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Gavinyarel: The Roxey Village, the Roxey Steakhouse -- 2 Midyear, 4E 201
Gentle morning sunbeams crept across the sleeping Altmer's face, until he finally stirred from his light slumber. He leaned up on one arm and cupped his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. A long yawn escaped his lips. After standing and stretching, his mind woke up enough to remember the events of last night.
Gavinyarel hastily slipped on his boots and hurried downstairs in the hopes that he hadn't slept through the young lass's payment and departure. He doubted she understood the extent of her injury, and even youthful bodies had their limits. He knew that witchhunting wasn't the kind of profession to reward impatience or bravado...and he supposed that she'd have just become another number in the statistics of aspiring witchhunters that get themselves killed by going out of their depth, were it not for his rescue. True, a crossbow and a bound dagger was more equipment than he'd seen on most aspirants, but even the best tools fail in inexperienced hands. Heck, they sometimes failed even in masterful hands; he himself had faced certain death a few times during his career, and he'd learned painfully clearly that sometimes...all that separates one person's transcendence into the immortality of literature and song from another person's descent into nameless obscurity is sheer dumb luck.
An epiphany interrupted these musings when he was halfway down the stairs. Her crossbow! Damn it... In his haste to tend her wounds, he'd forgotten it at the cemetery. He hoped she wouldn't be too accusatory, but such hope was feeble against the commonness of petty theft on the road. All too often, allegations of people stealing misplaced items sparked needless brawls.
The elf made straight for the bar once downstairs, and, while relieved to see that the woman hadn't yet left, was taken aback by her boisterousness. In all her youthful spite of her body's condition, she appeared to demanding the bounty that'd been put on the zombie.
Well, I hate to ruin your little celebration, Miss, but I don't work for free whenever I can help it... "Hold on a moment there. You seem to be forgetting something, Miss." He tried to sound as little confrontational as possible, but he wanted those coins.
Gentle morning sunbeams crept across the sleeping Altmer's face, until he finally stirred from his light slumber. He leaned up on one arm and cupped his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. A long yawn escaped his lips. After standing and stretching, his mind woke up enough to remember the events of last night.
Gavinyarel hastily slipped on his boots and hurried downstairs in the hopes that he hadn't slept through the young lass's payment and departure. He doubted she understood the extent of her injury, and even youthful bodies had their limits. He knew that witchhunting wasn't the kind of profession to reward impatience or bravado...and he supposed that she'd have just become another number in the statistics of aspiring witchhunters that get themselves killed by going out of their depth, were it not for his rescue. True, a crossbow and a bound dagger was more equipment than he'd seen on most aspirants, but even the best tools fail in inexperienced hands. Heck, they sometimes failed even in masterful hands; he himself had faced certain death a few times during his career, and he'd learned painfully clearly that sometimes...all that separates one person's transcendence into the immortality of literature and song from another person's descent into nameless obscurity is sheer dumb luck.
An epiphany interrupted these musings when he was halfway down the stairs. Her crossbow! Damn it... In his haste to tend her wounds, he'd forgotten it at the cemetery. He hoped she wouldn't be too accusatory, but such hope was feeble against the commonness of petty theft on the road. All too often, allegations of people stealing misplaced items sparked needless brawls.
The elf made straight for the bar once downstairs, and, while relieved to see that the woman hadn't yet left, was taken aback by her boisterousness. In all her youthful spite of her body's condition, she appeared to demanding the bounty that'd been put on the zombie.
Well, I hate to ruin your little celebration, Miss, but I don't work for free whenever I can help it... "Hold on a moment there. You seem to be forgetting something, Miss." He tried to sound as little confrontational as possible, but he wanted those coins.
CHARACTER SHEET
NAME:
RACE:
GENDER:
AGE:
BIRTHSIGN:
HEIGHT:
APPEARANCE:
EQUIPMENT:
PERSONALITY:
WEAKNESSES:
SKILL REPERTOIRE:
POLITICAL AFFILIATIONS:
GUILD AFFILIATIONS:
---------------------
BACKSTORY:
This is optional, but may help one to decide how their characters came to possess certain traits, skills, or items.
NAME:
RACE:
GENDER:
AGE:
BIRTHSIGN:
HEIGHT:
APPEARANCE:
EQUIPMENT:
PERSONALITY:
WEAKNESSES:
SKILL REPERTOIRE:
POLITICAL AFFILIATIONS:
GUILD AFFILIATIONS:
---------------------
BACKSTORY:
This is optional, but may help one to decide how their characters came to possess certain traits, skills, or items.
