Robeatics

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Sorry, I think I might have to drop. I've got a new job and a new semester of college on the horizon, I know I won't be able to sustain this in the long run. I appreciate everyone's time.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Night, Sun's Height 25
Dawnstar

@Robeatics@Gcold

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The thin air of the mountains as it swooped down into the Reach carried with it a particular chill for the season. Eirik tucked her arms underneath her cloak, though kept her hood about her shoulders to better enjoy the sun’s warmth on her face. She didn’t know quite where she was going for a while; simply followed the path in front of her, staring at the scenery as it crawled by. She was never much of an outdoorswoman in her youth; a wasted opportunity, having grown up in Skyrim. At each fork in the road, she glanced up at the signs pointing in each direction and make a random decision. Wisely, she avoided roads to Solitude at all costs. She couldn’t bear to see what the Stormcloaks and Dragonborn might have done to her city, or what the new owners were doing to her childhood home.

She tried to put such thoughts out of her head, but her journey, with no real goal, felt endless. Having no one to talk to during her long marches left her adrift in a sea of her own meandering thoughts. She marveled at the vista of the soaring tundras opening into Whiterun’s holdings, and stopped in Rorikstead for the night. All across the tundra, she trudged silently alongside a caravan--a family of bards, it seemed. They played wonderful music on the way to Whiterun, but something about their faces seemed troubled. The times being what they were, Eirik didn’t pry, and simply enjoyed their company for as long as she could.

She didn’t stay in Whiterun for long, as she found herself drawn north. Rumors abound in the city, troubling stories of the fall of Windhelm, a strange army, an even stranger crew of ruffians in the center of it--Eirik was intrigued. She hadn’t tasted real combat since her...incident, and a servant of Stendarr without purpose was as good as a whetstone without a blade.

Summer had left the land patchy and green. As she climbed north, the green thinned, until it almost seemed like she’d caught the land on the single day it wasn’t snowing. Dawnstar seemed muddier and danker than usual in the summer, and the air was thick with the stench of the sea, which assaulted her sensitive nose in unique ways with every breeze. She skirted around the Beast camp and approached the edge of the town, waving down a waiting guard.

The said guard was recently part of shift change. Two sleep-starved men gave way to two light-starved individuals; a man and woman. Late night was nobody's favorite shift, especially since the arrival of the Argonian refugees. Even the most enthusiastic night owl couldn't help but feel dread to watch the mass of slinking scales marching to sleep. When a newcomer came around, the expression caused was a frown on the female guard's face. This rather attractive woman's face stuck out conspicuously in the light of torch, creating a stark contrast to the rough and tumble men around her.

Eirik said as she drew close, “Hello there! Mara, I’ve had quite the long trip. I’ve been waiting on a nice warm bed all day.”

Without even the time to don her helmet, the guard was thrust into conversation with the perky newcomer. "Uh yes, greetings." Besides her, the male guard filed by to ensure the no Argonians violated the curfew. She spat on the roadside, silently cursing her partner for leaving her alone with a figuratively handful of a visitor, and a literal handful of torch, sword and the unworn helmet.

"Welcome to Dawnstar, daughter of Skyrim. I'm afraid the inn may be at capacity tonight." Her words came out almost like grinding gears; automatic as Skald's captain drilled into every single new recruits. Thinking about the inn prompted an yawn of the guardswoman, and when she came back from stifling it, she found the traveler was still around. "Are you staring at me?"

Eirik’s eyes quickly flickered to a random other point in the darkness, innocently glancing about as she spoke. “Hm? Oh, no, no.” She laughed once. “I’m just not used to seeing a guard in Skyrim without that helmet.” She hoped her smile would be diversion enough from the fact that she was, indeed, staring at the woman’s face. She couldn’t really blame herself for lingering a little too long. After traveling for miles on sore legs, staring at nothing but dense wilderness and the blur of faces in one town after another...

She coughed once before her imagination could get the best of her. “You mentioned the inn rooms being full? Not a problem. Any Nord could sustain herself on mead and a roaring hearth alone.” She pressed her right hand somewhat theatrically against her breastplate, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Right, well, none of us guards are too eager to put on these head buckets." The guardswoman tapped the headgear in question. "It's poorly ventilated, poor sighted and contributed to many head bumps against doorways." She sighed, barely catching Eirik's eyes flickering off. "Also, it often requires two hands to properly fit..." She implied at the torch in hand.

"Anyways, I have no doubt that you can." The guardswoman snickered. "But I don't think it's wise to do so with that cough." She leaned back slightly, grinning and shaking her head at Eirik's display. "If you ask me, I'd try to get a tent and a cot from the mercenaries. They're across the harbor and recently returned with a few men short, so they probably have spare accommodations for rent." While they talked, the guardswoman's partner started arguing with Argonians in the distance. Her grin gradually soured, and looking back and forth between the distant Argonian camp and the visitor in front of her, she suddenly found the latter to be much more preferable.

"A bedroll and a hearth can get you by, but let me tell you, sleeping on the floors of Windpeak Inn is an invitation for unwelcome pests to crawl in with you. There's also the danger of nightmare cultists; I heard they snatch up those without a locked door." The guard's grin returned; she was enjoying spooking the newcomer. "Of course, I can give you a few local tips, if you buy me a mug of ale." She winked.

Eirik’s heart dropped for a moment, and her eyebrows drew together in concern. “Cultists?” Suddenly, she was back in that dank, dead swamp, hounded by insects, armor clinging to her skin--she saw those masked cultists looming above her where she lay, sleepless...Her eyes lost focus for the briefest of moments, but she blinked it away and feigned a lighthearted smirk of disbelief.

“Sounds like an interesting rumor. Looks like I’ll have to take you up on that ale.” She glanced up at the argument beyond their conversation and propped her hands up on her belt. “Well, you must have your hands full here. I’d best get to the mercenaries about that lodging before I earn you trouble from your captain for chatting on duty.” She attempted to slip past the guardswoman, lifting a hand in farewell.

Losing focus for a second time did not pass by the guardswoman, and as she was trained to look for patterns, she thought the newcomer must have been hazy from her journey. She let the armored woman slip by her, examining her as she walked through the torchlight and admiring her finely crafted circlet (among other things). "Ah yes, I believe there will be work that requires my presence." The newcomer's words elicited a sigh from the guardswoman. "However," she held up, "you can find me at the tavern in the morning, when my watch is over."

"And don't stress yourself over the cultists, eh?" She attempted to soothe the newcomer's concern. "Most of them cleared out a couple of years ago and the town is safe enough if you keeps your wits about you." Finally, she realized that she still haven't gotten this individual's name. For reporting purposes, and maybe personal ones, she ought to give it a try. "Nice meeting you, by the way. I'm Cyneburg." She dropped her shield on the roadside and jogged towards the departing figure for a handshake.

Eirik nodded slowly to herself at Cyneburg’s reassurances, then quickly turned and took the guard’s handshake between both hands, perhaps a habit picked up from the clergy. She smiled warmly. “Cyneburg! Nice to meet you. Call me Eirik. Don’t let that shift get to you, now; you’ve got a drink waiting in the morning.” She lifted her hand in farewell again, then turned her sights on that tent and cot.

As Eirik drew closer to the harbor, the stench only got worse. Her lip curled very subtly, nose wrinkling. The Solitude harbor couldn’t have smelled this bad. But perhaps she’d been away from Skyrim for too long, and such stink was a fact of life anywhere its people lived. A misstep had her boots sink into a puddle of what she prayed was mud, and she grunted distastefully all the way to the mercenary’s setup. She waved down the first rugged-looking person she spotted. “Pardon! Hello there. I’ve traveled quite a ways to…” She drew her side dagger and began scraping mud from her boots as she spoke. “...see this mercenary band I’ve heard so much of. Might I speak to your...captain?”

The rugged-looking person was a injured wood elf man. His expressions were crestfallen and much of his battered body were covered in bandages. He looked to Eirik with an empty daze and absentmindedly pointed her to the largest tent. "We're not much of a company now, and it won't be 'we' for me anymore" He dredged on packing up archery equipment. "The captain, Ashav, is just over" With that, he started hauling his bags for the last wagon out of town.

