Terminal — Roleplayer Guild

Author's Note: When assigning Ormoneric spells, I picked from the spell lists for Skyrim, Oblivion, and Morrowind. Originally I had intended to select spells only from Morrowind and Oblivion, but the OP's prerogative in their own character sheet encouraged me to select a few choice spells from Skyrim as well. As for Morrowind, the reasoning there is simply that the events of the game Morrowind and the return of Dagoth-Ur transpire close to the end of the third era, during which time Ormoneric would still have been embroiled in study and thus expected to be familiar with contemporary spell theory. I also included a custom spell (spell-mixing only being possible in Oblivion), and it should be assumed it is the only unique spell-mix he has (he will not be pulling more out of his ass). He may be able to mix more spells if he gets his hands on enough Magetallow and Soulgems. It should also be noted that, where a spell is listed, the level of expertise listed beside should be assumed to be the maximum level of the associated spell Ormoneric actually knows, since individual spells between the three games can vary in magnitude (as an example, Ormoneric can cast Fury - a novice level Skyrim spell - at an Adept level of expertise). This is done not only for the sake of convenience, but also to more helpfully accentuate Ormoneric's particular strengths (such as Ormoneric's mind-affecting illusion spells all being at an Adept level despite being an Expert with Illusions).

Let it also be noted, I am hereby requesting for OP's permission for Ormoneric to have Mastery in a particular skill. It is identified in the profile below; let it be known I am entirely open to revising this as necessary.

"Hello me! Have we died again yet, or are we still waiting for the nonsense with the horker tusk and the chair with the broken leg? or wait, am I in Quagmire again? This is not the place for us to complete the circuit, that was done here two years ahead! You dolt, obviously I'm supposed to stand still until you walk behind me and then I fall down de- What are you doing? You got it mixed up again! Stop dying! Argh, fine. Everyone, go back to where you will be so they can try again. I promise to get it right this time; just remember not to be me!"Ormoneric


Name: His name was on record at the Arcane University as Evoker Ormoneric (last name omitted), but he does not remember even this. There is much that he does not remember.

Age: He has trouble telling the time, let only how old he is. By appearance he is clearly the age of an Elder of at least 70 summers.

Race: Breton

Birthsign: The Tower

Appearance: (I am making an actual Skyrim character model for him but it is not quite ready yet.)

Personality: About as Mad as Sheogorath, as Ominous as a storm, as Creepy as a headless zombie - and about as straightforward as conversationalist as Shalidor's Labyrinth. If you have any idea what this lout is saying at any given time, you are way ahead of the curve. A couple of things stand out though - for one, he can be extremely stubborn when he sets his mind to something. Nearly impossible to dissuade once he decides on a course of action, come Oblivion and the raging Sea of Ghosts. Another thing is that he is, for lack of a better word, extremely gullible and susceptible to suggestion. In any given interim where he has not decided on something, he may well just latch onto the first thing he hears and act on it as though it were objectively true. For better or worse, and regardless of who says it. He can tell friend from foe most of the time and will follow most orders, but he is unpredictable and erratic at the best of times.

Affiliations: The Arcane University, formerly of the Mages Guild (Now Defunct).

Who is this madman? Where did he come from? Few remain who know. But there are bits and scraps, here and there, that yield tantalizing hints and glimpses of what was.

Penned by the hand of Irlav Jarol Master Wizard of the Arcane University under the Archmage in the year 423 of the Third Era.

I write now to officiate the expulsion of Evoker Ormoneric from the Arcane University for conduct unbecoming of a senior mage, and to notify all appropriate coteries that he is neither welcome nor trusted by the magical community of the Mages Guild. His competence and acumen are hereby null, and no receipt of his experience shall report anything other than a low association with either the Arcane University or any of its associate Guildhalls.

