through, and for the next four years, Leif purchased his family home in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter district. Although Thur, the Dragonborn was eager to make a massive army, the largest one in all of Nirn to be exact, Leif was rather hesitant about volunteering to join, as he was unsure if he wanted to pursue the fray of battle once more.

But pursue the fray of battle he did.

Leif joined forces with the same mercenary company that Sevine had signed onto. The company had travelled from the Reach all the way to Windhelm. He caught word of needing sellswords for hire, and he signed up under Ashav before the night had ended. One of his first missions was to help a prisoner escape, where the escape route took Farid and him underneath the city into the sewers. There, Leif and Farid fought against a snake charmer, where he uncovered an interesting journal in a language he couldn’t read. He watched the Kamal lay waste to his home city, where he and the others who survived the siege, fled through an underground passage. It was much to his dismay that he noticed the growing relationship between Sevine and Do’Karth. What was it that this cat could offer her, that he couldn’t?

They made it to Dawnstar, very much alive, where he encountered the uncomely sight of Argonian refugees gathered outside the city. He had little concern for them as he was assigned to the rescue mission of Winterhold. By luck alone, The Courtesan happened to dock in Dawnstar, and with his offer, the ship and its crew were enlisted in the rescue mission as well. He couldn’t believe his eyes, the destruction of the college, or rather the surrounding area was so great and magnificent, he didn’t know where to begin to understand what exactly happened. He would find out soon enough, but not after surviving a tempest of the century. The storm forced The Courtesan to dock, although it began to take on water after striking a massive rock. Those aboard the ship were forced to swim, or take refuge in one of the remaining life boats. Only a handful of mages survived the rescue mission alone. When they reached the shores, Leif and the others were greeted by Armigers, who took to battle on sight. They dispatched them, but not without help from the Dark Brotherhood. The company made camp in the cave for the night before setting out on the long journey back to Dawnstar.

As luck would have it, the company was assailed by a blizzard, and it would have meant their death were it not for Do’Karth. It was clear to him now that Sevine was smitten with the deceitful Khajiit, and she paid Leif little attention, and when she did, she appeared annoyed. Nevertheless, the cat saved them from dying in a blizzard by locating a cave they could take cover in to ride out the snowstorm. Yet the Divines, or so it appeared, were working against them all. Even inside the cave they were not safe. They were plagued with fighting Chaurus and Falmer alike in the near pitch-blackness of the cavern walls.

When they returned, it was just in time for the Whaler’s Festival. It felt like a breath of fresh air for him. While festivities were to be found, Leif found himself drinking copious amounts of alcohol inside the inn. Sevine had given a cold shoulder, leaving him to simmer in his self-pity. He didn’t believe for one second that Do’Karth was willing to go to the lengths to protect her from harm. And much to his luck, the next mission he was assigned, Ashav had split the company into two teams. One to investigate some Dwemer ruins, and the other team to investigate some mysterious forest fires. He went willingly, glad to be away from Sevine’s scorn, though Do’Karth’s presence did little to ease his aggravated temperament. Not even halfway into the ruins, Leif was forced to remain behind with Elmera. He had suffered an electrical shock that left the side of his head bloodied, and half of his beard singed away.

With the mission completed, the sailed back across the waters, where Leif discovered Sevine had nearly died twice on her mission. His blood boiled over, perhaps a bit irrational, but he wanted blood spilt. He confronted Do’Karth, and entered a duel. If that cat couldn’t keep watch over her, as much as he spoke words of love, then who better than a real man like Leif? To say the least, Do’Karth put Leif in his place, beating him to a pulp. So that was that. Sevine held no love, nor comforting words for him anymore. He retreated like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.

The mystery of murder filled Dawnstar, and the company sent half its members to Bleakrock, leaving Leif and few others behind to help uncover who the murderer was. And it wasn’t too long after that Ashav had them sailing for Solitude.

Capabilities

---

§ Attributes

Major: Personality
Minor: Strength

§ Skills

Two-Handed Blade – {Expert}
Light Armor - {Adept}
Speech – {Adept}
Mercantile – {Apprentice}
Restoration – {Apprentice}
Alchemy – {Apprentice}
Athletics – {Novice}
Acrobatics – {Novice}
Provisioning – {Novice}

§ Weaknesses

Wooing Women – If there is anything Leif should not do, it is to woo women. Not that he’s bad at it, but it’s become a bad habit. Any pretty face he sees, and he’ll be whispering sweet-nothings in a woman’s ear in a matter of seconds. It’s cost him a few bloody noses from angered husbands, or more likely, from other suitors. He can’t seem to say no to any woman. In fact, Leif wouldn’t be surprised if some poor orphan child claimed to be his child.

Fear of Snakes, Insects, and Spiders – When Leif was a young boy, 8, he was bitten by a water snake when swimming in the river. Ever since, Leif has a profound fear of anything creepy crawly, and for such, you won’t find him cave-diving any time soon.

Prideful - Whether he likes to admit it or not, Leif is very prideful, and believes that he has to prove himself to be worthy, of anything. It can be very hard for him to admit that he's wrong, when he's desperately trying to prove that he is right. He doesn't like to be considered a coward by any means, and adheres to the call of honor, and glory, like any atypical Nord man.

Fool’s Love – Leif is but a fool himself, but mostly because he seems to fall in love with every woman he meets. Not every woman, but if she’s pretty enough, he won’t mind writing her a pretty poem, or showing her a good time. However, he believes in love at first sight, and if not careful, he can move from one woman to the next and not care about their broken hearts.

§ Spells

Healing Hands
Healing
Fast Healing

§ Tactics

Leif prefers to fight with a steel longsword, his very first sword that he's carefully kept over the years. It is heavy, weighing almost six pounds, but he is used to the added weight from using it from the last eight years. If one were to examine the longsword, they would find it chipped, and with many scratches. He also prefers the use of Light Armor, such as leather, because as he's noticed from his seafaring days, seawater will rust armor and swords if not kept well. He has a set of Light Armor he wears into battle, or on the seas, and it consists of a triple-layered breastplate; consisting of a hard-boiled exterior, two layers of leather woven and bound together, with a third layer of cotton padding to absorb shocks from blows, punches, and kicks. He also has a pair of hard-boiled leather pauldrons, and a neck-ring of chainmail.

§ Relations & Affiliations

Former Stormcloak Soldier
Former Sailor of The Courtesan

- Jorrlak Raven-Stone - Father. Deceased.
- Sanja Raven-Stone - Mother. Deceased.
- Captain Atgeir Frost-Beard – {Captain of the Courtesan}
- Bjorn Strong-Fist – {Favorite drinking buddy, sailor from the Courtesan.}
- Halvar Rock-Jaw – {Taught Leif the art of poetry, how to woo women, how to swing a blade, and how to write his own name; sailor from the Courtesan.}
- Orvar Red-Tree – {Taught Leif Restoration magick, sailor from the Courtesan.}
- Chieftain Ralki the Bear - {Leader of his squadron from the Civil War.}
- Sevine Varg-t’uk – {Battle Comrade from the Civil War; the one that got away.}
- Kaliri Uviria - {Battle Comrade from the Civil War.}
- Do’Karth - {The one that beat his ass in a fight over Sevine}

§ Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

§ Other

...

Inventory

---

§ Cash

43 Septims

§ Keys & Lockpicks

- Key to Raven-Stone Home
- 3 Lockpicks

§ Tools & Crafting Materials

...

§ Clothing & Armor

- Light Leather Armor Set
- Steel Helm
- Leather Bracers
- Light Blue Tunic
- Pair of Black Leather Boots
- Pair of Brown Breeches
- Leather Belt

§ Weapon & Ammo

- Steel Longsword
- Steel Daggers

§ Potion & Arcane Supplies

- Potion of Cure Disease
- Potion of Cure Poison
- Potion of Restore Health
- Potion of Restore Stamina
- Potion of Restore Magicka
- 5 Blue Mountain Flower
- 5 Butterfly Wings

§ Jewelry & Valuables

- Amulet of Talos
- Silver Garnet Ring

§ Books & Documents

- Book of Yngol and the Sea-Ghosts
- Book of The Woodcutter’s Wife
- Snake Charmer's Journal

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients

- Waterskin
- Bottle of Blackberry Wine
- Green Apple
- Deer Jerky

§ Load Bearing Equipment

- Leather Rucksack with Wooden Pack Frame
- Large Pouch for Food
- Potion Holder
- Wooden Box

§ Other

- Skinning Knife
- Ink Bottle
- Quill
- Leather Bound Journal

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Sevine Varg-tuk

*Image Credit @Dervish

Sevine Varg-t’uk

Female Nord | 26 | Lover

Profile

---

§ Birthplace

Falkreath, Skyrim

§ Appearance

Sevine Varg-t’uk is fire personified. Her hair falls in tumbled ways of fiery red, often held back from her face in knotted braids. A pair of thin, arched brows are usually knitted over her pine-needle green eyes. Her lips are proportionate, and fit her face, though they are often pursed together in a flat line. While a Nord, Sevine isn’t the tallest of women in the region, standing in at 5’9. Every ounce of her body is composed of lean muscle, produced from the manual labour that comes with homesteading, hunting, and war. Her cheekbones are high and well-rounded, while a gently sloped nose soften her sharp, Nordic features.