Eirik frowned at the man’s sorry state, but followed his direction regardless. She glanced about the camp, eyeing the other men and women with that similarly downtrodden expression. For a moment, she hesitated. Perhaps she’d found the wrong mercenaries, and the ones she’d heard stories about have moved on. Or perhaps the stories were entirely false, and any mercenaries involved just happened to be remembered. Either way, she hadn’t trudged through mud for a full day off her course just to turn away in her doubt. She approached the larger tent slowly, steeling herself for whatever conversation she might have.

Inside the command tent, Ashav had just concluded meetings with Khazki and Wylendriel, and was exhausted beyond relief. His effort to find comfort in the bottom of a bottle had failed when he poured half of the alcoholic content onto fresh scars Wylendriel had just closed. Burning sensations pierced the incompletely healed scar tissues; it was not pain in the pure physical sense, but the combination of his humiliating fumbling and the overwhelming stress drove Ashav into a fury. He began roaring, cursing, throwing objects around and smashing everything he set his sight upon. In his incoherent state of enragement, the Redguard didn't seem to notice anyone coming his way.

Eirik jolted at the sounds of mayhem in the mercenary leader’s tent, and stopped dead in her tracks. Her nose scrunched at the scent of strong alcohol, and she carefully stepped over a sprinkle of broken glass on her way inside. She drew the tent flap aside and peeked in. Seeing the Redguard man in such a fury, she stepped forward through the flap and held up a hand. “Woah man! Hold your peace!” The chaos erupting from the man infected her with a strange sense of humor. She chuckled nervously. “If I knew my arrival would throw you into a frenzy, I’d have gone to Winterhold.” She removed her antlered circlet and smoothed her hair back in one easy motion.

Ashav froze abruptly. "What do you want?" He demanded.

“You’re the leader of those mercenaries I’ve heard of, correct? The ones involved in Windhelm, the invasions and such? I am Eirik Eiriksdóttir, servant of the Divines. I’ve come from Whiterun to see if the rumors are true.” She tapped her right hand against her breastplate. “It may seem odd that someone like me would be interested in joining a mercenary outfit, but these are strange times.” Her eyes studied Ashav’s face carefully.

Ashav slumped down onto his chair. He buried his face in his hands for a few seconds, and when he came out to look at Eirik again, he was no lighter shade of red. He sighed, embarrassed at being seen in such an incoherent manner and annoyed at the unending train of business to deal with. "Yeah, rumors, whatever; I already had one 'servant of the Divines' earlier." The Redguard slurred. He didn't even bother to return Eirik's look. Instead, Ashav stared up at the tent roof and shook his head. "I don't have time for 'Lord and savior' and 'holier than thou'; get out of my sight." He slapped one hand down on his table harder than he meant to, while the other pointed to the woman and then the exit.

Eirik's brow furrowed, ego wounded more than she would've liked. She put on her negotiator's tone and shrugged aside his pointing. "Perhaps I've introduced myself too formally. I'm no preacher here to lecture your men. Frankly, I would spend hours lecturing myself before anyone." She gestured behind her, to the camp beyond. "Swathes of my country are being overrun. Through the rumors I've heard, your outfit involves itself in nearly every major battle and crisis related to this chaos. That must amount to many casualties. If you're so ready to turn me away in exchange for the next farm boy with a stick who wanders in here, perhaps the rumors were false."

"Rumors? Rumors?" Ashav slurred angrily. "Forget everything you've heard, because the real 'major battles and crises' are ten times worse than what you can imagine. Er..." A belch broke Ashav's words, but it helped him to finally focus the woman talking to him. "You don't look like someone who needs to risks herself to fight the horror we fight. Seriously, you have no idea what you are signing up for."

"Let me tell you, the snow demons.." Ashav's face froze as if some invisible demon suddenly seized from behind. He grabbed for his trusty beer mug, but reluctantly pushed it away. "Damn it," he threw up his hands, "you want to be the heroine, eh? Jarl Skald's got plenty of jobs for your type, hell, he may even let you sail on that ship."

"Please go spend the next lots of hours lecturing yourself." Ashav leaned back as far as he could in his chair, aware how much his own breath stank of alcohol. However, he made no attempt to hide longing glances at where his mead reserves were. "Can you leave me alone now?"

Eirik’s eyes betrayed the indignance that boiled in her belly. Unable to help herself, she retorted, “You have no idea what horrors I’ve fought.” Her face refused to mirror Ashav’s own, though memories flooded to her mind’s surface like a breaching sea-beast...The temptation rose to continue from there, but she knew it’d be fruitless and silly to argue with him any further. She considered the ship in the harbor. Gaining passage would be a world better than loitering in the inn, waiting for the next invasion.

She gathered herself quickly, giving a dignified sniff. “You make your priorities clear, then.” While she wasn’t willing to fight him any more, she made a show of whipping about-face, sending her cloak flaring dramatically in her wake. She curtly donned her circlet and shrugged aside the tent flaps, expression soured but determined. To the Jarl she goes.

"We all fight our own horrors." Mumbled Ashav. He watched Eirik leave with a determined swagger and slumped down to the scratching embrace of the old wooden table. He remembered himself being just like her decades ago; feeling invincible, always fighting the right fight and self-pitying over every scratch big and small. Some may scoff at this state of "innocence", but Ashav had came to miss the youthful idealism and the excitement of baptism by fire like the first stroke of blood red paint splashing upon a clean canvas. That part of him was sadly beyond reach, and Eirik was fortunately too. However, his old friend, the mugful of ale, never left his side on a trying night like this. So he went to sleep clinging to the amnesia of alcohol, escaping to Vaermina's realm for a few scarce hours.

She, again, made her trudging journey down the street to the longhouse. She found an interesting dichotomy between methods of dirtying her armor: on the wet side of the street lurked inches of mud, and on the dry side, clouds of dust kicked up by passersby. She made it to the longhouse with a duller shine to her plate, and approached the guard stationed there. “Hail. I hear the Jarl has work. May I speak with the steward?”

"The court is closed." The guard grunted. "Please see the job board instead." What he referred to was a wooden board besides the longhouse entrance, where hiring notices range from "refugee camp cleaning" to "frontier garrison volunteers". One particular paper was the crew signup for the Steelhead, a war vessel belonging to Thane Alberich. On the night of 25th, one day away from sailing, one more person would be needed for ship security. This final crew member would be required to provide combat competence and their own equipment to do so. In exchange, payment inferior to similar positions in Solitude of Windhelm would be provided on top of food and accommodation. Orange torch lights dimly revealed that conditions and interviews have been replaced with "urgently required; sign and come to dock tomorrow".

Eirik grimaced at the sign. She certainly fit the bill for the security position, though the pay and clear desperation left something to be desired. She signed the paper nonetheless, and turned to survey the ship she would be boarding. Backlit by the shroud of the ocean’s horizon beyond, it loomed over the fishing dinghies neighboring it. Something about docked ships seemed ominous to Eirik. She recalled watching trade ships come and go through Solitude’s harbor from all corners of Tamriel, though never was allowed to go to the docks herself. She didn’t stand staring for long, as a gust of horribly dusty wind ushered her towards the tavern.

With the inn being full, she supposed she really wasn’t getting any rest tonight. But her aching limbs from her day of travel could at least be appeased by a few pints. Her mind drifted back to Cyneburg as she sat and drank, and she irritably willed the night to pass more quickly.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Just got my reply in. I really don't normally take so long on a collab, just a lot of traveling going on.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Hey guys, I'm on a vacation for ten days, so I'll be...about as quiet as usual in here. :p

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

I managed to name a Breton Gelina, which was a nonsense name for a D&D character I made when I was 12. :y

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Eirik Eiriksdóttir

Eirik Eiriksdóttir

Female Nord | 25 | The Lover

Profile

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Birthplace

Solitude, Skyrim

Appearance

Eirik stands at about 5’10”, with an average, athletic build. She keeps her long blonde hair braided back with a leather cord, which is removed daily for meticulous brushing. Overall, she keeps a tidy appearance when she can, with well-groomed fingernails, teeth, and attire. She carries herself with confidence, and presents strangers and friends alike with the same cheery smile. She lacks a strong Nordic accent, and speaks with clear enunciation and an energetic cadence. She takes care to polish her armor when stealth is not needed, which results in giving her the appearance of an ornament with legs.

