AcceptedName: Shi'Ra
Nickname(s):
Gender: Female
Race: Khajjit
Appearance:
Age: 25
Height: 5ft 9in
Weight: 50kg
Personality: Shi'ra is a confident girl with a dry sense of humor and an almost sensual personable manner. She is intellligent quickly able to work out puzzles and learn new things with a keen intrest in history. However she can overstretch herself, letting her excitement or greed to take over her sense and jump into situations she could handle. An opportunist, she is also difficult to really understand her loyalties or intentions, she is not beyond throwing so called friends under the bus if saves her skin but is also show great loyalty. She may betray someone but doing so only to save them later on. She however does have limits, she despises violence when she can help it and hates those who realy on it rather that guile.
Likes:
Dislikes:
- Banter
- Stealing
- studying History
- Minipulation
- being called a cat
- Racism
- Stuck up
- Fighting
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: Thieves Guild
Armor/Clothing: Blackguard Armor
Weapon(s)(Swords, Staffs, etc.): Stolen Bow, steel arrows, claws
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.): Fury, Fear, Muffle
Race Abilities: Night eye, Claws
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
Top Skills(3):
- Magicka: 2
- Health: 0
- Stamina: 3
Weaknesses:
- Archery
- Hand to Hand combat
- Illusion
- Low armor
- Low raw strength
- Claptomaniac
Backstory: Just a thief in the wrong place at the wrong time or so she says.
Extra:
Everything looks good but i’d like you to give me spells for the trees of magic. Maybe the ones he’d most use.Name: Renaryn Uvalas
Nickname(s): Someone tried to call him 'Nary' once. He put a quick stop to that.
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: Renaryn, standing at average height for a Dunmer, is noble and firm in his bearing. His skin, ashen slate, bears scars of many years of wear and tear. He wears his black hair long, though usually tied in a tail behind his head. His ruby eyes are set into a rough face, upon which a scowl seems to be permanently etched.
Age: 230
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 152 lbs
Personality: At first glance, Renaryn appears to carry the typical disposition of a Telvanni mage. He is proud, thoughtful, yet aggressive. When engaged, however, he usually makes a quick about turn to a friendly, eccentric sort. He's rather straightforward, and falls back on deadpan humor and sarcasm when exasperated. His time in Skyrim has colored his opinion on the Nords, seeing them as willfully ignorant and narrow-minded. He does not handle emotions well and becomes frustrated because of that. Much of this frustration is directed at himself, though despite his efforts, he tends to take it out on others. In most other aspects of life, however, he has remarkable self-control.
Renaryn has managed to keep a good sense of humor. He keeps a dry wit up his sleeve and can keep quite the poker face. He greatly enjoys warm cups of tea, and his passion for the art of tea-making reaches a nigh-obsessive level. He is an intensely loyal friend. It takes a great deal to lose his trust once it's given.
Likes:
- Tea
- Magical theory
- Sketching
- Tea
- Reading/Writing
- Poetry
- History
- Cooking
- Motherfucking Tea
Dislikes:
- Ash yams
- Children
- Snow
- Being touched
- Celery
- Politicians
- Nords
- Cold tea
Affiliations/Faction/Guild:
- (Formerly) House Telvanni
Apparel: When Renaryn isn't wearing his mage robes, which were once well-tailored, complete with trimming in the traditional Dunmer fashion, he'll be wearing more comfortable clothes like tunics, trousers, and puffy shirts. He fastidiously tries to maintain them to prolong their usefulness.
Weapons:
- A boot knife, though its primary function is for cutting fruits and vegetables instead of throats
Spells:
- Restoration (Expert)
- Destruction (Adept)
- Conjuration (Adept)
- Alteration (Apprentice)
- Illusion (Apprentice)
Race Abilities:
- Resist Fire: Centuries among the ash pits and lava flows of Morrowind have given the Dunmer a tolerance for fire and heat.
- Ancestor Spirit: Draws upon the caster's heritage to summon a visage of their ancestor.
