spicykvnt

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

Ashna D'ezte 'The Colossus'

Ashna D'ezte - 'The Colossus'

Female Redguard | 26 | The Steed

§ Birthplace
Dragonstar, Hammerfell

§ Appearance
Ashna is a beautiful and powerful looking Redguard woman. Her skin leaning towards a darker shade with the typical red undertone of her race. Her eyes are an almond shape with a rich russet tone that command attention with their expressiveness. She wears long charcoal black, thick locks which fall to her chest. She will often wear them atop her head like a crown, placing choice ornaments to adorn her head, with a few locks left hanging to frame her face. She is strong and athletic in build, standing at 187cm with long and powerful legs, her body is built of muscle from her time spent staying incredibly active.

Despite being built of muscle, she was not passed over for feminine features either. Upon closer inspection, one would notice the small stripes across her skin, particularly atop her hip bones and patterning her inner thighs. A comfortable amount of womanly fat lines her hips - an indicator of her age, truly.

Like many Redguard, she has several tattoos across her skin - the most prominent being the geometric shapes and tribal etchings across the fingers and top of her right hand which trail to her wrist. On her back, she proudly displays an intricate tattoo of a horse, to mark her Birthsign, The Steed. Strangely, she has an illegible tattoo on the inside of her lower lip, simply a dare after one too many ales. Finally, she wears two oversized copper hoops through each ear.

§ Personality
Loud, proud, and not one to hold her tongue in any situation. Ashna has seen a great many things throughout her life, and experienced enough hardship to know that she would rather speak and offend, than later regret not speaking her truth from within. Having this trait also means that she is rarely offended or made upset by others who also wish to speak their own truth (even if they are wrong.)

Ashna values honesty - and has such a complete faith and confidence in her own decisions and actions that she will never lie about things that she has done, or is going to do. This can be intimidating to some, and is a trait that has both won her loyal friends and caused her to lose them as well. Ashna carries anger in heart, despite her best efforts to keep it locked away it sometimes rises to the surface.

During her teenage years she was brash, rude, and arrogant at all times (a girl with a lot to prove...) Even in situations where she probably could have done without speaking, she would. With age, she has grown wiser, smarter, and kinder. Most wouldn't think it to look at her - a fearsome and true blue Redguard warrior woman with a rogue Nord upbringing - but she indeed has a heart of gold underneath, should one simply take time to dust away the exterior. She falls hard in love and friendships, trusting easily - sometimes too easily. She has an insatiable hunger for knowledge which she feeds by reading anything she gets her hands on, even if she does not always retain it...

§ Background
Ashna was born in 4E 179, four full years after The Great War ended. She was born the product of a one night tryst between a Lady of the Night and according to her mother, the most beautiful and powerful Alik'r Warrior she had ever seen.

Growing up, Ashna imagined her father to be the leader of his warriors with one hundred horses traversing the Alik'r Desert. In her mind he had long hair and tattoos depicting the story of his life, the battles he had won - and he could tame wild stallions. The Alik'r Warrior was her hero and one constant. Whenever times were tough, she would think of the day he would finally arrive to take her from her Mother.

Ashna remembers very little of the events surrounding the first years of her life. Her mother continued to work as a prostitute during the war and was able to provide for them both this way. Throughout her life, she felt as though she was a complete burden to her mother. On more than one occasion, her mother would lament that she only carried Ashna to birth because she was supposed to be a gift from the Alik'r Warrior.

Even after the war was long gone, and Ashna was 10 years old, her mother was still working. She would leave her daughter in compromising situations while she made her gold. An appreciative way to treat a gift. One such time was at night and on the outskirts of a farm house in which her mother was with a man. Ashna was left outside in the rain. As she sat underneath a tree to try to shelter herself from the downpour, she heard scuttling and shuffling around her. First the sounds came from the left, and then the right, and then from above.

She felt a warm spray hit her, and suddenly she was coated in something incredibly sticky - her eyes fixated on the white webbing which was coating her chest, a flicker of movement had her look up to see the predator. She couldn't count the amount of eyes she saw, or the legs either. She just saw the giant furry shape and then two more appeared in her peripheral vision. Giant spiders.

All she could do was scream and struggle and look to the distance while she still could to the farmhouse with its flickering lights. Soon her face was covered in the webbing and she felt the panic suffocate her. She was going to die here and nobody would know. She had heard horror stories about these spiders, but she thought that was all they were, stories.

She couldn't breath and the webbing was constricting around her chest. Everything was dark and cold and the ground beneath her started to get waterlogged from her struggling hands, she dug her hands through the mud desperately - achieving nothing.

As if by some miracle, she heard a man's voice, followed by the sound of steel piercing flesh - someone had heard her! They quickly tore away the webbing from the young girl's face - she could breath again, and see too! She saw for the first time her hero. He helped her to her feet and wiped her down. His name was Gregor, he was a farmhand who lived in the barn and had heard her cries for help.

He was the kindest man she had ever met, he must have been sent by her Father. He took out a small loaf of bread for her to eat and let her sit in the barn with him while she waited for her mother. All he asked as thanks was that sit on his lap close to him. His breath was war and had the scent of ale which he goes against her neck until she felt her hair stand up and tingle down her spine. It was uncomfortable - but he had saved her life.

To this day, Ashna has a paralysing fear of spiders.

When she was 13, her mother decided that they should cross the borders into Skyrim - it was doing well after the War, or so she had heard. Her mother was particularly naive, and even Ashna had felt it to be a bad idea. She tried to explain and pleaded with her that the province was too turbulent, that it was no place for two Redguard woman. Her mother did not listen.

The two argued and at last the truth came out as her mother wrapped her fingers around her throat, squeezing until her face went red and her eyes bulged like a rabid animal. Ashna managed to push her away before falling to the ground to catch a breath. The two sat in silence for a while before Ashna spoke, her voice croaking out; "if we leave Hammerfell, if my father comes back he won't find me..." Her mother laughed. It was soft at first but then it grew raucous. "Don't be stupid girl, you know it deep down your father isn't a Warrior... He was nothing. Just like you."

It was just like a serpent to spit such venom and wound their prey like that.

She had so many questions now - why would her mother lie for so long? What good was it to lie? If Ashna was not really a gift from the Alik'r Warrior, then why would her mother keep her? She had been so full of contempt and resentment for her whole life so far, surely if she was really a nobody then she would have been better off dropped off at an orphanage. She was soon to learn.

Now that Ashna was of age and had started to develop a womanly figure, it was time she started working too and repaying her mother for raising her, and her mother could retire, and so they would be going to Skyrim to do just that. She had been told that men in Skyrim would pay good money for a young Redguard girl. The thought formed knots in her stomach - she was never going to have her own life. Her hopes and dreams were shattered before she could even grow to have hopes and dreams. She was simply a commodity with no more worth than a farmer's livestock.

