@Pirouette
@ManoftheNorth
Oh, no harm done! I am up for a good discussion when presented one and enjoy seeing other peoples opinions! I did ask for it anyways in one of my posts in this very thread!
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The werewolf concern is something for me to at least try fighting for (respectfully, of course) since it is a huge part of the character. Watching his struggles for years (in-story) before finally curing himself. This is something I believe I am going to have to discuss with @MiddleEarthRoze, I imagine. Hopefully an agreement can be formed.
MafiaM16 Member
The Beast Within
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- MafiaM16 10 yrs ago
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Bio
Hey folks,
The name's Shawn and I'm twenty-three years old. I'm Portuguese from the Great White North and I've been roleplaying since I was seventeen or so. Making it around six years, give or take. I prefer a more casual style, but I've been known to put in the extra work for advanced level roleplaying when in the mood. Although I think for now I'm going to hang around the free section due to time constraints and other such reasons. Don't mind to add me on Skype (shawn.alexandre22) to talk and discuss roleplay! Make sure to state what your forum username is though!
I'm currently a manager at a local reptile store which I have been working for nearly a decade now and some of my interests include: Video games, comics, fantasy, the supernatural, art, paranormal, music, sports, outdoor activities, swimming, hunting, collecting knick-knacks, cooking, paleontology, zoology, reading and many other things. I live alone, but have two dogs and two cats, and various reptiles. I'm currently working on a large-scale original causal-advanced RPG known simply as: The World of Caelum.
The name's Shawn and I'm twenty-three years old. I'm Portuguese from the Great White North and I've been roleplaying since I was seventeen or so. Making it around six years, give or take. I prefer a more casual style, but I've been known to put in the extra work for advanced level roleplaying when in the mood. Although I think for now I'm going to hang around the free section due to time constraints and other such reasons. Don't mind to add me on Skype (shawn.alexandre22) to talk and discuss roleplay! Make sure to state what your forum username is though!
I'm currently a manager at a local reptile store which I have been working for nearly a decade now and some of my interests include: Video games, comics, fantasy, the supernatural, art, paranormal, music, sports, outdoor activities, swimming, hunting, collecting knick-knacks, cooking, paleontology, zoology, reading and many other things. I live alone, but have two dogs and two cats, and various reptiles. I'm currently working on a large-scale original causal-advanced RPG known simply as: The World of Caelum.
Most Recent Posts
@ManoftheNorth Perhaps I shall edit things a bit regarding armor then. Instead of the heavy armour perhaps he'll simply use the simpler lighter armor instead (fur) and perhaps something akin to Skaal Armor for northern regions? He isn't in war or in active combat as of now, so I see no real reason for a heavyset armour.
Oh, I know dragon bones do not technically have magical properties to them, but Bjorn doesn't know that. Ha-ha. He simply thinks dragons are magical creatures hence why he isn't able to forge them. (New excuse.)
I shall be editing a bit of the character now with these in mind.
EDIT: Alright, changes have been made. Hopefully these are a lot better overall.
@Pirouette While I certainly see where you are coming in terms of character development as myself enjoy characters who go through such progression, but that doesn't always work out with every character, in my opinion. Characters are endless and I wouldn't want to have the same concept for each character. Nor would I want that, personally. Does this mean all of my characters shall be akin to Bjorn? No! Not at all. I just felt like I needed a grounded character that I personally know inside and out, and one who is already developed fully to start things off. A stepping stone, an established platform so to speak. Its like the difference in roleplaying a teenager and a man in his sixties.
I hope this explains my reasoning a bit. If not: 'Different strokes for different folks.'
@Pirouette Care to elaborate?
@ManoftheNorth Well, considering the character I created has been blacksmithing for nearly forty years I say that is plenty of time to learn how to smith ebony. Wouldn't you agree?
Now, in regards to dragon bone, yes I can see the issue with this. The character does have knowledge in terms of animal bones due to being a hunter, so I figured the transition into dragon bone would be easier, but I can easily change and edit that small issue. Perhaps the armor would in fact be constructed out of simpler and more common bones until he has mastered dragon crafting? Or to elaborate it more perhaps he is learning to smith using the material, but all attempts thus far has failed? Dragon bone now that I think about would perhaps have magical qualities, hence why the character would be having difficulties smithing with it.
Hmm... can't say I personally agree with the decision to limit the use of lycanthropy from players or even undead/vampires. I do see the potential for them being overused and abused, but I think with mature roleplayers who know how to control their characters a problem shouldn't be present. Although I do agree that having too many of said characters is not a good and wise choice, for obvious reasons.
Looking at the number of roleplayers that are participating in the RPG, one member being the only one to have lycanthropes seems rather... eh, iffy, for lack of a better word.