ROLEPLAY INFORMATION:
SETTING & GENERAL
This adventure will take place during the events of the game Skyrim, so a lot of the ambient setting is already pre-determined.
An old and experienced witchhunter on a quest for a powerful artifact that promises him his biggest payout yet, and an aspiring witchhunter on a quest for revenge against a necromancer that killed her mother. These two travelers find themselves in each other's company and become unlikely partners as they journey toward the cold and war-torn land of Skyrim, which is trapped in the thick of the Stormcloak Rebellion and the return of the dragons. This is not a tale of heroes driving back ancient, apocalyptic evil. This is the story of an unlikely troop of adventurers that find themselves pitted against an adversarial force that, while not a harbinger of the end times, is still powerful enough to cause major trouble in the corner of the world it occupies.
This is meant to be a fun experience of a group of adventurers, united by paralleling interests or directions, that must learn to work together and overcome the challenges of a province that will only get darker and sadder as events progress.
The necromancer - a student of Mannimarco's style (Duke of Worms, we'll call him), supported by seven lords and the usual undead servants such people keep, will be the main villain. There will be two lairs for him: a false one out in remote wilderness (which will be reached first), and the real hidden-in-plain-sight lair.
Start date is 1st of Midyear, 4E 201 (This roleplay will take place during the game Skyrim's timeframe.)
Starting location is the Roxey Inn & Steakhouse. Our idea is that a little village as sprung up around the original Roxey Inn from Oblivion's time period.
The direction of the characters' paths should converge northward toward Skyrim, mostly along the direction of the Silver Road to Bruma. A character may begin with Mixcoatl and I at the Roxey I & S, north of the Imperial City, at some location along the road (e. g.: fighting bandits at Sercen, that Ayleid ruin at the intersection with the Silver and Red Ring Roads), at Bruma itself, or some similar point of origin. Just make sure you're in close proximity to others so interaction can begin soon and we're not left with a collection of isolated accounts for a while.
====================================================================================
RULES:
-------------------
For simplicity's sake, it might be best to use one of the ten races used and extensively observed throughout the games. But, if you want to try your hand at a different race, we're open to it.
Race stuff: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Races
===============================
With Conjuration, summoning weapons has changed a bit in Skyrim from earlier titles -- earlier games rendered the gear as solid, Daedric-appearing objects while Skyrim renders them as pinkish-purple, ethereal entities. Taking some creative license with this, we have established that the longevity and usefulness of summoned weapons and armor is relative to how solid they appear. For example, a novice conjurer may only be able to summon a very transparent sword that will probably not be very strong or sharp; as he gains experience, he will be able to conjure swords that become more opaque, hold sharper edges for longer, and resist breakage better. Concentration also factors in. A novice conjurer will likely have to devote more effort to concentrating and keeping his sword manifested, meaning that if he is distracted, or if he is surprised and hastily conjures one, it may become ethereal and wispy to the point that it passes harmlessly through the target -- or at least does not do any significant damage upon striking it.
As for fighting special enemies (like vampires and undead)... Ethereal beings are subjected to Oblivion-style rules: silver, Daedric, and enchanted only. Even high-quality unenchanted items, like ebony, will not work unless enchanted. Physical beings may be harmed by any sort of weapon, but only silver, Daedric, and enchanted gear will inflict lasting injuries (e. g.: iron mace strikes a vampire in the chest, ribs may get broken and bruising may occur, but would very quickly heal -- silver mace strikes a vampire in the ribs, those same injures would last and take roughly the same amount of time to heal as they would with a normal mortal).
Travel time is calculated according to the map and distances found here: reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/ui64h/t…
Bandits, wildlife, and other nuisances are not suicidal homing missiles that instantly attack anything that wanders a little too close to their camp. A bandit gang preying on travelers on a road should have the smarts to gauge whether or not they're equipped to handle something more than defenseless commoners.