On their way into Skyrim, they were accosted by a group of bandits as they crossed the border into the Falkreath Hold. There was nothing that her mother could do when ambushed by blood thirsty Nord bandits and Ashna had to watch her mother be robbed and murdered. The turn of events was strange, and she wondered if she had brought this on by wishing for a miracle of some kind. She found it hard to find the emotions to feel anything. It was certainly not the reaction a normal child would have from seeing their mother's body in bloodied ribbons strewn on the mountain slopes.

The bandits were unable to murder Ashna. Whether it was a case of conscience, the thought of opportunity, or perhaps fate, they simply could not slaughter her like they did her mother, and so they led her into their stronghold and presented her to their leader, Bjogar the Colossus.

Ashna did not make it easy for the bandits. She spent most of the hike down to the stronghold kicking and screaming, one younger Nord bandit got two black eyes for his trouble. Bjogar looked the scrappy young Redguard up and down slowly. Stopping only to let out a sigh. He seemed older than his bandits. His hair was greying and fine and his eyes had wrinkles in the corners. The man was tall, Ashna half-figured he must have the blood of a giant in him as he was also wide. Never the less, he was an intimidating figure and the shadow he cast looked like a big bear against the stone walls of his quarters. Ashna stared intently into his grey eyes, never breaking or blinking - the two had a stubborn stare off. Eventually he smiled and announced to the group - "I like this one. She's mine now."

She spent the next year working as Bjogar's slave of sorts, traveling across Skyrim with his group of bandits. She saw men and women come and go, she saw many of them die, many of them betray each other, and many try to betray Bjogar... During the first year, she took notice that Bjogar didn't ask too much of her at all save from skinning a few animals here and there, and serving him his meals. He merely kept her along as a companion. He taught her to read, something which in many ways was his greatest gift to her. She found herself in love with books, and would read everything she could get her hands on. Why? Because she could. It was something she could have for herself - a moment in a completely new world, she could experience the history of Tamriel while sat under a table behind a blanket, with the rain hammering outside. Or she could read over poetry when she was sat up in the top of a tree. Ask her afterwards what the girl had read though, and she wouldn't have much of an idea. It was like what she read went in... and then immediately spilled out.

Bjogar told her stories of his times as a Sailor in Tamriel. He explained to her how he had started as a deckhand when he was only 10 years old "I was but a pup!" he would guffaw, making her laugh with him, she hung on his every word - enthralled by his tales. He would act out some of the most prominent moments in his life to her as if he were an actor on a stage - really, it was just the two of them around a campfire with a bottle of ale. "By the time I was 20 I was a proper Sailor, traveling across the oceans and around the world. I saw a lot of things. That sea air... Kept our spirits up. We trusted the sea..." Ashna watched his expression when he talked about his past. For a long time, he never told her how he came to be a bandit on land.

She had started to grow fond of Bjogar not too long after joining him, and as she grew older he started to treat her much like he would his own child more openly amongt his small army of bandits. "Why do they call you The Colossus?" she asked him one day. His response was simple - it was because he was, a colossal Nord. It made sense, but she had the nerve to pull out a quip to his reply; "I'm colossal too!". It was true, by 15 she was already standing at around 178cm, towering over some of the other women in the group. "Aye, I suppose you're a Colossus too then" he laughed and stood in front of her, his 217cm frame cast a shadow but he could make out her grin.

At 15 he gave her the very first weapon she would train with, a simple one-handed axe. He started by pitting her against his own bandits in a makeshift fighting pit in his stronghold and let her loose.

He was impressed at her remarkable speed, willpower, and the sheer desire she had to hold his attention. "You have grit, girl" he would remark every time she left the pit. She didn't understand what he meant. Hee seemed to be complimenting something she was doing, but she couldn't win. She kept getting smashed in every conflict she had, sometimes unable to land even a single hit. Finally Bjogar himself began to train her - he had her climb rockfaces, carry rocks and roll boulders, and he had her run. He would make her carry buckets of water uphill, dive for septims and trinkets he would throw into water, and have her creep without disturbing groups of deer... Still he wouldn't train her in combat, and still she did everything he asked and perfected it to keep his eyes and affections on her.

This torturous training of endurance lasted for months and over those months Ashna built muscle over every inch of her body. Satisfied by the changes Bjogar released her once more into the pit. This time was different, immediately she felt powerful, more powerful than before. She picked up a shield and tackled her opponent - he didn't stand a chance and fell in a crumpled heap to the ground. Finally, Bjogar cheered for her. Hearing his cheer she of course dropped her guard just enough for her opponent to rise up and clonk her on the back of the head and knock her out.

Back to training...

With more training, years of building strength, using her axe, and practicing hand-to-hand against Bjogar himself, she reached a level of skill where she was able to go toe-to-toe with the best of the bandits, out manoeuvring them and slashing them down. The others began to fear facing her and so the fighting pit ended by the time that Ashna was 22 and Bjogar asked her to be his right-hand woman - his prize fighter.

For 8 years the Colossus Bandits seemed to raid every cavern, explore every ruin, fight beasts, plunder loot, and travel across all of Skyrim. It showed in Bjogar, he had grown very old. He had lost his hair and the wrinkles that used to sit in the corners of his eyes had expanded and cracked across his face like segments. He had even softened in demeanour. The numbers had grown smaller - including Ashna and himself - there were only 8 other bandits in the group where there had once been over 30.

It was in 4E 204 that everything changed. There had been tension within the camp for several weeks. Something had just been brewing. For some reason that night, Bjogar had asked Ashna to go to a specific area of woodland and look for apples. He had even given her a satchel to store them. He had never asked her to do such a thing, but she knew it was coming up to her name day - so maybe that was why.

When she found the first apple tree, she went to place the apple in the bag but instead found parchment. As she opened it she felt her stomach turn to knots and her heart stop.

My dear Ashna,

When you read this, do not return.

I believe they are plotting to kill us both and take over. I am sorry I could not tell you, but I could not stand for you to die like this - or to see me die.

Please live a full life, for me

Father

"Damnit..."

She was torn and heartbroken. She knew and felt in her heart that it was too late. The sudden ache and feeling of hollowness stung at her. She knew that by the time she returned to their camp he would be gone, it was like part of herself had been ripped from within her body. The stupid, meaningless letter. He was never one for words in life - but this was all he could give her? Something scrawled out in desperation? He was too old to hold them off, and there was an especially powerful Breton mage woman named Lisia whom she was sure orchestrated the entire mutiny. Bjogar wanted her to run and never look back. She wanted to run and never look back too. She was never one to disobey an order from her Father, but part of her - and it was a very big part - was not going to let this happen...

She waited until nightfall to head back to her home. She heard them laughing and celebrating. This would not do. In a mixture of grief, anger, and determination she got to work - killing the remaining bandits one by one in a swift and brutal way until only Lisia stood in her way. The Breton was up to her elbows in Bjogar's possessions. She had cracked open his chest and his body wasn't even cold yet. Not that it was anything that Ashna herself hadn't done. What could be expected from a bandit after all?