I would think my example of the character's strain of lycanthrope would be enough to allow enough difference. More so to the fact that my character would be looking for a potential cure, rather than embracing the curse. Its certainly different compared to say your characters whom have accepted Hircine's 'gift.' (Judging from your characters sheets.)
Anyways, if its still not permitted then so be it. No harm done.
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Off-topic (slightly), but my first character within the Elder Scrolls series was an Argonian known as Tyrannus Ocean-Hunter. Ha-ha. I still use the character to this day, but with quite a few changes as the years went by.
@Lmpkio Great.
How should we start the RPG? Similar to how we've done so in the past or perhaps do something different instead?
Posted my first character! Take a look at it and see how it fits with the story and lore.
Also, this is an actual character of mine, by the way and one I truly enjoyed playing as. I hope it'll be alright considering I added quite a bit of originality in it, but not enough so that it affects any quests, other characters, and so. Also, I did left out the part where he is a Lycanthrope. I saw the OP mention that they aren't allowed currently. A shame since I had created an origin story of how he earned it, etc. Its a curse for him, mind you, so I think if its allowed it'll add a unique twist to the character. And for the sake of mentioning: If I am given the OK then I already know not to abuse said power. Of course, its not truly an issue regardless since for Bjorn its a curse, not a gift.
Name: Bjorn Wolve
Age: 48 years old
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior/Hunter
Appearance: Bjorn is a heavily built Nord, standing over six feet tall and certainly weighing over two hundred pounds. He has an oval-like cone shaped head with slight chiseled features. He has rather thin, dark eyebrows and has a full beard that is of black colour. He has really short hair which is also black, his natural hair colour. He has a large nose like most Nords and has high placed grayish eyes or at least once did... he is blind in one eye that has turned to stone white. A scar stretches across his eye and the rest of that side of his face. It was this nasty wound that made him blind in the first place. A tale that Bjorn does not like to tell strangers, but when questioned he simply tells him a large wolf managed to claw him when it leaped him.
Personality: Due to Bjorn being a werewolf, he has a sort of second personality in his head; the wolf, as he calls it. This is the more animalistic, aggressive, sexual, wild part of him. It’s still him of course, but to Bjorn it feels like a second person is living inside his head at all times. One of the more nasty cons of being a werewolf despite all the pros that he gains.
Generally Bjorn's human side displays a leader-like personality that has the desire to achieve something visible and noteworthy, and tries to always strive to reach his greatest potential. Luke has a healthy dose of ambition that can be seen by not only himself, but also from others who witness him in action. He has an inner voice that pushes him to get to the heart of an issue and find solutions. He searches for specific answers and doesn't give up until he gets them. His high energy is infectious as he consistently drives his priorities through the organizations that he is apart of or has close connections to. He works tenaciously for information that he is missing and keeps tweaking his mental models until he arrives at a positioning that works best for himself and others. He is able to listen to his own inner voice when he is able to push back the wolf side of him and can endure the lonely moments when an important decision falls on his very shoulders. He often speaks his mind and acts decisively knowing that he can withstand the consequences. It’s not a matter of acting tough for Bjorn, but having a tough inner core, or what some refer to as emotional fortitude, a fortress that he created many years ago. He has the willingness to allow himself to be influenced by other people and to share multiple ideas openly. He believes that this ultimately enhances the strength between him and his friends, and companions. Luke tries to seek diverse opinions, so that he can see and hear more and factor a wider range of information into his decisions.
However this completely changes when Bjorn becomes angered or aroused, the wolf will come out of him either by talking in his head, or by taking over his body completely, as it does when he turns into his wolf form. Often there will be a kind of battle between him and the other part of his personality. As Bjorn learnt how to better control the wolf, the two personalities have blended together in some unholy marriage. Bjorn is still learning how to better this control and at times he loses the struggle. It is still a constant battle despite how much he has mastered, but it is a was Bjorn hopes to master and win.
Bio: "Damn it Ulfric!! When did you become so blind!?!" I pound my fist on the table inside the tent of Ulfric Stormcloak, my oldest friend. My father was a blacksmith under the employ of Ulfric's father and as children we became fast friends, even taking an oath of brotherhood. When I wasn't tending the forge with my father we would be training with the guards in Windhelm, learning the ways of blade and axe. Ulfric eventually was taken to High Hrothgar, to be trained by the Greybeards, while I remained in Windhelm and joined the Guard. 10 years later the Aldmeri Dominion attacked Cyrodiil. As part of the Empire, Skyrim was called to aid in the war effort. Ulfric returned home from his training with the abilities of The Voice and together we enlisted to fight in the army. We fought alongside one another through numerous battles, winning some, but ultimately we were against impossible odds. During one long and bloody battle we had been overrun, Ulfric and I had been taken prisoner along with the rest of our comrades that had lived. Because of Ulfric's status as son of a Jarl, the Thalmor tortured him, trying to get information to aid their cause. The boy I had once known was forever changed by the horrors of war...