We will be trying to preserve some cursory elements of realism here. Realistically nonsensical perks like weight reduction for heavy armor are nullified. Using shock magic on someone in a body of water or in contact with metal will be especially devastating if he has no resistance of some kind. Stolen items may be sold to any merchant, provided the character has the cool-headed-ness and sense to fence the right stuff to the right merchant. No swimming while decked out in iron or steel, or while laden with a bunch of stuff. No surviving a thirty-foot drop and sprinting off like it hasn't bothered you at all. No easily won fisticuffs against bears and saber-cats. Basic stuff like this. Magical augmentations that make feats like these possible should be used very sparingly to prevent us immediately ex-machina'ing out of every hairy situation that crops up.
============================
Characters must specialize in either Combat, Magic, or Stealth, like in Morrowind or Oblivion. This does not limit their choice of skills, but it does give them some direction in which skills would probably help them the most.
Character skills can be picked from Morrowind's skill list, and are subjected to Oblivion-style configuration: 7 Majors, all the rest are Misc.. To speak in game terms, one master-level skill is allowed provided there's a good reason for this mastery. Additionally, one expert-level (or two, if no master), up to three journeyman-level, and the rest apprentice-level.
MORROWIND SKILLS: en.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Skills
COMBAT: Heavy Armor, Medium Armor, Spear, Armorer, Axe, Blunt Weapon, Long Blade, Block, Athletics
MAGIC: Unarmored*, Illusion, Alchemy, Conjuration, Enchant, Alteration, Destruction, Mysticism, Restoration
STEALTH: Acrobatics, Light Armor, Marksman, Sneak, Hand-to-Hand, Short Blade, Mercantile, Speechcraft, Security
*The Unarmored skill, while filed under the Magic specialization, is fair game for any class.
Keep in mind that the exact nature of your character will determine which sub-areas of these skills they are strongest at. A hardened thief that grew up on the mean streets of Bravil will have different "Speechcraft" sensibilities than a sheltered nobleman in the Imperial City. A magic-capable person will likely be best at enchanting within their respective schools of magic. Etc..
Also, extra skills outside this list are allowed, as life on the road often requires people to be proficient in different things. Climbing, horsemanship, cooking, camping, and stuff like that are welcome. Perhaps your assassin lives in a perpetual game of "The Floor is Lava?"
============================
ATTRIBUTE LIST: en.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:Attributes
Strength
Endurance
Intelligence
Willpower
Agility
Speed
Personality
Luck
Characters are not bound by attribute values per se, but some sense should be used in determining their make-up. Thieves used to sneaking and climbing in the shadows will probably be quicker and more agile than a beer-belly mage or merchant. Huge-armed smiths and warriors will probably be able to win contests of brute force. Some attributes like Intelligence, Willpower, and Personality are harder to niche than others since they can be interpreted in a lot of different ways depending on the character, so they can be used pretty liberally. If you'd like to specify certain dominating attributes for your character, the limit is 2.
============================
Afflictions such as vampirism and lycanthropy are allowed, but are limited to one per character. Awareness of the strengths and weaknesses of these different conditions should be taken into consideration so no god-modding occurs. In some cases, like with vampires, it's probably easiest to stick with breeds seen in the games so that one can properly flesh out such a character.
References, if you're curious about this stuff:
Morrowind Vamps: en.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Vampires
Oblivion Vamps: en.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:Vampires
Skyrim Vamps: en.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Vampire
General Lore: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Vampire
Book about fighting vampires: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Immortal_Blood
About Morrowind's vampires: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Vampires_of_Vva…
One story of being cured: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Galur_Rithari&#…
Werewolf anatomy: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Physicalities_o…
============================
MISCELLANEOUS NOTES
If you'd like to use levitation magic, you may want to come up with a reasonable explanation for your knowledge of it based off of this: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Levitation_Act
SETTING & GENERAL
This adventure will take place during the events of the game Skyrim, so a lot of the ambient setting is already pre-determined.
An old and experienced witchhunter on a quest for a powerful artifact that promises him his biggest payout yet, and an aspiring witchhunter on a quest for revenge against a necromancer that killed her mother. These two travelers find themselves in each other's company and become unlikely partners as they journey toward the cold and war-torn land of Skyrim, which is trapped in the thick of the Stormcloak Rebellion and the return of the dragons. This is not a tale of heroes driving back ancient, apocalyptic evil. This is the story of an unlikely troop of adventurers that find themselves pitted against an adversarial force that, while not a harbinger of the end times, is still powerful enough to cause major trouble in the corner of the world it occupies.
This is meant to be a fun experience of a group of adventurers, united by paralleling interests or directions, that must learn to work together and overcome the challenges of a province that will only get darker and sadder as events progress.
