WSilversun

The Elder Scrolls: Before the Great War

Kiffar, the Unbound

Weynon Priory

Herding Kiffar to the Priory had been a... Task, for the poor guardsmen that were sent to fetch him for this charge. He had been working, at the time, playing merchant guard to a caravan making it's way out of Skyrim, though the mere presence of the vast Khajiit had been enough to ward off common banditry and the occasional stray wolf pack. Which, unfortunately for all involved, meant that he was terribly bored when they arrived- and that a patrol of Imperial Guards was the most interesting thing to come off the side of the road in days. He has immediately decided that, clearly, they were here to pilfer the goods from this merchant.

That unfortunate misunderstanding made for an interesting entrance, when they finally arrived, just in time to hear the beginning of the Confessor's speech. Two guardsman shouldered through the doors, their faces badly bruised, one with their arm in a sling- another six coming in behind them, dragging Kiffar in their wake. He was walking along willingly enough by then, though he was forced to duck low to squeeze through the door, grinning broadly all the while. The massive Khajiit was shackled and chained, though there hardly looked to be a scratch on him, his voice a deep, throaty thing that seemed always but a hair from developing into a roar.

"Kiffar has told you, this crime was only a misunderstanding. Kiffar believed you to be tricksy bandits, yes? You may unbind him. This one promises he will not throw any more horses... Maybe not any more people, either, if the Imperials share the jerky Kiffar can smell, hm?"

The mere mention of horses was enough to make the poor man in a sling grimace, while another approached Kiffar as one might a wild animal, taking cautious steps and leaning away the whole while. Kiffar simply smiled- a terrible, toothy smile- and held his wrists out to be unchained. The moment he was free, manacles clattering to the ground, he took a firm step towards the two who has been bruised up in the attempt to bring him along, earning a startled yelp from one, and a growling laugh from Kiffar.

One of the more senior guardsmen rolled their eyes, leaning around Kiffar's bulk to offer an apologetic nod towards the Confessor.

"He calmed down once we explained what we were about- but whatever they want with this.... Citizen, they'd better be prepared to keep him on a short leash."

Out they went, then, leaving Kiffar to stand, towering, in the middle of the room- rubbing the ache from his wrists idly, while gnawing on a strip of jerky hanging from the side of his mouth, either stolen or gifted while the focus was on his escort. He listened politely enough to the Confessor's introduction, then, the explanation of why he had been brought here and what they were to do. When the offer of blessing came, he stepped forward with a low rumbling, easing to a knee before the Confessor. Even then, he was at easy eye level.

"Kiffar will take the green woman's blessing. The Empire is good work, for stray kitties, hm?"

The Elder Scrolls: Before the Great War

Kiffar

Kiffar the Unbound

Name:
Kiffar the Unbound, Kiffar, Iffy

Race:
Khajiit (Cathay-Raht)

Appearance:
As a Cathay-Raht, Kiffar will never have an easy time blending into a crowd. Standing at a full three meters and change in height, with a broad, powerful physique, he towers over kin and strangers alike. Orange fur, striped with black and accented by cream, make him stand out all the more- for even amidst his fellow Cathay-Raht, commonly darkly hued, he is unusual. Eyes of an icy blue give his stare a disconcerting level of intensity, let alone the unwavering nature of a feline gaze.

Beyond the natural gift of size, he is well muscled by a life of hard training and effort, with a fair share of scars beneath the veil of his pelt- enough to suggest a life of violence, though not so many as to imply he does not know how to duck. So far as gigantic tiger men go, he may yet be considered handsome, despite the beginnings of grey sneaking through the orange and cream around his chin, brows and whiskers.

Age:
36

Skills:

Skill Tree Wheee

Path of the Warrior:

One Handed - Expert - Swords, Axes, Daggers
Two Handed - Expert - Great Swords
Unarmed - Master - Khajiit Has Hands If You Want Problems
Thrown Weapons - Adept - Javelins, Axes, Daggers

Path of the Thief:

Sneak - Adept - Hides in Bushes. Smacks Things.
Alchemy - Novice - Cannot brew himself, but a Master of identifying other brews
Light Armor - Novice - Prefers to go Unarmored
Speech - Adept - Surprisingly Charming

Path of the Mage:

He Is Orange. Magic Is Hard. Kiffar Does Not Magic.