I can't blame my old friend from changing - how could I? I, too have seen the horrors of war and its a horror that I must carry for the rest of my life. Here is the tale of one such horror: It was 4E 175, a few months before the Battle of the Red Ring. Can't remember the exact date - my memory is clouded due to what transpired this particular evening. I recall over a dozen of us by the open fire, drinking, eating. We were all trying to forget what we've seen these past four years and we knew if we succeeded in the reclaiming of the capitol that we could all go home. However this night was different, it was the first time in a long time that I felt at peace. Couldn't explain the feeling then and couldn't explain the feeling now. But the night was quiet, only the sound of wind against the nearby trees, whistling through the leaves and branches were heard. I remember looking up, high in the sky, watching those full moons up high. A beautiful sight it was. Sadly, that beauty was disturbed by the sound of rustling in the tree line. I got up and so did Rikke, my partner in war. I recall asking her if she heard movement in the trees. She did not utter a single word, but I saw her head nod as her face glowed from the fire. Shortly others began to hear sounds from the wood and not long afterwards our swords were sheathed and our general roared to take up arms. I was scared, I thought the Elves found us, but no... it wasn't the Eves, but something else.
As soon as our swords and axes were lifted a scream was heard within our ranks. We moved into battle positions, but the enemy managed to break through our shields, and screams filled the meadow as we were getting slaughtered. I couldn't see what was killing my fellow soldiers. It was clear that it was no elf nor man, it was an animal, a beast. It was quick and strong, able to tear through our armor and break our shields. The sounds of the creature's roars and breath still echo in my ear. It was chaos that night, trained soldiers turning into boys. We were all frightened, a fear that felt possessive. I don't remember much more than that for one minute I am slashing into the darkness and the next - silence.
I awoke that morning on a bedroll, blood was everywhere and the sun blinded me as a sat up. I was covered in red and I lost the feeling on the left side of my face. I realized I was wrapped and last night was an utter blur. But I was a soldier and I gathered my strength and rose to my feet. I limped out of the tent and what I saw was straight out of Oblivion. Soldiers, dead on the ground. The grass stained with blood. Friends were being carried off and the sounds of confusion and conversation rattled my head. I collapsed to my knees, but soon caught by Rikke as she helped me to my feet. She told me what happened after I fell, but she did not know what attacked us that evening. For eventually the beast left and morning quickly followed. In a month's time however I found out what slaughtered my fellow men. For what attacked me had left its bloody curse in my veins. A spawn of Hircine himself... a werewolf.
I managed to keep the curse a secret, up until the day of when we retook the Imperial city from the Elves. We battled against them for days. I lost track of the time for we were battling throughout the nights as well. I completely forgot of the man I have became and shortly the moons rose high in the sky and the beast within tore its way out of my soul. I had turned, the beast took over. I could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel everything, but I couldn't stop it. The carnage was overwhelming and neither enemy or friend was safe. Thankfully, I was not seen when I transformed and as the battle waged on into the early morning I reverted back, unseen. The beast was still in the minds of both Elves and men, but the war did not halt. As the battle continued the Elves retreated and we had won. But the threat of the Elves was still present and because of this the White-Gold Concordat was formed.
Once the White-Gold Concordat had been signed, the Empire had bartered for our freedom. Ulfric returned home while I decided to remain in Cyrodiil and help return order to the Empire in any way I could. For bravery and valor in battle I was awarded, and quickly became recognized for both my charisma with the people, and skills at diplomacy within the courts. Years later, disturbing reports of the Dominion preparing for another assault had reached us, and shortly after it was reported that Ulfric had killed Torygg, the High King of Skyrim. If the information that the Aldmeri were planning on launching another assault on the Empire were true, then the full strength and co-operation of the Provinces would be needed. I was instantly dispatched as an ambassador to try and reason and negotiate a peace with Ulfric. Finding him encamped near Darkwater Crossing, I made my way to seek an audience with my old friend... It wasn't going well...
"Blind!? Is it blindness to want to live free!?!? To want to worship OUR Gods as our fathers did before us!?!?" He shouted back at me.
"You're blind because you can't see the larger picture Ulfric!! The troubles of the few pale in comparison to the troubles of the many!!!" I yelled back.
Ulfric only sneered, planting his fists firmly on the table opposite me, "Why should Skyrim care about the troubles of a weak and corrupt Empire!? We have always been strong! Once I drive the Empire out from Skyrim and unite the Jarls, we will have nothing to fear from the damned elves!!"
I drop my head in frustration. The young man I grew up with was destined to be wise and just. But he had changed, and not for the better. "Ulfric, if that is what you believe than you are both blind and a fool. There is no way that Skyrim alone can hope to stand against the Thalmor! In order for us to win this, protect our people, and preserve our way of life, YOU need to let go of this foolish crusade!! Sacrifices had to be made in order to ensure our survival. If we didn't make the choices we had NONE of us would be here today, or shackled in chains of servitude to the Dominion!"