The necromancer - a student of Mannimarco's style (Duke of Worms, we'll call him), supported by seven lords and the usual undead servants such people keep, will be the main villain. There will be two lairs for him: a false one out in remote wilderness (which will be reached first), and the real hidden-in-plain-sight lair.
Start date is 1st of Midyear, 4E 201 (This roleplay will take place during the game Skyrim's timeframe.)
Starting location is the Roxey Inn & Steakhouse. Our idea is that a little village as sprung up around the original Roxey Inn from Oblivion's time period.
The direction of the characters' paths should converge northward toward Skyrim, mostly along the direction of the Silver Road to Bruma. A character may begin with Mixcoatl and I at the Roxey I & S, north of the Imperial City, at some location along the road (e. g.: fighting bandits at Sercen, that Ayleid ruin at the intersection with the Silver and Red Ring Roads), at Bruma itself, or some similar point of origin. Just make sure you're in close proximity to others so interaction can begin soon and we're not left with a collection of isolated accounts for a while.
====================================================================================
RULES:
-------------------
For simplicity's sake, it might be best to use one of the ten races used and extensively observed throughout the games. But, if you want to try your hand at a different race, we're open to it.
Race stuff: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Races
===============================
With Conjuration, summoning weapons has changed a bit in Skyrim from earlier titles -- earlier games rendered the gear as solid, Daedric-appearing objects while Skyrim renders them as pinkish-purple, ethereal entities. Taking some creative license with this, we have established that the longevity and usefulness of summoned weapons and armor is relative to how solid they appear. For example, a novice conjurer may only be able to summon a very transparent sword that will probably not be very strong or sharp; as he gains experience, he will be able to conjure swords that become more opaque, hold sharper edges for longer, and resist breakage better. Concentration also factors in. A novice conjurer will likely have to devote more effort to concentrating and keeping his sword manifested, meaning that if he is distracted, or if he is surprised and hastily conjures one, it may become ethereal and wispy to the point that it passes harmlessly through the target -- or at least does not do any significant damage upon striking it.
As for fighting special enemies (like vampires and undead)... Ethereal beings are subjected to Oblivion-style rules: silver, Daedric, and enchanted only. Even high-quality unenchanted items, like ebony, will not work unless enchanted. Physical beings may be harmed by any sort of weapon, but only silver, Daedric, and enchanted gear will inflict lasting injuries (e. g.: iron mace strikes a vampire in the chest, ribs may get broken and bruising may occur, but would very quickly heal -- silver mace strikes a vampire in the ribs, those same injures would last and take roughly the same amount of time to heal as they would with a normal mortal).
Travel time is calculated according to the map and distances found here: reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/ui64h/t…
Bandits, wildlife, and other nuisances are not suicidal homing missiles that instantly attack anything that wanders a little too close to their camp. A bandit gang preying on travelers on a road should have the smarts to gauge whether or not they're equipped to handle something more than defenseless commoners.
We will be trying to preserve some cursory elements of realism here. Realistically nonsensical perks like weight reduction for heavy armor are nullified. Using shock magic on someone in a body of water or in contact with metal will be especially devastating if he has no resistance of some kind. Stolen items may be sold to any merchant, provided the character has the cool-headed-ness and sense to fence the right stuff to the right merchant. No swimming while decked out in iron or steel, or while laden with a bunch of stuff. No surviving a thirty-foot drop and sprinting off like it hasn't bothered you at all. No easily won fisticuffs against bears and saber-cats. Basic stuff like this. Magical augmentations that make feats like these possible should be used very sparingly to prevent us immediately ex-machina'ing out of every hairy situation that crops up.
============================
Characters must specialize in either Combat, Magic, or Stealth, like in Morrowind or Oblivion. This does not limit their choice of skills, but it does give them some direction in which skills would probably help them the most.
Character skills can be picked from Morrowind's skill list, and are subjected to Oblivion-style configuration: 7 Majors, all the rest are Misc.. To speak in game terms, one master-level skill is allowed provided there's a good reason for this mastery. Additionally, one expert-level (or two, if no master), up to three journeyman-level, and the rest apprentice-level.