Personality:
Kiffar is a simple man, of simple drives. While it would be incorrect to call him stupid, he does not make a habit of concerning himself with intellectual matters, believing them best left to others with wiser heads than his own. He believes that there are very few problems that cannot be solved with either violence or flirting, and he vastly prefers the former option when possible. On his own, he is prone to aimless wandering- But with proper direction, he can be a terrible tool of brute force... So long as he remains fed and entertained.

Bio:

History of a Tiger

Kiffar, the Vast
Born a Cathay-Raht, destiny marked Kiffar for war, to be used by his people as an instrument of brutality, in defense of their home, or in pursuit of their goals in other lands. Even amidst his kindred, he grew to be large, powerful limbs lending him speed and strength fit only for violent use. The Cathay-Raht were once described as large and fast enough to do battle with werewolves, and Kiffar is a breathing example of that truth. They named his Kiffar the Vast, and he did battle in their charge.

Kiffar, the Manesguard
So great we're the actions of Kiffar the Vast, in the years of his youth, that honors were extended to his family- To come to the city-state of Torval, to be of the kind of the Mane. Kiffar was to serve as warrior guard, to be bastion and claw to the Mane himself, and he took this duty with pride. For ten years did he protect and serve the leader of his people. For ten years, he bore the palanquin upon his shoulders when his master sought to wander his realm. For ten years, they named him Kiffar the Manesguard.

Kiffar, the Unbound
War came to Elswyrr in the fourth era. War came, for leadership was lost. Assassins came in the night for the Mane, and like ghosts, evaded the watch of his guard. The Mane was slaughtered in his bed, and Kiffar knows only that the deed was done in the wake of his master's refusal to back the Thalmor. He believes, knows in his spine, that it was they who brought blades in the night. But this belief does not rid him of blame, and of guilt. The Manesguard failed in their charge, and were reviled for their failure. The whole of them were removed of their posts, as war began in the sands of Elswyrr, and vanished to wander, shamed. They named him Kiffar the Unbound, and he left his home forever.

The Elder Scrolls: Before the Great War

For your consideration, Bee.

Kiffar

Kiffar the Unbound

Name:
Kiffar the Unbound, Kiffar, Iffy

Race:
Khajiit (Cathay-Raht)

Appearance:
As a Cathay-Raht, Kiffar will never have an easy time blending into a crowd. Standing at a full three meters and change in height, with a broad, powerful physique, he towers over kin and strangers alike. Orange fur, striped with black and accented by cream, make him stand out all the more- for even amidst his fellow Cathay-Raht, commonly darkly hued, he is unusual. Eyes of an icy blue give his stare a disconcerting level of intensity, let alone the unwavering nature of a feline gaze.

Beyond the natural gift of size, he is well muscled by a life of hard training and effort, with a fair share of scars beneath the veil of his pelt- enough to suggest a life of violence, though not so many as to imply he does not know how to duck. So far as gigantic tiger men go, he may yet be considered handsome, despite the beginnings of grey sneaking through the orange and cream around his chin, brows and whiskers.

Age:
36

Skills:

Skill Tree Wheee

Path of the Warrior:

One Handed - Expert - Swords, Axes, Daggers
Two Handed - Expert - Great Swords
Unarmed - Master - Khajiit Has Hands If You Want Problems
Thrown Weapons - Adept - Javelins, Axes, Daggers

Path of the Thief:

Sneak - Adept - Hides in Bushes. Smacks Things.
Alchemy - Novice - Cannot brew himself, but a Master of identifying other brews
Light Armor - Novice - Prefers to go Unarmored
Speech - Adept - Surprisingly Charming

Path of the Mage:

He Is Orange. Magic Is Hard. Kiffar Does Not Magic.