Stubborn as ever, Ulfric refused to see reason, "When did you become such a mild-drinker!? Your father must look down from Sovngarde and WEEP for the Imperial lap dog his son has become!!!" He always had a way with words.
Enraged at Ulfric's talk of my Father I launch a fist directly into his jaw, he falls backwards from the force of the blow. If I can't talk sense into him then by Talos I'll beat it into him! I throw the table that was between us aside and move towards him, before I can throw another punch Ulfric is back on his feet.
"FUS RO DAH!!!!!"
Using the power of The Voice, Ulfric sends me flying out of the tent. I fly into a tree and with a heavy thud land a heap on the ground. Trying to regain my senses I look up to see Ulfric storming out of the wreckage of his tent, axe in hand. I spring to my feet and run to my horse, freeing my sword from it's sheath. I turn back around, swinging wide with my sword just in time to block Ulfric's downward swing. He may have the power of the voice, but I was always the stronger! With all the strength I can muster I drive myself forward, pushing Ulfric backwards and off balance before thrusting a boot into his stomach. He had fallen back and I had the dominant position, but just as I raised my sword overhead, havoc broke loose. An Imperial battalion, lead by General Tullius, had burst onto the scene. During the confusion of my dual with Ulfric, the Stormcloaks were quickly overrun. My attack on Ulfric brought to a halt, I paused to try and take in what was happening, and during my bewilderment something had hit me hard in the back of the head. The taste of blood and dirt in my mouth, the last thing I remember seeing was Ulfric being bound and gagged as consciousness slipped away...
It was two days later that I finally regained my senses. I had been loaded into a cart with Ulfric, a young Stormcloak, and a horse thief who had gotten caught up in the confusion. Talk among the guards was that Ulfric was sentenced to death for his crimes and we were being transported to Helgen for execution. When we arrived I saw the Headsman, sharpening his axe in preparation for its duty. Despite my death being close at hand, all I could feel was relief. At least now this war is over, and the Empire can focus on defending against the Thalmor. We're unloaded off the carts and the Imperial soldiers run through the list, calling out names. Ulfric Stormcloak Jarl of Windhelm, Ralof of Riverwood. The horse thief, Lokir, is called and tries to make a run for it, screaming that he was not part of the rebellion. Before he can run 10 paces he's shot down by Imperial archers, "Anyone else feel like running!?" The Imperial captain calls out to the rest of the captives.
"Wait a minute, you there! Who are you?" A young Nord soldier had picked me out of the crowd.
I look sidelong at Ulfric, who just stares back, a burning hatred in his eyes. I let out a sigh before looking back at the young Nord, "Just a Nord trying to save his home..."
"You picked a bad time to come back to Skyrim, Kinsman. Captain, what should we do with him? He's not on the list."
The Imperial captain looks me over before shrugging, "Forget the list, he dies with the rest of them!!"
"I'm sorry, but at least you'll die here, in your homeland. To the block prisoner, nice and easy." I am pushed in position among the rest of the prisoners. Everything is a blur as I close my eyes and breath in the cool, crisp air of Skyrim.
"Next, the Nord in the rags!!" I'm pulled from my thoughts by the announcement of my death, just as I take a step towards the block, a loud roaring bellows out from the mountains. I'm ordered to ignore it and take my place at the block. Accepting my fate, I look up for one last glance at the sky I was born under, when out of the clouds a beast tumbles towards the Earth!! Black wings and breathing fire, as impossible as it seems a dragon lands on the top of a tower and flaming boulders crash into the ground! I was able to break free and make my escape with the young Nord as well as another prisoner. The Imperial soldier told me that his name was Hadvar, but the other fellow didn't seem interested in sharing.
Hadvar urged us to take separate paths as he said, "It's probably best if we split up. Good luck, I wouldn't of made it without your help today."
I bolted towards the west, into the nearby wood as I looked back to see Hadvar and the mysterious man run down the path towards Riverwood. Their fate? I had no idea...
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I settled in Falkreath, regaining my strength and composure. I spent a few nights here, allowing time to be my healer. However news would come that a Dragonborn was among us, here in Skyrim. After so many years and with the coming of the dragons. This was not by accident, but of fate. Fate or not however the Dragonborn's time here was short lived. The rumour of his death reached us as well. The tale says that he did not survive his first encounter with a dragon that was seen just outside of Whiterun. He managed to slay the beast, but in turn the beast slew him. If the Dragonborn couldn't save us, who shall? It is from this day on that my interests would shift. While Ulfric and his Stormcloaks pose a threat still, these dragons are of a worse kind.