Outside of battle, Sevine tends to stray away from dresses, though uncommon, she doesn’t forgo them entirely, rather she chooses practical clothes. A tunic, leather trousers and a pair of boots suit her fine. Around her neck, she carries an Amulet given to her by Do’Karth, she keeps it safe by tucking it into her tunic, asides from that, Sevine avoids jewelry like the plague. If it doesn’t have a purpose, then there is no need to wear it.

When engaged in battle, Sevine prefers to move fast, and effectively, so she chooses to wear leather armor, knowing full well that the benefits of wearing leather can help her move in silence. She sports leather armor, boots, and bracers, along with a red linen tunic and a black leather belt. Sevine carries a green linen dress in her rucksack when she needs to clean her clothes. At her side, one can see a steel war axe, gifted to her by Do’Karth after losing hers, and a Chitlin shield. Across one shoulder, a longbow and quiver are slung. She looks every ounce the image of someone who knows their way around killing.

§ Personality

Sevine is a genuine woman with a kind heart, and passionate about her beliefs. She is a seasoned warrior, her experience coming from time spent in the Civil War. Sevine respects all races in Nirn, as she follows the beliefs of Mara, to love another like one does for themselves. She has a strong moral compass, one that keeps her on a virtuous path, but she isn’t afraid to fight for what she believes in. She is quick-tempered, and has no problem putting people in their place. Sevine despises sexism, especially those who believe that women are good for just bearing children, and have no business on the battlefield, this is part of her weakness. Any woman or child in need, Sevine has a hard time saying no, making her vulnerable to deceit.

She is more observant in nature, as her eyes are trained from years of using her bow. Often times, Sevine takes up the role of a den mother in a group she knows well, sticking up for those who are weaker, sharing her own food or tent with those in need. She stands at a crossroads in her life at this point in time, unsure of where she is headed in her life, whether she wants to keep fighting or settle down is unbeknownst to her now.

§ Background

Sevine enjoyed a childhood that most were not privileged to, or so she believes. Her family were peaceful farmers that homestead a cabin on the outskirts of Falkreath. Sevine and her family planted cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and wheat crops; the occasional cow or bull was purchased when septims were abundant. Chickens were reared, as well as the occasional newborn foal. Her mother, Gudrun, taught Sevine her letters, and lit the flame for reading and pursuing the challenge of education; that learning would later come in handy during her time served at war. Their family surname came from an ancient Nordic line, Varg-t'uk, which meant Wolf Tooth or Wolf Fang. Where their family tomb lay none could remember. Agnar, her father, and Gudrun were devout followers of Mara, and taught their daughter to love all, and to judge no one. They taught her that hate is the greatest weapon against man. As man will hate, so destruction will follow.

When Sevine was just eight years of age, her mother passed in childbirth, giving Sevine a new little sister to look after, Liliana. The bundle of joy, turned into a precious child who looked the spitting image of their now deceased mother. Liliana had the brightest eyes, the colour of the sky itself, with fair skin, and flaxen hair; whilst Sevine was the spitting image of her father. Agnar struggled to keep his head above water during these years as he had to teach little Sevine how to tend to the hearth, and how to cook, all while tending to their home. While he went out hunting, or into town for provisions, Sevine cared for Lili, as she called her sister. The two girls were all they had for playmates, and when Lili could walk and talk, Sevine had her help with the chores. When the three of them made a trip together into the sleepy town of Falkreath, the townspeople often asked how they were, and praised how well Agnar had raised his daughters. Agnar was a quiet man, and preferred to keep visits to the town at a limit, only venturing in when necessary; after all, they had everything they needed at their cabin.

On her eleventh name day, Agnar presented Sevine with her first bow and quiver. He made a makeshift target in their cabbage patch made of hay bales to practice with. Sevine spent countless hours learning how to use her bow. Eventually, when her skill at the bow magnified, Agnar brought Sevine along on his hunting expeditions, enlisting the help of a close friend to watch over Liliana in the meantime. On these hunting trips, Agnar taught her how to spot tracks, and identify them properly, be they bear, deer, wolf, or any other mammal loose in the forests. She relished in venturing far from home, so she would rise before the sun, finish her chores, and disappear into the heart of the forest. Those tall pine trees is where she spent her years as a teenager, where she improved her tracking skills, coming to know just about every animal track that passed through the forest.

When Sevine reached her seventeenth name day, the crops were afflicted with mites and a type of fungus that had wiped out nearly half their harvest. Agnar fell ill that winter. With food dwindling, Sevine took it upon herself to venture out into the snow-laden forests, and tracked down a young buck. It had taken her two days to track the buck through the snow, munching on dried berries to keep her sustained. Sevine slept when she could, making herself a bed out of pine boughs. Still to this day, Sevine can recall the memory of stepping into that clearing. It was midday, the skies had cleared, and sunlight filtered down through the canopy. There, in a golden circle of light, a buck grazed. She can still remember the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she had found the buck, and this would get them through the winter. Without a sound, Sevine notched an arrow, and pulled back the bowstring. She slowed her breaths and closed one eye, aiming for the neck. The bowstring made a soft twang as she released her arrow, and stared in amazement at the sight before her. The arrow had penetrated the buck’s neck, the stone arrowhead striking a major artery, and dropping the creature without so much as a cry. and now lay. Once she gutted, and cleaned him, she carried the buck all the way back to their homestead, the adrenaline coursing through her veins helped lighten the load on her shoulders, an impressive feat for backwoods seventeen year-old girl. When she opened the door to their home, Lili rose from their father’s bedside, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t believe that Sevine would come home.

Over the years, her bow became an extension of her arm, and she could calculate the direction of the wind, and predict where a moving target would end up when she fired her arrows. Of course she wasn’t perfect, as outside factors came into play and caused her to miss her mark, and lose an arrow on occasion. She continued hunting and over time, Sevine became the provider of the family, while Agnar stayed home to care for Liliana. In fact, when the time came for a trip into town, Sevine often ventured to go alone. She took their wagon cart into Falkreath, loaded with goods to sell or trade. The townspeople of Falkreath knew the Varg-t'uk's has a comely bunch. When Sevine reached nineteen, their mare gave birth to a spritely young foal, one that Sevine took under care. She named the dark brown colt, Asper. And when it was time, she broke the horse into wearing a saddle.

4E 201 was the year that changed their lives for good. Agnar, and his family worried over the possible outcome of the war, would their home be destroyed? Would Agnar have to enlist? Who would become the Jarl of Falkreath? These questions were uttered around the evening hearth, with Sevine and Agnar often arguing over who was in the wrong. She felt the fire in her belly to go serve and protect their country from the Thalmor, as to her, they were the ones to blame. No one deserved to have their right of worship taken away from them, and it certainly wouldn’t be done by some prissy, piss-skinned elves. After all, the Thalmor was capturing anyone caught practicing the ways of Talos. Her father was insistent that this war, was not a war for her to involve herself with. His pleas fell on deaf ears.

Without hesitating, Sevine journeyed all the way to Windhelm to enlist, leaving Asper behind as Ingrid had passed. There, she pledged her oath of service to Ulfric Stormcloak and to the Rebellion. Sevine learned to use a war axe and shield during her time with the Stormcloaks, though she still relied on her longbow. She earned her nickname amongst her kin on the battlefield as, The Huntress. Any foe that came in sight that fired upon her, met an untimely death; either by her arrow, or the blade of her axe, as she hunted them down till they ceased to move. It was here, on the battlefield, did she paint her face for war, and has done so since, especially when travelling on the roads. Sevine gave a yell louder than any man’s when she fought, she was a fearsome sight to behold on the field of war, and did not shy away from the din of the battle. From her Chieftain, Ralki the Bear, she learned how hold a shield, and knows a few basic shield skills, such as Block, Ram, Bash, and Swing type maneuvers. From Leif, a bardic sailor type of man, he taught her some basic alchemy skills in which to protect herself, such as Potion of Health, Potion of Cure Disease, Potion of Stamina, and Fear Poison, Stamina Weakness Poison, and Magica Weakness Poison. Her skill in acrobatics, from traversing the rocky, tree-fallen forests of Falkreath in pursuit of a hunt, proved useful in battle, as sprinting, and travelling across various types of terrain kept her in shape. Even more so, the weight of her leather armor felt weightless during her time at war, as she often slept in it, in case of surprise attacks.

How Sevine Became the Huntress

One night, when Riften fell under control by the Stormcloaks, Sevine’s camp fell under attack when the Imperials slaughtered their scouts on watch. There was no warning to take up arms, save for the Imperials jeering in the dark of the night. They charged through their camp on horseback with torches in hand, they set fire to the tents, hoping to burn them alive. She shared a tent with a Dunmer woman by the name of Kaliri. And adjacent to her tent, slept Leif Raven-Stone. The three had become fast friends since leaving Windhelm.