Evoker Ormoneric has been a notable and respected member of the Arcane University for a little over three decades at the time of this condemnation. Although his return of transcribed spells has been less extensive than any other senior member of the University he nonetheless has contributed several published tomes of research and knowledge to the Arcaneum, and he was often consulted on matters pertaining to ancient spellcraft and technical matters pertaining to the realm of Mysticism. However, after a time his behavior and professional decorum deteriorated considerably, likely due to several years of strenuous and taxing investigation of liminal and aetheric theory. After several instances of notable misconduct that I shall forebear to mention here, his madness was made apparent in an incident whereupon Evoker Ormoneric claimed to have convinced an Argonian Master Wizard employed by the University that they had never existed, and that Master Wizard Raminus Polus was actually a tanner from Hammerfell who had been transliminally recalled to retroactively obscure the ontological failure of the former. Naturally, no evidence of such an occurrence was found and it is with both great regret and personal concern for Ormoneric as a friend and colleague that I must officiate his expulsion, both for his own safety and for those around him.

In the professional opinion of the members of the Council of Mages, the Arcane University, and the Mages Guild, Evoker Ormoneric is not responsible for his own actions and is not to be entrusted in any position of authority or responsibility. Any semblance of competence or magical ability on his part are likely transient and not to be regarded as normal. He is not likely to hurt or endanger others intentionally, but it may be prudent for him to be confined for his own safety should such prove necessary.

Before you is an arcane tome roughly the size of your head. As far as you can tell it is not a spellbook, but an honest-to-Akatosh book of magical theory. About as immediately practical as a brick, assuming you don't drop it on your foot mid-lob. Its contents, even on the first page, are just as unhelpfully esoteric as the title. What very little you can understand is seemingly tautological, paradoxical, impossible, or all three. There are passages about sharpening gems with starlight, colors with twelve wheels, metal that weeps pus, and nails that devour kings. The price-tag adhered to it is outrageous, in excess of most of the other books in the shop you found it in - the shopkeeper indicated that while it is indigestible gibberish to layfolk, it's apparently both a blockbuster seminal treatise on a magical school called 'Mysticism,' and also incredibly rare and therefore valuable on account of only thirty copies having ever been made. You are not sure how much of that you believe.

At the very back of the book there is an editor's note that the last page of the original copy has been deliberately redacted, due to its contents being 'profoundly unsuitable' and apparently written when the author was in a state of maddened fugue.

Said author is listed as being one 'Evoker Ormoneric' of the Arcane University.

"I know of someone who might be of use to us, and our Master Mannimarco. An Evoker who used to be a member of the Arcane University - but don't let the title fool you. Ormoneric used to have more wits than half the Mage's Council combined, likely only falling a step short of my own brilliance. They were uniquely knowledgeable as to the ancient magical art of Mysticism. He was probably the best researcher in that field of magic in the entire Mages Guild, even if you count Dagail and Agata. 

He was expelled from the Mage's Guild nearly a decade ago now, I believe? I am not entirely sure why, it came about at around the same time his assistant was in the midst of making hand-copies of his new book. Judging from the contents, I suspect the Council used some kind of pretext to dismiss him since otherwise it would have looked too much like they were encouraging mages to be overtly political and less devoted to arcane study. The contents are rather extraordinary even by my standards, but most of the 'experts' up at the White Gold Tower would not have seen it that way - they'd doubtlessly have come knocking, complaining that the University had abandoned its true purpose as an academic institution.

Since then, I've heard the occasional rumor of him wandering about as some kind of madman, addled as Sheogorath and nearly as dangerous. He's skilled, knowledgeable, and likely disgruntled with the Mages Guild. We can use him..."Master Wizard Caranya, days before being killed by the Hero of Kvatch

"Yeah. I know the man. The name didn't ring a bell, but once Ules mentioned weird pronouns it came back to me. He used to be a member of the Arcane University, pretty loaded too. His house here in the city was used as a safehouse a few times because of how infrequently he ever went there. Then one day, there's a fuss that a mage has been kicked out of the university - physically dragged and tossed out, even - and that's big news in certain circles. Means lots of loose, valuable magical items floating around unaccounted for. I think the Guild sent someone in to pick a few things out of his study. A copy of a book and a few staves.