Attributes:
Major Skills:
- Magicka: 3
- Health: 1
- Stamina: 1
- Destruction
- Restoration
- Alchemy
Weaknesses:
- Physically weak
- Stubborn
- Emotionally volatile
Backstory: Renaryn Uvalas was born a low-class underling in a village less than a day's journey from Sadrith Mora; he was the youngest of five children. Without the means to support him, his family gave him up to Telvanni magisters while he was still in his swaddling clothes. As a student, Renaryn excelled in his studies with an affinity for Restoration and Destruction magic. At sixteen, he was discovered and taken in by a Magister by the name of Lymdrenn Tenvanni, who had taken notice of Renaryn's magical talent. He was given a room of his own, was allowed to eat with Master Lymdrenn and his family, and was taught to speak with the inflection of the nobility. He had access to fine Colovian wines, hot baths when he wished for them, and most importantly, education in the arcane arts. Though he was initially looked down upon by his privileged, higher-born "betters", Renaryn nonetheless climbed House Telvanni's vicious hierarchical structure from the bottom, rung by grueling rung. There was a time when he never dreamed of looking beyond the confines of his ivory tower and at the concerns of other people. Not until the Red Year.
When Red Mountain erupted, roughly fifteen years after joining Lymdrenn's household, he and his Master sought to flee north to the island of Solstheim. However, the ship they meant to sail on (known then as the Pride of Tel Vos) did not have enough room for Tenvanni's entire retinue. Renaryn volunteered to stay behind, much to Lymdrenn's sadness. For many weeks, he traveled across what remained of Vvardenfell, stopping only to eat and sleep, until he arrived at a small port. By then he had nothing except the robes on his back. He had no coin and had to sneak into the hold of an outbound ship, hiding with the rats throughout his journey from Morrowind. He had no idea where the ship was going until it reached Windhelm.
Over the course of decades, Renaryn stayed constantly on the move, never staying in one place for too long. He took up work as an apothecary to earn coin for food to eat and a roof to sleep under. Of course, the Nords would give him trouble occasionally, though he usually manged to elude or thrash them. It wasn't until many, many years later that the Akaviri came to Tamriel in full fury. Despite travelling far west to try and avoid their reach, the Tsaesci eventually caught up. It was near the city of Markarth that Renaryn fell foul to a raiding party, his ankle broken and a tendon slashed through.
Extra:
AcceptedName: Maroluna "Moonface" Shalnact
Nickname(s): Luna
Gender: Female
Race: Khajiit
Appearance:
Maroluna is a bit on the small side. She stands at about 5'5 when she's standing straight up. Not to mention that she doesn't exactly have too much in the way of fat or muscle, so she is pretty well dwarfed by most other Khajiit her age. In fact most people mistake her for a child, which she really hates, but often uses it to her advantage. Being tiny helps you squeeze through cracks and holes.
Stature aside, her fur is a very dark brown, helping her blend into the night. She does however have a strange patch of creamy white fur that takes up a good portion of the left of her face. The Khajiit caravans often likened it to the glowing moon in the night sky. She otherwise looks just like the average Skyrim Khajiit. Her eyes are a yellow-green color. She has several gold ring earrings in her right ear and the hair she has growing is kept short and loose.
She is typically seen in her brown leather armor and thieves hood, with an amulet to Nocturnal- the patron deity of Thieves and Lady Luck- hung around her neck.
Age: 25
Height: 5"5
Weight: 119 lbs
Personality:
Maroluna is typically a goofball, reportedly taking nothing seriously, especially when it comes to jobs, but she always gets the job done. Whether its quietly or if she gets chased to the wall of Whiterun only to have her jump off the wall Assassins Creed style, that's up to her.
I'll tell you when she does get serious- Payment. You better pay her, otherwise it'll be hell to pay. You trick her, you refuse to pay her after a job, something will be lost. Your coin purse, any valuables in your pockets, a couple fingers- Do not doubt it for a second. She will collect her payment.
Likes:
- Buy this cat dinner and she will love you forever
- Collecting alchemy ingredients is oddly calming for her.
- Music is a secret talent of hers. If she hadn't joined the Thieves Guild, she'd probably be training to be a bard in Solitude.
- Cat puns, all the cat puns.
Dislikes:
- Nords. Goddamn NORDS.
- STORMCLOAKS? DO THEY EXIST STILL? They can all go jump ofF HIGH HROTHGAR
- Authority in general. Don't tell her what she can't do, then she'll just want to do it more.
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: None. She's freelance.
Armor/Clothing: Leather thieves armor. It's light and easy to move in.