Personality:
Kiffar is a simple man, of simple drives. While it would be incorrect to call him stupid, he does not make a habit of concerning himself with intellectual matters, believing them best left to others with wiser heads than his own. He believes that there are very few problems that cannot be solved with either violence or flirting, and he vastly prefers the former option when possible. On his own, he is prone to aimless wandering- But with proper direction, he can be a terrible tool of brute force... So long as he remains fed and entertained.

Bio:

History of a Tiger

Kiffar, the Vast
Born a Cathay-Raht, destiny marked Kiffar for war, to be used by his people as an instrument of brutality, in defense of their home, or in pursuit of their goals in other lands. Even amidst his kindred, he grew to be large, powerful limbs lending him speed and strength fit only for violent use. The Cathay-Raht were once described as large and fast enough to do battle with werewolves, and Kiffar is a breathing example of that truth. They named his Kiffar the Vast, and he did battle in their charge.

Kiffar, the Manesguard
So great we're the actions of Kiffar the Vast, in the years of his youth, that honors were extended to his family- To come to the city-state of Torval, to be of the kind of the Mane. Kiffar was to serve as warrior guard, to be bastion and claw to the Mane himself, and he took this duty with pride. For ten years did he protect and serve the leader of his people. For ten years, he bore the palanquin upon his shoulders when his master sought to wander his realm. For ten years, they named him Kiffar the Manesguard.

Kiffar, the Unbound
War came to Elswyrr in the fourth era. War came, for leadership was lost. Assassins came in the night for the Mane, and like ghosts, evaded the watch of his guard. The Mane was slaughtered in his bed, and Kiffar knows only that the deed was done in the wake of his master's refusal to back the Thalmor. He believes, knows in his spine, that it was they who brought blades in the night. But this belief does not rid him of blame, and of guilt. The Manesguard failed in their charge, and were reviled for their failure. The whole of them were removed of their posts, as war began in the sands of Elswyrr, and vanished to wander, shamed. They named him Kiffar the Unbound, and he left his home forever.

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Darius Stone

[center][b]Sagamiyama - Ouga's Shop
Saturday - Midday
Interactions: Mitsuaki @Morgannis - Mikazuki @Letter Bee - Ouga @Sho Minazuki - Et All

Darius was, when he first arrived, a touch distracted- While the others greeted each other and set about their match, he slowed from his jog to catch his breath in a secluded corner. A grimace pulled at his features, body half hunched over with an arm pressed to his middle. The healing he had received, when he first accepted Ouga's offer, had been substantial, had certainly saved his life- but it had not been perfect, and he was reminded of that now. Not so long ago, a short run like the one he took with Mikazuki wouldn't have even phased him, and he might have made it thrice as fast. Now, he was left panting softly, a sharp pain radiating out from the still-scabbed wounds across his abdomen.

This time, at least, they hadn't broken open. It was progress, given how often he had torn his sutures over the past few weeks. It was a few minutes later on that the pain receded, letting him straighten up with a soft groan, collecting himself and smoothing his expression before he stepped back into the open. It wouldn't do, after all, to let these kids see him in pain. They had enough to worry about.

He managed to compose himself enough to catch the latter half of the sparring match, nodding greetings to the others and flashing grins, hoping they might believe he had simply snuck off to the restroom briefly. As Mitsuaki and Mikazuki sparred, he joined the others in cheers and encouragement, grinning broadly all the while. They moved well, and their techniques got sharper every time he saw them, since they had all begun their training with the Shinigami. When Mikazuki was finally knocked flat, he winced sympathetically, though he still whooped and clapped for Mitsuaki's success- and once Ouga had his say, stepped in to give his own congratulations, brushing some dust from Mikazuki's back with a few pats, and offering an approving squeeze to Mitsuaki's shoulder.

"You boys are moving well, better every time. Ouga has the right of it though, there's always room for another step forward. Still, soon enou--"

Whatever else he had intended to say was cut off by the arrival of Shouko. The woman's demeanor never failed to put his back up, a faint grimace tugging at his lips as he straightened, caught just the same as Ouga, effectively talking to ghosts in the street. Somehow, it felt worse when she was right. Still, he turned to follow the others back inside to hear whatever it was that Shouko had to tell them, muttering softly under his breath on the way.