Personality

Having been surrounded by nobility and traders all her life, Eirik knows the value of having friends all over Tamriel. She’s quick to jump to the aid of many, even without offer of reward, and frequently trades favors for favors with her companions. She’s quick-tongued and bright, and enjoys humming all manner of songs on the road, from Nordic children’s rhymes to Stendarrian hymns. However, she has a certain sarcastic streak, and seems more willing to get up to trouble than one would expect from a crusader of her faith. She is well-versed in the art of dealmaking, and, excepting cases that conflict with her principles, prefers compromise over argument.

Despite her experiences, Eirik remains hopeful that there’s an innate good in people that is only tarnished by the influence of Daedra and dark magics. Her overall view of the world could be considered romantic; she approaches most dangers with starry-eyed fervor and a prayer shouted like a war cry. To those she can’t manage to charm, she may seem arrogant, naive, and spoiled, focused overly on her appearance and reputation. She doesn’t try to be obvious about her exclusive interest in women, but still yearns for romance, and is easily pulled into others’ arms if she thinks they might actually care for her.

She heavily disapproves of Daedra worship and despises the undead, and will hunt signs of the latter with dogged determination. While she prefers the comforts of a furnished suite, she finds camping and “rough-and-tumble” living to be quaint, and considers poverty the ultimate test of faith (though would not wallow in it willingly).

Background

Background

Eirik Eiriksdóttir was born the eldest daughter of Eirik and Ysol Eiriksson, two nobles of Solitude who had holdings in many businesses around Tamriel. She was wet-nursed by the Imperial Calia, who cared for Eirik through much of her childhood and served as her handmaid in later years. Calia studied and worshipped the Divines fervently, and took Eirik to the temple whenever she could. As Eirik grew older, she was tutored in etiquette, business, and self defense. She grew close to one of her mentors, a retired knight who regaled her with embellished tales of his youth, and yearned to grow up to be just like him. He was entertained by and encouraged her fantasy, perhaps assuming that she would grow out of it and take on the responsibility of her parent’s work.

Now a young woman of sixteen, Ysol began pushing Eirik to attend various parties, hoping to catch the attention of the Nord bachelor Sirkaar Craven. While her parents urged her to marry him, Eirik took little interest in him, much to their irritation. Following an explosive argument, Eirik stormed out of her estate and onto the streets. She found herself drawn to the poor district, and somehow envied the beggars and urchins for their “simple lives”. After convincing a tavern owner of her adulthood, she drank herself into a stupor and awoke the next morning with a whore in her bed. While Eirik threw on her clothing in a panic, the Bosmer woman explained that Eirik approached her in the tavern and waved coin in her face.

Eirik escaped the tavern, determined to never do such a thing again. But over the weeks, hazy memories of that night drifted through her thoughts. She finally relented and entered a courtship with Sirkaar, planning to marry him in a matter of months. She resented her parents for expecting her to take charge of the family trade, she hated her droning history lessons, and she found herself despising Sirkaar, despite his general friendliness. Drawn to the debauchery, she dressed in commoner’s clothes and found herself in the same tavern. She began to visit the whore, Sidra, almost weekly, coming up with an array of lies for her parents. Sidra enjoyed the high-paying encounters, and the two women began to develop an odd sort of companionship. Eirik, blinded by hopes of impossible romance, began to buy gifts for Sidra, sometimes at great expense. She began stealing out of her parent’s coinpurses to satisfy both Sidra and the Bosmer’s addiction to moon sugar.

Eirik’s escapades wouldn’t last, however. Ysol grew suspicious of Eirik’s sudden interest in weekly “hunting trips”, and had Calia follow Eirik. When Calia saw Eirik and Sidra disappear into a tavern room, she hurried back to Ysol. After terrifying their daughter with an explosion of rage, Eirik’s parents banished her from Solitude, at least until rumors of the scandal died out. Eirik felt betrayed by Calia, who had always been Eirik’s confidante and mother figure. Such a betrayal damaged her ability to trust for years, and left her bitter and rebellious. Sirkaar married a different young noblewoman within the year.

She was sent to a temple of Stendarr in High Rock, to study the Divines and atone for her dalliances. The first few months, she raised hell for the monks there, constantly attempting to escape back to Sidra. But the temple sat high in the mountains, spelling certain death for anyone trying to leave without provisions and a sense of direction. Not only that, but many of the monks were retired Vigilants, lending them a severity and strength-of-will that crushed Eirik’s tantrums and appeals. Slowly, her ache over Sidra waned, until she convinced herself that the Bosmer had only toyed with Eirik’s emotions for gold and gifts. Her fury tempered by shame, Eirik ceased her escape attempts and worked toward the sort of piety that might let her abandon her lust altogether. She settled into her new life, finding freedom in simply being away from her family.

The monks, pleased with this turnabout, accepted her into their fold. The temple head, an old Redguard by the name of Roland, tasked her with many arduous and loathsome chores. As she grumbled through these tasks, he would recite the tenets of Stendarr, convincing her that her dissatisfaction with her life was the influence of the Daedra Lords. Roland cited Daedra and their trickery as the source of every evil in the world. Being so surrounded by this rhetoric, Eirik threw herself upon it. Privately, it served as an excuse for her failings as an heiress and daughter.

She shared her dreams of knighthood with Roland, and claimed to cast these aside as shallow and childish. She begged him and the other monks to teach her the ways of "true" gallantry--killing Daedra. Seeing potential, Roland relented, and mentored her in the magics he wielded in his youth: Enchanting, Solar, and Restoration. On the night of Eirik's twentieth birthday, in the stillness of winter, Roland gave Eirik a final test of her training. He brought her into his quarters and gave her his most prized possession, the silver blade he'd used in his time as a Vigilant. She was tasked with enchanting it using her knowledge of Solar magic--running the risk of ruining Roland's treasure should she fail.

Hours later, at the dawn of the next day, Eirik presented Roland with the enchanted blade. He rewarded her with his shield and armor, and proclaimed her as a reborn servant of Stendarr's will. Filled with pride, she prepared to finally leave the temple and set out on her own, her purpose in life realized.

But, not long after, in the spring of 4E 201, Eirik received a letter from her mother. Ysol explained that Eirik’s little brother had taken up the yoke of the family business, that her father was very sick, and that the civil unrest in Skyrim was reaching dangerous heights. Eirik quickly traveled to Solitude, and aided her family in relocating to their winter home in Anvil. Days later, her father passed in his sleep and was buried by the sea. The vulnerability her mother displayed in the preceding days frightened Eirik. As their failed daughter, Eirik could find no way to both comfort Ysol and reconcile her own feelings on her distant father's passing. Unsure of her place in her family anymore, Eirik quietly took the gold given from her father’s will and returned to High Rock.

She bought passage to Hammerfell from a caravan traveling near the temple, and soon found herself in Skaven. Ever-hungry for adventure, she was drawn to the company of an outspoken fellow traveler, a battle-priest of Stendarr. The Ohmes woman had already begun to gather others of similar aspirations, and altogether they sought to erase corruption and protect innocents, following the laws set by the Divines.

The group wound through the south, going by ship to the wilds of Valenwood. In each village they visited, they spent a week or two investigating its rumors of unholy activity. In most cases, it was baseless gossip, but Eirik reveled in the occasional raid on cultist caves and witch dens. Upon saving a noble’s wife from vampires near Greenheart, Eirik was gifted an antlered circlet. She considered it her most prized possession, a trophy of her deeds rather than her birthright.