She awoke with a start at the screams of those trapped in their tents, smoke filling her own. She rolled out of bed, shaking Kaliri awake. With the two women having escaped their flaming tent, an Imperial man on foot rushed Sevine, giving a fearsome war cry. She was paralyzed with fear, her senses dulled from being roused from her slumber. He knocked her down, the blade cutting open her hip. She dropped in pain, her hands flying to the wound on her hip in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The Imperial spat on her, cursing at her with degrading insults as he kicked her. His steel boots bruised and cracked her ribs, Sevine thought it would be the end for her when he set his boot upon her throat, trying to crush her windpipe in. She wished for death then. She lost consciousness as black enveloped her.

When she woke next, Leif sat alongside her, stitching up her wounds. He told her that the Imperial who attacked her, wielded a poisoned blade. Leif had given her a cure for the poison, though he had no idea of the effects it would have on her body. Over the next few days, she drifted in and out of consciousness, where she dreamt of dark things; she dreamt of that Imperial's face with his eyes staring down at her, and the sensation that she couldn't breathe. Over and over again, she dreamed of his boot slowly choking her. She wandered in and out of her dreams, for a week, but to her it felt like one endless nightmare.

When she recovered fully, she burned with vengeance. All she could envision was putting an end to the Imperial that nearly took her life. Leif tried to dissuade her against seeking revenge, but let her go when she told him that she had to set the balance. He let her leave without another word, without even questioning where she was going. If anyone asked, she forced him to promise her that he wouldn’t say a word that she had left. She snuck out of camp, and tracked him down like the animal he was, it took her two weeks to find him.

After the attack, the Imperials had move their camp to avoid detection. The camp would have remained hidden were it not for her ability to track. She found them as easily as an owl scooping up a field mouse. Their footprints were everywhere in the mud, and their attempt to cover their tracks by sweeping pine boughs across them did not stop her. Sevine found them soon enough, the Imperials had moved their camp to a location surrounded by trees on a raised knoll. She waited like a carrion bird, hiding in the underbrush for three days until she discovered the man, how could she forget his face?

That night she waited for him to leave the safety of his camp, and when he did, she caught him with his pants down in the midst of relieving himself. Sevine could hardly control the excitement washing over her as she notched an arrow on her bowstring. The arrow whistled through the air before finding its mark, an arrow right through the eye. She left him for dead, and slipped into the darkness. She returned to camp as if nothing had happened. Not even Kaliri or Leif bothered to question her. Their company set to move out and head north to Windhelm for reinforcements and fresh supplies.

Word reached their ears on arriving at Windhelm, Sevine had killed an Imperial officer. And just how did they know that? Why, they knew it was her arrow. She dyed her feathers green for natural camouflage. After that, Sevine became known as The Huntress to the Stormcloaks, and even those she did not know, when her company swapped out soldiers, or crossed patrolling paths, they would say, “Hail Huntress!” and clasp her on the back. Revenge always feels good, at first, but during the course of the war, and after it ended, Sevine found herself dreaming about the Imperial officer she had slain, his hollow eyes felt as if they were staring right into her soul. She would wake from her sleep slick with sweat, and limbs trembling. While it is an honor to have a name in Nord culture, Sevine regrets her given title, though she does not openly admit it, as it is a matter of pride.

After the war, Sevine returned home to find that her father passed away days before her return, a fever had taken him. Liliana, now celebrating her eighteenth nameday, had just married a local boy from Falkreath by the name of Lodjolf Thorn-Raker. Sevine knew his family well, they were potato farmers that lived a league south of Falkreath. Sevine lived with Liliana and Lodjolf for a year. She helped get the farm back into working order before deciding to move into town so as to give her sister and new husband some much needed privacy. She rented a room on a monthly basis, and worked to earn her keep by cutting firewood, or running small errands for the townspeople. She found time to speak to her friend, Edith Bright-Wings, on a daily basis, and became closer over time.

Sevine found her calling when she caught wind of a mercenary company in need of sellswords for hire to help chase out Reachmen that were causing too many problems. That first mission brought back memories of the war, and she faced the brutal decision of slaying helpless children, who were regarded by those in their company as wild heathens that would stick a knife in their belly. Sevine couldn’t bring herself to kill a child, and neither could others in the company. They helped escort the children to safety, and the next day they set out for Windhelm.

When the company reached Windhelm, Sevine looked for an old friend in the city. Leif Raven-Stone, the same man that saved her life from a poisoning. She found him, and soon enough, they were sharing drinks in Candlehearth Inn. While the merriment was heartfelt, it did not last before the tide turned forever. Kamals lay siege to the city, they were foreign invaders having sailed from Akavir to wreak havoc across Skyrim. Leif and her constructed a large sling to rain oil and fire-salt bombs on the snow demons from the walls above.

Tensions ran high in the city, and the racial shaming amongst the Argonians escalated quickly. The Argonians wished to leave the city, they were being called home by the Hist, yet the walls were secured firmly. All hell broke loose, and the Argonians turned upon their self-described captors. In a brash attempt to thin out the rioting lizardkin, Sevine ended up receiving a spearhead through her calf. And that is how she met Do’Karth. He patched her up, and in the growing silence between them, Sevine revealed the history behind her name, and the shame she carried with it, while Do’Karth revealed why he had journeyed so far north. Neither of them judged one another for their actions. The simple act of not judging brought them closer together.

Before long, they had to flee the city altogether, through an underground passage that led them outside of the city walls. The group and several other refugees made it to Nightgate for the evening. It was here that Sevine and Do’Karth made camp akin to one another. By dawn, the company was off for Dawnstar. They had little time to recuperate from the shock of losing Windhelm to the siege, as well as losing members from the company during the escape. Soon, the company was assigned the mission of rescuing mages stranded at the College. Apparently the whole damn thing had fallen into the ocean except for a tower.

The rescue mission didn’t go as anticipated, what with a monstrosity of a storm blowing into the area, along with The Courtesan, taking on water after it struck a rock. Most of the mages they rescued didn’t make it alive back, their ignorance duly noted in escaping overboard. Once on shore, Sevine and the company were assailed by a group of Armigers. They fought hand to blade against the Dunmer warriors before the Dark Brotherhood swept into the fray, making quick work of the Armigers left alive. They made camp in the cave the Armigers used, and that’s where Sevine picked up her Chitlin shield.

On the way back to Dawnstar, the company and survivors encountered a blizzard. They were forced to seek safety, and did so only after Do’Karth smelled fungus growing. To their luck, they had another cave to hide in. Although that luck wouldn’t last long. Before they had time to make a proper camp inside, the group were attacked by Chaurus and Falmer alike. While typically formidable foes when approached alone, the company made short work of the chaurus and falmer alike.

When they returned to Dawnstar, the Whalers Festival had begun. During the festivities, Sevine and Do’Karth shared a quiet moment where they entered a courtship. He bequeathed unto her, an amulet of Mara. While this newfound happiness lifted her spirits, it would not last for long as the company was split into two groups. Do’Karth and Leif, along with several others were to journey to Dwemer ruins in an attempt to retrieve some Dwemer ballista that would help in the fight against the Kamal. Sevine was assigned to the group investigating mysterious forest fires.

Sevine received injuries to her forearm and ankle from two wolves, effectively rendering her useless for the rest of the mission, where she was forced to stay behind with Rhasha’Dar, and Keegan. Those that stayed behind encountered Kamal, and were it not for Rothvar, the Nord they helped, they would have perished. When the other group returned from the mines, Sevine learned that the fires were the work of a rogue pyromancer. They made their way back to Nightgate Inn, Sevine’s hopes were set on seeing Do’Karth again when the Kamal attacked. They had little time to react. They barely made it out alive, and in the end Jorwen was captured. Sevine couldn’t bring herself to admit that they needed to retreat, and when they returned to Dawnstar battered and bloodied, she could do nothing but wait for Do’Karth’s return, praying that no one else had been taken.

When the Kyne’s Tear returned to the bay, Sevine and Do’Karth greeted one another in joy, although Leif on the other hand was devastated. She assumed that it was his jealousy getting the better of him, and part of her wondered when he last lay with a woman, perhaps that's what had him so high strung. Whatever the reason, Sevine did not plead to Do’Karth to spare Leif when the two entered a duel. She had to let Leif get out his anger and frustration, even if it ended with him having to submit to the person he despised the most.

Leif had to walk away in defeat. And Sevine didn’t care. She had had enough of his antics, and it was about time someone put him in his place. Not too long after, the company was split into two groups again, and this time, it was Do’Karth and Sevine headed for Bleakrock along with several others, while those in town worked feverishly to uncover the murderer trying to frame the Argonians.
On the return route, Ariane had received a message from Gustav. The company was needed in Solitude.