MORROWIND SKILLS: en.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Skills
COMBAT: Heavy Armor, Medium Armor, Spear, Armorer, Axe, Blunt Weapon, Long Blade, Block, Athletics
MAGIC: Unarmored*, Illusion, Alchemy, Conjuration, Enchant, Alteration, Destruction, Mysticism, Restoration
STEALTH: Acrobatics, Light Armor, Marksman, Sneak, Hand-to-Hand, Short Blade, Mercantile, Speechcraft, Security
*The Unarmored skill, while filed under the Magic specialization, is fair game for any class.
Keep in mind that the exact nature of your character will determine which sub-areas of these skills they are strongest at. A hardened thief that grew up on the mean streets of Bravil will have different "Speechcraft" sensibilities than a sheltered nobleman in the Imperial City. A magic-capable person will likely be best at enchanting within their respective schools of magic. Etc..
Also, extra skills outside this list are allowed, as life on the road often requires people to be proficient in different things. Climbing, horsemanship, cooking, camping, and stuff like that are welcome. Perhaps your assassin lives in a perpetual game of "The Floor is Lava?"
============================
ATTRIBUTE LIST: en.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:Attributes
Strength
Endurance
Intelligence
Willpower
Agility
Speed
Personality
Luck
Characters are not bound by attribute values per se, but some sense should be used in determining their make-up. Thieves used to sneaking and climbing in the shadows will probably be quicker and more agile than a beer-belly mage or merchant. Huge-armed smiths and warriors will probably be able to win contests of brute force. Some attributes like Intelligence, Willpower, and Personality are harder to niche than others since they can be interpreted in a lot of different ways depending on the character, so they can be used pretty liberally. If you'd like to specify certain dominating attributes for your character, the limit is 2.
============================
Afflictions such as vampirism and lycanthropy are allowed, but are limited to one per character. Awareness of the strengths and weaknesses of these different conditions should be taken into consideration so no god-modding occurs. In some cases, like with vampires, it's probably easiest to stick with breeds seen in the games so that one can properly flesh out such a character.
References, if you're curious about this stuff:
Morrowind Vamps: en.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Vampires
Oblivion Vamps: en.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:Vampires
Skyrim Vamps: en.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Vampire
General Lore: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Vampire
Book about fighting vampires: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Immortal_Blood
About Morrowind's vampires: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Vampires_of_Vva…
One story of being cured: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Galur_Rithari&#…
Werewolf anatomy: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Physicalities_o…
============================
MISCELLANEOUS NOTES
If you'd like to use levitation magic, you may want to come up with a reasonable explanation for your knowledge of it based off of this: en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Levitation_Act
Gavinyarel: The Roxey Village, the Old Roxey Cemetery -- Midyear, 4E 201
Gavinyarel scowled in disgust at the burning remnants of the zombie. Undead were a unique sort to him, the physical types mostly rotten and reeking badly enough to turn a sturdy stomach. He then looked to the woman, who'd blacked out from her injuries. Damn it, don't die now...especially not from head-butting a tombstone. he thought as he rushed over to inspect her wounds.
Gavinyarel squatted down and examined her head wound, which was still gushing blood. He quickly pulled a large cloth and bandage out of his backpack and pressed against the wound in an effort try and stop the bleeding. It took a few minutes, but the blood at last began to clot, and Gavinyarel bound it up as best he could. He could clean it back at the inn.
With a grunt, he managed to hoist her over his shoulder and began the walk back to the inn. Luckily, his adrenaline didn't mind the extra weight, and he had her back at the inn quickly.
Gavinyarel shoved the door open with his free hand and went straight to the counter, ignoring the gawking patrons who stared in wonder at his injured cargo. "I need you to free up a room. Now." he said impatiently.
"Uh, yes, all right. Come with me." the old innkeeper said, leading the way up the stairs. He unlocked his only other available room, and Gavinyarel entered and set her on the bed.
"Get me a rag." Gavinyarel told the innkeeper before sending him off. He removed the bandage from the woman's head and took a small flask of ale from his belt. He dabbed his only other clean cloth with the ale and then pressed it against the wound to disinfect it as much as possible. After wiping the excess away, he wove a healing aura in his hand and pressed it against the wound. The parted skin slowly drew back together. The innkeeper returned with the rag, and after he finished with his healing spell, Gavinyarel bound it to where the wound was just to be safe. He'd had wounds reopen on him before, not something he considered fun at all.