She continued her work for years, accruing skill and experience, until one night when her companions found themselves in mainland Morrowind, intending to investigate rumors of witchcraft. As they slept in the inn of a remote village, Eirik was attacked by two masked men. She managed to kill one and incapacitate the other, and rushed to the rooms of her fellows. Seeing that they were missing, she turned on her remaining attacker and terrified him into telling her where they were. He revealed himself as the student of a powerful Dunmer necromancer in the area, who had been capturing travelers for her experiments.

Eirik was horrified, and forced the man to lead her to his master’s lair. She charged into the lair, prepared to face the necromancer in a great battle--but the Dunmer was a very careful woman, and prepared to escape the moment she suspected two of her minions had failed. Eirik only saw her face once before she slipped away. The necromancer didn’t care for such a rude departure, however, and left a gift for Eirik: the zombies of her comrades, who wounded Eirik grievously while she was overcome with grief. She killed them in a grueling skirmish, and as she lay gasping on the floor of that dank lair, a new lust for vengeance burned in her soul. After weeks of recovery, she left Morrowind alone.

Wandering back to High Rock, she surrendered to the temple, wishing to cleanse herself of the weakness inside her that cost her companions their lives. Having lost her hand to the necromancer, she and her mentors worked for months on ways to replace it. After voyaging to Daggerfall in search of an expert enchanter, sharing her research, and draining much of her remaining funds, she had it. But she had an emptiness within that went deeper than the loss of her arm. She'd lost friends of over four years, and despite being much less worthy than the others, she was spared death. Feeling more lost than she had when her father passed, a certain homesickness overtook her. Being only sixteen when she was banished, she'd never had the chance to see what lay beyond Solitude's holdings. Now, she finds herself wandering Skyrim, searching for another band of companions to keep her distracted.

Capabilities

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Skills

Adept:
One-handed Blade
Enchanting
Solar Magic
Restoration
Mercantile
Apprentice:
Speech
Shield
Novice:
Heavy Armor

Weaknesses

Repressed: Eirik is much more inclined to trust beautiful women, and despite her best efforts, is easily seduced. She finds herself also tempted by promises of adventure and glory, and may stray from the temperance and self-discipline her faith teaches in pursuit of these lofty ideas.

Staunchly Principled: Eirik finds little reason in trusting conjurers and Daedra worshippers. She refuses to trust any practitioner of necromancy, and will usually attack them if she knows of their actions without a doubt.

Prejudiced: Eirik resents the Dunmer as a whole, believing their culture to be harsh and self-serving. This prejudice stems mainly from her trauma in Morrowind, and how coldly many of the locals treated her. She doesn’t protest discrimination on the grounds of “safety”, such as banning dark elves from businesses or cities due to fear of criminal activity. To a much lesser, subconscious extent, she assumes most orcs, khajiit and argonians are brutish or primitive. While she doesn’t accept automatic, open discrimination of these races, she’s surprised by those who defy stereotypes.

Prosthetic: Eirik was forced to amputate her left arm below the elbow after her Morrowind encounter. She’s since replaced it with a steel prosthetic suitable for wielding her shield. She can position her fingers and lock them into place with her right hand, but cannot move the fingers on their own. She hides the fake arm under her armor and gauntlet, and is somewhat ashamed of the weakness it represents. The prosthetic cannot hold anything in its grip exceeding a few pounds, though the leather straps keeping the prosthetic attached are very sturdy.

Phantom Limb: Eirik experiences a constant throb in her missing limb, and while usually ignorable, when she first wakes in the morning, the pain can be almost paralyzing. She spends a good amount of time massaging the end of her left arm to ease the pain before she sleeps, and if she cannot perform this ritual, she’ll be struggling to sleep through the night. The pain flares up whenever she casts with her prosthetic, to the point that overcharged spells can cause her to black out.

Noble Upbringing: Eirik can’t shake a certain standard of living she’s always felt entitled to. While she doesn’t mind staying in cheap inns or campsites, she can’t bear sleeping in the cold or missing meals. Injury is especially catastrophic for her, and if she experiences continued pain beyond her threshold, she’ll ignore most other matters and focus on easing that pain as quickly as possible.

Stunted: Despite her experiences, she seems unable to change the view on the world she’s had since she was a child. She is very slow to learn from her mistakes, is gullible, and often reacts badly to extensive criticism.

Spells

Solar Magic: Sun Fire, Turn Undead, Repel Lesser Undead, Vampire's Bane, Radiant Destruction, Stendarr's Aura

Restoration: Cure Disease, Cure Poison, Healing, Fast Healing, Healing Hands, Close Wounds, Lesser/Steadfast/Greater Ward, Heal Other

Tactics

Eirik prefers to keep to the front lines, smashing into enemies shield-first and putting her blade through their face while they recover. When facing undead, she is somewhat more strategic, keeping her distance with magic until charging in for the kill. She employs Turn Undead occasionally, but prefers spells in the vein of Sun Fire and, against tougher opponents, Vampire’s Bane or Radiant Destruction. Rarely, she’ll engulf herself in flame with Stendarr’s Aura, but finds it extremely draining, and only uses it in emergencies.

Ever the aspiring hero, Eirik will recklessly place herself between danger and a more lightly-armored ally, relying on her stalwart defenses perhaps too confidently. She is used to and prefers fighting with allies, and is very astute in calling out warnings and split-second strategy. She revels in the rush of combat, though is rarely one to treat her opponents cruelly, giving quick, clean deaths.

Relations & Affiliations

Eirik’s relationship with her family is strained at best, with Ysol wishing her daughter could elect a vocation that isn’t likely to send her to an early grave. Eirik is very guarded emotionally with her mother. Kjeld, Eirik’s younger brother, is somewhat pleased that he was able to take control of the family business after his sister’s banishment, but still cares for Eirik, and worries for her safety.

She has a few ties with the Vigilants of Stendarr, and a few very indirect ties with the Dawnguard, but can’t expect much aid from either. However, the monks from the temple in which she was trained are always ready to offer lodging and whatever support they can.

Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

Other Capabilities

She doesn't seem to be bothered as much by cold weather; her handwriting is impeccable; she has a fair knowledge of higher-profile merchants within her family's sphere; she's a flirtatious drunk.

Inventory

---

Cash

150 Septims

Keys & Lockpicks

1 Key to her lockbox. It's tethered to one of her prosthetic shoulder straps, and is tucked under her armor close to her chest.

Tools & Crafting Materials

3 Common soul gems (Charged)

1 Travel enchanting kit. This includes 6 etched stones, a mounted focusing crystal, a troll skull, and a small bundle of candles.

Clothing & Armor

1 Set of simple clothing: undergarments, warm woolen pants, billowy tunic, two pairs of socks, sturdy leather belt, and a dark blue cloak.

1 Set of heavy steel armor and chainmail over a woolen gambeson. The armor is accented with fur for comfort.

1 Antlered headpiece. The antlers are connected to the steel headpiece in such a way that they'd be easily detached if grabbed, and the "gems" in the crown are simple glass.

1 Steel shield.

Weapon & Ammo

1 Silver shortsword, "Yoketu". It has been enchanted with Sun Fire, and bursts into flame upon touching undead flesh.

1 Steel dagger. Mostly used for cutting food and soap.

Potion & Arcane Supplies

None

Jewelry & Valuables

1 Simple wooden pendant, carved in the shape of a stag's head.

Books & Documents

None

Food/Drinks/Ingredients

1 Week’s rations. Consists of tough jerky, nuts, berries, and hardtack.

1 Waterskin

1 Drinking horn

Load Bearing Equipment

1 Leather pack. Equipped with smaller pouches and loops on the outside for her torches, bedroll, skull, and shield when she isn’t wearing it.

1 Belt. Equipped with smaller pouches, a coinpurse, and a sheath for her sword and side dagger. The coinpurse contains 20 Septims.

1 Iron lockbox. Contains 130 Septims. It's small enough to fit deep within her pack.

Other

1 Enchanted prosthetic. It’s covered in intricate etchings which fill with light whenever she casts a spell, focusing her magicka into a rune on her palm. Not only does this allow her to cast through her prosthetic, but this concentrates her magicka effortlessly, allowing her to cast more potent spells than she might from her real hand. It attaches through a light leather harness which braces against her tricep and loops around her shoulders.