On any other day Lisia would best her. But not this day, the witch fumbled in the dark in fear of the Redguard beast before her, and Ashna brought down her axe into her skull in a fit of complete rage. Not once, not twice... But 6 times.

She lay beside her father that night, he seemed peaceful. She wondered if he had reached Sovngarde.

She would never meet him there.

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It was time to give up this life as he wished. She had seen every nook and cranny of every cavern and cave but above ground? There was so much to see. She had stopped caring about the Colossus Bandits after what they had done, how they had plotted against her and her father. Each bandit group was the same. They were all untrustworthy, and forever doing the same things - stagnating. She didn't want to sit and die like this, die by someone who wanted her seat on a throne that was worthless anyway.

Bjogar had not wanted such a fate for her. She wanted out, truly.

But what now? What for this Redguard woman? In her heart she felt the only place for her to go now was a place she had never gone yet - to the sea. She knew that Bjogar had been a sailor in his youth and had loved the sea. He would often tell Ashna that had he stayed on the sea he would have lived life agelessly - and this his aches and pains were caused by land.

She wanted to get as far from Falkreath as possible. With her fingers tracing over a map, she ruled out The Rift. Too dull a place for her. Whiterun was out of the question. It was simply... the middle! Winterhold was absolutely out of the question too, it had been occupied by Kamal forces, it just wasn't a place to take herself right now. Solitude had a ring to it. It was poetic almost. To be in solitude was to be alone - which for now, she was. The journey gave her too much time to think and reflect on her life thus far. Too much time to spend in her own head. To think of Bjogar, to think of her mother again. Solitude was proving to be painful, and if her life had taught her anything - it was that in a way, family could be found anywhere, and that fate would get her where she needed to be.

So it did. Her intuition hadn't steered her wrong. In Solitude she found a ship in need of a crew. She was getting on that boat. She had a lot of offer them - experience as a bandit for one! There would be no beating around the bush on it, she wasn't ashamed of her past. In fact, looking around at the others that she could make out on the ship she could have guessed their pasts might be of the shady variety too...

If she had to unearth every skeleton from her past, she was getting on that ship.

Capabilities

§ Attributes
Major: Speed
Minor: Willpower

§ Skills
Expert - One Handed Axe
Adept - Shield, Athletics, Speech, Hand-to-Hand
Novice - Lockpicking, Marksman

§ Weaknesses
Arachnophobia
Ever since she had a run in during the night with a frost-bitten spider, the creatures have plagued her nightmares and she is likely to freeze on the spot if she meets with one again.

Brain like a sieve
One of Ashna's biggest frustrations in her life is her inability to retain and hold onto knowledge that she reads. She has such a hunger to know the secrets and history of Tamriel, and she does go out of her way to read books and listen to stories but for some reason... The information never seems to stick. She is also forgetful and disorganised, frequently misplacing things, or forgetting in which cavern she left a crate of particular loot. She is terrible with names too, remembering faces more than names and anything about that person.

§ Spells
No spells

§ Tactics
Ashna uses her incredible speed to her advantage always. Few can keep up with her in a straight race, and the same goes for the battle field, she can dodge and out-maneuver the best of them in a one on one fight, opting to block any hits with her trusty shield, and chip away at her enemy with her axe until they simply tire. At range, she will throw in the axe with great accuracy, and move in with the shield. In even stickier situations, she is adept at hand-to-hand combat and her size alone gives her an excellent advantage.

To support her peers, she draws attention to herself and gives her allies a chance to move in with their own weapons and spells to finish off weakened and tired enemies.

§ Relations & Affiliations
Mother - Deceased
Bjogar the Colossus - Adoptive Father

§ Opinions
None as of yet

Inventory

§ Cash
17 Septims


§ Keys & Lockpicks
7 x lockpicks


§ Tools & Crafting Materials
None


§ Clothing & Armor
Ashna wears a light style armour - ths helps her to stay incredibly light on her feet. She wears a loincloth style skirt with padded leggings and leather boots, with a shirt of loose and fine mail adorned with coloured fabrics and an orange Redguard style cape and headscarf. She opts for cloth that display her Redguard heritage, but also holds the intimidating prowess of Nord steel.

For traveling in colder climates, she has a bearskin cloak which still has the head of the bear as a hood.


§ Weapon & Ammo
Nordic War Axe
Throwing axes x 3
Nordic Shield
Steel Dagger


§ Potion & Arcane Supplies
2 x Potion of Minor Restoration

§ Jewelry & Valuables
Amulet of speech
Silver Ruby Ring


§ Books & Documents
Letter from Bjogar the Colossus

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients
2 x Pheasant Breast
1 x Bread


§ Load Bearing Equipment
A leather satchel, medium sized

§ Other
A journal in which she writes her thoughts
Quill and ink

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

@Stormflyx If I'm not mistaken that's Valentina as your avie Also, I have the distinct feeling that should our GMs decide to take Flo on, Elle would get a kick out of teasing her *shrugs*

Gah! Double posting! It just feels wrong

@ihinka

It is Val!

Also when I read sheets I figured Elle would know Flo and would likely have interacted with her father a fair bit as he was a well known professor of Anthropology. She would likely know Al too as they have pretty much the same educational thangs. Might have crossed paths.

Anyway that is jumping the gun a touch and all depends on whether I will be allowed in at this poiny. I would absolutely love to but I leave it in the GMs hands! n.n

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

So I am now catching up with everyone's posts and I'm loving them!
I'm looking for someone in Solitude to meet with Alim. This Alim is a bit different than his alternate universe self from Vengeance. A little more adventurer and swordsman, a little less thief and casanova.

Dax will be collabing with Tslee. (Best Buddies)

@POOHEAD189

I volunteer as tribute

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

Alright, @Stormflyx, looks like you've taken Dervs' advice to heart and definitely fleshed out the character better. With that said, there are still some areas to expand on.

• Add a note on why she calls herself the Colossus (to honor her adoptive father, because of her larger than average stature etc.)
• Being an important figure to Ashna, Bjogar's story is missing at parts. Elaboration on how his relationship with Ashna shifted from master/slave to adoptive father/daughter over the years would be nice. Also, Bjogar being a former sailor was not apparent until the second last paragraph; some hints earlier in the background will make this less jarring.
• Ashna's interest in reading and her forgetfulness is scarcely mentioned in her background. Please explain how these traits came to be.
• Why did your character choose Solitude and the mercenary company? I assume it is because she heard Windhelm has been occupied by Kamals and Morrowind, and Dawnstar is too chaotic at the moment. Add some of her rationale at the end of her bio.
• How much of her bandit past would she disclose to the mercenary commanders? Revealing more shows off her skill set better, but may be treated with suspicion. The choice is up you; how much Ashna shares of her experiences may affect her initial assignment as either a frontline fighter or a laborer.
• She needs marksman skill in order to throw axes effectively. I would make room for novice marksman at the very least (apprentice or adept may work better).