Weapon: No weapons. Just claws. She does like to dip her claws into her specialty poisons just to add some extra punch.
Spells: HA! No.
Race Abilities: Night Eyes and claws
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
Top Skills(3): Sneak, Alchemy, Pickpocketing
- Magicka: 0
- Health: 2
- Stamina: 3
Weaknesses:
- Sarcastic
- Kleptomaniac
- Actually kind of terrible at picking locks.
Her first memory is the cold.
She's not sure how she ended up tossed in the street, but there she was. Nothing but a scrap of fur wearing a burlap sack, wandering the streets of Windhelm. Begging for food from people who either didn't care to give her food or couldn't afford to give her any, for they too were starving.
Her luck changed on one fateful night. She had just plopped to the cold street in exhaustion, and as the Stormcloaks and other Nords of the city kicked snow in her face as they passed, and the snow falling from the sky formed a thick blanket of white over her, she distinctly remembers thinking to herself, "at least I will die beautifully, made beautiful by the snow." It was then she picked up the sound of footsteps, and before she knew it, someone had brushed the snow off of her, scooped her up into their arms, and walked away wih her.
She was picked up by a Dunmer woman named Brindyll. This young mer had just lost her newborn child to death, and had been grieving for days. She been considering, in the crushing indifference of the Nords around her, that she should end it all when she stumbled across the bundle of fur under a pile of snow in the Gray Quarter. She couldn't ignore the scrap, and chose to see it as a sign from Azura that she should not give up. It took some convincing, but she did eventually get her husband on board with raising this child. So there she was. A Khajiit being raised by Dunmer.
Did this couple of Dark Elves know anything about raising a Khajiiti kit? Oh hell no. They barely knew what to name her much less how to raise her. But they got some advice from the Khajiit caravans outside the city, and they tried their very best to do a good job. They gave her a big stick to chew on when she started teething, thick leather work gloves when her claws started to grow in. And above all, Brindyll taught her new cat daughter alchemy. Maroluna took exceptional interest in smelling all the ingredients that her adoptive mother used in her potion making.
But it was well into her teen years when she discovered her true favorite pass time- Thievery. She loved the thrill that came with 'relieving' someone of heir valuables. Picking locks, diving into pockets to swipe some gold or a ring, anything. She loved it. But it was this that got her in trouble. She was returning from a particularly heist when she discovered her family home had been set ablaze by, who else- a bunch of drunk Nords. They were screaming slurs at the blazing residence and Luna couldn't back the scream of pain as she realized the only family she'd ever known was probably in there burning alive right now. But this scream only attracted the attention of the drinkers Nord men. They began to throw insults at her, reaching out to grab her and throw her into the fire too. So she did the only thing she thought would be right. She dropped her bag of stolen goods and ran. Out of Windhelm, past the Khajiit caravans and off into the blizzard that often surrounded Windhelm. She mourned for days, her hatred for Nords and the Stormcloaks growing in her heart like a rot. She spent the next week grieving staying in an empty cave that been previously cleared of trolls (or bears she wasn't sure). She spent her time trying to distract herself by playing around with the many mushrooms in the cave, and ended up creating one pretty deadly poison by the time she was done grieving. Once done, she started her career in professional thievery. Stealing whatever people wanted to steal(and taking a little more for herself) and getting paid. Over time she earned a name for herself, even managed to craft a professional name- Her thief title, Moonface. She accrued enough to buy a bedroll for herself, to at least sleep more comfortably in the cave she now called home.
Extra:
Accepted!Name: Kaliran Mashuri
Nickname(s): Kali
Gender: Male
Race: Ka Po’ Tun
Appearance:
Kaliran’s physique is considerably impressive, capable of towering even the considerably tall Altmer and the muscular Orcs. His musclebound body is due to a combination of good genes, high protein diet, and rigorous training and exercise. Kaliran sports the same orange and black striped fur his Ka Po’Tun brethren all sport, though his tend to be more wild and unruly. Kaliran also sports a long beard which he braids with golden ringlets. Let it not be said that he at least cares for his beard.