Capabilities

---

§ Attributes

Major: Strength
Minor: Endurance

§ Skills

Marksman – Expert
One-Handed Blade – Adept
Shield – Adept
Light Armor – Adept
Athletics – Apprentice
Speech – Apprentice
Sneak – Novice
Alchemy – Novice
Acrobatics – Novice

§ Weaknesses

Sympathy towards Women and Children - (Sevine is sympathetic towards women of all ages, as she is one herself, and towards children, as she helped raised her own little sister when her mother passed. In times of war, Sevine is against killing the innocent and helpless, and may find it hard to do so if ordered.)

Magical Incompetence - (Sevine lacks any capability to wield magic, then again, she’s never tried to learn.)

Hot-Headed - Sevine has a fiery temper, that even though she has tried to control it as best as she can, she can often lash out, or act irrationally without meaning to. Especially when it comes to things that she is passionate about, such as fairness, equality amongst the sexes, and races (she believes all should be treated equal, women, men, Mer, and Beast alike.), and any harm, or endangerment of women or children.

Fear of Being Buried Alive, Drowning and Suffocating - (An unexplained fear, though quite natural in reality, Sevine is terrified of the thought of being buried alive, as such, she does not do much cave diving. She is also afraid of drowning, and is careful not to swim in areas with dangerous currents; she is also careful not to swim where she can’t reach the bottom. Sevine is afraid of suffocating, this comes with being buried alive, and drowning, as she can’t breathe in any situation.)

§ Spells

N/A

§ Tactics

When engaging in combat, Sevine will string up her bow first, and attempt to bring down her enemy with an arrow to the head or chest. If quarters are close, she will bring out her war axe, and hack anything that crosses her path. From her experiences in the Civil War, Sevine knows the importance of strategy, and how to set up defenses against enemies. Before engaging in battle, she is tactful in her decisions, but it is when Sevine experiences almost a blood-lust, or more rather an extreme rush of adrenaline during battle that puts her into survival mode. She is fearless in combat, and there are two options available in battle only, victory, or death. She would rather choose to die than flee like a coward.

§ Relations & Affiliations

- Do’Karth - {Lover/Partner}
- Chieftain Ralki the Bear - {Chieftain of her division during the Civil War.}
- Gudrun Varg-t'uk - Deceased. {Sevine's Mother.}
- Agnar Varg-t'uk - Deceased. {Sevine's Father.}
- Liliana Thorn-Raker - {Sevine's only sibling, and little sister.}
- Lodjolf Thorn-Raker - {Sevine's brother-in-law: Liliana's husband.}
- Edith Bright-Wings - {Childhood friends.}
- Leif Raven-Stone – {Taught Sevine what little Alchemy she knows. Battle Comrade from the Civil War.}

§ Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

§ Other

...

Inventory

---

§ Cash

72 Septims

§ Keys & Lockpicks

- 4 Lockpicks
- Key to Varg-t’uk Homestead

§ Tools & Crafting Materials

...

§ Clothing & Armor

- Green Linen Dress
- Leather Armour
- Chitlin Shield
- Leather Bracers
- Leather Boots
- Red Tunic
- Black Belt
- Leather Trousers

§ Weapon & Ammo

- Longbow
- 14 Steel Arrows
- Steel War Axe

§ Potion & Arcane Supplies

- Potion of Cure Poison
- Potion of Cure Disease

§ Jewelry & Valuables

- Amulet of Mara (Given to her by Do’Karth)

§ Books & Documents

- The Black Arrow V2

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients

- 2 Waterskins
- Loaf of Bread
- Eidar Cheese Wedge
- Dried Jerky

§ Load Bearing Equipment

- Large Leather Rucksack
- 2 Leather Pouches (fastened to belt)
- Cheesecloth Sack (stores perishable food)

§ Other

- Canvas Tent Roll
- Bedroll
- Wool Blanket
- Small Feather Pillow

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@MacabreFox, what Dervs said. Also, Leif's background seems unfinished.

@Gcold

@GCold

Leif's background has been fully modified and updated with correct content, and so has Sevine's.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@MacabreFox, which attribute is major and which is minor?

@Gcold

I just realized that as I finished up Leif's CS. I just fixed it.

Leif Raven-Stone

Leif Raven-Stone

Male Nord | 31 | Shadow

Profile

---

§ Birthplace

Windhelm, Skyrim

§ Appearance

Leif shares similar features found in many Nord men, while rugged in appearance, he is far more handsome than some of his countrymen. His shoulder-length brown hair hangs free, save for two braids at each temple. His eyes are sky-blue, where they sit beneath a smooth forehead, and twin set of bushy brows. A large grin often splits his face in two, whether he is smirking, laughing, or simply engaging in conversation. A scar on his left cheek serves as a reminder from his service in the Civil War. His jaw is hard, and square, much like granite. An aquiline nose dominates his face.

While not impressively tall compared to other Nords, Leif stands in at 6'2", and weighing in at 185lbs, all of which is corded muscle, accrued from the hard-work of sailing, and honed throughout the course of the war. Having a lack of fashion-sense has earned him some irksome remarks from a particular seamstress in Solitude, so to speak, Leif doesn't bother with the latest fashions, as he believes that fashion is for the fairer sex, and even then, it doesn't matter what a woman wears, for he's too busy undressing them with his eyes. Regardless, he is happy with a set of breeches, and a loose tunic. Were such a lucky lady to take a closer peak at that loosely strung tunic, they would note the bulging pectoral muscles beneath a swath of thick chest hair. When he speaks, his voice is rocky, and masculine in every sense; even more impressive is his singing voice, though don't be alarmed when he belts out a blushing sea-shanty about bedding some fair maiden. He could have been a bard if he'd wanted to.

§ Personality

When first meeting Leif, one immediately take notes of how loud he really is; obnoxiously loud, that is. He always seems to be shouting, and when he is drunk, the man is practically screaming till he is red in the face; not in anger, but from telling exaggerated stories, and with laughter and excitement. And the man does love to drink, though he is far from being considered an alcoholic. Some would call Leif a brash, and abrasive man, but this just comes from living on the sea in a ship with other men for long periods of time.

He keeps his faith in Talos, and doesn’t waver in practicing his beliefs openly. Leif doesn’t have any problems with other races, despite Windhelm’s notorious treatment of the Dunmer in the Gray Quarter, although he can be quite suspicious of Altmer and Khajiit alike. In truth, Leif is a man of good word and honor. He doesn’t believe in stealing, nor meaningless killings. If anything Leif is a proud, open-minded Nord that has a passionate fever to woo all women in Skyrim. If he had not gone off to be a sailor, Leif would’ve had a promising life as a Bard, or even becoming a Skald.

§ Background

Born in the icy city of Windhelm in 4E 174 on the twenty-fourth of Second Seed, to a modest family living in the Gray Quarter, Leif entered the realm of the living in a rather... dull manner. His parents were honest, hard-working folks that taught Leif the idea of never taking anything for granted, one he still adheres to this day. The snowy blizzards that plagued the northern-most city in Skyrim proved to be something that Leif treasured as a child, his favorite childhood past-time spent slinging snowballs at unsuspecting victims in the streets. His father, Jorrlak, worked the local forge for many years as an apprentice, while his mother Sanja, ran a market-stall selling odds-and-ends from which she acquired from travelers passing through Eastmarch. Leif's parents saw to it that their only son never went to bed hungry. Carefully raised under their guidance, they strove to make their son into an honourable man by instilling the belief of Talos in him at an early age. As the Dragon of the North, and worshipped openly across Skyrim, Sanja and Jorrlak saw to it that Leif attended the Temple of Talos on a weekly basis. He found relative comfort in Talos, and often sought guidance for his future, as a deep desire to become a proud Nord man fueled his fire.

Upon reaching the age of fifteen, Leif overheard one evening his mother's concerns for what Leif would become. In their eyes, they were proud of him. He had turned into a strong, healthy young lad, yet he wasted his time foolishly flirting with the girls in the city; he expressed no interest in taking up any skill, whether it be learning alchemy, blacksmithing, or even enlisting in the local guard. Jorrlak could only soothe his wife's strained and worried nerves, reassuring her that Talos would Leif in the right direction, emphasizing that they must keep faith. For the rest of the night, Leif lay awake, tossing and turning, full of guilt that he might bring disappointment to his family after all.

In a desperate attempt to placate his parents growing concerns for him finding a secure source of income, he volunteered his time down the road at Hollyfrost Farm, helping to plow the fields, and reap the harvests alongside another Nord man by the name of Tulvur. Simple and easy in nature, Leif enjoyed his time spent at the farm. Though Torsten Cruel-Sea owned the farm, he did not pay Leif for his hard work, instead, divvied up a percentage of the crops to bring home to his family. While this quieted his father’s concerns, the worried whispers of his mother continued; she blamed herself for failing as a mother, that she were the one at fault for not instilling a passion in her son. Frustrated with the displeasure of his mother, Leif, now seventeen, felt at a loss for once in his life. His parents provided a good life for him, and yet, he could not repay the favour. Did they see him as a spoilt brat? Why did Talos evade his weekly prayers for guidance in a time like this? He set out around the city, lending a hand to any who would pay him. He mucked the stalls for the guards, scoured the floors at the Candlehearth Inn, and lent a hand cooking food.