Content he'd done all he could for the woman, Gavinyarel packed up his supplies and returned to his own room. After running his rags down to the innkeeper for cleaning and paying a night's stay for the woman, he crawled into his bed and tried to fall asleep. An hour ticked by without so much as a doze, but he was at last able to drift into an uneasy sleep.
Gavinyarel scowled in disgust at the burning remnants of the zombie. Undead were a unique sort to him, the physical types mostly rotten and reeking badly enough to turn a sturdy stomach. He then looked to the woman, who'd blacked out from her injuries. Damn it, don't die now...especially not from head-butting a tombstone. he thought as he rushed over to inspect her wounds.
Gavinyarel squatted down and examined her head wound, which was still gushing blood. He quickly pulled a large cloth and bandage out of his backpack and pressed against the wound in an effort try and stop the bleeding. It took a few minutes, but the blood at last began to clot, and Gavinyarel bound it up as best he could. He could clean it back at the inn.
With a grunt, he managed to hoist her over his shoulder and began the walk back to the inn. Luckily, his adrenaline didn't mind the extra weight, and he had her back at the inn quickly.
Gavinyarel shoved the door open with his free hand and went straight to the counter, ignoring the gawking patrons who stared in wonder at his injured cargo. "I need you to free up a room. Now." he said impatiently.
"Uh, yes, all right. Come with me." the old innkeeper said, leading the way up the stairs. He unlocked his only other available room, and Gavinyarel entered and set her on the bed.
"Get me a rag." Gavinyarel told the innkeeper before sending him off. He removed the bandage from the woman's head and took a small flask of ale from his belt. He dabbed his only other clean cloth with the ale and then pressed it against the wound to disinfect it as much as possible. After wiping the excess away, he wove a healing aura in his hand and pressed it against the wound. The parted skin slowly drew back together. The innkeeper returned with the rag, and after he finished with his healing spell, Gavinyarel bound it to where the wound was just to be safe. He'd had wounds reopen on him before, not something he considered fun at all.
Content he'd done all he could for the woman, Gavinyarel packed up his supplies and returned to his own room. After running his rags down to the innkeeper for cleaning and paying a night's stay for the woman, he crawled into his bed and tried to fall asleep. An hour ticked by without so much as a doze, but he was at last able to drift into an uneasy sleep.
Gavinyarel: The Roxey Village, the Old Roxey Cemetery -- Midyear, 4E 201
Gavinyarel watched as the woman struck first with a bolt to the zombie's breast, but he was unsurprised at the creature's unconcern. He was about to step in when she abandoned her crossbow, but was genuinely surprised when she conjured a sword in her hand. He paused and decided to see how she fared with her new weapon, which managed to rend the zombie's arm from its body and sever one of its legs partway up. Still, in her drunken state, the woman wasn't a match for the lumbering corpse.
When the zombie had her cornered against a headstone with her head bleeding, Gavinyarel moved in. He dashed toward the zombie, which was readying another slash with its remaining arm. As it swung, Gavinyarel countered just in time. His honed ebony blade, glowing orange with fire enchantment, sent the newly dismembered arm flying over the woman's head. The stump that remained was set ablaze. He punched the creature away with his free hand and then shot a jet of fire at it, turning it into a bright flare that lit up the surrounding area. Enraged, the zombie charged him in all its limping, disarmed frenzy. Gavinyarel dodged left and slashed at his midsection, shearing it in two. As the newly halved zombie collapsed to the ground, it's animation began to stop, whatever force had inspired its motion finally broken.
Gavinyarel took a large cloth from his pouch and wiped away the dust and rotten flesh from his sword before sheathing it. He looked back at the woman and smiled. "All right, I guess you're not quite as green as you seem." he said plainly, impressed by her knowledge of bound weapons.
Gavinyarel watched as the woman struck first with a bolt to the zombie's breast, but he was unsurprised at the creature's unconcern. He was about to step in when she abandoned her crossbow, but was genuinely surprised when she conjured a sword in her hand. He paused and decided to see how she fared with her new weapon, which managed to rend the zombie's arm from its body and sever one of its legs partway up. Still, in her drunken state, the woman wasn't a match for the lumbering corpse.