@Gcold

Thanks!

I've made the changes requested :) I was waiting to hear anything from Peik, but I'll chuck this up now and wait for that feedback :)

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

@Stormflyx I've only had time to skim her sheet, but she looks awesome as expected. We have not begun our current mission, however I do not know if we do have the room. I can discuss it with @Penny to see if we can handle one more adventurer.

@POOHEAD189

Thank you! n.n
I don't mind waiting, I honestly just wanted to get that character out as well n.n I hope I can join in though! Eeeh :D

The Elder Scrolls: Swords and Snobbery

She listened to his words intently. So he'd killed a Jarl's brother. Interesting. He was obviously capable, Imperials usually were. She noted how dull his tone at the tale. She did wonder had he given up - was he just going to accept this fate? Or was this an act - or, more believably, was he just tired and feeling like shit?

She looked him over a few times before she answered him, choosing to ignore his compliment of sorts, in a coy fashion she spoke with a hint of humour lingering "oh you know, a simple mistake." She smirked as she answered, she wasn't going to hint to any level of guilt to a soul in here. Lord knew who was listening in. "Didn't kill anyone though, that's a slight pickle you've gotten yourself into there. Would be a shame for someone like you to just.... rot down here."

She heard the guards upstairs pottering around, their boots shuffling. Gods, couldn't they pick up their feet when they walked? It was so uncouth to drag around. Besides, they were soldiers. They should have manners and finesse and military discipline. She bet that they had probably committed more heinous crimes than any of the peasants locked down here. "I would really like to get out of here though. That would be nice."

She looked at him again, and at his cell. A slight feeling of resentment towards the fact that this individual had slain someone and had been put in a nicer cell than she had for her slight crime. Of course that was the case, they loved to make a woman miserable. Still, none of them had tried to violate her at all which she had been slightly fearful of. Although, the more she thought about it, she had indeed been violated. Her senses had been violated. The smell of shit still burnt through her nostrils.

"My name is Raelynn, by the way..." she stuck a hand out through the bars, as if to shake his own - knowing full well they would never reach - she found humour in it regardless.

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

G'day all! I had intended to get this CS up when the game was still open. I've finished it now because I was on a bit of a creative kick. I'd love to leave her here for consideration when/if the game opens up again n.n

Thank you <3

Florence Pearl Montgomery

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Florence Pearl Montgomery

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Character Summary

Name: Florence Pearl Montgomery
Nicknames: Flo, Florry
Age: 27
Nationality: British
Ethnicity: White
Current Residence: Cambridge, England
Gender: Female
Education: University Educated: Degree in Classical History - Masters in Archeology with specialism in Mayan history.
Job: Research and personal assistant to Senior Professor at Cambridge University
Role: Scholar

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Appearance

Height: 5'4"
Weight: 110lbs
Build: Lithe
Eyes: Blue/grey
Hair: Brunette, curly, shoulder length
Skin Tone: Porcelain
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: None
Personal Style: Ever a wallflower, Florence always wears her hair in a loose chignon - several curly mousey strands frame her face. Her face is obstructed with horn rimmed glasses and she wears very little makeup. Her clothing style is modest, and she opts for earth-tones and stays away from bright colours in general. She wears looser fitting clothing, past-knee length skirts, and leather boots. She adds a feminine touch in either jeweled brooches or loose pussybow neck ties.

When she is working in the field, she will wear trousers, a shirt, and sleeveless jacket - usually with a cloche, her glasses are kept on a chain as she has a terrible habit of misplacing them - much to the amusement of her fellow colleagues.

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Psychology

Shy * Clumsy * Bookish * Kind

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Famously single
Personality: Florence is a shy and reserved individual, speaking mainly when spoken too - and very quietly at that. The only time she really seems to exude any confidence is when she is talking about her work, history, and the things that interest her. When discussing any of those things, she tends to ramble and fumble over her words - getting excited and caught up in it all, her co-workers have affectionately dubbed these "Florry's Flurries".

She is fortunate enough that her shyness has never really held her back much, she has a reputation amongst her peers for being kind and loyal, and a great listening ear. She is someone who lets her actions speak louder than her words. She has a solid work-ethic, and has spent her years studying to the point where she is often the smartest person in the room - she just chooses to hover on the sidelines quietly, letting others speak instead.

Her awkwardness manifests heavily in clumsiness - she frequently misplaces her glasses, pens, books, and tea cups. She has on more than one occasion almost dropped an artifact. Both her quiet nature, and her clumsiness have made her a bit of an oddity at the University - where while she has a stellar reputation for her kindness, she is routinely overlooked for many research projects, for opportunities to do field work, and to advance in her career.

Habits:
Bites her lip when deep in concentration
Cleans her glasses
Taps her fingers/foot often
Hobbies:
Reading
Playing Piano
Studying
Arranging flowers

Fears:

• Arachnophobia
• Acrophobia
• A fear of losing her mind/becoming forgetful

Likes:

• Books
• History
• Cats
• The sound of thunder and rain
• Afternoon Tea

Dislikes:

• Being laughed at
• Alcohol
• Any level of severe weather - overly hot or overly cold.
• Arrogance and closed-minded individuals

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History

"Memory"

"Papa, I brought you some tea!" came the chirpy, if not a little on the quiet side, voice of Florence as she entered the bedroom of her parents in their Cambridge family home. She could smell the familiar whiff of old books mixed with the soft tones of violets and roses that carried in on a breeze from the garden through the open window. Somewhere there was an alcohol scent. A glass on her mothers side of the bed - the dregs of whisky neat sat in the bottom of the lead glass tumbler. Florence furrowed her brow at it, and made a mental note to remove it when she left.

She balanced the tray on a small table beside the bed where her father lay. He looked at her with a smile; "Florry! My darling, how goes your schooling - what did you learn today?" she sighed a little, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She hadn't been in school for many years, her father was having a bad day if he was asking about that. "Well Papa, I learned about the oceans!" she lied - she found it better to indulge him instead of trying to correct him. She poured the tea carefully. She only spilled a little today.

"Very good, very good. I'm not the one to ask about oceans though, oh no. That would be your Mother. She's a terrific mind for all that geography you know!" The frail man in the bed beamed at his daughter. Unable to distinguish that she wasn't a child - and was an adult now. He took his teacup and sipped slowly from it, enjoying the honeyed tea inside the fine bone china. "You make a lovely tea my darling, I bet when you're grown you'll make a fine wife too." Again, Florence found herself wanting to correct her father, but had to stop. She had been single, famously, for her entire adulthood thus-far. It had been a great point of contention with her parents, at least, back when her father was of sound mind. "Yes Papa, one day indeed." she replied in a hollow voice.