By the time Leif turned nineteen on the twenty-fourth of Second Seed, he pulled out of hiding a satchel full of septims that he had gathered from odd jobs around the city, and headed out to explore the surrounding area. He left in the middle of the night, leaving only a short letter on his bedside table that summarized his reasons for leaving: to leave the safety of the city walls, and to see what the world held. Pleasant weather in Second Seed allowed Leif to travel as far as Darkwater Crossing, by this point, he ran out of septims to carry on his expedition.

There in the small mining village, he helped mine ore from Goldenrock Mine, and procured an agreeable profit from his hard labor in harvesting the corundum ore. Leif stayed in Darkwater Crossing for six months before returning home to Windhelm. Upon returning home, he bought himself a steel longsword, and a suit of leather armor. After visiting the market, he learned the heartbreaking news that his mother suffered from Ataxia during his time away, though she swore she hadn’t received a bite from a skeever. Her lack of strength, and poor dexterity forced her to close down her stall in the market, which then resulted in Jorrlak becoming the main breadwinner. Without the added income of Sanja, Jorrlak struggled to feed himself, and his wife. When Leif returned unexpectedly from his expedition, his father greeted him with words full of anger, and frustration. How could he choose to run away from home at a time like this? How could he be so careless, and cause his poor mother such hardship? Furious with his father’s narrow-mindedness, Leif purchased a potion of Cure Disease from the White Phial, and cured his mother.

While he did not openly admit to his father, the regret he felt for leaving home so unexpectedly, he hoped that with being able to cure his mother, he would earn favor in their eyes again. This did not prove to be the case, as Leif and his father argued for hours. A sensible Nord man would not have left his family in a precarious position, and without the passion, would have found a well-paying job to take care of his own kin. Leif felt frustrated, his family expected him to do so much with his life, yet they couldn’t provide him with any general direction, and nor could he make up his own mind.

Shunned and angry, Leif headed for the docks. With his last bit of coin, he paid passage to Solitude on a ship called, The Courtesan. By the time the ship docked in Solitude, Leif had found a job amongst the crew. There, he spent the next eight years as a sailor. He encountered daunting marauders, who would have dissuaded a younger Leif, but he found the brevity of the situations exciting. Over the course of time, a man by the name of Halvar taught him the art of swords, how to swing a blade proper, how to thrust, and how to parry oncoming blows. The other members of the ship each carried a weapon to help fend off any unwanted foes. The time spent onboard The Courtesan were his favorite years in life, where he learned how to become a man. The winter's spent sailing on the Sea of Ghosts were perilous as the men aboard the ship raced against time to avoid the approach of ice that would leave them frozen in the middle of nowhere. Tales of men stranded on the islands in the Sea of Ghosts, suffering from frostbite, ice wraiths, and even horkers kept the men on their toes.

Through the years, Leif earned his keep aboard the ship, and grew to know the men well. He made fast friends with his fellow companions, Captain Atgeir Frost-Beard, Bjorn Strong-Fist, Halvar Rock-Jaw, and Orvar Red-Tree. On nights when they would dock in Dawnstar, or in Solitude, he found himself in the arms of a lovely lass that he managed to utter sweet-nothings too, and believed him. Halvar also taught Leif the art of poetry, and more importantly, how to write his own name; the purpose solely being to teach Leif how to woo a woman proper. Not only did Halvar teach Leif how to read, but it was Orvar that taught him the healing art of Restoration. Leif became a subsequent pupil under Orvar, and with his guidance Leif learned how to heal wounds, mend torn muscles, and heal broken bones (though this still leaves him feeling rather weakened afterwards).

By the time the imminent war broke out in 4E 201, Leif finally returned home to Windhelm, not to see his family, for during his time away on the seas Jorrlak passed of consumption, and Sanja soon after of a broken heart only weeks later. His family home remained under lock-and-key, as septims were tight with so many citizens in the city, and none cared to invest in a home in the Gray Quarter, especially where the Dunmeri folk ran rampant. Soon after his return, he enlisted with Stormcloaks, as he had no one else to turn to, nor anywhere else to go. Leif found it fitting to fight alongside his fellow kinsmen, as the Aldmeri Dominion had no authority bossing them around, dictating who they could worship, and who they could not. He felt personally insulted by the Dominion when they outlawed the teaching and practice of Talos, but those like him, were called to Windhelm to defend their beloved country from those blasted Thalmor.

As fate would have it, Leif Raven-Stone ended up in Sevine Varg-t’uk’s division, headed by Ralki the Bear, where the two became close friends in the midst of war. One could say that Leif shared a mutual attraction towards the Huntress, and in vain, attempted to woo her on several occasions. Of course, Sevine thought him to be joking. Who would dare to try to woo her? She had no time for love, especially when there was a war to be fought. Fighting side-by-side in many battles together, Leif and Sevine rescued each other from many close calls with death.

When the war came to an end, Sevine and Leif parted ways, each promising to exchange letters, but none ever followed through, and for the next four years, Leif purchased his family home in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter district. Although Thur, the Dragonborn was eager to make a massive army, the largest one in all of Nirn to be exact, Leif was rather hesitant about volunteering to join, as he was unsure if he wanted to pursue the fray of battle once more.

But pursue the fray of battle he did.

Leif joined forces with the same mercenary company that Sevine had signed onto. The company had travelled from the Reach all the way to Windhelm. He caught word of needing sellswords for hire, and he signed up under Ashav before the night had ended. One of his first missions was to help a prisoner escape, where the escape route took Farid and him underneath the city into the sewers. There, Leif and Farid fought against a snake charmer, where he uncovered an interesting journal in a language he couldn’t read. He watched the Kamal lay waste to his home city, where he and the others who survived the siege, fled through an underground passage. It was much to his dismay that he noticed the growing relationship between Sevine and Do’Karth. What was it that this cat could offer her, that he couldn’t?

They made it to Dawnstar, very much alive, where he encountered the uncomely sight of Argonian refugees gathered outside the city. He had little concern for them as he was assigned to the rescue mission of Winterhold. By luck alone, The Courtesan happened to dock in Dawnstar, and with his offer, the ship and its crew were enlisted in the rescue mission as well. He couldn’t believe his eyes, the destruction of the college, or rather the surrounding area was so great and magnificent, he didn’t know where to begin to understand what exactly happened. He would find out soon enough, but not after surviving a tempest of the century. The storm forced The Courtesan to dock, although it began to take on water after striking a massive rock. Those aboard the ship were forced to swim, or take refuge in one of the remaining life boats. Only a handful of mages survived the rescue mission alone. When they reached the shores, Leif and the others were greeted by Armigers, who took to battle on sight. They dispatched them, but not without help from the Dark Brotherhood. The company made camp in the cave for the night before setting out on the long journey back to Dawnstar.

As luck would have it, the company was assailed by a blizzard, and it would have meant their death were it not for Do’Karth. It was clear to him now that Sevine was smitten with the deceitful Khajiit, and she paid Leif little attention, and when she did, she appeared annoyed. Nevertheless, the cat saved them from dying in a blizzard by locating a cave they could take cover in to ride out the snowstorm. Yet the Divines, or so it appeared, were working against them all. Even inside the cave they were not safe. They were plagued with fighting Chaurus and Falmer alike in the near pitch-blackness of the cavern walls.

When they returned, it was just in time for the Whaler’s Festival. It felt like a breath of fresh air for him. While festivities were to be found, Leif found himself drinking copious amounts of alcohol inside the inn. Sevine had given a cold shoulder, leaving him to simmer in his self-pity. He didn’t believe for one second that Do’Karth was willing to go to the lengths to protect her from harm. And much to his luck, the next mission he was assigned, Ashav had split the company into two teams. One to investigate some Dwemer ruins, and the other team to investigate some mysterious forest fires. He went willingly, glad to be away from Sevine’s scorn, though Do’Karth’s presence did little to ease his aggravated temperament. Not even halfway into the ruins, Leif was forced to remain behind with Elmera. He had suffered an electrical shock that left the side of his head bloodied, and half of his beard singed away.

With the mission completed, the sailed back across the waters, where Leif discovered Sevine had nearly died twice on her mission. His blood boiled over, perhaps a bit irrational, but he wanted blood spilt. He confronted Do’Karth, and entered a duel. If that cat couldn’t keep watch over her, as much as he spoke words of love, then who better than a real man like Leif? To say the least, Do’Karth put Leif in his place, beating him to a pulp. So that was that. Sevine held no love, nor comforting words for him anymore. He retreated like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.

The mystery of murder filled Dawnstar, and the company sent half its members to Bleakrock, leaving Leif and few others behind to help uncover who the murderer was. And it wasn’t too long after that Ashav had them sailing for Solitude.

