Spoopy Scary

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Wrote with my phone, so the post is not very bulky.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

From chains to freedom, as quick as the splash of blood of his captor. All night he had feared the unscrupulous lord's decree, that his execution was nigh, ignoring all the others to come to grips with his fate. He would do anything to escape that fate so that he may pursue his plot, to finalize that impossibly ambitious idea. Oh, how wondrous it was to hear that vulture man's words, that they'd be spared if they would just do one little favor on behalf of a patron. The fear subsided.

Until, that is, the splash of blood.

Finch reeled - the spitting, the spurting, and the gushing! It bubbled between his lips, the sanguine ooze. It prompted a retching feeling in his gut and chest, but he contained it. Now he just had to control the dizzying head rush - keep himself conscious and about his wits.

Why? Why was there a raid? Why now? He just wanted this chapter over with, and at every turn, death seemed to be awaiting him. Is this the punishment of the gods? A test? He was about to walk down a corridor of darkness and blood, was this a warning of what it entailed? Was he ready? Worthy? Who was he to spill blood; he who would recoil at its sight?

Finch, once squeezing his eyes shut, opened them, layed them on the dying vulture man. Bore them into him. To take in every detail, analyze every bubble in its growing pool.

'Take a nice, long look, Pharasius. This is what's waiting for me. This is what I've chosen. Lay in the bed you've made. Do you think there's room for weaklings there?'

Finch shuddered as blood was shed all around him. This innocent little hamlet, being slaughtered, in the name of what? They weren't even given the opportunity to surrender or give themselves in. It was senseless. Callous. Is this what it took to be an assassin? Or was there something more, something that made these brutes to be but murderers? Finch thought that, at least, he would acknowledge the value of life, and of the lives he'd take. Or is that a foolish, naive thought?

Their new captor showed himself, a Rivenspire noble. This was his orchestra, this mayhem its chorus. As he would have it, no witnesses, not even this hamlet's count. He would also have these prisoners be his pit dogs, and break his brother from prison. Finch could do it. Easily, and he would - at least for the count, but not for this man. The others saw no other choice it seemed, neither did Finch, but Finch was looking in a different direction entirely. He waited for their new master to leave.

"If he would massacre all these innocents,"Finch began thoughtfully to argue the Breton, but did so in hesitation, for the Reachman had made a reputation for his aggression, "and the count too, just to tie loose ends... why should we think he'd treat us any differently? Because we save his brother? Because so did the count he killed. He delivered us to him."

A shrill scream made Finch's head snap away, looking to where it came. An axe had gutted a woman, and her insides were spilling over her killer's boots. Finch immediately looked away and shut his eyes.

"We'll do our part like how the count did his, a-and then this'll be us!"

The young beggar would have no part of this. Despite the man man's claims, there would be no one to trace Finch back to. He wasn't going back to Daggerfall. He'd press forward, maybe to Northpoint. Who would recognize an urchin like him? But he had to get something first: the book. It was the key. He mustn't let anyone here find out he has it, or let them know what it is.

He sprung to his feet and made a wild dash for the barracks. His stuff was buried just behind. Maybe after he can go in and take some of the off duty clothes the guards wear. After all, many of them weren't going to be needing it anymore. These rags smelled offensive, even to him.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Dervish is all funny with Cedric and then there is my post with Finch, like... wat.

"Watching these three go at it is like watching three skeevers fighting over who gets to sit on top of the tallest dreugh turd."

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

"I am convinced that Cedric is going to drag and rape me in the middle of the woods."
"Nevermind, that honor goes to Brynn."
"At least the Orc would kill me before he rapes me."
"I think Fiona would understand better than anyone, she was as much a victim of the Dominion as I am, but she came out of it for the better. I envy her."
"Gaela is incredible, I have nothing but respect for the world's healers. I could have taken the same path, had I not thought the Nine abandoned me."
"Cyrendil is an altmer. Maybe I could look past that to see the good he has done. Maybe. It's best he doesn't learn the path I've chosen, though."
"Berich... Pockets too swollen for his own good. Maybe he won't miss just a couple of septims."
"I like Faruq. I like listening to his stories. Being an adventure was always a thing of dreams."
"Kirrala is what I would've been. I was on the way to the college. Except I probably would have looked dorky in robes."