I have spent the last few months gathering as much knowledge on the subject as possible, entering numerous tombs and crypts trying to figure out this complex puzzle from the Ancient Nords. I have even travelled to Whiterun where the battle between men and dragon took place. All there was left of the epic battle was a rotting carcass of burning bones, burnt earth and rubble of the watchtower. With no-one present, I managed to grab nearly one hundred pounds of what was left of the dragon. Thankfully, Spirit was able to take the burden.
After returning to Falkreath, I began to study the bones. A torch would pop inside my head and a brilliant idea came before me. I shall craft an armour set out of these bones, I told my self. A sign and symbol of my new mindset. However, the bones are like a material I have yet seen. They would not forge and it seems despite of my vast smithing skill they simply would not hold together. I shall continue my pursuit in working out the secret to forging dragon bones.
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My resources are growing thin and the coin is drying out. I can no longer do this alone. I need answers and I need others who share my passion. Skyrim is my home and as her Son I shall protect her with my life. I just need to find like minded Sons and Daughters of Skyrim to help me on my quest for answers...
Equipment: Bjorn simply wears a hand crafted fur armor that he himself made to fit his built. Numerous pelts, leathers and hides were used in its making, giving the Nord a unique look. He typically wears a backpack, hood, and a cloak as well. A few pouches also dot here and there, and are used to carry lightweight goods like wild edibles and ingredients. In terms of weaponry he wields a unique sword that he located while searching for answers about the return of the dragons. Belonging to Acilius Bolar if the letter he found holds true, Bjorn found a rather interesting sword of old design. It has extremely polished for such an aged blade and had what looked to be some sort of claw or tooth on the end of the hilt. Other pieces of bone was also present. Bone that looked awfully similar to what he saw at Whiterun where that dragon once laid. There was also two rings of silver that circled a section of the hilt with strange markings on them. The sheath seemed to be made out of bone as well. Another weapon he has is a sleek, eloquent dagger gifted to him by a fellow named Valdr. He helped the man get revenge on some Spriggans and by handing him a healing potion. Finally, his most beloved weapon is his crafted longbow that he made when he was but a young lad. A bow he nicknamed: 'The Huntsman.'
Other:
Age: 48 years old
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior/Hunter
Appearance: Bjorn is a heavily built Nord, standing over six feet tall and certainly weighing over two hundred pounds. He has an oval-like cone shaped head with slight chiseled features. He has rather thin, dark eyebrows and has a full beard that is of black colour. He has really short hair which is also black, his natural hair colour. He has a large nose like most Nords and has high placed grayish eyes or at least once did... he is blind in one eye that has turned to stone white. A scar stretches across his eye and the rest of that side of his face. It was this nasty wound that made him blind in the first place. A tale that Bjorn does not like to tell strangers, but when questioned he simply tells him a large wolf managed to claw him when it leaped him.
Personality: Due to Bjorn being a werewolf, he has a sort of second personality in his head; the wolf, as he calls it. This is the more animalistic, aggressive, sexual, wild part of him. It’s still him of course, but to Bjorn it feels like a second person is living inside his head at all times. One of the more nasty cons of being a werewolf despite all the pros that he gains.
Generally Bjorn's human side displays a leader-like personality that has the desire to achieve something visible and noteworthy, and tries to always strive to reach his greatest potential. Luke has a healthy dose of ambition that can be seen by not only himself, but also from others who witness him in action. He has an inner voice that pushes him to get to the heart of an issue and find solutions. He searches for specific answers and doesn't give up until he gets them. His high energy is infectious as he consistently drives his priorities through the organizations that he is apart of or has close connections to. He works tenaciously for information that he is missing and keeps tweaking his mental models until he arrives at a positioning that works best for himself and others. He is able to listen to his own inner voice when he is able to push back the wolf side of him and can endure the lonely moments when an important decision falls on his very shoulders. He often speaks his mind and acts decisively knowing that he can withstand the consequences. It’s not a matter of acting tough for Bjorn, but having a tough inner core, or what some refer to as emotional fortitude, a fortress that he created many years ago. He has the willingness to allow himself to be influenced by other people and to share multiple ideas openly. He believes that this ultimately enhances the strength between him and his friends, and companions. Luke tries to seek diverse opinions, so that he can see and hear more and factor a wider range of information into his decisions.
However this completely changes when Bjorn becomes angered or aroused, the wolf will come out of him either by talking in his head, or by taking over his body completely, as it does when he turns into his wolf form. Often there will be a kind of battle between him and the other part of his personality. As Bjorn learnt how to better control the wolf, the two personalities have blended together in some unholy marriage. Bjorn is still learning how to better this control and at times he loses the struggle. It is still a constant battle despite how much he has mastered, but it is a was Bjorn hopes to master and win.