When the zombie had her cornered against a headstone with her head bleeding, Gavinyarel moved in. He dashed toward the zombie, which was readying another slash with its remaining arm. As it swung, Gavinyarel countered just in time. His honed ebony blade, glowing orange with fire enchantment, sent the newly dismembered arm flying over the woman's head. The stump that remained was set ablaze. He punched the creature away with his free hand and then shot a jet of fire at it, turning it into a bright flare that lit up the surrounding area. Enraged, the zombie charged him in all its limping, disarmed frenzy. Gavinyarel dodged left and slashed at his midsection, shearing it in two. As the newly halved zombie collapsed to the ground, it's animation began to stop, whatever force had inspired its motion finally broken.
Gavinyarel took a large cloth from his pouch and wiped away the dust and rotten flesh from his sword before sheathing it. He looked back at the woman and smiled. "All right, I guess you're not quite as green as you seem." he said plainly, impressed by her knowledge of bound weapons.
Gavinyarel: The Roxey Village, the Old Roxey Chapel Cemetery -- Midyear, 4E 201
Gavinyarel followed as close as he dared behind the Breton woman, not so close as to alert her to his presence, but still close enough to hear her slurred, somewhat inaccurate rendition of "Ragnar the Red," a common favorite in the taverns of Skyrim. The sun had set by this time, and Gavinyarel's night vision was still adjusting, a predicament that made navigating the loose dirt and rocks a little more exciting than he'd bargained for.
Before long, Gavinyarel came before the cemetery in question: a bleak relic of a community apparently none too infatuated with the idea of attending church. Mist was beginning to veil the area, and he had to try hard to keep the Breton girl in his sight while still scanning for the zombie.
Gavinyarel nonchalantly tucked himself behind one of the trees just outside the cemetery grounds when he saw the woman brandish her crossbow, peering out from behind only just enough to continue viewing. After a little high-impact defacement of an unlucky tombstone, Gavinyarel heard the bloodcurdling moan that sounded from within the mausoleum that now stood before the woman. He put a hand to his ebony shortsword's hilt and, content that she was sufficiently focused on the impending confrontation, moved up behind one of the pillars. Do or die time...
Gavinyarel followed as close as he dared behind the Breton woman, not so close as to alert her to his presence, but still close enough to hear her slurred, somewhat inaccurate rendition of "Ragnar the Red," a common favorite in the taverns of Skyrim. The sun had set by this time, and Gavinyarel's night vision was still adjusting, a predicament that made navigating the loose dirt and rocks a little more exciting than he'd bargained for.
Before long, Gavinyarel came before the cemetery in question: a bleak relic of a community apparently none too infatuated with the idea of attending church. Mist was beginning to veil the area, and he had to try hard to keep the Breton girl in his sight while still scanning for the zombie.
Gavinyarel nonchalantly tucked himself behind one of the trees just outside the cemetery grounds when he saw the woman brandish her crossbow, peering out from behind only just enough to continue viewing. After a little high-impact defacement of an unlucky tombstone, Gavinyarel heard the bloodcurdling moan that sounded from within the mausoleum that now stood before the woman. He put a hand to his ebony shortsword's hilt and, content that she was sufficiently focused on the impending confrontation, moved up behind one of the pillars. Do or die time...
Name: Gavinyarel
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Age: 110
Birthsign: The Atronach (extremely slow magicka recovery, requires regular use of potions and tonics to maintain spellcasting ability)
Height: 6'9
Appearance: Parchment-yellow skin tone; thick, dark gray hair bound in a ponytail; full beard, trimmed close to the skin; olive green eyes; slightly hooked nose; high, gaunt cheeks; thin, pursed, dark pink lips; lean, slim build; two vampire's claw marks laterally across his left cheek; puncture scars from werewolf claw on right calf; sword slash scar diagonally across chest from left shoulder down to right part of waist; two scrape scars on left side of waist from spear trap
Equipment: Tight-fitting, plain, dark gray robe with a large silver stud and headband ring on the hood, breast and shoulders padded with chainmail, fortifies magicka and its recovery; black, rawhide gauntlets with silver knuckles; plain black trousers with silver knee pads; rawhide, silver-toed boots; all silver on clothing kept coated with a material to hide its appearance and luster; small backpack for food and auxiliary items; healing and replenishing draughts kept in vials in a cushioned pouch at the side; ebony shortsword with fire enchantment kept in sheath at waist; steel, drain fatigue-enchanted throwing knife kept in right boot; silver amulet that resists magicka;
Personality: Even-tempered most of the time, but can be easily annoyed or riled by excessive stupidity, especially during serious situations; loves mind-oriented games and puzzles; harbors a stern abhorrence for those who thieve or cheat merely for personal gain or for causes he judges as unjust; wary of strangers; not racist or proud, gives everyone a chance at first; is not completely against the utilization of dark arts-related items, believing that in the right hands, they can be used for good purposes other than those their original creators or owners might've had;
Weaknesses: Atronach birthsign renders his magicka almost non-regenerative, recovers very slowly over time and requires the use of his enchanted gear and potions to be consistently kept battle-ready; natural Altmeri weakness to magic, experiences around 1.5 times the normal effect of a spell; extremely overprotective of children and those being racially discriminated against, can sometimes go out of his way to involve himself in such business that doesn't concern him at all; can sometimes lose his patience if subjected to prolonged annoyances or ungratefulness; shows a particular distrust and hatred of the Thalmor, of whom he was previously a member.