@Spoopy Scary

Okay, so a better one like I promised:

"Cedric is a large, boisterous man. A tongue as foul as the worst of them. I don't like him, and I can't trust he won't try to kill me when my back is turned. But I don't think he among this lot is who I have to look out for. I mean look at him, I wonder how he dresses himself on his own. I could take all he has and I bet he wouldn't think to look ten steps past his own feet.

Brynn worries me. I'm as well traveled as the road from here to Daggerfall, so I can't say I've seen plenty like him, but he fits the description of a blood stained bandit. I've seen how he looks at me, he sees right through me. He knows I'm hiding something. It's not the silver and gold you're looking for, mate, just keep your distance. My secret isn't something befitting of your kind's interest.

The Orc, this Maulakanth, he is a threat to everyone. Even the hunter and the cutthroat. In fact, why am I chained up to him? He's a mean giant, I allegedly stole a book. Come on! I'm not as scared as him as... well, no, that's a lie. He's scary. But I think I can handle a dumb Orc better than the likes of Brynn. By that, I mean run for Oblivion.

Fiona... She... Inspires something in me. I envy and admire her. We have the same kind of loss, we both want revenge, and I think that she more than anyone would understand. But she's stronger than me. She came out of her tragedy as a better person for it. She's the person I want to be, but I'm not, and in that regard... she's attractive to me - beyond mere physicality; but I have somewhere else I need to be.

I see Gaela now and I second guess myself. I could have turned to the Divines for guidance, I could have sought to heal people suffering from the war. But I was so devastated and felt so abandoned by the Nine, I just... didn't. I swelled with revenge. But whenever a priestess of Mara would feed me bread and potatoes in a wee wooden bowl, it would lift my spirits and... Look, I have nothing but respect for the world's healers. Gaela is incredible.

Altmer, Altmer... If only I could get past those damn ears and his... ARGH! Okay, he might be a Vigilant of Stendarr, but that doesn't change what he is. He could be loyal Thalmor agent for all we know. Maybe, just maybe, I could look past that gold skin and see the decades of good he has done, but I'm not putting my guard down. If there was just one thing that pushes me off the edge, it's the pity! I don't need it! You drip with irony, Vigilent of Mercy. Your pity isn't what keeps me fed at the end of the day.

Berich reminds me of Daggerfall. All of the swagger and swollen pockets, a sheen on his garments, it screams what he really is aloud. He says he's an Imperial, but he's obviously a Breton. Not in the racist sense, but... what else can he be? Rich as he is, the political intrigue, short stature, how he connives like a blasted noble? Clearly, a politician in here for corruption. I'm sure he won't be missing a few of his many, many septims...

Faruq appetizes the child in me. All the stories he tells are something out of myth. It's a small beam of light that creates a bit of fun in the day, but it doesn't change reality. The stories are just that, and all the heroes eventually die. Heroes die... Heroes always die. Being one doesn't necessarily fix anything. It just... creates more room for more trouble.

I was actually on my way to being a college scholar, like Kirrala is. Fun fact. If my education hadn't been cut short, that is. What I was interested in was Illusion - not a one of my fingers ever touched magic, though. Funny. I found interest he branch of magic with the most indirect effect on the world, but now all I can think of is killing Dominion soldiers. While feeling every... ounce... of pressure, hands clenching... the... ugh, the resistance getting weaker and weaker. Hah... Hah... I'd look dorky in robes anyway."

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

I did mine on my phone so it is a little sloppy. I'll make a better one once time allows me.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

"I am convinced that Cedric is going to drag and rape me in the middle of the woods."
"Nevermind, that honor goes to Brynn."
"At least the Orc would kill me before he rapes me."
"I think Fiona would understand better than anyone, she was as much a victim of the Dominion as I am, but she came out of it for the better. I envy her."
"Gaela is incredible, I have nothing but respect for the world's healers. I could have taken the same path, had I not thought the Nine abandoned me."
"Cyrendil is an altmer. Maybe I could look past that to see the good he has done. Maybe. It's best he doesn't learn the path I've chosen, though."
"Berich... Pockets too swollen for his own good. Maybe he won't miss just a couple of septims."
"I like Faruq. I like listening to his stories. Being an adventure was always a thing of dreams."
"Kirrala is what I would've been. I was on the way to the college. Except I probably would have looked dorky in robes."