Bio: "Damn it Ulfric!! When did you become so blind!?!" I pound my fist on the table inside the tent of Ulfric Stormcloak, my oldest friend. My father was a blacksmith under the employ of Ulfric's father and as children we became fast friends, even taking an oath of brotherhood. When I wasn't tending the forge with my father we would be training with the guards in Windhelm, learning the ways of blade and axe. Ulfric eventually was taken to High Hrothgar, to be trained by the Greybeards, while I remained in Windhelm and joined the Guard. 10 years later the Aldmeri Dominion attacked Cyrodiil. As part of the Empire, Skyrim was called to aid in the war effort. Ulfric returned home from his training with the abilities of The Voice and together we enlisted to fight in the army. We fought alongside one another through numerous battles, winning some, but ultimately we were against impossible odds. During one long and bloody battle we had been overrun, Ulfric and I had been taken prisoner along with the rest of our comrades that had lived. Because of Ulfric's status as son of a Jarl, the Thalmor tortured him, trying to get information to aid their cause. The boy I had once known was forever changed by the horrors of war...
I can't blame my old friend from changing - how could I? I, too have seen the horrors of war and its a horror that I must carry for the rest of my life. Here is the tale of one such horror: It was 4E 175, a few months before the Battle of the Red Ring. Can't remember the exact date - my memory is clouded due to what transpired this particular evening. I recall over a dozen of us by the open fire, drinking, eating. We were all trying to forget what we've seen these past four years and we knew if we succeeded in the reclaiming of the capitol that we could all go home. However this night was different, it was the first time in a long time that I felt at peace. Couldn't explain the feeling then and couldn't explain the feeling now. But the night was quiet, only the sound of wind against the nearby trees, whistling through the leaves and branches were heard. I remember looking up, high in the sky, watching those full moons up high. A beautiful sight it was. Sadly, that beauty was disturbed by the sound of rustling in the tree line. I got up and so did Rikke, my partner in war. I recall asking her if she heard movement in the trees. She did not utter a single word, but I saw her head nod as her face glowed from the fire. Shortly others began to hear sounds from the wood and not long afterwards our swords were sheathed and our general roared to take up arms. I was scared, I thought the Elves found us, but no... it wasn't the Eves, but something else.
As soon as our swords and axes were lifted a scream was heard within our ranks. We moved into battle positions, but the enemy managed to break through our shields, and screams filled the meadow as we were getting slaughtered. I couldn't see what was killing my fellow soldiers. It was clear that it was no elf nor man, it was an animal, a beast. It was quick and strong, able to tear through our armor and break our shields. The sounds of the creature's roars and breath still echo in my ear. It was chaos that night, trained soldiers turning into boys. We were all frightened, a fear that felt possessive. I don't remember much more than that for one minute I am slashing into the darkness and the next - silence.
I awoke that morning on a bedroll, blood was everywhere and the sun blinded me as a sat up. I was covered in red and I lost the feeling on the left side of my face. I realized I was wrapped and last night was an utter blur. But I was a soldier and I gathered my strength and rose to my feet. I limped out of the tent and what I saw was straight out of Oblivion. Soldiers, dead on the ground. The grass stained with blood. Friends were being carried off and the sounds of confusion and conversation rattled my head. I collapsed to my knees, but soon caught by Rikke as she helped me to my feet. She told me what happened after I fell, but she did not know what attacked us that evening. For eventually the beast left and morning quickly followed. In a month's time however I found out what slaughtered my fellow men. For what attacked me had left its bloody curse in my veins. A spawn of Hircine himself... a werewolf.
I managed to keep the curse a secret, up until the day of when we retook the Imperial city from the Elves. We battled against them for days. I lost track of the time for we were battling throughout the nights as well. I completely forgot of the man I have became and shortly the moons rose high in the sky and the beast within tore its way out of my soul. I had turned, the beast took over. I could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel everything, but I couldn't stop it. The carnage was overwhelming and neither enemy or friend was safe. Thankfully, I was not seen when I transformed and as the battle waged on into the early morning I reverted back, unseen. The beast was still in the minds of both Elves and men, but the war did not halt. As the battle continued the Elves retreated and we had won. But the threat of the Elves was still present and because of this the White-Gold Concordat was formed.
Once the White-Gold Concordat had been signed, the Empire had bartered for our freedom. Ulfric returned home while I decided to remain in Cyrodiil and help return order to the Empire in any way I could. For bravery and valor in battle I was awarded, and quickly became recognized for both my charisma with the people, and skills at diplomacy within the courts. Years later, disturbing reports of the Dominion preparing for another assault had reached us, and shortly after it was reported that Ulfric had killed Torygg, the High King of Skyrim. If the information that the Aldmeri were planning on launching another assault on the Empire were true, then the full strength and co-operation of the Provinces would be needed. I was instantly dispatched as an ambassador to try and reason and negotiate a peace with Ulfric. Finding him encamped near Darkwater Crossing, I made my way to seek an audience with my old friend... It wasn't going well...
"Blind!? Is it blindness to want to live free!?!? To want to worship OUR Gods as our fathers did before us!?!?" He shouted back at me.