Age: 26
Height: 6’7”
Weight: 260lbs
Personality: Kaliran doesn’t really beat around the bush, he beats that bush to the ground and obliterates it. He’s straightforward and brutally honest and hates flattery, bullshittery, and tiptoeing around the topic at hand. If he thinks you did good, he’ll say it. If he thinks you are the lowest of the low, he’ll freaking say it. He doesn’t give a crap about what you may feel or how it may affect morale or something, he believes that if you are strong you won’t let things like words hurt you. He looks down upon using underhanded methods but he will not deny its effectiveness, he just doesn’t want to be the one to do it. He would rather face an entire army head on that poison their supplies, though he wouldn’t say no if someone elseoffers to do it.
Likes: Training, Armor, Exercise, Dragons, Ale, Polearm
Dislikes: Music, Dancing, Art, Goats, Children, Spiders, Tsaesci, Dragon God
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: True Dragons - A rebel faction within the Tiger-Dragon Empire bent on the dowfall of the Tiger-Dragon Tosh Raka. They view Tosh Raka’s cooperation with their mortal foes the Tsaesci to be blasphemous and goes against everything they believe in. This faction values strength the most and seeks to become dragons themselves.
Armor/Clothing:
- Banded Iron Armor - Kaliran looted this armor off the corpse of an orc bandit chief. The armor is a little tight on him, and using his blacksmithing knowledge, adjusted the armor to fit himself.
- Dragon Beads - A necklace consisting of 24 beads. It provides no additional benefit but it is an heirloom handed down in Kaliran’s family.
Weapon(s)(Swords, Staffs, etc.):
- Gauntlets of Strength - A pair of enchanted gauntlets that enhances the wearer’s strength. The gauntlet is made from a material not native to Tamriel.
- Naginata - Kaliran’s weapon of choice, a naginata is a form of polearm with a wide blade on the end rather than an axe or a spear. Kaliran’s weapon is enchanted to deal an additional fire damage that burns those it hits.
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.): None
Race Abilities:
- Primal Roar - Kaliran unleashes a deafening roar, staggering his opponents and restores a portion of his stamina.
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
- Strength of the Tiger-Dragon - Bonus proficiency when wielding Heavy Armor and Two-Handed Weapons.
- Magicka: 0
- Health: 3
- Stamina: 2
Top Skills(3):
- Two-Handed
- Heavy Armor
Weaknesses: Kaliran is hot headed and impulsive and prefers to use brawn over brains. Kaliran believes that there is no problem that can’t be handled by strength, and while he won’t say no to magical assitance or underhanded method, he still believes that bashing whatever it is in the face will be the fastest way to solve any problem. As he is an Akavir native, Kaliran knows jackshit about Tamriel, not that he’d ever admit it.
- Blacksmithing
Backstory: (Will Add Later)
Extra:
Who you mind expanding on her personality a little more? Also, give me her most used magic from those schools of magic. Does she not have armor any type of armor? Clothes maybe? If you need help coming up with racial abilities, you can ask meName: Sidri-Ashak
Nickname(s):
Gender: female
Race:. Tsaesci
Appearance:
Age: 34
Height: 6 foot
Weight: 250 lbs
Personality: sirdri is a cryptic person choosing often to veil het meaning in prose and stories that are true and false and often cocflict with one another. She is skilled at getting the right people to the right place at the right time. When she is straight forward she either sees it as a nessasity, she is telling a lie, or she is looking down on the target. She enjoys making others wonder st her or well being a mystery.
Likes:
Magic
Dragons
Daedra
History
Prophecy
Dislikes:
Alduin
Fools
Tsaesci
Daedra
Dragon breaks
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: none truly
Armor/Clothing(This doesn’t have to be the normal elder Scrolls attire):
Weapon(s)(Swords, Staffs, etc.): Staff
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.):
Alteration (master)
Illusuion (expert)
Destruction (apprentice)
Restoration (novice)
Race Abilities:
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
Top Skills(3):
- Magicka: 2
- Health: 2
- Stamina: 1
Alteration
Illusion
Speech
Weaknesses:
Not a good fighter
Requires others to act for her
Weak to temporal influence
Backstory: (Optional)
Extra:
Her true identity is that of an aedric being a jill of akatosh tasked with sealing dragon breaks during one in the past she became stranded and needs an unconventional way back she has been trying and failing to execute.