"I've had bleeding Master Sergeants with less ice in their veins..."

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Believe we were heading for the mechanic, to group up with the rest!

Bleach - Resonant Souls

No worries! Post by post it is xD

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Sounds like a plan

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Darius Stone

Sagamiyama
Saturday - Midday
Interactions: Mikazuki- @Letter Bee

In truth, to call Darius' early attempts at learning music was incredibly generous. While it was not quite so terrible as to say he was torturing that poor old guitar, it was certainly the flat, fumbling attempts of somebody entirely new to playing. Which was, of course, better than the outright caterwauling of his first week's attempts. Still, it was no doubt a great relief to the neighbors, and neighborhood cats, when Mikazuki's approach led Darius to set the instrument aside. Gravel crunched under the bicycle's wheels, still fresh laid and loose, and Mister Stone raised a hand in greeting, that always warm smile quick to draw over his features.

The gravel in the drive was not the only fresh addition around the home- before and after the incident, Darius and his Fiance had been hard at work bringing new life to the old home. Fresh paint, new shingles, new plants in the gardens. Bit by bit, the fixer upper was being restored. It was a wonder the soldier still found the time for teaching his classes and training, when the soon-to-be Mrs. wasn't home.

Darius waited for Mikazuki to climb off of his bike before speaking up, removing his laptop from the other rocking chair to make room for the youth on his porch, a clear enough invitation to join him on its own. His Japanese, while understandable, was still heavily accented- though his tone was always warm.

"Nakajima! What brings you over today- are the others all busy, or did you just feel like keeping an old man company?"

There was something almost comical about Darius referring to himself as old. He was the oldest of their little group, true, and technically retired, yet he was still shy of thirty himself... Even if his knees and back did insist on creaking and cracking at every opportunity. He beckoned again for Mikazuki to take a seat, in case moving his laptop hadn't been clear enough, and despite his apparent surprise, seemed quite pleased to have company.

"Did you want something to drink? Aiko left some tea on ice this morning, there should be plenty left."

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Wooph. Four days late, and I blame the holiday week. But there we are- placed Darius down, and opened the door for anybody to interact with him if they'd like to! Poor man's bored senseless. Too young for retirement.

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Retirement, Darius decided, was not at all what it was cracked up to be. Four months, since he had handed in his equipment and been left to run free. Two, since he had brushed hands with death, and come out the reaper. He'd been busy enough at first, filing all the paperwork, getting affairs in order, arranging the wedding. Now, with most of both done and settled, he found himself with an overabundance of free time that had gone from relaxing to mind numbing in short order. There were only so many games he could play, and only so much time he could spend sleeping in, before long standing habit and the simple realities of his personality demanded he make himself busy with something productive... At least, something other than the training that had been quietly undertaken, in that world nestled within their own, where spirits ran free of their bodies.

Exercise was an easy place to start, once the wounds across his midriff had sufficiently healed. It filled his mornings well enough- once his fiance went off to work. Weekends has been easy enough, too, once some encouraging words from his soon-to-be wife had nudged him into starting up a self defense class for the young adults and teens in the area. But, that left his afternoons during the week painfully empty, in the hours before she came home. Much to the polite suffering of his neighbors, he had taken up trying to learn guitar, in those hours, settled on his porch with a beat up old acoustic he'd bought in town across his lap, and instructional videos pulled up on his laptop, set in the vacant of the two rocking chairs.

It was there he could be found, fumbling his way through a lesson and gritting his teeth at every muted note or off key pluck, by the wandering youths as they went about their own lives. Darius had been a pleasant enough presence in their varied group training with the shinigami, always encouraging, if a touch loud. He'd made a point of inviting everybody to his little weekend classes, an effort to encourage comraderie and fitness among their growing group of misfit substitutes, as he put it. So too had he declared his door open to them all, whenever they needed it... Though perhaps there were better things to come across than his awful playing. Surely, he would improve with time.

Surely.

Still, if they did decide to make their presence known, he greeted them with a smile, quick to set the instrument aside- otherwise, it seemed unlikely he would notice them at all, so focused on his pained attempts to learn and fill the time.