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Name:

Pharasius Finch

Race:

Imperial

Family Origins:

Pharasius Finch was born in to an Imperial middle class family, his father was a soldier and his mother working within the Imperial City selling mortgages and so on. After his father came home leading an assault team against key Dominion targets, he was celebrated and honored, being promoted to commander, and the family went on a final tour with him to High Rock for tactical assessments following the strike. However, the Dominion’s assassination of the family left him orphaned in his mid-teenage years and forced him to live on the streets, stranded in Glenumbra, with nowhere else to go. He did what he could to survive while starving for vengeance, however he was not particularly strong-built and he was unfit to join the Imperial armies. Finch was forced to sit on the sidelines while at odds with the law.

---

"A little dirt hurt no one, come on, put your back into it. We can bathe in the river later."

Appearance:

A stringy physique doesn’t serve Finch very well to scare anybody who would see harm to him, and standing at 5’9” doesn’t do him any good either. He’s a scrawny build from the years of being a beggar and serving himself alone, barely a pinch of fat on him, and obviously hungry. He’s not totally helpless though, he does have some muscle on him from running and scavenging and working himself to the bone in nearly everything he does. He’s fast as hell, and was able to outrace law enforcement for a number of years. As an Imperial, he’s tanned and has black hair hanging to his shoulders, knotted up and dirty, contrasting with blue eyes, and thick stubble over his face. A number of nasty scars litter his body, some once infected and made the recovery process a little rocky. None of them, however, as severe as the ones you might find on a soldier. You would be hard pressed to find a patch of skin that isn’t smeared with dirt. Covered in tattered clothes and patches and rags, he pulls off the vagabond look quite well, but likely not able to contest with the Forsworn - for obvious reasons.

Age:

22

Equipment:

With Finch as he is now, he has nary a penny to his name. Raggy clothes and two leather flaps with string on them for sandals, and a blanket made from deer skin. In one of his secret caches surrounding the prison, he buried a small crossbow with a couple of bolts in it, inside of a sack. While he’s not much of a marksman, you don’t really need to be as long as you have one of those guys.

---

"There's two platoons coming over the north hill. If we take the east valley, we can pass them under the cover of the cliff face."

Favored Skills:

Highly Proficient
(Sneak: After all, you don't just steal things and hide from danger in plain sight unless you're the Gray Fox.)

Moderately Proficient
(Pickpocket: Finch has been lifting goodies from unassuming suckers for survival for the past five years. Tell him you want something that someone else has, you're gonna get it - but make no mistake, he is not a proud thief. That shame might be what holds back from ever mastering it.)
(Athletics: Finch has been running away from the law and from angry citizens for the past five years. Usually carrying something that didn't belong to him. He can turn tail and leave you in the dust.)
(Lockpicking: If you want something really bad, you learn to be real stubborn in getting that thing that you want. A couple bouts of fiddling with locks and Finch became quite the legerdemain.)

Somewhat proficient
(Marksman: He is actually not much good with a bow. In fact, he only has experience with a shitty crossbow, which does all the work for him. Finch just learned how to aim it in the right direction, shooting a brave squirrel under the best of circumstances.)
(Acrobatics: Finch does some climbing and jumping and balancing in his great escapes, but he is not much of a gymnast. He can go places, but lacks the conditioning to do so sustainably and or elegantly.)
(---)

Fighting Style:

Finch would be better served running toward the opposite direction or sitting high up in a tree, or hiding in a bush, with quite a few meters between his crossbow and the enemy. Otherwise, just use him for scouting.

Miscellaneous:

A very old, dulled, slightly rusty skinning knife is stashed away in the same cache, along with a number of lockpicks. Heck, he might even have at least one left on his person, hiding in... creative places.

---

"They're going to pay for what they did. I don't care what it takes."

Crime Committed:

Oh, Finch has many a petty theft and trespasses under his belt, however, he was never caught for those. No, the thing he was caught for this time was the stealing of a particular piece of illegal contraband, however, Finch was able to hide it away somewhere before he was caught...