[Game terminology is just to give a basic idea of the skill-level with different disciplines.]
Skill Repertoire: Skilled with moderate-to-short-length blades (Expert Level), but clumsy with heavier or longer weapons (longswords, claymores, etc.); extremely skilled in destruction and alteration magic (Master Destruction, Expert Alteration), cherry picked skills from other schools (has utilized quiet-casting techniques from Illusion, recharging enchanted items, etc. -- Journeyman Level at best); can care for his steel knife and clothing well enough, but must have his ebony blade repaired by an appropriately skilled smith; not terribly well versed in speechcraft, but has come to understand how valuable some of the items his job rewards him with can be, and knows where to seek proper payment (in game terms, Novice Speechcraft, Journeyman Mercantile); has been taught constant vigilance by encounters with traps and crafty enemies
Political Affiliations: No official ties, but favors the Empire in Skyrim's civil war
Guild Affiliations: Has connections at the College of Winterhold, but is not a proper member, frequently uses it as a client for the loot he finds in addition to the various cities' court wizards and other magically inclined people;
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Backstory (Work in Progress, will be expanded/revised/improved as time allows.)
Gavinyarel was born to Altmeri parents on Summerset Isle in 4E 91. His father, Braletar, was a high-ranking Thalmor officer that had long served as a Thalmor agent in various locations around Tamriel before returning home and wedding his wife. Gavinyarel's mother, Kandeline, was an extremely famous author all across Cyrodiil, a status that handsomely supplemented Braletar's earnings with the Thalmor. Resultantly, Gavinyarel was raised in an environment of self-absorbed racism and bigotry that saw him enlist with the Thalmor armies at fifteen.
During his pre-military schooling, Gavinyarel displayed a prodigious talent for Destruction magic and also showed a firm grasp of Alteration. These, coupled with the swordsmanship drilled into him by his trainers, prepared him for a life of service in the Thalmor army. After finishing his training, he was shipped to Solitude in Skyrim, where he was thrust into a decade long period of clandestine operations against the Empire in its northernmost province. He slowly became disillusioned with the Thalmor over those ten years as serving under his sadistic commander Shalcin let him see how all of the other races grieve during hardships just as Altmer do. He was finally convinced of the Thalmor's evilness when, in Evening Star of 4E 109, Shalcin punctuated the latest of his terrorist missions by torching an orphanage in Dragon's Bridge, which resulted in the deaths of eight children. In his rage, Gavinyarel conjured a bitterly cold blizzard and froze Shalcin and his other partners solid. Afterward drained of his magicka, he fled the town before efforts could be made to apprehend him.
After considerably distancing himself from Dragon's Bridge, Gavinyarel removed his armor and other equipment and tossed it all into a random pond in the middle of nowhere. He then walked away, leaving it behind to rot. Knowing he couldn't return to his parents or show his face among the Thalmor again, and incredibly angry with himself to contributing to their progress for so long, Gavinyarel spent the next four years in an angst-ridden rut, trying to drown his problems with vices. Then, in 4E 114, he met with fate. Well drunk and in a particularly dismal mood, Gavinyarel made the illogical and unwise decision to depart the city of Riften in the dead of night. As he stumbled along the road, his vision blurry and hampered by the scant moonlight, he was being stalked by a creature that thrived in the night: a vampire. As luck would have it, fortune smiled on Gavinyarel despite his stupidity, for the vampire was young and so mad for blood, that he completely abandoned stealth once he made for his soused prey. Gavinyarel turned to face the bounding footsteps behind him and was confronted by the wildly slashing claws and glowing golden eyes of a vampire.
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