Thing is, I saw him a few days after that. In the streets. Torn-up robes and not a crooked Septim to his name, begging passerby for...well, not quite certain what he was asking for really. He was askin' for gibberish. Made no right sense. I recall it was weird to be seein' him at the time, because I had just cased his house and the place was still furnished, practically untouched. He obviously had a roof he could put over his head, so seeing him in such a state on the street was mighty befuddling. Not to mention, he was a mage. They can turn wood into sweet-rolls, right? Why'd one of them need to beg for anything?

But anyway, I went up to him, try and get some kind of measure of him...it was unsettling. I think...this was a long time ago you know? But I think he thought he was me. Kept mixing and flipping his pronouns and tenses, talking to me as though I were him or other people every other word. Thing is, he started talking about a Skeever that had bit his hand while he was trying to snatch a rotten tomato and turning yellow...And then about a week later, a Skeever I didn't see come and bit me on the hand after I spotted a tomato in the gutter. That's how I got the tick, way back.

And then I saw him again, recently.

Maybe around two months ago? He came through the city briefly. Begging like before. Knew it was him become of how incoherent he was. When he saw me he told me to 'speak fondly of him' to the Wolf Come Calling."Puny Ancus, Beggar

"I was out hunting in the woods, and I made a mistake. A bad one. Got a little too obsessed with tracking this stag...chased it right into a pack of wolves. The stag was faster than me. They cornered me, and I thought that was that...

But then, this wretch who was old as death and dressed in rags jumped down from a boulder and saved me. I think.

I say I think, because I am pretty certain he was either feral or mad. At first he seemed all normal, looked confident and composed, he even told me to relax and that I would make it home alright. One of the wolves jumped at him -

I'm not really certain what happened then. I might have been too scared out of my wits to keep track of what was going on between the man and the wolves, but I swear he seemed to...trade places with that wolf. One second it was pouncing at him, the next it was standing up on its rear legs, and he was jumping up at it on all fours. He bore the wolf back down to the ground with his bare teeth, then he went for its throat and literally bit a huge chunk out of its neck. That's about when I made a break for it.

Then, a few hours later, same guy shows up at my shack with around half a dozen skinned wolf pelts hanging over his back and covered in blood. I'm pretty sure none of it was his. I'm just sitting there on my porch, stunned, and he acted the same way when he saw me. Then he said...

He said, 'Wait a minute, you're not me,' dropped the pelts on the spot, and vanished into thin air."A Woodlands Hunter

"It wasn't a standard job to begin with. The offices I worked at did not even have the man's name on file, we had to be given a physical description by the client and told of a likely place he was probably going to be within a certain span of time. Well, I went there, and he turned up alright. But get this.

I'm waiting near the side of an inn, looking out at the road, and he suddenly creeps up BEHIND me and practically screams, '"I've been looking for you! Got something I'm supposed to deliver - your hands only!' Scared me witless and sent me sprawling on my ass.

Then he says, 'Let's see here,' and holds out the actual letter I had been giving - guess I had dropped it or something when he scared me - and says 'I came all the way from Helgen to give this to you. Sender was someone mysterious, paid good money to get it to you. That's all, I'm off!'

Then, and I am not messing around here, he starts running backwards down the road, heading North.

I tried to chase him for a bit - he hadn't actually gotten the letter, he just picked it up and dropped it! But lost sight of him over the next ridge. Had to report it as a failed delivery."Professional Courier

"Why am I here? That's a stupid question! I'm here to ask an old senile hermit why he's trying to cross the border, and very soon I will walk backwards to the barracks. I still have my lucky septim, the one with the two-headed Akatosh, and so I need to go back to yesterday and remember to forget it.

You don't need to tell me I'm mad, you already knew that, boy. You aren't mad, you just don't have the senses to see where you are in the cosmological sense! It's been so long since they've been able to truly see whenwhere they are. Thankfully, everything I do is always nearby. Relatively speaking.