1 Light bedroll

1 Firestarter kit

1 Hygiene kit. Includes a sprig of mint leaves and rough scrubbing cloth for the teeth, a few small vials of scented oils, a comb, and a block of lavender soap.

2 Torches

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Redux! However, I couldn't find any spell lists for Solar magic specifically, so I just split Restoration into anti-undead glowy shit and healing glowy shit. Please let me know if you have a more extensive resource for me to pull from.

Eirik Eiriksdóttir

Eirik Eiriksdóttir

Female Nord | 25 | The Lover

Profile

---

Birthplace

Solitude, Skyrim

Appearance

Eirik stands at about 5’10”, with an average, athletic build. She keeps her long blonde hair braided back with a leather cord, which is removed daily for meticulous brushing. Overall, she keeps a tidy appearance when she can, with well-groomed fingernails, teeth, and attire. She carries herself with confidence, and presents strangers and friends alike with the same cheery smile. She lacks a strong Nordic accent, and speaks with clear enunciation and an energetic cadence. She takes care to polish her armor when stealth is not needed, which results in giving her the appearance of an ornament with legs.

Personality

Having been surrounded by nobility and traders all her life, Eirik knows the value of having friends all over Tamriel. She’s quick to jump to the aid of many, even without offer of reward, and frequently trades favors for favors with her companions. She’s quick-tongued and bright, and enjoys humming all manner of songs on the road, from Nordic children’s rhymes to Stendarrian hymns. However, she has a certain sarcastic streak, and seems more willing to get up to trouble than one would expect from a crusader of her faith. She is well-versed in the art of dealmaking, and, excepting cases that conflict with her principles, prefers compromise over argument.

Despite her experiences, Eirik remains hopeful that there’s an innate good in people that is only tarnished by the influence of Daedra and dark magics. Her overall view of the world could be considered romantic; she approaches most dangers with starry-eyed fervor and a prayer shouted like a war cry. To those she can’t manage to charm, she may seem arrogant, naive, and spoiled, focused overly on her appearance and reputation. She doesn’t try to be obvious about her exclusive interest in women, but still yearns for romance, and is easily pulled into others’ arms if she thinks they might actually care for her.

She heavily disapproves of Daedra worship and despises the undead, and will hunt signs of the latter with dogged determination. While she prefers the comforts of a furnished suite, she finds camping and “rough-and-tumble” living to be quaint, and considers poverty the ultimate test of faith (though would not wallow in it willingly).

Background

Background

Eirik Eiriksdóttir was born the eldest daughter of Eirik and Ysol Eiriksson, two nobles of Solitude who had holdings in many businesses around Tamriel. She was wet-nursed by the Imperial Calia, who cared for Eirik through much of her childhood and served as her handmaid in later years. Calia studied and worshipped the Divines fervently, and took Eirik to the temple whenever she could. As Eirik grew older, she was tutored in etiquette, business, and self defense. She grew close to one of her mentors, a retired knight who regaled her with embellished tales of his youth, and yearned to grow up to be just like him. He was entertained by and encouraged her fantasy, perhaps assuming that she would grow out of it and take on the responsibility of her parent’s work.

Now a young woman of sixteen, Ysol began pushing Eirik to attend various parties, hoping to catch the attention of the Nord bachelor Sirkaar Craven. While her parents urged her to marry him, Eirik took little interest in him, much to their irritation. Following an explosive argument, Eirik stormed out of her estate and onto the streets. She found herself drawn to the poor district, and somehow envied the beggars and urchins for their “simple lives”. After convincing a tavern owner of her adulthood, she drank herself into a stupor and awoke the next morning with a whore in her bed. While Eirik threw on her clothing in a panic, the Bosmer woman explained that Eirik approached her in the tavern and waved coin in her face.

Eirik escaped the tavern, determined to never do such a thing again. But over the weeks, hazy memories of that night drifted through her thoughts. She finally relented and entered a courtship with Sirkaar, planning to marry him in a matter of months. She resented her parents for expecting her to take charge of the family trade, she hated her droning history lessons, and she found herself despising Sirkaar, despite his general friendliness. Drawn to the debauchery, she dressed in commoner’s clothes and found herself in the same tavern. She began to visit the whore, Sidra, almost weekly, coming up with an array of lies for her parents. Sidra enjoyed the high-paying encounters, and the two women began to develop an odd sort of companionship. Eirik, blinded by hopes of impossible romance, began to buy gifts for Sidra, sometimes at great expense. She began stealing out of her parent’s coinpurses to satisfy both Sidra and the Bosmer’s addiction to moon sugar.

Eirik’s escapades wouldn’t last, however. Ysol grew suspicious of Eirik’s sudden interest in weekly “hunting trips”, and had Calia follow Eirik. When Calia saw Eirik and Sidra disappear into a tavern room, she hurried back to Ysol. After terrifying their daughter with an explosion of rage, Eirik’s parents banished her from Solitude, at least until rumors of the scandal died out. Eirik felt betrayed by Calia, who had always been Eirik’s confidante and mother figure. Such a betrayal damaged her ability to trust for years, and left her bitter and rebellious. Sirkaar married a different young noblewoman within the year.

She was sent to a temple of Stendarr in High Rock, to study the Divines and atone for her dalliances. The first few months, she raised hell for the monks there, constantly attempting to escape back to Sidra. But the temple sat high in the mountains, spelling certain death for anyone trying to leave without provisions and a sense of direction. Not only that, but many of the monks were retired Vigilants, lending them a severity and strength-of-will that crushed Eirik’s tantrums and appeals. Slowly, her ache over Sidra waned, until she convinced herself that the Bosmer had only toyed with Eirik’s emotions for gold and gifts. Her fury tempered by shame, Eirik ceased her escape attempts and worked toward the sort of piety that might let her abandon her lust altogether. She settled into her new life, finding freedom in simply being away from her family.

The monks, pleased with this turnabout, accepted her into their fold. The temple head, an old Redguard by the name of Roland, tasked her with many arduous and loathsome chores. As she grumbled through these tasks, he would recite the tenets of Stendarr, convincing her that her dissatisfaction with her life was the influence of the Daedra Lords. Roland cited Daedra and their trickery as the source of every evil in the world. Being so surrounded by this rhetoric, Eirik threw herself upon it. Privately, it served as an excuse for her failings as an heiress and daughter.

She shared her dreams of knighthood with Roland, and claimed to cast these aside as shallow and childish. She begged him and the other monks to teach her the ways of "true" gallantry--killing Daedra. Seeing potential, Roland relented, and mentored her in the magics he wielded in his youth: Enchanting, Solar, and Restoration. On the night of Eirik's twentieth birthday, in the stillness of winter, Roland gave Eirik a final test of her training. He brought her into his quarters and gave her his most prized possession, the silver blade he'd used in his time as a Vigilant. She was tasked with enchanting it using her knowledge of Solar magic--running the risk of ruining Roland's treasure should she fail.

Hours later, at the dawn of the next day, Eirik presented Roland with the enchanted blade. He rewarded her with his shield and armor, and proclaimed her as a reborn servant of Stendarr's will. Filled with pride, she prepared to finally leave the temple and set out on her own, her purpose in life realized.

But, not long after, in the spring of 4E 201, Eirik received a letter from her mother. Ysol explained that Eirik’s little brother had taken up the yoke of the family business, that her father was very sick, and that the civil unrest in Skyrim was reaching dangerous heights. Eirik quickly traveled to Solitude, and aided her family in relocating to their winter home in Anvil. Days later, her father passed in his sleep and was buried by the sea. The vulnerability her mother displayed in the preceding days frightened Eirik. As their failed daughter, Eirik could find no way to both comfort Ysol and reconcile her own feelings on her distant father's passing. Unsure of her place in her family anymore, Eirik quietly took the gold given from her father’s will and returned to High Rock.

