MCHoskins

Gundam RP - Has a Plot.

I'd be interested in a well done Gundam RP. What exactly did you have in mind?

Sword & Septim

Gog had switched off to the words of the Nord somewhat early in the sales pitch. Typical human, he had thought to himself. Nevertheless it seemed like a good deal. Gog had wandered near these Ayleid ruins and yet had never steeled himself to go inside of one. It would be an understatement to say his innate curiosity was getting the better of him. He had heard tales of the ruins, of the creatures that are found within their walls. Not to mention the more unsavory and... supernatural. Ultimately he was brought back to the present by the blunt words of his fellow Orsimer. Gog knew none of his would-be companions, however the presence of an Orc reassured him slightly. Though Gog knew better than to trust anyone on face value, he also knew that an Orc was more likely to be hardy and ready for the dangers ahead. He felt safer knowing an Orc - and one older than him as well - would be fighting on their side. Her point in this instance was clear - she wanted an obvious agreement on how the loot would be split and how the companions would be paid. A fair point and one he would happily second. "I too, would like to know what our agreement is. I'm more than ready to delve into these ruins, as is Wulf. But for what exactly am I risking my hide for?" Gog sat back in the chair and took another bite from a chicken leg he had been gnawing for the last few minutes. The Flowing Bowl wasn't the worst tavern he had been to, and the food he had sampled tonight was acceptable. However he couldn't help but feel that the usual customer experience was less than stellar.

Sword & Septim

Good sheet, but one glaring mistake: the Mages' Guild doesn't exist anymore. It was dissolved after the Oblivion Crisis and replaced by a variety of splinter organizations, like the Synod and the College of Whispers.

@Hank

Ah yeah, stupid me. xD Thanks for the heads up, I'll change it up to the Synod or something.

Sword & Septim

I love the look of this, and as a big time Oblivion and Skyrim fan, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make a character of my own and apply to join in. Hope all is well with my application and really hope this gets off the ground, since it has a ton of potential in my opinion :)

Sword & Septim

Here's my application, I hope it's all fine Name: Gog gro-Magog Race: Orc Age: Young Adult Appearance: Gog is tall and burly. Standing at about six foot, he's not noted as a particularly tall Orc. However he still towers over many elves and men. His muscles ripple out from underneath his pale green skin and jutting out from his maw are two teeth large enough to be consider tusks. Gog's thick black hair is tied back into a braided pony tail that runs half way down his back and his face is clean shaven. A dark red scar runs across his cheek from a previous encounter. Gog wears only fur boots and a kilt made of pelts, though he occasionally dons cloaks woven from the skin of animals. At his side, Gog almost always has two orcish axes ready for a fight. All in all, Gog gro-Magog is an intimidating sight for all to behold. Equipment: Fur boots Fur kilt Fur cloak Orcish Axe x2 Background: Gog gro-Magog, born the son of Magog gro-Shadrak, spent his early years in the town of Chorrol. His father was a blacksmith and his mother a leather worker. They lived a modest but successful life and the family was well regarded by the townspeople. While his parents were busy selling their goods in the town, Gog would run out into the forests to play alone. He had a natural affinity for befriending animals and one day, he found a young wolf cub near the corpse of its mother. Bringing it home, his parents allowed him to keep it and he aptly named it "Wolfy". Wolfy would remain as Gog's only friend throughout his childhood. Gog was a quiet and thoughtful boy, and preferred solitude to the company of his fellow children. As he grew older, Gog developed an ever more obvious talent for elemental magic. Fire, frost and shock came to Gog as easy as talking the more he tried. The Synod briefly observed the boy but found that he had no aptitude for any other form of magic, eventually dismissing the idea of his admission all together. Gog's parents used to note how he was perfectly suited to shamanism and that if they had been living in a stronghold, Gog would receive the spiritual education he needed to properly harness his powers. One day, Gog left in the night with Wolfy in tow and enough supplies to last a week or two. There were no Orcish strongholds in Cyrodiil, but he knew of some in the northern lands of Skyrim. Once he ran out of supplies, he lived off of the land with the help of Wolfy - whom he eventually named 'Wulf' in his maturity. Eventually, he reached the Orc stronghold of Largashbur and was admitted entry. He spent the remaining years of his childhood and adolescence in Largashbur where he trained and honed his abilities, contributing as best he could to the small tribal society. After some years, Gog - now a young adult, left Largashbur in order to return to his parents in Chorrol. He missed them greatly and desired to check on their well being. When he arrived in Chorrol he found no trace of his family and when questioned, many of the townspeople told him that his parents returned to Orsinium following his own departure. With Orsinium being so far away, and with no appetite to return there, Gog decided to remain in Cyrodiil, wandering the forests and making a name for himself. With Wulf at his side, he roams the forests, mountains and valleys. At current, he finds himself in Anvil, having just completed a few local jobs to fill his coin purse.

To the West

It was early morning. Too early, Erik thought, for smithing. Nevertheless, the work had to be done. He knew not when or whether he'd be back this year. All he knew was that it was raiding season, the only time of year he could get away from the hot coals of the fiery furnace and bury himself in the midst of even more fiery battles. The morning air was lined with mist; morning dew dripped from the leaves and all was quiet in Råå, for now. Even so, Erik stood over the anvil shirtless, donning no more than his leather pants and boots. He wiped his brow as he hammered his latest project - an iron sword - to completion. Once it was done, he grabbed a cloth and mopped his brow. Smithing always worked up his appetite, and Erik hadn't had breakfast yet. Returning inside his hut, Erik sat down near the fire, where he had left a rabbit roasting over the fire. Satisfied that the meat had been well cooked, he removed the rabbit from the spit roast and began to dismember it into smaller pieces. He quietly thanked the Gods before taking his first bite. Meanwhile, his young apprentice was just getting out of bed. Sven had seen seventeen summers, he was moderately tall and well built, with deep blue eyes and sandy blonde hair that hung past his ears. He was well disposed, polite and kind... but a little craven. His mother had given him over to Erik when he was fifteen, since his own father perished a long time ago. Erik had acted as the boy's mentor and father figure ever since. "Now, you're sure you can handle this, boy?" Erik asked. "Of course, sir," Sven replied, a touch of apprehension in his tone. "I need to know, because I can get somebody else to look after the Smithy if need be." Sven looked at the floor for a moment. The boy longed to prove himself and Erik knew that. He got up from his meal and ruffled Sven's hair. "You'll do fine, lad. You've been with me for two years and you smith some fine goods. The Smithy can manage without me." Erik's voice was firm, and yet reassuring. Sven looked at him and smiled. "Look after yourself, sir, and may Odin watch over you" he said shyly. Erik grabbed the rear of the boy's head and two touched foreheads for a moment. "I told you already boy, it's about time you stopped calling me 'sir'. Erik is fine. You're a man now." "Alright, Erik." Erik was always slightly paranoid when out in public. Smithing weapons for the wrong people had made him enemies in the past. Even the Earl didn't have much fondness left for Erik. Although the fisher folk and some of the older ones still called him 'Sunderskull', he knew he would find no allies in the longhouse. Striding inside of the longhouse, Erik was clothed in his leather pants, boots and surcoat - with a layer of chainmail underneath. Glancing around the gathered crowds, he noticed a few familiar faces - Freiga and her family, along with Tosti Svavarson. Nobody he particularly cared to associate with, but not enemies either. He grabbed a horn of ale and leaned up against one of the longhouse's walls. Erik didn't need to be at the front with all the rest, he just needed to attend and then he'd be off, free to fight as he willed for the rest of the summer.