I'm not sure why I'm here nowthere though. All I know is that's therewhen I'm supposed to be. It's the way of things. I have spied it with the finest arguments against that position, and all the data we contributed to the wanderer directed him whenwhere we were supposed to have been will be. You were the outcome boy, and you are the answer that tells me that here is where and when and why and what and who. Not how though. Everyone I've met has agreed that the how wasn't all that important. Which is good. I'm tired of how.

Does that answer my question? No. I still have that stupid look on his face.

I am HERE because I traversed the skein of Nirn. I am NOW because from my perspective I have walked forward. I am NEEDED because for what I will see, and what you will do, he must travel forward relatively to see backwards to what they are looking for.

I am your Mystic, you gibbering old madman, and he shall hold the hated Blade of the Night safe against the sharpness of our arms and the ferocity of our spellcraft. He is no madman, he is the watcher who stands on every path to guard against our manifold dooms.

Also because the Cyrodiilic countryside is was and will be boring within that really weirdly shaped window. Where you are going, I will not need eyes to see something new that we will have looked upon with fondness. Also because we couldn't say no to the stupid old man. Ain't no law saws the mad can't cross the border into Skyrim."Ormoneric, speaking to a border guard South of Helgen

Class:The Mage
Major Skills:

Alchemy: Adept
Alteration: Expert
Conjuration: Adept
Destruction: Adept
Illusion: Expert
Mysticism: Master
Restoration: Adept

Summary: Ormoneric, as a mage who has studied Mysticism almost exclusively for the better part of nearly three quarters of their adult life, can only be considered a master of it...with all the consequences such Mastery brings with it. Ormoneric, prior to his condemnation and expulsion from the University, was never expected and never had to devote much attention to other magical fields of study. Ormoneric still possesses a degree in expertise in every magical field, but only insomuch as a master of Destruction magic understands nuances of Restoration magic due to the simple principle that all schools of magic overlap in at least some aspects. Ormoneric possess expertise with certain principles of Alteration and Illusion in particular due to the greater degree of inter-relation the three specific schools of magic have with one another, and is of middling competence as to the other schools of magic.

Minor Skills

Enchanting: Adept
Athletics: Apprentice
Hand-to-Hand: Adept

Summary: Ormoneric has spent over a decade of his life since his expulsion from the University as a destitute, indigent madman. What wealth and possessions he bore even as a respected member of the Arcane University were abandoned due to his own fractured memory and psyche, and as such he has had to make-do in the streets and wilds, albeit nonetheless aided by not-lacking magical prowess. A side-benefit of living across the countryside of Cyrodil rough-and-tumble has been a marked improvement in his physique and general athletic ability. Having never owned or used most weapons in anything resembling an extensive capacity, his adequate physical strength does not lend itself to the skillful use of most implements.
Ormoneric is a Master of Mysticism. Mysticism is the branch of Magic that the Psijic order was founded upon, and that has often been described as 'Just like any other schools of Magic, but more." Its effects are subtle, and its ways difficult to master. A user of Mysticism must find ways to rearrange the great tapestry of the world to suit their own will, often imposing their will against the truth that is reality in order for a spell to function. Mystics therefore enjoy a diverse and useful assortment of spells, but suffer from the innate paroxysm and idleness most accomplished mages would find unacceptable. A Mystic must accept anything as possible - that the sky can be broken, space swallowed, that time can be danced with, and that the unreal might become real. Many devoted Mystics of the past have thus been claimed by Sheogorath, and those who aren't have found themselves spending decades of time struggling to develop new arcane theories and spells while their colleagues have developed dozens. Masters of Mysticism are masters not of casting spells, but of manipulating the fabric of magic and the world itself.