_____

"So, anyway, how was work today? I'm sad I can't be there. Maybe once this flu passes." Well, Florence almost spat out her own mouthful. It had happened once or twice, it was like something switched her father back to the present. It came in small waves - but it was miraculous when it did happen. "Just a second Papa, let me fetch mother" the girl left the room with haste, searching the halls of the house for her mother. Since the illness, her mother had taken to taking long walks. It seemed that today, that now of all times, she was taking one. As she hurried back to her fathers room, she could see that he had left his bed. He had strolled across the room barefoot and was rummaging clumsily through the bookshelf for something, his face bore a confused and frustrated expression. She had only been gone a matter of minutes. How could he have switched that quickly?

He turned to look at her, his eyes locking onto hers with a pained and almost angry expression and tone to his voice; "Who the hell are you?"

History: Born the daughter of a famed Cambridge Professor, Archimedes Montgomery, and Cartographer, Pearl Esther Montgomery. It would seem that Florence's future was already written for her the moment she arrived as the only child of two incredible minds. Academia was the passion and undoubtedly the oxygen of the Montgomery household. From a young age, Florence loved to hear stories from her mother about classical history - about the myths and legends of Greece and Rome, and the Gods and Goddesses of Egypt. With her father being a Professor of Anthropology at Cambridge, it would seem that Florence had a head start in her academic life. She was destined for Cambridge herself and her father looked forward to seeing his daughter take the University by storm when she came of age.

Sadly his hopes for her were slightly dashed, when it seemed to be that Florence wasn't the confident and charismatic individual that he had hoped she would be. Instead of socialising and networking at his popular events, she would confine herself in their library and read. And read and read and read. He would barely hear a word from her. But yet, she was excelling in school, and she was far surpassing her peers and so he let it slide that she was a wallflower. Her mother was less forgiving of Florence's shortcomings. Often finding it difficult to display her disappointment at Florence, and regularly letting her daughter know she was embarrassed of her clumsiness.

By 15, Florence was helping her father do paperwork and inventory of books and artifacts at the University in the evenings. She found her home at the university indeed, and her father would use his influence to allow her access to the vast library to read on weekends. There was little else she could learn at school now, so eventually her father caved and by 17 she was enrolling in the university - again, her father used his influence to let it happen. She began her degree early in Classical History. As expected, she excelled in her studies, locked herself in the library, and was always seen carrying a book or two (or five) around the campus. Her father would watch her crossing the Cambridge greens with a satchel and arms full of texts, her glasses slipping down her nose, alone. The rest of the students seemed to pair up together and in groups - but Florence was rarely seen with others.

Upon completion of her degree at 20, things seemed to be looking up. Florence had made several friends, and secured work in the University library, she was starting to think about what she might like to take on for her Masters degree when it seemed out of nowhere that her father began to have trouble with his mind. It started with forgetting the odd lecture here and there, and developed into him having erratic mood swings and getting confused over simple procedures. Florence started spending less time at the University and more time at home with her mother, caring for her father after he was asked to step down from his position.

Overnight, his personality changed, and his entire demeanor altered before her eyes. Where once stood a man with an incredible ability to rattle off facts, there was now a frail and weak man unable to tell you the day. The final straw came when one morning, her father asked "who are you?" to his only beloved daughter. It shattered her. She and her mother had to relent, and send their father to a place where he could be cared for full time. 'Losing' her husband in this way took a toll on Florence's mother, and she was never the same after that.

Without the burden of taking care of her father, at 22, Florence went back to Cambridge - this time as a research assistant in the Archeology department. She thrived in this environment - she got to travel to dig sites with the seniors in the field. And boy did she love being in the field. Finally, people looked past the fact that she was quiet and just let her work without judgement. She began to write papers of her own, and publish her own work. She was taking Cambridge by storm at last, in her own unique way. She spent a year in Chiapas, Mexico when she was 25 exploring ruins of the Mayans. She got a taste for adventure here. She did well with translations and collecting artifacts for the University's private collection.

Now at 27, she has been unable to secure a promotion into Senior Professor - despite on paper being one of the best candidates. The people who hold a seat at the table have told her she isn't 'ready' for such a position just yet - in some cases choosing younger and more charismatic candidates, and so she has remained as a research assistant to the Senior Professor of Archeology, Theodore O'Connell, - who has been very unwilling to let her through the gates and into a promotion.

Growing tired and frustrated with the unchanging and overly traditional walls of the University of Cambridge, Florence now daydreams and pours over the pages of adventure novels - wishing for something to change in her life, for a new door to open. She grows restless of knocking at the door of Academia when it seems to never want to unlock for her....

Present
Florence was given a letter, intended to be answered by Theodore O'Connell, sent by the mysterious Baron Thomas Cornack. Professor O'Connell presumed that the Baron simply had another artifact to be collected from his estate to bring back to the University. He gave the letter to his assistant and sent her out to him in his stead.

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

I already read it over before you submitted, so I've given my stamp of approving! Let's see what the other Big Kahunas say.

@Dervish

Thank you friend! :)

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

I hope it isn't too late to submit this and join - I'm happy with it now and have had a good crack at it. Thanks GMs for letting me finish up. Appreciate it. :)

Ashna D'ezte 'The Colossus'

Ashna D'ezte - 'The Colossus'

Female Redguard | 26 | The Steed

§ Birthplace
Dragonstar, Hammerfell

§ Appearance
Ashna is a beautiful and powerful looking Redguard woman. Her skin leaning towards a darker shade with the typical red undertone of her race. Her eyes are an almond shape with a rich russet tone that command attention with their expressiveness. She wears long charcoal black, thick locks which fall to her chest. She will often wear them atop her head like a crown, placing choice ornaments to adorn her head, with a few locks left hanging to frame her face. She is strong and athletic in build, standing at 187cm with long and powerful legs, her body is built of muscle from her time spent staying incredibly active.

Despite being built of muscle, she was not passed over for feminine features either. Upon closer inspection, one would notice the small stripes across her skin, particularly atop her hip bones and patterning her inner thighs. A comfortable amount of womanly fat lines her hips - an indicator of her age, truly.

Like many Redguard, she has several tattoos across her skin - the most prominent being the geometric shapes and tribal etchings across the fingers and top of her right hand which trail to her wrist. On her back, she proudly displays an intricate tattoo of a horse, to mark her Birthsign, The Steed. Strangely, she has an illegible tattoo on the inside of her lower lip, simply a dare after one too many ales. Finally, she wears two oversized copper hoops through each ear.

§ Personality
Loud, proud, and not one to hold her tongue in any situation. Ashna has seen a great many things throughout her life, and experienced enough hardship to know that she would rather speak and offend, than later regret not speaking her truth from within. Having this trait also means that she is rarely offended or made upset by others who also wish to speak their own truth (even if they are wrong.)

Ashna values honesty - and has such a complete faith and confidence in her own decisions and actions that she will never lie about things that she has done, or is going to do. This can be intimidating to some, and is a trait that has both won her loyal friends and caused her to lose them as well. Ashna carries anger in heart, despite her best efforts to keep it locked away it sometimes rises to the surface.