Capabilities

---

§ Attributes

Major: Personality
Minor: Strength

§ Skills

Two-Handed Blade – {Expert}
Light Armor - {Adept}
Speech – {Adept}
Mercantile – {Apprentice}
Restoration – {Apprentice}
Alchemy – {Apprentice}
Athletics – {Novice}
Acrobatics – {Novice}
Provisioning – {Novice}

§ Weaknesses

Wooing Women – If there is anything Leif should not do, it is to woo women. Not that he’s bad at it, but it’s become a bad habit. Any pretty face he sees, and he’ll be whispering sweet-nothings in a woman’s ear in a matter of seconds. It’s cost him a few bloody noses from angered husbands, or more likely, from other suitors. He can’t seem to say no to any woman. In fact, Leif wouldn’t be surprised if some poor orphan child claimed to be his child.

Fear of Snakes, Insects, and Spiders – When Leif was a young boy, 8, he was bitten by a water snake when swimming in the river. Ever since, Leif has a profound fear of anything creepy crawly, and for such, you won’t find him cave-diving any time soon.

Prideful - Whether he likes to admit it or not, Leif is very prideful, and believes that he has to prove himself to be worthy, of anything. It can be very hard for him to admit that he's wrong, when he's desperately trying to prove that he is right. He doesn't like to be considered a coward by any means, and adheres to the call of honor, and glory, like any atypical Nord man.

Fool’s Love – Leif is but a fool himself, but mostly because he seems to fall in love with every woman he meets. Not every woman, but if she’s pretty enough, he won’t mind writing her a pretty poem, or showing her a good time. However, he believes in love at first sight, and if not careful, he can move from one woman to the next and not care about their broken hearts.

§ Spells

Healing Hands
Healing
Fast Healing

§ Tactics

Leif prefers to fight with a steel longsword, his very first sword that he's carefully kept over the years. It is heavy, weighing almost six pounds, but he is used to the added weight from using it from the last eight years. If one were to examine the longsword, they would find it chipped, and with many scratches. He also prefers the use of Light Armor, such as leather, because as he's noticed from his seafaring days, seawater will rust armor and swords if not kept well. He has a set of Light Armor he wears into battle, or on the seas, and it consists of a triple-layered breastplate; consisting of a hard-boiled exterior, two layers of leather woven and bound together, with a third layer of cotton padding to absorb shocks from blows, punches, and kicks. He also has a pair of hard-boiled leather pauldrons, and a neck-ring of chainmail.

§ Relations & Affiliations

Former Stormcloak Soldier
Former Sailor of The Courtesan

- Jorrlak Raven-Stone - Father. Deceased.
- Sanja Raven-Stone - Mother. Deceased.
- Captain Atgeir Frost-Beard – {Captain of the Courtesan}
- Bjorn Strong-Fist – {Favorite drinking buddy, sailor from the Courtesan.}
- Halvar Rock-Jaw – {Taught Leif the art of poetry, how to woo women, how to swing a blade, and how to write his own name; sailor from the Courtesan.}
- Orvar Red-Tree – {Taught Leif Restoration magick, sailor from the Courtesan.}
- Chieftain Ralki the Bear - {Leader of his squadron from the Civil War.}
- Sevine Varg-t’uk – {Battle Comrade from the Civil War; the one that got away.}
- Kaliri Uviria - {Battle Comrade from the Civil War.}
- Do’Karth - {The one that beat his ass in a fight over Sevine}

§ Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

§ Other

...

Inventory

---

§ Cash

43 Septims

§ Keys & Lockpicks

- Key to Raven-Stone Home
- 3 Lockpicks

§ Tools & Crafting Materials

...

§ Clothing & Armor

- Light Leather Armor Set
- Steel Helm
- Leather Bracers
- Light Blue Tunic
- Pair of Black Leather Boots
- Pair of Brown Breeches
- Leather Belt

§ Weapon & Ammo

- Steel Longsword
- Steel Daggers

§ Potion & Arcane Supplies

- Potion of Cure Disease
- Potion of Cure Poison
- Potion of Restore Health
- Potion of Restore Stamina
- Potion of Restore Magicka
- 5 Blue Mountain Flower
- 5 Butterfly Wings

§ Jewelry & Valuables

- Amulet of Talos
- Silver Garnet Ring

§ Books & Documents

- Book of Yngol and the Sea-Ghosts
- Book of The Woodcutter’s Wife
- Snake Charmer's Journal

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients

- Waterskin
- Bottle of Blackberry Wine
- Green Apple
- Deer Jerky

§ Load Bearing Equipment

- Leather Rucksack with Wooden Pack Frame
- Large Pouch for Food
- Potion Holder
- Wooden Box

§ Other

- Skinning Knife
- Ink Bottle
- Quill
- Leather Bound Journal

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@GCold Here's Sevine, I did some minor updating in her appearance, background and personality, along with typical inventory stuff too.

Sevine Varg-tuk

*Image Credit @Dervish

Sevine Varg-t’uk

Female Nord | 26 | Lover

Profile

---

§ Birthplace

Falkreath, Skyrim

§ Appearance

Sevine Varg-t’uk is fire personified. Her hair falls in tumbled ways of fiery red, often held back from her face in knotted braids. A pair of thin, arched brows are usually knitted over her pine-needle green eyes. Her lips are proportionate, and fit her face, though they are often pursed together in a flat line. While a Nord, Sevine isn’t the tallest of women in the region, standing in at 5’9. Every ounce of her body is composed of lean muscle, produced from the manual labour that comes with homesteading, hunting, and war. Her cheekbones are high and well-rounded, while a gently sloped nose soften her sharp, Nordic features.

Outside of battle, Sevine tends to stray away from dresses, though uncommon, she doesn’t forgo them entirely, rather she chooses practical clothes. A tunic, leather trousers and a pair of boots suit her fine. Around her neck, she carries an Amulet given to her by Do’Karth, she keeps it safe by tucking it into her tunic, asides from that, Sevine avoids jewelry like the plague. If it doesn’t have a purpose, then there is no need to wear it.

When engaged in battle, Sevine prefers to move fast, and effectively, so she chooses to wear leather armor, knowing full well that the benefits of wearing leather can help her move in silence. She sports leather armor, boots, and bracers, along with a red linen tunic and a black leather belt. Sevine carries a green linen dress in her rucksack when she needs to clean her clothes. At her side, one can see a steel war axe, gifted to her by Do’Karth after losing hers, and a Chitlin shield. Across one shoulder, a longbow and quiver are slung. She looks every ounce the image of someone who knows their way around killing.

§ Personality

Sevine is a genuine woman with a kind heart, and passionate about her beliefs. She is a seasoned warrior, her experience coming from time spent in the Civil War. Sevine respects all races in Nirn, as she follows the beliefs of Mara, to love another like one does for themselves. She has a strong moral compass, one that keeps her on a virtuous path, but she isn’t afraid to fight for what she believes in. She is quick-tempered, and has no problem putting people in their place. Sevine despises sexism, especially those who believe that women are good for just bearing children, and have no business on the battlefield, this is part of her weakness. Any woman or child in need, Sevine has a hard time saying no, making her vulnerable to deceit.

She is more observant in nature, as her eyes are trained from years of using her bow. Often times, Sevine takes up the role of a den mother in a group she knows well, sticking up for those who are weaker, sharing her own food or tent with those in need. She stands at a crossroads in her life at this point in time, unsure of where she is headed in her life, whether she wants to keep fighting or settle down is unbeknownst to her now.

§ Background

Sevine enjoyed a childhood that most were not privileged to, or so she believes. Her family were peaceful farmers that homestead a cabin on the outskirts of Falkreath. Sevine and her family planted cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and wheat crops; the occasional cow or bull was purchased when septims were abundant. Chickens were reared, as well as the occasional newborn foal. Her mother, Gudrun, taught Sevine her letters, and lit the flame for reading and pursuing the challenge of education; that learning would later come in handy during her time served at war. Their family surname came from an ancient Nordic line, Varg-t'uk, which meant Wolf Tooth or Wolf Fang. Where their family tomb lay none could remember. Agnar, her father, and Gudrun were devout followers of Mara, and taught their daughter to love all, and to judge no one. They taught her that hate is the greatest weapon against man. As man will hate, so destruction will follow.

When Sevine was just eight years of age, her mother passed in childbirth, giving Sevine a new little sister to look after, Liliana. The bundle of joy, turned into a precious child who looked the spitting image of their now deceased mother. Liliana had the brightest eyes, the colour of the sky itself, with fair skin, and flaxen hair; whilst Sevine was the spitting image of her father. Agnar struggled to keep his head above water during these years as he had to teach little Sevine how to tend to the hearth, and how to cook, all while tending to their home. While he went out hunting, or into town for provisions, Sevine cared for Lili, as she called her sister. The two girls were all they had for playmates, and when Lili could walk and talk, Sevine had her help with the chores. When the three of them made a trip together into the sleepy town of Falkreath, the townspeople often asked how they were, and praised how well Agnar had raised his daughters. Agnar was a quiet man, and preferred to keep visits to the town at a limit, only venturing in when necessary; after all, they had everything they needed at their cabin.