Character Background:

Born under a soldier and Imperial estate agent, in the Imperial City, Finch had access to an early education and some fair amount of money. Nothing spectacular, nothing befitting of nobles, but it was suitable. When his father came back home after a tour, he’d sometimes show the young Finch around the barracks, sometimes show him how to shoot a crossbow and help him out when he had trouble pulling back the string. He was born in the city; he was no farm boy, so strength never played into his everyday life. His primary responsibility was to learn. Thinking was what he became good at.

It appeared he was set on a steady path, but everything changed after his father left to carry out a strike against a key Dominion target, something that might cripple their hold on a strong position. It was executed, and he came back sung as a hero. The father, Cassius Finch, was promoted to commander for his bravery and ability to lead, and he invited his family to visit High Rock with him while he met with the Breton leaders for tactical assessment following the strike. When they got there, they were given lodging, and one night a seventeen year old Finch wandered and looked in awe at the sights of Daggerfall under the full moons. It was that night that a Dominion agent assassinated his father, as well as his mother to eliminate any witnesses.

The assassin, as nimbly as he had entered, he had slipped away and from allied forces' grasp, melting through their fingers. The damage to Finch was done, coldly and efficiently. At the moment of their demise, the reality of war became too real, and his preconceived conceptions of object permanency were proven a fantastical daydream. Now he was on the streets, nowhere to go and with no one to take care of him, inheriting a wealth he could not access so far away from home. He found himself wanting, wishing for vengeance upon the Dominion. The first place he turned to were the Empire’s armies, but they would not take him, for he was unfit for the kind of hardships that soldiers were meant to endure. Nobody else wishing to take an Imperial child under their wing, Finch was forced to beg or otherwise serve himself. Putting him at odds with the law, he stole food and trespassed as he saw fit.

He still held hatred in his heart for the Dominion all this time. He would go out and sabotage their efforts if he ever could, but that was a fruitless endeavor. He never sought refuge with the Thieves Guild, since he never really took any pride in being a thief or vagabond. Neither did being a professional thief serve his longing for revenge. The Morag Tong no longer operated outside of Morrowind, and the Dark Brotherhood was ultimately destroyed, as told by the books he read in the Imperial City. He couldn’t take a sword up on his own. He wasn’t a fighter; he didn’t have the natural build for it, just as his mother was. He just kept as he did, and evacuating towns when he became too prevalent. His travels eventually brought him to Rivenspire, specifically in the town of Meir Thorvale.

While rummaging through things that did not belong to him, he came across a foot-locker, like a little jewelry box. He ended up breaking a half-dozen lockpicks just trying to open it, and when he did, all he found was a book. He nearly ripped it up out of frustration, but closer inspection revealed a darker secret. On the inside of the cover, it read “The Night Mother’s Truth”. Finch had thought all books relating to the Dark Brotherhood had been burned. He only had time to read halfway through before he heard a noise - he was discovered! Finch scrambled to his feet with the book in tow, sprinting around the city as fast as he could, leaving the ones chasing him behind and eating his dust. Word got around among the guard, and then it seemed half the force was cooperating to catch him.

Finch ran to the outskirts of the city, going to the backside of the wall just behind the barracks. There he lifted bricks out of the way to reveal a small compartment that hid bulging rucksack. He stashed the book there too and quickly set the bricks back in place and continued running. Eventually running into a platoon and becoming surrounded, he was commanded to surrender what he had stolen. Nothing save the rags on his back was on him. He was promptly escorted to the cells. In the meantime, the guard was left wondering where in the entire hold could he have hid that book, not ever suspecting it was under their nose.

Then, during the nights in his cell before his appearance in front of the count, all manner of thoughts and ideas creeped into Finch’s head - one being “where did that other person get that book”, another being the Night Mother herself, who she once was and who she might’ve been. Reportedly, she was destroyed along with the sanctuary she hid in – but from what he had read, her power was earned through a mysterious being named “Sithis”, who Finch had never heard of before. That she was made his wife through murdering her own begotten children. A thought of intrigue entered his head. What was to stop this Sithis figure from wedding another? Conceiving the reemergence of the Dark Brotherhood? What was stopping Finch from finding the right person, the right woman, not dribbling for revenge like Finch, no - something more primal, a woman who'd kill for its own sake. Such would be the seemly bride of the void?