She bought passage to Hammerfell from a caravan traveling near the temple, and soon found herself in Skaven. Ever-hungry for adventure, she was drawn to the company of an outspoken fellow traveler, a battle-priest of Stendarr. The Ohmes woman had already begun to gather others of similar aspirations, and altogether they sought to erase corruption and protect innocents, following the laws set by the Divines.

The group wound through the south, going by ship to the wilds of Valenwood. In each village they visited, they spent a week or two investigating its rumors of unholy activity. In most cases, it was baseless gossip, but Eirik reveled in the occasional raid on cultist caves and witch dens. Upon saving a noble’s wife from vampires near Greenheart, Eirik was gifted an antlered circlet. She considered it her most prized possession, a trophy of her deeds rather than her birthright.

She continued her work for years, accruing skill and experience, until one night when her companions found themselves in mainland Morrowind, intending to investigate rumors of witchcraft. As they slept in the inn of a remote village, Eirik was attacked by two masked men. She managed to kill one and incapacitate the other, and rushed to the rooms of her fellows. Seeing that they were missing, she turned on her remaining attacker and terrified him into telling her where they were. He revealed himself as the student of a powerful Dunmer necromancer in the area, who had been capturing travelers for her experiments.

Eirik was horrified, and forced the man to lead her to his master’s lair. She charged into the lair, prepared to face the necromancer in a great battle--but the Dunmer was a very careful woman, and prepared to escape the moment she suspected two of her minions had failed. Eirik only saw her face once before she slipped away. The necromancer didn’t care for such a rude departure, however, and left a gift for Eirik: the zombies of her comrades, who wounded Eirik grievously while she was overcome with grief. She killed them in a grueling skirmish, and as she lay gasping on the floor of that dank lair, a new lust for vengeance burned in her soul. After weeks of recovery, she left Morrowind alone.

Wandering back to High Rock, she surrendered to the temple, wishing to cleanse herself of the weakness inside her that cost her companions their lives. Having lost her hand to the necromancer, she and her mentors worked for months on ways to replace it. After voyaging to Daggerfall in search of an expert enchanter, sharing her research, and draining much of her remaining funds, she had it. But she had an emptiness within that went deeper than the loss of her arm. She'd lost friends of five years, and despite being much less worthy than the others, she was spared death. Feeling more lost than she had when her father passed, a certain homesickness overtook her. Being only sixteen when she was banished, she'd never had the chance to see what lay beyond Solitude's holdings. Now, she finds herself wandering Skyrim, searching for another band of companions to keep her distracted.

Capabilities

---

Skills

Adept:
One-handed Blade
Enchanting
Solar Magic
Restoration
Mercantile
Apprentice:
Speech
Shield
Novice:
Heavy Armor

Weaknesses

Repressed: Eirik is much more inclined to trust beautiful women, and despite her best efforts, is easily seduced. She finds herself also tempted by promises of adventure and glory, and may stray from the temperance and self-discipline her faith teaches in pursuit of these lofty ideas.

Staunchly Principled: Eirik finds little reason in trusting conjurers and Daedra worshippers. She refuses to trust any practitioner of necromancy, and will usually attack them if she knows of their actions without a doubt.

Prejudiced: Eirik resents the Dunmer as a whole, believing their culture to be harsh and self-serving. This prejudice stems mainly from her trauma in Morrowind, and how coldly many of the locals treated her. She doesn’t protest discrimination on the grounds of “safety”, such as banning dark elves from businesses or cities due to fear of criminal activity. To a much lesser, subconscious extent, she assumes most orcs, khajiit and argonians are brutish or primitive. While she doesn’t accept automatic, open discrimination of these races, she’s surprised by those who defy stereotypes.

Prosthetic: Eirik was forced to amputate her left arm below the elbow after her Morrowind encounter. She’s since replaced it with a steel prosthetic suitable for wielding her shield. She can position her fingers and lock them into place with her right hand, but cannot move the fingers on their own. She hides the fake arm under her armor and gauntlet, and is somewhat ashamed of the weakness it represents. The prosthetic cannot hold anything in its grip exceeding a few pounds, though the leather straps keeping the prosthetic attached are very sturdy.

Phantom Limb: Eirik experiences a constant throb in her missing limb, and while usually ignorable, when she first wakes in the morning, the pain can be almost paralyzing. She spends a good amount of time massaging the end of her left arm to ease the pain before she sleeps, and if she cannot perform this ritual, she’ll be struggling to sleep through the night. The pain flares up whenever she casts with her prosthetic, to the point that overcharged spells can cause her to black out.

Noble Upbringing: Eirik can’t shake a certain standard of living she’s always felt entitled to. While she doesn’t mind staying in cheap inns or campsites, she can’t bear sleeping in the cold or missing meals. Injury is especially catastrophic for her, and if she experiences continued pain beyond her threshold, she’ll ignore most other matters and focus on easing that pain as quickly as possible.

Stunted: Despite her experiences, she seems unable to change the view on the world she’s had since she was a child. She is very slow to learn from her mistakes, is gullible, and often reacts badly to extensive criticism.

Spells

Solar Magic: Sun Fire, Turn Undead, Repel Lesser Undead, Vampire's Bane, Stendarr's Aura

Restoration: Cure Disease, Cure Poison, Healing, Fast Healing, Healing Hands, Close Wounds, Lesser/Steadfast/Greater Ward, Heal Other

Tactics

Eirik prefers to keep to the front lines, smashing into enemies shield-first and putting her blade through their face while they recover. When facing undead, she is somewhat more strategic, keeping her distance with magic until charging in for the kill. She employs Turn Undead occasionally, but prefers spells in the vein of Sun Fire and, against tougher opponents, Vampire’s Bane. Rarely, she’ll engulf herself in flame with Stendarr’s Aura, but finds it extremely draining, and only uses it in emergencies.

Ever the aspiring hero, Eirik will recklessly place herself between danger and a more lightly-armored ally, relying on her stalwart defenses perhaps too confidently. She is used to and prefers fighting with allies, and is very astute in calling out warnings and split-second strategy. She revels in the rush of combat, though is rarely one to treat her opponents cruelly, giving quick, clean deaths.

Relations & Affiliations

Eirik’s relationship with her family is strained at best, with Ysol wishing her daughter could elect a vocation that isn’t likely to send her to an early grave. Eirik is very guarded emotionally with her mother. Kjeld, Eirik’s younger brother, is somewhat pleased that he was able to take control of the family business after his sister’s banishment, but still cares for Eirik, and worries for her safety.

She has a few ties with the Vigilants of Stendarr, and a few very indirect ties with the Dawnguard, but can’t expect much aid from either. However, the monks from the temple in which she was trained are always ready to offer lodging and whatever support they can.

Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

Other Capabilites

She doesn't seem to be bothered as much by cold weather; her handwriting is impeccable; she has a fair knowledge of higher-profile merchants within her family's sphere; she's a flirtatious drunk.

Inventory

---

Cash

150 Septims

Keys & Lockpicks

1 Key to her lockbox. It's tethered to one of her prosthetic shoulder straps, and is tucked under her armor close to her chest.

Tools & Crafting Materials

3 Common soul gems (Charged)

1 Travel enchanting kit. This includes 6 etched stones, a mounted focusing crystal, a troll skull, and a small bundle of candles.

Clothing & Armor

1 Set of simple clothing: undergarments, warm woolen pants, billowy tunic, two pairs of socks, sturdy leather belt, and a dark blue cloak.

1 Set of heavy steel armor and chainmail over a woolen gambeson. The armor is accented with fur for comfort.

1 Antlered headpiece. The antlers are connected to the steel headpiece in such a way that they'd be easily detached if grabbed, and the "gems" in the crown are simple glass.

1 Steel shield.

Weapon & Ammo

1 Silver shortsword, "Yoketu". It has been enchanted with Sun Fire, and bursts into flame upon touching undead flesh.

1 Steel dagger. Mostly used for cutting food and soap.

Potion & Arcane Supplies

None

Jewelry & Valuables

1 Simple wooden pendant, carved in the shape of a stag's head.

Books & Documents

None

Food/Drinks/Ingredients

1 Week’s rations. Consists of tough jerky, nuts, berries, and hardtack.

1 Waterskin

1 Drinking horn

Load Bearing Equipment

1 Leather pack. Equipped with smaller pouches and loops on the outside for her torches, bedroll, skull, and shield when she isn’t wearing it.