Alteration - ExpertBurden & Feather - Expert
Candlelight & Magelight - Apprentice
Ironflesh - Adept
Jump & Slowfall - Expert
Open & Lock - Adept
Water Breathing & Water Walking - Expert

Conjuration - AdeptConjure Atronach, Fire, Frost, Shock - Adept
Conjure Bound Dagger - Apprentice
Conjure Soul Cairn Skeleton - Apprentice
Reanimate Corpse - Apprentice

Destruction - AdeptFire Stream & Bolt - Adept
Frost Stream & Bolt - Adept
Poison Stream & Bolt - Apprentice
Runes, Fire, Frost, Shock - Apprentice
Shock Stream & Bolt - Adept
Sun Stream & Bolt - Apprentice

Illusion - ExpertChameleon - Expert
Charm - Adept
Courage & Fear - Adept
Fear & Fury - Adept
Night-Eye - Expert
Silence - Expert

Mysticism - MasterAbsorb Attributes &  Skills - Expert
Clairvoyance - Master
Detect Life, Death, Enchantments, & Objects - Master
Mark & Recall - Master
Dispel - Master
Reflect (Physical & Magical) - Master
Spell Absorption - Master
Soul Trap - Expert
Telekinesis - Master

Restoration - AdeptGreater Ward - Adept
Heal Self & Others - Apprentice
Restore Attributes &  Skills - Adept

Custom SpellsEnantiomorph Gambit - Master
A modified combination of the Mark, Recall, and Reflect spell effects. Ormoneric flings a Marking Bolt at a target. On impact, Ormoneric and the target switch locations with each other, and exchange any items they were holding in their hands at the time. The Marking Bolt is fast, but can be dodged and has a prominent glowing pink aura. It can also be blocked by wards, and it has no effect on constructs such as Dwemer Machines, and it does not work on inanimate objects. Notably, it is extremely difficult to dodge at point-blank range, and the process is extremely disorienting. Both Ormoneric and the target retain their momentum and face the same direction as when the Marking Bolt struck, meaning that at point blank range, if Ormoneric and the target are facing each other, they will then be standing back-to-back when they switch locations.

Equipment: Seemingly just the rags on his back. Readily mistaken for a beggar on first glance. Or fifteenth glance.


Edit: Included Ormoneric's Birthsign.

The haggard, bag-totting man treated Theron's threat and leveled handgun with a deadpan expression. "Don't be an idiot with me." They bit out in a flat tone that belied exasperation, impatience...and a hint of smoldering anger. "I didn't have to make you an offer. For somebody who had enough neurons firing to keep their cool at that chop-shop side-show back there, you don't seem to have figured out its better not to make enemies where you don't have to."

The man was standing with a bit of a slouch, most of their body weight firmly set in the heel of their right foot as they rocked back and forth lightly, the fingers of their left hand idling drumming the duffel-bag's straps rhythmically. He seemed pretty anxious...just apparently not with Theron.

"It's simple." The man uttered the word with a bit of lingering, emphatic dip towards the end, poorly masking the condescension of his tone. He was glancing around the street furtively - when he looked at Theron at all, it was only to look him in the eye. Even with Theron's enhanced vision and tracking, getting a read on this man was eerily difficult. "I have a pretty good idea who you're with, and if I'm right then it'd just cause trouble to have killed you. What I've got in mind is a little mutually beneficial exchange. You get to keep Golemeth's carcass no matter what, and maybe if you're good at paying attention you'll listen to what I have to discuss with him and learn a thing or two. I get what he knows without having to burn any bridges. You get what I know on top of that, and just maybe we might be able to keep helping each other where it's convenient. In the future, maybe I can help you overcome that priaprism-induced inferiority complex you're jacking off in your hand right now."

...This man talked an awful lot of shit considering he looked to be wearing tattered clothes and weighed the next-best thing to fifty-two kilograms soaking wet. Assuming he had no wetware. It was clear from his tone and disposition that he did not feel like he needed to prove anything to Theron. For one thing, he seemed to have simply assumed that Theron would know anything he decided to divulge would be worth the time and breath. Although that was hardly the least believable thing about this situation. Chances were, if this guy wanted information from Golemeth, there was only one topic the both of them might know that could provide as much leverage as he seemed to think he had. He had finally stopped glancing all over the place and was now staring directly at Theron, expression impatient with a pronounced rise to one eyebrow.
 
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