"You're blind because you can't see the larger picture Ulfric!! The troubles of the few pale in comparison to the troubles of the many!!!" I yelled back.
Ulfric only sneered, planting his fists firmly on the table opposite me, "Why should Skyrim care about the troubles of a weak and corrupt Empire!? We have always been strong! Once I drive the Empire out from Skyrim and unite the Jarls, we will have nothing to fear from the damned elves!!"
I drop my head in frustration. The young man I grew up with was destined to be wise and just. But he had changed, and not for the better. "Ulfric, if that is what you believe than you are both blind and a fool. There is no way that Skyrim alone can hope to stand against the Thalmor! In order for us to win this, protect our people, and preserve our way of life, YOU need to let go of this foolish crusade!! Sacrifices had to be made in order to ensure our survival. If we didn't make the choices we had NONE of us would be here today, or shackled in chains of servitude to the Dominion!"
Stubborn as ever, Ulfric refused to see reason, "When did you become such a mild-drinker!? Your father must look down from Sovngarde and WEEP for the Imperial lap dog his son has become!!!" He always had a way with words.
Enraged at Ulfric's talk of my Father I launch a fist directly into his jaw, he falls backwards from the force of the blow. If I can't talk sense into him then by Talos I'll beat it into him! I throw the table that was between us aside and move towards him, before I can throw another punch Ulfric is back on his feet.
"FUS RO DAH!!!!!"
Using the power of The Voice, Ulfric sends me flying out of the tent. I fly into a tree and with a heavy thud land a heap on the ground. Trying to regain my senses I look up to see Ulfric storming out of the wreckage of his tent, axe in hand. I spring to my feet and run to my horse, freeing my sword from it's sheath. I turn back around, swinging wide with my sword just in time to block Ulfric's downward swing. He may have the power of the voice, but I was always the stronger! With all the strength I can muster I drive myself forward, pushing Ulfric backwards and off balance before thrusting a boot into his stomach. He had fallen back and I had the dominant position, but just as I raised my sword overhead, havoc broke loose. An Imperial battalion, lead by General Tullius, had burst onto the scene. During the confusion of my dual with Ulfric, the Stormcloaks were quickly overrun. My attack on Ulfric brought to a halt, I paused to try and take in what was happening, and during my bewilderment something had hit me hard in the back of the head. The taste of blood and dirt in my mouth, the last thing I remember seeing was Ulfric being bound and gagged as consciousness slipped away...
It was two days later that I finally regained my senses. I had been loaded into a cart with Ulfric, a young Stormcloak, and a horse thief who had gotten caught up in the confusion. Talk among the guards was that Ulfric was sentenced to death for his crimes and we were being transported to Helgen for execution. When we arrived I saw the Headsman, sharpening his axe in preparation for its duty. Despite my death being close at hand, all I could feel was relief. At least now this war is over, and the Empire can focus on defending against the Thalmor. We're unloaded off the carts and the Imperial soldiers run through the list, calling out names. Ulfric Stormcloak Jarl of Windhelm, Ralof of Riverwood. The horse thief, Lokir, is called and tries to make a run for it, screaming that he was not part of the rebellion. Before he can run 10 paces he's shot down by Imperial archers, "Anyone else feel like running!?" The Imperial captain calls out to the rest of the captives.
"Wait a minute, you there! Who are you?" A young Nord soldier had picked me out of the crowd.
I look sidelong at Ulfric, who just stares back, a burning hatred in his eyes. I let out a sigh before looking back at the young Nord, "Just a Nord trying to save his home..."
"You picked a bad time to come back to Skyrim, Kinsman. Captain, what should we do with him? He's not on the list."
The Imperial captain looks me over before shrugging, "Forget the list, he dies with the rest of them!!"
"I'm sorry, but at least you'll die here, in your homeland. To the block prisoner, nice and easy." I am pushed in position among the rest of the prisoners. Everything is a blur as I close my eyes and breath in the cool, crisp air of Skyrim.
"Next, the Nord in the rags!!" I'm pulled from my thoughts by the announcement of my death, just as I take a step towards the block, a loud roaring bellows out from the mountains. I'm ordered to ignore it and take my place at the block. Accepting my fate, I look up for one last glance at the sky I was born under, when out of the clouds a beast tumbles towards the Earth!! Black wings and breathing fire, as impossible as it seems a dragon lands on the top of a tower and flaming boulders crash into the ground! I was able to break free and make my escape with the young Nord as well as another prisoner. The Imperial soldier told me that his name was Hadvar, but the other fellow didn't seem interested in sharing.
Hadvar urged us to take separate paths as he said, "It's probably best if we split up. Good luck, I wouldn't of made it without your help today."
I bolted towards the west, into the nearby wood as I looked back to see Hadvar and the mysterious man run down the path towards Riverwood. Their fate? I had no idea...