During her teenage years she was brash, rude, and arrogant at all times (a girl with a lot to prove...) Even in situations where she probably could have done without speaking, she would. With age, she has grown wiser, smarter, and kinder. Most wouldn't think it to look at her - a fearsome and true blue Redguard warrior woman with a rogue Nord upbringing - but she indeed has a heart of gold underneath, should one simply take time to dust away the exterior. She falls hard in love and friendships, trusting easily - sometimes too easily. She has an insatiable hunger for knowledge which she feeds by reading anything she gets her hands on, even if she does not always retain it...

§ Background
Ashna was born in 4E 179, four full years after The Great War ended. She was born the product of a one night tryst between a Lady of the Night and according to her mother, the most beautiful and powerful Alik'r Warrior she had ever seen.

Growing up, Ashna imagined her father to be the leader of his warriors with one hundred horses traversing the Alik'r Desert. In her mind he had long hair and tattoos depicting the story of his life, the battles he had won - and he could tame wild stallions. The Alik'r Warrior was her hero and one constant. Whenever times were tough, she would think of the day he would finally arrive to take her from her Mother.

Ashna remembers very little of the events surrounding the first years of her life. Her mother continued to work as a prostitute during the war and was able to provide for them both this way. Throughout her life, she felt as though she was a complete burden to her mother. On more than one occasion, her mother would lament that she only carried Ashna to birth because she was supposed to be a gift from the Alik'r Warrior.

Even after the war was long gone, and Ashna was 10 years old, her mother was still working. She would leave her daughter in compromising situations while she made her gold. An appreciative way to treat a gift. One such time was at night and on the outskirts of a farm house in which her mother was with a man. Ashna was left outside in the rain. As she sat underneath a tree to try to shelter herself from the downpour, she heard scuttling and shuffling around her. First the sounds came from the left, and then the right, and then from above.

She felt a warm spray hit her, and suddenly she was coated in something incredibly sticky - her eyes fixated on the white webbing which was coating her chest, a flicker of movement had her look up to see the predator. She couldn't count the amount of eyes she saw, or the legs either. She just saw the giant furry shape and then two more appeared in her peripheral vision. Giant spiders.

All she could do was scream and struggle and look to the distance while she still could to the farmhouse with its flickering lights. Soon her face was covered in the webbing and she felt the panic suffocate her. She was going to die here and nobody would know. She had heard horror stories about these spiders, but she thought that was all they were, stories.

She couldn't breath and the webbing was constricting around her chest. Everything was dark and cold and the ground beneath her started to get waterlogged from her struggling hands, she dug her hands through the mud desperately - achieving nothing.

As if by some miracle, she heard a man's voice, followed by the sound of steel piercing flesh - someone had heard her! They quickly tore away the webbing from the young girl's face - she could breath again, and see too! She saw for the first time her hero. He helped her to her feet and wiped her down. His name was Gregor, he was a farmhand who lived in the barn and had heard her cries for help.

He was the kindest man she had ever met, he must have been sent by her Father. He took out a small loaf of bread for her to eat and let her sit in the barn with him while she waited for her mother. All he asked as thanks was that sit on his lap close to him. His breath was war and had the scent of ale which he goes against her neck until she felt her hair stand up and tingle down her spine. It was uncomfortable - but he had saved her life.

To this day, Ashna has a paralysing fear of spiders.

When she was 13, her mother decided that they should cross the borders into Skyrim - it was doing well after the War, or so she had heard. Her mother was particularly naive, and even Ashna had felt it to be a bad idea. She tried to explain and pleaded with her that the province was too turbulent, that it was no place for two Redguard woman. Her mother did not listen.

The two argued and at last the truth came out as her mother wrapped her fingers around her throat, squeezing until her face went red and her eyes bulged like a rabid animal. Ashna managed to push her away before falling to the ground to catch a breath. The two sat in silence for a while before Ashna spoke, her voice croaking out; "if we leave Hammerfell, if my father comes back he won't find me..." Her mother laughed. It was soft at first but then it grew raucous. "Don't be stupid girl, you know it deep down your father isn't a Warrior... He was nothing. Just like you."

It was just like a serpent to spit such venom and wound their prey like that.

She had so many questions now - why would her mother lie for so long? What good was it to lie? If Ashna was not really a gift from the Alik'r Warrior, then why would her mother keep her? She had been so full of contempt and resentment for her whole life so far, surely if she was really a nobody then she would have been better off dropped off at an orphanage. She was soon to learn.

Now that Ashna was of age and had started to develop a womanly figure, it was time she started working too and repaying her mother for raising her, and her mother could retire, and so they would be going to Skyrim to do just that. She had been told that men in Skyrim would pay good money for a young Redguard girl. The thought formed knots in her stomach - she was never going to have her own life. Her hopes and dreams were shattered before she could even grow to have hopes and dreams. She was simply a commodity with no more worth than a farmer's livestock.

On their way into Skyrim, they were accosted by a group of bandits as they crossed the border into the Falkreath Hold. There was nothing that her mother could do when ambushed by blood thirsty Nord bandits and Ashna had to watch her mother be robbed and murdered. The turn of events was strange, and she wondered if she had brought this on by wishing for a miracle of some kind. She found it hard to find the emotions to feel anything. It was certainly not the reaction a normal child would have from seeing their mother's body in bloodied ribbons strewn on the mountain slopes.

The bandits were unable to murder Ashna. Whether it was a case of conscience, the thought of opportunity, or perhaps fate, they simply could not slaughter her like they did her mother, and so they led her into their stronghold and presented her to their leader, Bjogar the Colossus.

Ashna did not make it easy for the bandits. She spent most of the hike down to the stronghold kicking and screaming, one younger Nord bandit got two black eyes for his trouble. Bjogar looked the scrappy young Redguard up and down slowly. Stopping only to let out a sigh. He seemed older than his bandits. His hair was greying and fine and his eyes had wrinkles in the corners. The man was tall, Ashna half-figured he must have the blood of a giant in him as he was also wide. Never the less, he was an intimidating figure and the shadow he cast looked like a big bear against the stone walls of his quarters. Ashna stared intently into his grey eyes, never breaking or blinking - the two had a stubborn stare off. Eventually he smiled and announced to the group - "I like this one. She's mine now."

She spent the next year working as Bjogar's slave of sorts, traveling across Skyrim with his group of bandits. She saw men and women come and go, she saw many of them die, many of them betray each other, and many try to betray Bjogar... During the first year, she took notice that Bjogar didn't ask too much of her at all save from skinning a few animals here and there, and serving him his meals. He merely kept her along as a companion. He taught her to read, something which in many ways was his greatest gift to her. She found herself in love with books, and would read everything she could get her hands on. Why? Because she could. It was something she could have for herself - a moment in a completely new world, she could experience the history of Tamriel while sat under a table behind a blanket, with the rain hammering outside. Or she could read over poetry when she was sat up in the top of a tree. Ask her afterwards what the girl had read though, and she wouldn't have much of an idea. It was like what she read went in... and then immediately spilled out.