Could you give me the new spells with limits and their abilities in a PM?Name: Sidri-Ashak
Nickname(s):
Gender: female
Race:. Tsaesci
Appearance:
Age: 34
Height: 6 foot
Weight: 250 lbs
Personality: sirdri is a cryptic person choosing often to veil het meaning in prose and stories that are true and false and often cocflict with one another. She is skilled at getting the right people to the right place at the right time. When she is straight forward she either sees it as a nessasity, she is telling a lie, or she is looking down on the target. She enjoys making others wonder st her or well being a mystery. She enjoys going off on esoteric tangents and has an odd appersation for the dwemer and to just about anyone surprise Lorkhan.
Likes:
Magic
Dragons
Daedra
History
Prophecy
Dwemer
Dislikes:
Alduin
Fools
Tsaesci
Daedra
Dragon breaks
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: none truly
Armor/Clothing(This doesn’t have to be the normal elder Scrolls attire):
she actually enjoys wearing many different clothes, often switching what she is wearing when she shifts to another form she prefers robes and light armor at least.
Weapon(s)(Swords, Staffs, etc.): Staff
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.):
Alteration (master) medusas' stare, dragonhide, transmute ingot, open lock
Illusuion (expert) waking nightmare, glamour, bend will, silver tounge
Destruction (apprentice) fire bolt, fire rune, sparks
Restoration (apprentice) black swarm ray of light healing
Race Abilities:
Shape shifting: Once a day Sidri can assume the shape of another race this will remain constant until her next shift.
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
Top Skills(3):
- Magicka: 2
- Health: 2
- Stamina: 1
Alteration
Illusion
Speech
Weaknesses:
Not a good fighter
Requires others to act for her
Weak to temporal influence
Backstory: (Optional)
Extra:
Her true identity is that of an aedric being a jill of akatosh tasked with sealing dragon breaks during one in the past she became stranded and needs an unconventional way back she has been trying and failing to execute.
AcceptedName: Ysavene Wild-Fang
Nickname(s): savy
Gender: Female
Race: Elf/ Vampire
Appearance:
Age: 20
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 134
Personality: Savy had a gentle and fun upbringing with her family and clan in the woods of Valenwood, however when she was recently changed into a vampire her life was changed for the worst. She is now more closed off to people as a close friend was the one who changed her into a vampire despite being a vampire Savy tries not to feed on people and because of this she acts more cranky and generally less approachable but when she feeds on people her hunger disappears allowing her a calmer nicer demeanor. Savy was a pacifist only hurting animals to hunt for food but now she needs to hurt other people in order to feed every once in a while.
Likes:
- The Forest
- Elves
- Wolves
- Climbing
- Caves
- Moonlight
- Blood
Dislikes:
- Sunlight
- Other Vampires
- Not Feeding
- Feeding
- Big Crowds
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: Dalish Elven Tribe of Valenwood
Armor/Clothing(This doesn’t have to be the normal elder Scrolls attire):
Very Basic Elven Leather Light Armor
Weapon(s)(Swords, Staffs, etc.): None, Savy is more of a pacifist which is a problem as she is now a vampire.
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.):
- (Novice) Clairvoyance: Shows path to current locations.
- (Novice) Courage: When Cast on allies they gain bonus health and stamina for as long as the spell is active.
- (Novice) Fury: Person hit by spell will attack anything nearby for a limited amount of time.
Race Abilities:
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
- Nightstalkers Footsteps: Vampires are harder to detect while sneaking at night
- Champion of the Night: Illusion spells cast by a vampire are stronger.
Top Skills(3):
- Magicka: 3
- Health: 1
- Stamina: 1
Weaknesses:
- Illusion
- Sneak
- Archery
Backstory: Savy was raised in the woods near her homeland of Valenwood she was most comfortable in the trees leaping from one limb to the next hunting with her trusty family bow made of oak wood. Most days she would spend above the forest floor hunting her days away with her best friend, little to Savy's knowledge her friend was a vampire and one day she woke tied up in a cave she didn't know it at the time but she was infected with Sanguinare Vampiris her friend against her will turned her into a vampire so they could be friends forever. When Savy was free from the bonds and a new vampire she went into a rage killing her friend who betrayed her Savy went home crying with tears running down her cheeks she was betrayed and now was fated to outlive everyone she held dear. She stayed home for a couple days until the hunger grew to be too much and she found herself almost draining her fellow elves when she came to her senses Savy decided to run from her homeland and travel to Skyrim she didn't want to drink peoples blood but if she needed to Savy would prefer it be strangers than her own kin. When she got to Skyrim it was not long until she was captured south of Markarth and taken prisoner.