On her eleventh name day, Agnar presented Sevine with her first bow and quiver. He made a makeshift target in their cabbage patch made of hay bales to practice with. Sevine spent countless hours learning how to use her bow. Eventually, when her skill at the bow magnified, Agnar brought Sevine along on his hunting expeditions, enlisting the help of a close friend to watch over Liliana in the meantime. On these hunting trips, Agnar taught her how to spot tracks, and identify them properly, be they bear, deer, wolf, or any other mammal loose in the forests. She relished in venturing far from home, so she would rise before the sun, finish her chores, and disappear into the heart of the forest. Those tall pine trees is where she spent her years as a teenager, where she improved her tracking skills, coming to know just about every animal track that passed through the forest.

When Sevine reached her seventeenth name day, the crops were afflicted with mites and a type of fungus that had wiped out nearly half their harvest. Agnar fell ill that winter. With food dwindling, Sevine took it upon herself to venture out into the snow-laden forests, and tracked down a young buck. It had taken her two days to track the buck through the snow, munching on dried berries to keep her sustained. Sevine slept when she could, making herself a bed out of pine boughs. Still to this day, Sevine can recall the memory of stepping into that clearing. It was midday, the skies had cleared, and sunlight filtered down through the canopy. There, in a golden circle of light, a buck grazed. She can still remember the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she had found the buck, and this would get them through the winter. Without a sound, Sevine notched an arrow, and pulled back the bowstring. She slowed her breaths and closed one eye, aiming for the neck. The bowstring made a soft twang as she released her arrow, and stared in amazement at the sight before her. The arrow had penetrated the buck’s neck, the stone arrowhead striking a major artery, and dropping the creature without so much as a cry. and now lay. Once she gutted, and cleaned him, she carried the buck all the way back to their homestead, the adrenaline coursing through her veins helped lighten the load on her shoulders, an impressive feat for backwoods seventeen year-old girl. When she opened the door to their home, Lili rose from their father’s bedside, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t believe that Sevine would come home.

Over the years, her bow became an extension of her arm, and she could calculate the direction of the wind, and predict where a moving target would end up when she fired her arrows. Of course she wasn’t perfect, as outside factors came into play and caused her to miss her mark, and lose an arrow on occasion. She continued hunting and over time, Sevine became the provider of the family, while Agnar stayed home to care for Liliana. In fact, when the time came for a trip into town, Sevine often ventured to go alone. She took their wagon cart into Falkreath, loaded with goods to sell or trade. The townspeople of Falkreath knew the Varg-t'uk's has a comely bunch. When Sevine reached nineteen, their mare gave birth to a spritely young foal, one that Sevine took under care. She named the dark brown colt, Asper. And when it was time, she broke the horse into wearing a saddle.

4E 201 was the year that changed their lives for good. Agnar, and his family worried over the possible outcome of the war, would their home be destroyed? Would Agnar have to enlist? Who would become the Jarl of Falkreath? These questions were uttered around the evening hearth, with Sevine and Agnar often arguing over who was in the wrong. She felt the fire in her belly to go serve and protect their country from the Thalmor, as to her, they were the ones to blame. No one deserved to have their right of worship taken away from them, and it certainly wouldn’t be done by some prissy, piss-skinned elves. After all, the Thalmor was capturing anyone caught practicing the ways of Talos. Her father was insistent that this war, was not a war for her to involve herself with. His pleas fell on deaf ears.

Without hesitating, Sevine journeyed all the way to Windhelm to enlist, leaving Asper behind as Ingrid had passed. There, she pledged her oath of service to Ulfric Stormcloak and to the Rebellion. Sevine learned to use a war axe and shield during her time with the Stormcloaks, though she still relied on her longbow. She earned her nickname amongst her kin on the battlefield as, The Huntress. Any foe that came in sight that fired upon her, met an untimely death; either by her arrow, or the blade of her axe, as she hunted them down till they ceased to move. It was here, on the battlefield, did she paint her face for war, and has done so since, especially when travelling on the roads. Sevine gave a yell louder than any man’s when she fought, she was a fearsome sight to behold on the field of war, and did not shy away from the din of the battle. From her Chieftain, Ralki the Bear, she learned how hold a shield, and knows a few basic shield skills, such as Block, Ram, Bash, and Swing type maneuvers. From Leif, a bardic sailor type of man, he taught her some basic alchemy skills in which to protect herself, such as Potion of Health, Potion of Cure Disease, Potion of Stamina, and Fear Poison, Stamina Weakness Poison, and Magica Weakness Poison. Her skill in acrobatics, from traversing the rocky, tree-fallen forests of Falkreath in pursuit of a hunt, proved useful in battle, as sprinting, and travelling across various types of terrain kept her in shape. Even more so, the weight of her leather armor felt weightless during her time at war, as she often slept in it, in case of surprise attacks.

How Sevine Became the Huntress

One night, when Riften fell under control by the Stormcloaks, Sevine’s camp fell under attack when the Imperials slaughtered their scouts on watch. There was no warning to take up arms, save for the Imperials jeering in the dark of the night. They charged through their camp on horseback with torches in hand, they set fire to the tents, hoping to burn them alive. She shared a tent with a Dunmer woman by the name of Kaliri. And adjacent to her tent, slept Leif Raven-Stone. The three had become fast friends since leaving Windhelm.

She awoke with a start at the screams of those trapped in their tents, smoke filling her own. She rolled out of bed, shaking Kaliri awake. With the two women having escaped their flaming tent, an Imperial man on foot rushed Sevine, giving a fearsome war cry. She was paralyzed with fear, her senses dulled from being roused from her slumber. He knocked her down, the blade cutting open her hip. She dropped in pain, her hands flying to the wound on her hip in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The Imperial spat on her, cursing at her with degrading insults as he kicked her. His steel boots bruised and cracked her ribs, Sevine thought it would be the end for her when he set his boot upon her throat, trying to crush her windpipe in. She wished for death then. She lost consciousness as black enveloped her.

When she woke next, Leif sat alongside her, stitching up her wounds. He told her that the Imperial who attacked her, wielded a poisoned blade. Leif had given her a cure for the poison, though he had no idea of the effects it would have on her body. Over the next few days, she drifted in and out of consciousness, where she dreamt of dark things; she dreamt of that Imperial's face with his eyes staring down at her, and the sensation that she couldn't breathe. Over and over again, she dreamed of his boot slowly choking her. She wandered in and out of her dreams, for a week, but to her it felt like one endless nightmare.

When she recovered fully, she burned with vengeance. All she could envision was putting an end to the Imperial that nearly took her life. Leif tried to dissuade her against seeking revenge, but let her go when she told him that she had to set the balance. He let her leave without another word, without even questioning where she was going. If anyone asked, she forced him to promise her that he wouldn’t say a word that she had left. She snuck out of camp, and tracked him down like the animal he was, it took her two weeks to find him.

After the attack, the Imperials had move their camp to avoid detection. The camp would have remained hidden were it not for her ability to track. She found them as easily as an owl scooping up a field mouse. Their footprints were everywhere in the mud, and their attempt to cover their tracks by sweeping pine boughs across them did not stop her. Sevine found them soon enough, the Imperials had moved their camp to a location surrounded by trees on a raised knoll. She waited like a carrion bird, hiding in the underbrush for three days until she discovered the man, how could she forget his face?

That night she waited for him to leave the safety of his camp, and when he did, she caught him with his pants down in the midst of relieving himself. Sevine could hardly control the excitement washing over her as she notched an arrow on her bowstring. The arrow whistled through the air before finding its mark, an arrow right through the eye. She left him for dead, and slipped into the darkness. She returned to camp as if nothing had happened. Not even Kaliri or Leif bothered to question her. Their company set to move out and head north to Windhelm for reinforcements and fresh supplies.

Word reached their ears on arriving at Windhelm, Sevine had killed an Imperial officer. And just how did they know that? Why, they knew it was her arrow. She dyed her feathers green for natural camouflage. After that, Sevine became known as The Huntress to the Stormcloaks, and even those she did not know, when her company swapped out soldiers, or crossed patrolling paths, they would say, “Hail Huntress!” and clasp her on the back. Revenge always feels good, at first, but during the course of the war, and after it ended, Sevine found herself dreaming about the Imperial officer she had slain, his hollow eyes felt as if they were staring right into her soul. She would wake from her sleep slick with sweat, and limbs trembling. While it is an honor to have a name in Nord culture, Sevine regrets her given title, though she does not openly admit it, as it is a matter of pride.

After the war, Sevine returned home to find that her father passed away days before her return, a fever had taken him. Liliana, now celebrating her eighteenth nameday, had just married a local boy from Falkreath by the name of Lodjolf Thorn-Raker. Sevine knew his family well, they were potato farmers that lived a league south of Falkreath. Sevine lived with Liliana and Lodjolf for a year. She helped get the farm back into working order before deciding to move into town so as to give her sister and new husband some much needed privacy. She rented a room on a monthly basis, and worked to earn her keep by cutting firewood, or running small errands for the townspeople. She found time to speak to her friend, Edith Bright-Wings, on a daily basis, and became closer over time.