-
I settled in Falkreath, regaining my strength and composure. I spent a few nights here, allowing time to be my healer. However news would come that a Dragonborn was among us, here in Skyrim. After so many years and with the coming of the dragons. This was not by accident, but of fate. Fate or not however the Dragonborn's time here was short lived. The rumour of his death reached us as well. The tale says that he did not survive his first encounter with a dragon that was seen just outside of Whiterun. He managed to slay the beast, but in turn the beast slew him. If the Dragonborn couldn't save us, who shall? It is from this day on that my interests would shift. While Ulfric and his Stormcloaks pose a threat still, these dragons are of a worse kind.
I have spent the last few months gathering as much knowledge on the subject as possible, entering numerous tombs and crypts trying to figure out this complex puzzle from the Ancient Nords. I have even travelled to Whiterun where the battle between men and dragon took place. All there was left of the epic battle was a rotting carcass of burning bones, burnt earth and rubble of the watchtower. With no-one present, I managed to grab nearly one hundred pounds of what was left of the dragon. Thankfully, Spirit was able to take the burden.
After returning to Falkreath, I began to study the bones. A torch would pop inside my head and a brilliant idea came before me. I shall craft an armour set out of these bones, I told my self. A sign and symbol of my new mindset. However, the bones are like a material I have yet seen. They would not forge and it seems despite of my vast smithing skill they simply would not hold together. I shall continue my pursuit in working out the secret to forging dragon bones.
-
My resources are growing thin and the coin is drying out. I can no longer do this alone. I need answers and I need others who share my passion. Skyrim is my home and as her Son I shall protect her with my life. I just need to find like minded Sons and Daughters of Skyrim to help me on my quest for answers...
Equipment: Bjorn simply wears a hand crafted fur armor that he himself made to fit his built. Numerous pelts, leathers and hides were used in its making, giving the Nord a unique look. He typically wears a backpack, hood, and a cloak as well. A few pouches also dot here and there, and are used to carry lightweight goods like wild edibles and ingredients. In terms of weaponry he wields a unique sword that he located while searching for answers about the return of the dragons. Belonging to Acilius Bolar if the letter he found holds true, Bjorn found a rather interesting sword of old design. It has extremely polished for such an aged blade and had what looked to be some sort of claw or tooth on the end of the hilt. Other pieces of bone was also present. Bone that looked awfully similar to what he saw at Whiterun where that dragon once laid. There was also two rings of silver that circled a section of the hilt with strange markings on them. The sheath seemed to be made out of bone as well. Another weapon he has is a sleek, eloquent dagger gifted to him by a fellow named Valdr. He helped the man get revenge on some Spriggans and by handing him a healing potion. Finally, his most beloved weapon is his crafted longbow that he made when he was but a young lad. A bow he nicknamed: 'The Huntsman.'
Other:
- A half decent blacksmith of steel and iron.
- Enjoys heavy drinking and conversations about life.
- An excellent hunter and tracker.
- A war hero.
- Loves his horse Spirit and Garm his dog above all else.
- A werewolf, but not of the Companions strain.
I like to make the game a challenge, I hoard iron like a crazy person and transmute it all to gold until I have such a an abundance of gold jewlery, and sell it all. That's money, speech, and smithing sorted :P But what I do is bump the difficulty up every 10 levels, it's on master when I'm level 30, trust me when I say that's incredibly tough 0.0Ah, so do I... at times (depending on the character). Not sure if you have the game for the computer, but if you do and wish for a true challenge, I recommend the mod: Requiem. It trumps what Master difficulty does on Vanilla Skyrim by far. Real fun when you're fine with dying and playing smart and tactical.
Name: The Last Dodgalt
(Artwork by @Black Death himself.)
Gender: Female
Age: Unknown
Species: Dodgalt
Outward appearance: 9' tall and 4 tons in weight; large head covered in pointy horns; bulky size; long legs; quills on lower back and rump; hump on back
Biography: The last remaining Dodgalt, she lives in and around the slopes of Jorl. Known to terrorize the people of Isvarld frequently, she is a legend amongst the people that live here. No one who ever ventured on the slopes of Jorl ever returned alive thanks to this monstrous behemoth. One who dares venture here be warned, for the likelihood of you ever coming back is nil.
(Artwork by @Black Death himself.)
Gender: Female
Age: Unknown
Species: Dodgalt
Outward appearance: 9' tall and 4 tons in weight; large head covered in pointy horns; bulky size; long legs; quills on lower back and rump; hump on back
Biography: The last remaining Dodgalt, she lives in and around the slopes of Jorl. Known to terrorize the people of Isvarld frequently, she is a legend amongst the people that live here. No one who ever ventured on the slopes of Jorl ever returned alive thanks to this monstrous behemoth. One who dares venture here be warned, for the likelihood of you ever coming back is nil.
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