- Fire
- Sunlight
- Heavy weapons
- Not feeding enough
Extra: B BlueClover
AcceptedName: Varion Marcel Donatien Valmont
Nickname(s):
Gender: Male
Race: Breton
Appearance:
Age: 24
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 142 lbs
Personality: It's rather hard to pin down a man like Varion, and equally hard to tell where the facade ends and the man begins. A life of playing at Daggerfall's court politics and many smaller games beside has made him a master of pretense. He can be a smiling minstrel, a shrewd negotiator, a jovial profligate, a dimwitted twit, a haughty lordling, a kind benefactor, whichever will bring him advantage. Which of these personas is real? What is left when all the disguises are stripped? Varion himself is not quite sure anymore. He is a cutthroat political player, willing to go to great lengths to get what he wants, to a point. He'd like to think he has some scruples, though he's not entirely sure whether or not he'd venture to break them. He has a talent for observation with a keen ear for gossip that might prove valuable for the right person.
Despite being an excellent spy and an impressive musician, Varion rarely opens up about his own life and keeps his true emotions well-guarded. He'd learned from a young age to keep the depths of his feelings hidden so they could not be used against him or the ones he loves. As a result, he can sometimes come across as dismissive or aloof when discussing matters of a personal nature.
Likes:
- Music
- Scheming
- Storytelling
- Wine
- Cheese
- Cake
- Cheesecake
- Sweets in general
- Cleverness
Dislikes:
- Stupidity
- Mushrooms
- Elitists
- Romance novels
- Mornings
- Bigots
- Spigots
- Spiders
Affiliations/Factions: lol
Apparel: Like the times, Varion's fashion tendencies are ever changing. He wears muted colors when trying to blend in -- the greys and browns common around the smallfolk -- and vibrant colors when he wishes to be noticed, including velvets and silks in various shades of red, purple, green and blue. Rarely can he be found wearing the same outfit more than once in the span of months. For adventures, he has a set of dark leather armor, high boots lined with fur, and a reliable pair of gloves.
Weapons:
- A sabre forged from fine steel, as much a symbol of his social standing as it is a tool of war.
- Obnoxiousness
Spells:
- Charm
- Calm
- Rally
- Frenzy
- Blind
- Sound
- Silence
- Chameleon
Race Abilities:
- Dragon Skin
- Resist Magicka
- Fortify Magicka
Attributes:
Top Skills:
- Magicka: 2
- Health: 1
- Stamina: 2
- Speechcraft
- One-handed
- Illusion
Weaknesses:
- Underhanded
- Distant
- Cocky
- Distrustful
- Fickle
Backstory:The House of Valmont has an interesting history as far as Breton noble familes go. Considered by some to be a cadet branch of the much older (and arguably more prestigious) House of Rouselle , the Valmonts were established at the turn of the Fourth Era by Sebastian Rouselle, the seventh son of Duke Rouselle's fifth son. Instead of following the tradition of joining a knightly order or a mage's guild like many other lower-ranking nobles, Sebastian set out as an intrepid adventurer, plundering ruins and breaking hearts from Sentinel to Lilmoth to Solstheim. After seven years, the man was resplendent in treasure, with carts filled with all manners of artifacts, jewels and riches, and he returned to Daggerfall with the intent of purchasing over 2,000 acres of land some eighty miles north of the city. A town was set up, then a castle built, and soon enough the settlement with its sprawling plantations became known as Valmont. With newfound wealth and elevation in status, Sebastian petitioned the King of Daggerfall to grant him the title of Baron, officially establishing them as a new noble family. Sebastian would live to a venerable age, and died filthy rich.
Varion was born into his family's eighth generation, the third of Baron Gauvain Valmont's four children. His brother Severin and sister Julienne were fraternal twins, nearly six years his senior, and his brother Corin was just two years younger. Their mother Roxanne was a workaholic in nearly every respect, busying herself with managing her husband's estate while letting legions of nannies and tutors to raise her children in her stead. Gauvain wasn't much better. He was a lecherous fop who gambled away a fair amount of his plantation's profits, and had little concern for doing anything other than keeping his head up his arsehole. Needless to say, there wasn't much parental warmth to go around in the Chateau Valmont.