Sevine found her calling when she caught wind of a mercenary company in need of sellswords for hire to help chase out Reachmen that were causing too many problems. That first mission brought back memories of the war, and she faced the brutal decision of slaying helpless children, who were regarded by those in their company as wild heathens that would stick a knife in their belly. Sevine couldn’t bring herself to kill a child, and neither could others in the company. They helped escort the children to safety, and the next day they set out for Windhelm.

When the company reached Windhelm, Sevine looked for an old friend in the city. Leif Raven-Stone, the same man that saved her life from a poisoning. She found him, and soon enough, they were sharing drinks in Candlehearth Inn. While the merriment was heartfelt, it did not last before the tide turned forever. Kamals lay siege to the city, they were foreign invaders having sailed from Akavir to wreak havoc across Skyrim. Leif and her constructed a large sling to rain oil and fire-salt bombs on the snow demons from the walls above.

Tensions ran high in the city, and the racial shaming amongst the Argonians escalated quickly. The Argonians wished to leave the city, they were being called home by the Hist, yet the walls were secured firmly. All hell broke loose, and the Argonians turned upon their self-described captors. In a brash attempt to thin out the rioting lizardkin, Sevine ended up receiving a spearhead through her calf. And that is how she met Do’Karth. He patched her up, and in the growing silence between them, Sevine revealed the history behind her name, and the shame she carried with it, while Do’Karth revealed why he had journeyed so far north. Neither of them judged one another for their actions. The simple act of not judging brought them closer together.

Before long, they had to flee the city altogether, through an underground passage that led them outside of the city walls. The group and several other refugees made it to Nightgate for the evening. It was here that Sevine and Do’Karth made camp akin to one another. By dawn, the company was off for Dawnstar. They had little time to recuperate from the shock of losing Windhelm to the siege, as well as losing members from the company during the escape. Soon, the company was assigned the mission of rescuing mages stranded at the College. Apparently the whole damn thing had fallen into the ocean except for a tower.

The rescue mission didn’t go as anticipated, what with a monstrosity of a storm blowing into the area, along with The Courtesan, taking on water after it struck a rock. Most of the mages they rescued didn’t make it alive back, their ignorance duly noted in escaping overboard. Once on shore, Sevine and the company were assailed by a group of Armigers. They fought hand to blade against the Dunmer warriors before the Dark Brotherhood swept into the fray, making quick work of the Armigers left alive. They made camp in the cave the Armigers used, and that’s where Sevine picked up her Chitlin shield.

On the way back to Dawnstar, the company and survivors encountered a blizzard. They were forced to seek safety, and did so only after Do’Karth smelled fungus growing. To their luck, they had another cave to hide in. Although that luck wouldn’t last long. Before they had time to make a proper camp inside, the group were attacked by Chaurus and Falmer alike. While typically formidable foes when approached alone, the company made short work of the chaurus and falmer alike.

When they returned to Dawnstar, the Whalers Festival had begun. During the festivities, Sevine and Do’Karth shared a quiet moment where they entered a courtship. He bequeathed unto her, an amulet of Mara. While this newfound happiness lifted her spirits, it would not last for long as the company was split into two groups. Do’Karth and Leif, along with several others were to journey to Dwemer ruins in an attempt to retrieve some Dwemer ballista that would help in the fight against the Kamal. Sevine was assigned to the group investigating mysterious forest fires.

Sevine received injuries to her forearm and ankle from two wolves, effectively rendering her useless for the rest of the mission, where she was forced to stay behind with Rhasha’Dar, and Keegan. Those that stayed behind encountered Kamal, and were it not for Rothvar, the Nord they helped, they would have perished. When the other group returned from the mines, Sevine learned that the fires were the work of a rogue pyromancer. They made their way back to Nightgate Inn, Sevine’s hopes were set on seeing Do’Karth again when the Kamal attacked. They had little time to react. They barely made it out alive, and in the end Jorwen was captured. Sevine couldn’t bring herself to admit that they needed to retreat, and when they returned to Dawnstar battered and bloodied, she could do nothing but wait for Do’Karth’s return, praying that no one else had been taken.

When the Kyne’s Tear returned to the bay, Sevine and Do’Karth greeted one another in joy, although Leif on the other hand was devastated. She assumed that it was his jealousy getting the better of him, and part of her wondered when he last lay with a woman, perhaps that's what had him so high strung. Whatever the reason, Sevine did not plead to Do’Karth to spare Leif when the two entered a duel. She had to let Leif get out his anger and frustration, even if it ended with him having to submit to the person he despised the most.

Leif had to walk away in defeat. And Sevine didn’t care. She had had enough of his antics, and it was about time someone put him in his place. Not too long after, the company was split into two groups again, and this time, it was Do’Karth and Sevine headed for Bleakrock along with several others, while those in town worked feverishly to uncover the murderer trying to frame the Argonians.
On the return route, Ariane had received a message from Gustav. The company was needed in Solitude.

Capabilities

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§ Attributes

Major: Strength
Minor: Endurance

§ Skills

Marksman – Expert
One-Handed Blade – Adept
Shield – Adept
Light Armor – Adept
Athletics – Apprentice
Speech – Apprentice
Sneak – Novice
Alchemy – Novice
Acrobatics – Novice

§ Weaknesses

Sympathy towards Women and Children - (Sevine is sympathetic towards women of all ages, as she is one herself, and towards children, as she helped raised her own little sister when her mother passed. In times of war, Sevine is against killing the innocent and helpless, and may find it hard to do so if ordered.)

Magical Incompetence - (Sevine lacks any capability to wield magic, then again, she’s never tried to learn.)

Hot-Headed - Sevine has a fiery temper, that even though she has tried to control it as best as she can, she can often lash out, or act irrationally without meaning to. Especially when it comes to things that she is passionate about, such as fairness, equality amongst the sexes, and races (she believes all should be treated equal, women, men, Mer, and Beast alike.), and any harm, or endangerment of women or children.

Fear of Being Buried Alive, Drowning and Suffocating - (An unexplained fear, though quite natural in reality, Sevine is terrified of the thought of being buried alive, as such, she does not do much cave diving. She is also afraid of drowning, and is careful not to swim in areas with dangerous currents; she is also careful not to swim where she can’t reach the bottom. Sevine is afraid of suffocating, this comes with being buried alive, and drowning, as she can’t breathe in any situation.)

§ Spells

N/A

§ Tactics

When engaging in combat, Sevine will string up her bow first, and attempt to bring down her enemy with an arrow to the head or chest. If quarters are close, she will bring out her war axe, and hack anything that crosses her path. From her experiences in the Civil War, Sevine knows the importance of strategy, and how to set up defenses against enemies. Before engaging in battle, she is tactful in her decisions, but it is when Sevine experiences almost a blood-lust, or more rather an extreme rush of adrenaline during battle that puts her into survival mode. She is fearless in combat, and there are two options available in battle only, victory, or death. She would rather choose to die than flee like a coward.

§ Relations & Affiliations

- Do’Karth - {Lover/Partner}
- Chieftain Ralki the Bear - {Chieftain of her division during the Civil War.}
- Gudrun Varg-t'uk - Deceased. {Sevine's Mother.}
- Agnar Varg-t'uk - Deceased. {Sevine's Father.}
- Liliana Thorn-Raker - {Sevine's only sibling, and little sister.}
- Lodjolf Thorn-Raker - {Sevine's brother-in-law: Liliana's husband.}
- Edith Bright-Wings - {Childhood friends.}
- Leif Raven-Stone – {Taught Sevine what little Alchemy she knows. Battle Comrade from the Civil War.}

§ Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

§ Other

...

Inventory

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§ Cash

72 Septims

§ Keys & Lockpicks

- 4 Lockpicks
- Key to Varg-t’uk Homestead

§ Tools & Crafting Materials

...

§ Clothing & Armor

- Green Linen Dress
- Leather Armour
- Chitlin Shield
- Leather Bracers
- Leather Boots
- Red Tunic
- Black Belt
- Leather Trousers

§ Weapon & Ammo

- Longbow
- 14 Steel Arrows
- Steel War Axe

§ Potion & Arcane Supplies

- Potion of Cure Poison
- Potion of Cure Disease

§ Jewelry & Valuables

- Amulet of Mara (Given to her by Do’Karth)

§ Books & Documents

- The Black Arrow V2

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients

- 2 Waterskins
- Loaf of Bread
- Eidar Cheese Wedge
- Dried Jerky

§ Load Bearing Equipment

- Large Leather Rucksack
- 2 Leather Pouches (fastened to belt)
- Cheesecloth Sack (stores perishable food)

§ Other

- Canvas Tent Roll
- Bedroll
- Wool Blanket
- Small Feather Pillow