1 Belt. Equipped with smaller pouches, a coinpurse, and a sheath for her sword and side dagger. The coinpurse contains 20 Septims.

1 Iron lockbox. Contains 130 Septims. It's small enough to fit deep within her pack.

Other

1 Enchanted prosthetic. It’s covered in intricate etchings which fill with light whenever she casts a spell, focusing her magicka into a rune on her palm. Not only does this allow her to cast through her prosthetic, but this concentrates her magicka effortlessly, allowing her to cast more potent spells than she might from her real hand. It attaches through a light leather harness which braces against her tricep and loops around her shoulders.

1 Light bedroll

1 Firestarter kit

1 Hygiene kit. Includes a sprig of mint leaves and rough scrubbing cloth for the teeth, a few small vials of scented oils, a comb, and a block of lavender soap.

2 Torches

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

@Dervish,@gcold, I'll get right on that! I appreciate the feedback. One concern of mine, though. Will dropping Blade down to adept spread her skills too thin? I don't want to be a min/maxer or anything, but seeing as Eirik isn't going to be fighting undead all the time, I figured it'd be a better idea to give her Expert on a combat skill that is effective against just about every opponent. In this case, I could perhaps swap out adept Restoration with adept Solar, and just say in her backstory that she studied Sun Fire and such Solar spells exclusively.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

FINALS WEEK HAS ENDED, VICTORY SCREEEEEEEECH

Here she is. Finally. Please pick her apart as you need.

Eirik Eiriksdóttir

Eirik Eiriksdóttir

Female Nord | 25 | The Lover

Profile

---

Birthplace

Solitude, Skyrim

Appearance

Eirik stands at about 5’10”, with an average, athletic build. She keeps her long blonde hair braided back with a leather cord, which is removed daily for meticulous brushing. Overall, she keeps a tidy appearance when she can, with well-groomed fingernails, teeth, and attire. She carries herself with confidence, and presents strangers and friends alike with the same cheery smile. She lacks a strong Nordic accent, and speaks with clear enunciation and an energetic cadence. She takes care to polish her armor when stealth is not needed, which results in giving her the appearance of an ornament with legs.

Personality

Having been surrounded by nobility and traders all her life, Eirik knows the value of having friends all over Tamriel. She’s quick to jump to the aid of many, even without offer of reward, and frequently trades favors for favors with her companions. She’s quick-tongued and bright, and enjoys humming all manner of songs on the road, from Nordic children’s rhymes to Stendarrian hymns. However, she has a certain sarcastic streak, and seems more willing to get up to trouble than one would expect from a crusader of her faith. She is well-versed in the art of dealmaking, and, excepting cases that conflict with her principles, prefers compromise over argument.

Despite her experiences, Eirik remains hopeful that there’s an innate good in people that is only tarnished by the influence of Daedra and dark magics. Her overall view of the world could be considered romantic; she approaches most dangers with starry-eyed fervor and a prayer shouted like a war cry. To those she can’t manage to charm, she may seem arrogant, naive, and spoiled, focused overly on her appearance and reputation. She doesn’t try to be obvious about her exclusive interest in women, but still yearns for romance, and is easily pulled into others’ arms if she thinks they might actually care for her.

She heavily disapproves of Daedra worship and despises the undead, and will hunt signs of the latter with dogged determination. While she prefers the comforts of a furnished suite, she finds camping and “rough-and-tumble” living to be quaint, and considers poverty the ultimate test of faith (though would not wallow in it willingly).

Background

Background

Eirik Eiriksdóttir was born the eldest daughter of Eirik and Ysol Eiriksson, two nobles of Solitude who had holdings in many businesses around Tamriel. She was wet-nursed by the Imperial Calia, who cared for Eirik through much of her childhood and served as her handmaid in later years. Calia studied and worshipped the Divines fervently, and took Eirik to the temple whenever she could. As Eirik grew older, she was tutored in etiquette, business, and self defense. She grew close to one of her mentors, a retired knight who regaled her with embellished tales of his youth, and yearned to grow up to be just like him. He was entertained by and encouraged her fantasy, perhaps assuming that she would grow out of it and take on the responsibility of her parent’s work.

Now a teenager, Ysol began pushing Eirik to attend various parties, hoping to catch the attention of the Nord bachelor Sirkaar Craven. While her parents pushed her to marry him, Eirik took little interest in him, much to their irritation. Following an explosive argument, Eirik stormed out of her estate and onto the streets. She found herself drawn to the poor district, and somehow envied the beggars and urchins for their “simple lives”. After convincing a tavern owner of her adulthood, she drank herself into a stupor and awoke the next morning with a whore in her bed. While Eirik threw on her clothing in a panic, the Bosmer woman explained that Eirik approached her in the tavern and waved coin in her face.

Eirik escaped the tavern, determined to never do such a thing again. But over the weeks, hazy memories of that night drifted through her thoughts. She finally relented and entered a courtship with Sirkaar, planning to marry him in a matter of months. She resented her parents for expecting her to take charge of the family trade, she hated her droning history lessons, and she found herself despising Sirkaar, despite his general friendliness. Drawn to the debauchery, she dressed in commoner’s clothes and found herself in the same tavern. She began to visit the whore, Sidra, almost weekly, coming up with an array of lies for her parents. Sidra enjoyed the high-paying encounters, and the two women began to develop an odd sort of companionship. Eirik, blinded by hopes of impossible romance, began to buy gifts for Sidra, sometimes at great expense. She began stealing out of her parent’s coinpurses to satisfy both Sidra and the Bosmer’s addiction to moon sugar.

Eirik’s escapades wouldn’t last, however. Ysol grew suspicious of Eirik’s sudden interest in weekly “hunting trips”, and had Calia follow Eirik. When Calia saw Eirik and Sidra disappear into a tavern room, she hurried back to Ysol. After terrifying their daughter with an explosion of rage, Eirik’s parents banished her from Solitude, at least until rumors of the scandal died out. Eirik felt betrayed by Calia, who had always been Eirik’s confidante and mother figure. Such a betrayal damaged her ability to trust for years, and left her bitter and rebellious. Sirkaar married a different young noblewoman within the year.

She was sent to a temple of Stendarr in High Rock, to study the Divines and atone for her dalliances. At first, she raised hell for the monks there, constantly attempting to escape back to Sidra. But the temple sat high in the mountains, spelling certain death for anyone trying to leave without provisions and a sense of direction. Not only that, but many of the monks were retired Vigilants, lending them a severity and strength-of-will that crushed Eirik’s tantrums and appeals. Slowly, her ache over Sidra waned, until she convinced herself that the Bosmer had only toyed with Eirik’s emotions for gold and gifts. Her fury tempered by shame, Eirik ceased her escape attempts and worked toward the sort of piety that might let her abandon her lust altogether. The monks were pleased with this turnabout, and fed her lessons in Restoration, enchanting, and the righteous tenets of Stendarr. She settled into her new life, finding freedom in simply being away from her family.

Years passed in the temple before Eirik received a letter from her mother. Ysol explained that Eirik’s little brother had taken up the yoke of the family business, that her father was very sick, and that the civil war in Skyrim was reaching dangerous heights. Eirik quickly traveled to Solitude, and aided her family in relocating to their winter home in Anvil. Days later, her father passed in his sleep and was buried by the sea. Unsure of her place in her family anymore, Eirik quietly took the gold given from her father’s will and returned to High Rock. She bought new equipment and modified her armor, then set off with a band of crusaders to travel the countryside.

Led by a fervent battle-priest of Stendarr, the group wound through the south. Each town she visited, she spent a week or two investigating its rumors of unholy activity, from cannibalism to necromancy. In most cases, it was baseless gossip, but she reveled in the occasional raid on cultist caves and witch dens. Upon saving a noble’s wife from vampires, Eirik was gifted an antlered circlet. She considered it her most prized possession, a trophy of her deeds rather than her birthright.