Bjogar told her stories of his times as a Sailor in Tamriel. He explained to her how he had started as a deckhand when he was only 10 years old "I was but a pup!" he would guffaw, making her laugh with him, she hung on his every word - enthralled by his tales. He would act out some of the most prominent moments in his life to her as if he were an actor on a stage - really, it was just the two of them around a campfire with a bottle of ale. "By the time I was 20 I was a proper Sailor, traveling across the oceans and around the world. I saw a lot of things. That sea air... Kept our spirits up. We trusted the sea..." Ashna watched his expression when he talked about his past. For a long time, he never told her how he came to be a bandit on land.

She had started to grow fond of Bjogar not too long after joining him, and as she grew older he started to treat her much like he would his own child more openly amongt his small army of bandits. "Why do they call you The Colossus?" she asked him one day. His response was simple - it was because he was, a colossal Nord. It made sense, but she had the nerve to pull out a quip to his reply; "I'm colossal too!". It was true, by 15 she was already standing at around 178cm, towering over some of the other women in the group. "Aye, I suppose you're a Colossus too then" he laughed and stood in front of her, his 217cm frame cast a shadow but he could make out her grin.

At 15 he gave her the very first weapon she would train with, a simple one-handed axe. He started by pitting her against his own bandits in a makeshift fighting pit in his stronghold and let her loose.

He was impressed at her remarkable speed, willpower, and the sheer desire she had to hold his attention. "You have grit, girl" he would remark every time she left the pit. She didn't understand what he meant. Hee seemed to be complimenting something she was doing, but she couldn't win. She kept getting smashed in every conflict she had, sometimes unable to land even a single hit. Finally Bjogar himself began to train her - he had her climb rockfaces, carry rocks and roll boulders, and he had her run. He would make her carry buckets of water uphill, dive for septims and trinkets he would throw into water, and have her creep without disturbing groups of deer... Still he wouldn't train her in combat, and still she did everything he asked and perfected it to keep his eyes and affections on her.

This torturous training of endurance lasted for months and over those months Ashna built muscle over every inch of her body. Satisfied by the changes Bjogar released her once more into the pit. This time was different, immediately she felt powerful, more powerful than before. She picked up a shield and tackled her opponent - he didn't stand a chance and fell in a crumpled heap to the ground. Finally, Bjogar cheered for her. Hearing his cheer she of course dropped her guard just enough for her opponent to rise up and clonk her on the back of the head and knock her out.

Back to training...

With more training, years of building strength, using her axe, and practicing hand-to-hand against Bjogar himself, she reached a level of skill where she was able to go toe-to-toe with the best of the bandits, out manoeuvring them and slashing them down. The others began to fear facing her and so the fighting pit ended by the time that Ashna was 22 and Bjogar asked her to be his right-hand woman - his prize fighter.

For 8 years the Colossus Bandits seemed to raid every cavern, explore every ruin, fight beasts, plunder loot, and travel across all of Skyrim. It showed in Bjogar, he had grown very old. He had lost his hair and the wrinkles that used to sit in the corners of his eyes had expanded and cracked across his face like segments. He had even softened in demeanour. The numbers had grown smaller - including Ashna and himself - there were only 8 other bandits in the group where there had once been over 30.

It was in 4E 204 that everything changed. There had been tension within the camp for several weeks. Something had just been brewing. For some reason that night, Bjogar had asked Ashna to go to a specific area of woodland and look for apples. He had even given her a satchel to store them. He had never asked her to do such a thing, but she knew it was coming up to her name day - so maybe that was why.

When she found the first apple tree, she went to place the apple in the bag but instead found parchment. As she opened it she felt her stomach turn to knots and her heart stop.

My dear Ashna,

When you read this, do not return.

I believe they are plotting to kill us both and take over. I am sorry I could not tell you, but I could not stand for you to die like this - or to see me die.

Please live a full life, for me

Father

"Damnit..."

She was torn and heartbroken. She knew and felt in her heart that it was too late. The sudden ache and feeling of hollowness stung at her. She knew that by the time she returned to their camp he would be gone, it was like part of herself had been ripped from within her body. The stupid, meaningless letter. He was never one for words in life - but this was all he could give her? Something scrawled out in desperation? He was too old to hold them off, and there was an especially powerful Breton mage woman named Lisia whom she was sure orchestrated the entire mutiny. Bjogar wanted her to run and never look back. She wanted to run and never look back too. She was never one to disobey an order from her Father, but part of her - and it was a very big part - was not going to let this happen...

She waited until nightfall to head back to her home. She heard them laughing and celebrating. This would not do. In a mixture of grief, anger, and determination she got to work - killing the remaining bandits one by one in a swift and brutal way until only Lisia stood in her way. The Breton was up to her elbows in Bjogar's possessions. She had cracked open his chest and his body wasn't even cold yet. Not that it was anything that Ashna herself hadn't done. What could be expected from a bandit after all?

On any other day Lisia would best her. But not this day, the witch fumbled in the dark in fear of the Redguard beast before her, and Ashna brought down her axe into her skull in a fit of complete rage. Not once, not twice... But 6 times.

She lay beside her father that night, he seemed peaceful. She wondered if he had reached Sovngarde.

She would never meet him there.

_____________

It was time to give up this life as he wished. She had seen every nook and cranny of every cavern and cave but above ground? There was so much to see. She had stopped caring about the Colossus Bandits after what they had done, how they had plotted against her and her father. Each bandit group was the same. They were all untrustworthy, and forever doing the same things - stagnating. She didn't want to sit and die like this, die by someone who wanted her seat on a throne that was worthless anyway.

Bjogar had not wanted such a fate for her. She wanted out, truly.

But what now? What for this Redguard woman? In her heart she felt the only place for her to go now was a place she had never gone yet - to the sea. She knew that Bjogar had been a sailor in his youth and had loved the sea. He would often tell Ashna that had he stayed on the sea he would have lived life agelessly - and this his aches and pains were caused by land.

She wanted to get as far from Falkreath as possible. With her fingers tracing over a map, she ruled out The Rift. Too dull a place for her. Whiterun was out of the question. It was simply... the middle! Winterhold was absolutely out of the question too, it had been occupied by Kamal forces, it just wasn't a place to take herself right now. Solitude had a ring to it. It was poetic almost. To be in solitude was to be alone - which for now, she was. The journey gave her too much time to think and reflect on her life thus far. Too much time to spend in her own head. To think of Bjogar, to think of her mother again. Solitude was proving to be painful, and if her life had taught her anything - it was that in a way, family could be found anywhere, and that fate would get her where she needed to be.

So it did. Her intuition hadn't steered her wrong. In Solitude she found a ship in need of a crew. She was getting on that boat. She had a lot of offer them - experience as a bandit for one! There would be no beating around the bush on it, she wasn't ashamed of her past. In fact, looking around at the others that she could make out on the ship she could have guessed their pasts might be of the shady variety too...