Suddenly, the plot for finally exacting revenge against the Dominion began to form and the first pieces to an elaborate puzzle began coming together. It would be a hard earned victory should it ever come, he knew that, and the thought of the murderous path he would go down was haunting - even unsure if he would be able to carry it out, but he still saw no other options available to him. There were the daedra, and the Daedric Princes, but Finch still had his pride. He would let himself be a pawn or puppet of no demon's plot. He figured that he'd go his own way, let the Divines judge him as they might, he'd try to revive the Brotherhood on his own. Perhaps he'd let vengeance guide his hand. Perhaps he would guide a Brotherhood along routes different from the last one. Perhaps it was impossible. Even as he knelled and was chained down before the Count’s own feet, along with a number of other prisoners by his side, he thought that maybe he could at least see if he could. Surely, petty theft did not permit a death sentence... right? He still had a vendetta to carry out, Counts be damned.

Assassins have proven their worth.

Personality:

When a man’s hand is forced to beg and steal from a young age, he becomes pessimistic. Finch is something of an oddity in that regards and while there is undoubtedly lots of pessimism to go around, he keeps it contained, and tries to direct it towards his end game goal. He uses it as a sort of motivation to exact the revenge he wanted, and then tries to face the trials of everyday life with a smile, even if the smile is only a meager thing. At his core, Finch is well-meaning. Revenge and a life of begging has twisted that to absurd degrees, and the cruel reality of the world has made him distant and able to detach himself. He wants to make friends, but doesn’t, and usually paints all people with the same brush until a personal relationship is formed, and the old Finch starts coming through, the one before his family’s murder, the one before the begging and stealing.

After then, Finch is naturally generous and honest and he would share what little has with you without a second thought. If you have a favor, he’ll do it without asking too many questions. Perhaps it might have something to do with naivety, since normal life as he knew it stopped at age seventeen, and with any semblance of normalcy, he would fall back on what he knew. So he might come across as being younger than he is. Another reason could be that he’s just so desperate for a meaningful relationship he might just pour all the pressure weighing on his shoulders onto a listening ear. Finch has had a hard life for the past five years, and while he keeps a strong face, there is no doubt he’s suffering because of it.

Still, that is a hard point to get to. He's very suspicious and is very slow to trust, as conditioned by the last couple of years. Beggars are no community, they'd back stab if it meant getting ahead. The life is a gambit for survival, and Finch feels that he cannot hold that against them. It takes a personality more stubborn than he to get past the constant rejection and break through his pessimism before he begins to acknowledge someone's help or good intentions. He feels as though someone is always watching, making him dart around, move about, and look incredibly anxious - owing to his nickname "Twitch". In addition, he has an incredible hatred of the Dominion. While he doesn't necessarily direct this hatred upon all elves, he is particularly distrusting of them, and is even a little racist when discussing them. However, this has never led to an altercation, as he is more likely to flee than to fight.

Even a homeless beggar, Finch isn't stupid. After all, he's had an education until his late teenage years. While it is certainly nothing advanced or befitting a mage or noble, he has a keen mind and a penchant for quick learning. Indeed, what he lacks in physical aptitude, he makes up for cleverness and the ability to think outside the box. Back in school, Finch also had an interest in politics. Whether it be casting doubt in legal cases or oration, getting involved in government was an intriguing thought. However, now, a political tongue gets a beggar nowhere. Rather, being able to lie well enough to talk down the guard and assure him that, no, you didn't steal the cabbage - all the while being capable of convincing fellow beggars to cover your back and keep promises, as they hide the cabbage behind a crate until the guard leaves.

Font Colour:

Crimson, because there was no sanguine.

[/hider]

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Who am I going to force a romantic relationship on? The warrior, sexy librarian, Katniss, or a hagraven? Decisions, decisions...

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

So the roster so far: I'm assuming that Dervish is submitting a Kung fu master since he put down h2h twice.

Shaft's(may his shaft ever be monumental) ranger sniper guy
Luminosity's fighter/striker amateur repair woman, breaking stereotypes the world over
penny pinching fat cat
Finch the thief, aspiring murderer
Faruq is a defender or something, and my phone keeps changing his name to Daryl
Gaela, the girl on fire
The token Orc berserker
Well-read wizard/sexy librarian
What is this? A knight of the nine? An alter with a conscious? Isn't pissed at all the human gods? Holy shit. Token elf. Also token religious guy.

GG big bad