She continued her work for years, accruing skill and experience, until one night when her companions found themselves in mainland Morrowind, intending to investigate rumors of witchcraft. As they slept in the inn of a remote village, Eirik was attacked by two masked men. She managed to kill one and incapacitate the other, and rushed to the rooms of her fellows. Seeing that they were missing, she turned on her remaining attacker and terrified him into telling her where they were. He revealed himself as the student of a powerful Dunmer necromancer in the area, who had been capturing travelers for her experiments.

Eirik was horrified, and forced the man to lead her to his master’s lair. She charged into the lair, prepared to face the necromancer in a great battle--but the Dunmer was a very careful woman, and prepared to escape the moment she suspected two of her minions had failed. Eirik only saw her face once before she slipped away. The necromancer didn’t care for such a rude departure, however, and left a gift for Eirik: the zombies of her comrades, who wounded Eirik grievously while she was overcome with grief. She killed them in a grueling skirmish, and as she lay gasping on the floor of that dank lair, a new lust for vengeance burned in her soul. After weeks of recovery, she left Morrowind alone.

Wandering back to High Rock, she surrendered to the temple, wishing to cleanse herself of the weakness inside her that cost her companions their lives. Having lost her hand to the necromancer, she and her mentors worked for months on ways to replace it. After voyaging to Daggerfall in search of an expert enchanter, sharing her research, and draining much of her remaining funds, she had it. Now, with the blessing of the monks, she finds herself wandering Skyrim, reacquainting herself with her homeland after so many years away.

Capabilities

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Skills

Expert:
One-Handed Blade
Adept:
Enchanting
Restoration
Mercantile
Apprentice:
Speech
Shield
Novice:
Heavy Armor

Weaknesses

Repressed: Eirik is much more inclined to trust beautiful women, and despite her best efforts, is easily seduced. She finds herself also tempted by promises of adventure and glory, and may stray from the temperance and self-discipline her faith teaches in pursuit of these lofty ideas.

Staunchly Principled: Eirik finds little reason in trusting conjurers and Daedra worshippers. She refuses to trust any practitioner of necromancy, and will usually attack them if she knows of their actions without a doubt.

Prejudiced: Eirik resents the Dunmer as a whole, believing their culture to be harsh and self-serving. This prejudice stems mainly from her trauma in Morrowind, and how coldly many of the locals treated her. She doesn’t protest discrimination on the grounds of “safety”, such as banning dark elves from businesses or cities due to fear of criminal activity. To a much lesser, subconscious extent, she assumes most orcs, khajiit and argonians are brutish or primitive. While she doesn’t accept automatic, open discrimination of these races, she’s surprised by those who defy stereotypes.

Prosthetic: Eirik was forced to amputate her left arm below the elbow after her Morrowind encounter. She’s since replaced it with a steel prosthetic suitable for wielding her shield. She can position her fingers and lock them into place with her right hand, but cannot move the fingers on their own. She hides the fake arm under her armor and gauntlet, and is somewhat ashamed of the weakness it represents. The prosthetic cannot hold anything in its grip exceeding a few pounds, though the leather straps keeping the prosthetic attached are very sturdy.

Phantom Limb: Eirik experiences a constant throb in her missing limb, and while usually ignorable, when she first wakes in the morning, the pain can be almost paralyzing. She spends a good amount of time massaging the end of her left arm to ease the pain before she sleeps, and if she cannot perform this ritual, she’ll be struggling to sleep through the night. The pain flares up whenever she casts with her prosthetic, to the point that overcharged spells can cause her to black out.

Noble Upbringing: Eirik can’t shake a certain standard of living she’s always felt entitled to. While she doesn’t mind staying in cheap inns or campsites, she can’t bear sleeping in the cold or missing meals. Injury is especially catastrophic for her, and if she experiences continued pain beyond her threshold, she’ll ignore most other matters and focus on easing that pain as quickly as possible.

Stunted: Despite her experiences, she seems unable to change the view on the world she’s had since she was a child. She is very slow to learn from her mistakes, is gullible, and often reacts badly to extensive criticism.

Spells

While her study of Restoration focuses on melting the undead into smoldering piles of viscera, she knows a common Ward and a few simple healing spells. She employs Turn Undead occasionally, but prefers spells in the vein of Sun Fire and, against tougher opponents, Vampire’s Bane. Rarely, she’ll engulf herself in flame with Stendarr’s Aura, but finds it extremely draining, and only uses it in emergencies.

Tactics

Eirik prefers to keep to the front lines, smashing into enemies shield-first and putting her blade through their face while they recover. When facing undead, she is somewhat more strategic, keeping her distance with Restoration magic until charging in for the kill.

Ever the aspiring hero, Eirik will recklessly place herself between danger and a more lightly-armored ally, relying on her stalwart defenses perhaps too confidently. She is used to and prefers fighting with allies, and is very astute in calling out warnings and split-second strategy. She revels in the rush of combat, though is rarely one to treat her opponents cruelly, giving quick, clean deaths.

Relations & Affiliations

Eirik’s relationship with her family is strained as best, with Ysol wishing her daughter could elect a vocation that isn’t likely to send her to an early grave. Eirik is very guarded emotionally with her mother. Kjeld, Eirik’s younger brother, is somewhat pleased that he was able to take control of the family business after his sister’s banishment, but still cares for Eirik, and worries for her safety.

She has a few ties with the Vigilants of Stendarr, and a few very indirect ties with the Dawnguard, but can’t expect much aid from either. However, the monks from the temple in which she was trained are always ready to offer lodging and whatever support they can.

Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

Other Capabilites

She doesn't seem to be bothered as much by cold weather; her handwriting is impeccable; she has a fair knowledge of higher-profile merchants within her family's sphere; and she's a flirtatious drunk.

Inventory

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Cash

150 Septims

Keys & Lockpicks

None

Tools & Crafting Materials

3 Common soul gems (Charged)

1 Travel enchanting kit. This includes 6 etched stones, a mounted focusing crystal, a troll skull, and a small bundle of candles.

Clothing & Armor

1 Set of simple clothing: undergarments, warm woolen pants, billowy tunic, two pairs of socks, sturdy leather belt, and a dark blue cloak.

1 Set of heavy steel armor and chainmail over a woolen gambeson. The armor is accented with fur for comfort.

1 Antlered headpiece. The antlers are connected to the steel headpiece in such a way that they'd be easily detached if grabbed, and the "gems" in the crown are simple glass.

1 Steel shield.

Weapon & Ammo

1 Silver shortsword. It has been enchanted with Sun Fire, and bursts into flame upon touching undead flesh.

1 Steel dagger. Mostly used for cutting food and soap.

Potion & Arcane Supplies

None

Jewelry & Valuables

1 Simple wooden pendant, carved in the shape of a stag's head.

Books & Documents

None

Food/Drinks/Ingredients

1 Week’s rations. Consists of tough jerky, nuts, berries, and hardtack.

1 Waterskin

1 Drinking horn

Load Bearing Equipment

1 Leather pack. Equipped with smaller pouches and loops on the outside for her torches, bedroll, skull, and shield when she isn’t wearing it.

1 Belt. Equipped with smaller pouches, a coinpurse, and a sheath for her sword and side dagger.

Other

1 Enchanted prosthetic. It’s covered in intricate etchings which fill with light whenever she casts a spell, focusing her magicka into a rune on her palm. Not only does this allow her to cast through her prosthetic, but this concentrates her magicka effortlessly, allowing her to cast more potent spells than she might from her real hand. It attaches through a light leather harness which braces against her tricep and loops around her shoulders.

1 Light bedroll

1 Firestarter kit

1 Hygiene kit. Includes a sprig of mint leaves and rough scrubbing cloth for the teeth, a few small vials of scented oils, a comb, and a block of lavender soap.

2 Torches

EDIT: _{Just now read all the other CSs in detail. Looks like Sadri and Eirik go hand in hand.}

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