If she had to unearth every skeleton from her past, she was getting on that ship.

Capabilities

§ Attributes
Major: Speed
Minor: Willpower

§ Skills
Expert - One Handed Axe
Adept - Shield, Athletics, Speech, Hand-to-Hand
Novice - Lockpicking, Marksman

§ Weaknesses
Arachnophobia
Ever since she had a run in during the night with a frost-bitten spider, the creatures have plagued her nightmares and she is likely to freeze on the spot if she meets with one again.

Brain like a sieve
One of Ashna's biggest frustrations in her life is her inability to retain and hold onto knowledge that she reads. She has such a hunger to know the secrets and history of Tamriel, and she does go out of her way to read books and listen to stories but for some reason... The information never seems to stick. She is also forgetful and disorganised, frequently misplacing things, or forgetting in which cavern she left a crate of particular loot. She is terrible with names too, remembering faces more than names and anything about that person.

§ Spells
No spells

§ Tactics
Ashna uses her incredible speed to her advantage always. Few can keep up with her in a straight race, and the same goes for the battle field, she can dodge and out-maneuver the best of them in a one on one fight, opting to block any hits with her trusty shield, and chip away at her enemy with her axe until they simply tire. At range, she will throw in the axe with great accuracy, and move in with the shield. In even stickier situations, she is adept at hand-to-hand combat and her size alone gives her an excellent advantage.

To support her peers, she draws attention to herself and gives her allies a chance to move in with their own weapons and spells to finish off weakened and tired enemies.

§ Relations & Affiliations
Mother - Deceased
Bjogar the Colossus - Adoptive Father

§ Opinions
None as of yet

Inventory

§ Cash
17 Septims

§ Keys & Lockpicks
7 x lockpicks

§ Tools & Crafting Materials
None

§ Clothing & Armor
Ashna wears a light style armour - ths helps her to stay incredibly light on her feet. She wears a loincloth style skirt with padded leggings and leather boots, with a shirt of loose and fine mail adorned with coloured fabrics and an orange Redguard style cape and headscarf. She opts for cloth that display her Redguard heritage, but also holds the intimidating prowess of Nord steel.

For traveling in colder climates, she has a bearskin cloak which still has the head of the bear as a hood.

§ Weapon & Ammo
Nordic War Axe
Throwing axes x 3
Nordic Shield
Steel Dagger

§ Potion & Arcane Supplies
2 x Potion of Minor Restoration

§ Jewelry & Valuables
Amulet of speech
Silver Ruby Ring

§ Books & Documents
Letter from Bjogar the Colossus

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients
2 x Pheasant Breast
1 x Bread

§ Load Bearing Equipment
A leather satchel, medium sized

§ Other
A journal in which she writes her thoughts
Quill and ink

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

A Nexus Archive Post;

The Art of the Tease

The Citadel - 2181CE

It was another cocktail party on the Citadel for the bureaucratics to celebrate something. It was always something. Any excuse to pull out the crystal glasses and exquisite Champagne and put it on ice. Everything about the night screamed opulence. From the lavish spread of food to the plush red carpet which lined the floor. Nothing here was cheap, and the Asari scientist happily sipped from her glass as she drank in the scene from the floor to ceiling windows. It was a view she would never tire of despite it being a wallpaper which had coated her life thus far. It was just so vast and beautiful and represented opportunities as endless as the galaxy itself. She smiled and took the last of the champagne.

She could feel a presence behind her looking her up and down - and she could also just make out the reflection in the glass. She raised an eyebrow, knowing that in this dress, she did look good. She was oozing opulence too…

“Hello there…” she spoke softly as she turned around to face a human male. With a single look she took in every inch of him and sized him up - he was taller than her, had the most beautifully dark eyes, and was well built. She could see the curve of his thick arms through his jacket. The attraction was instant. He fumbled his response to her; “I, I, I am sorry Ma’am, I was just watching you there…” there was just a slight sprinkling of arrogance peppered in his tone. As if he was allowed to look and entitled to it. “I felt you looking at me…” she smirked as she took a step closer to him. He smelt heavenly, like amber and cognac. Masculine.

“My glass is empty, I am going to refill. Maybe I will see you later” and she walked away from the mysterious gentleman. She took a slower than usual walk to the cocktail bar, making sure to make each step count, letting her hips sashay but only subtly. She leant against the bar and arched her naked back just so. Thank the Goddess for backless dresses...

He followed swiftly and stood beside her at the bar - also leaning up against the mahogany. His eyes locked onto hers with purpose. “Later never comes, there is only now.” This time he had the nerve to eye her from head to foot to her face. She studied his clothing, his jacket fell a little lower than most other humans - to just above his knees. It looked like the material was lighter too, and it was emblazoned with embroidery around the shoulder and down the lapels. It was obviously some kind of cultural wear. “That’s true” she began in a honeyed voice “so just who are you, anyway?”

“Of course, my apologies, my name is Dr Aaron Swan."

"This is my first venture to the Citadel you see, I’m going to be working here in the labs and in the Huerta Memorial Hospital.”

“I see. So, Dr Aaron Swan, so this is your cocktail party then?” she waved a hand in motion at the banner above the door which read “Welcome to New Citadel Staff”. For an evening of such luxury, they really could have written something more descriptive and special. “Ahh, unfortunately not. I believe this is an evening for the new Spectre recruits. I somehow doubt that they would throw such an outrageously extravagant suaray for doctors and nurses.” As he spoke, a soft laugh escaped his lips.

“Oh please, once you’ve been on the Citadel for long enough you’ll learn that they will throw something like this for just about anyone. It’s any excuse to wine, dine, and dress divine after all.”

“Ha, well I hope I’m stationed long enough to enjoy one or two more.”

“I’m Naryxa, by the way. I work in the Memorial Hospital some days, mostly on research in recreational drugs and plants and the like.”

“Looking at you I wouldn’t have believed it-”

She cut him off, almost offended “what does that mean exactly?”

“Oh I do not mean to offend you Ma’am, I can just see from your physique that you are in quite incredible shape that one would believe that you were a talented mercenary of some sort. That or…. Well, allow me to say it, a dancer.”

She laughed and loosened up; “you’re right on both counts my new friend. I have in the past worked as a mercenary, and I spent what would be a very long time to you, dancing my way across the Milky Way. But now I’m slowing down.”

“I would have very much liked to see you dance your way around the stars…”

She hadn’t noticed until he had finished his sentence that he had moved closer to her and placed an arm around her waist, his fingers brushed against the bare skin of the small of her back which caused her to feel something akin to electricity throughout her entire body. She liked this one. She liked him a lot.

She drew her lips close to his neck, leaning up to his ear before whispering softly into it “maybe I can show you later…”

She removed his hand from her back with a smirk. He was good, he was very, very, very good. But she wasn’t going to give in to him that easily, not just now, and so she sashayed away again, giving him one last flirtatious glance over her shoulder - where she saw him mouthing words at her;

“Later never comes, there is only now.”