(Myeh, I'll finish this later)
Extra:
Accepted
Everything looks good, except I’d change Acrobatics to something like Sneak and remove climbing all together as I feel like that falls under the same umbrella. If you want another skill, I’d Suggest Light Armor as that can help your speed.
Name: Abigail
Nickname(s): Abi, Runt, Kid
Gender: Female
Race: Imperial
Appearance: Almost a decade of malnourishment has severely affected the growth of this woman. She stands at barely 5’2”, with spindly limbs and a very prominent, bony figure that she’s obviously attempting to fill out. Her skin is a pallid shade of white, marred by a scattering of scars. She hasn’t got all of her teeth, leaving her with a gap-toothed smile. Her hair is a dusty blonde, long and fine; she clearly takes great care in her appearance, often taking the time to braid or tie back her hair. She has an upturned nose and sharp blue eyes. Her eyebrows are barely visible. She has no piercings and no tattoos.
Age: 20
Height: 5ft 2inches
Weight: 95lbs
Personality: To even call Abigail a trickster would be an overstatement. Far from the realm of heroism, this girl has a tendency to speak quickly and gush lies for her own sake, because talking out of situations is the closest semblance of conflict Abigail is willing to get into. She’s a pessimist and her loyalty lies only with those she likes, and those she thinks are going to win.
However, she’s twice as good at listening. She’s quick and adaptable to her surroundings. She figures out what to say and how to say it on the spot, unflinching even when she knows she’s up against some terrifyingly high stakes. She’s a jumpy, restless sort who either moves quickly or doesn’t move at all. She's deceptive and cunning because she has to be in order to live.
When she isn't in trouble she can be a fairly likeable character, with an easygoing nature, a crude sense of humour and an impulsive urge to make sure those around her are entertained in some way. She can also be quite kind against her nature; she usually hates seeing people suffer more than she hates the person suffering, and as a result she helps out.
Likes:
Eating
Entertainment, from bards to full-blown festivities
Large cities
Birds
Learning new things
Dislikes:
The elements - extremes of heat and cold affect her immune system
Optimists, especially the naive ones that put others at risk
The ignorant
Blood, gore and anything grisly
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: None
Armor/Clothing: Usually civilian clothing. A tunic of some description, coarse brown leggings, knee-high boots. Her ‘combat armour’ consists of nothing more than a leather chest-piece, cloth-bound bracers, knee pads, elbow pads and shin pads.
Weapon(s)(Swords, Staffs, etc.): Simple wooden shortbow, quiver of arrows, shortsword, dagger
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.): Hedge-Magic: Parlour tricks at best. The ability to conjure up small illusions (No bigger than one’s hand - Conjure Familiar) and produce a candle-flame to light fires. (Candlelight)
Race Abilities:
Voice of the Emperor - unknowingly using her latent magical abilities, Abigail can calm up to 4 humanoid creatures in close range just by talking to them. The effect lasts 60 seconds.
Scrounger (passive) - able to find a little more gold coins than the others.
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
Top Skills(3):
- Magicka: 1
- Health: 1
- Stamina: 3
Acrobatics
Speechcraft
Climbing
Abigail’s skills focus primarily on two questions: “How easily can I talk my way out of this?” and “Which way would be the fastest way out of here?”. She is by no means a fighter yet she’s learning, her favourite combat style being close-quarters and a lot of ducking and diving to disorientate her larger, more practised foes. She’s capable of sprinting, climbing, balancing, dodging and leaping in ways most thieves or rangers can only hope to achieve - but she’s a glass cannon.
Weaknesses:
Frail
Cowardly
Easily manipulated
As stated earlier, Abigail’s strengths are impressive but her weaknesses are devastatingly effective. The most dangerous weakness is her fragility - one well-aimed hit can put her out of the fight, one particularly harsh cold snap can lead to a fever. She can’t travel too far without getting fatigued. Because she is so aware of her dependency on others, her loyalty is easily swayed; if she had a choice, Abigail wouldn’t be fighting at all, let alone becoming a rebel escapee. This indecisiveness coupled with her physical weakness makes for a malleable mind, susceptible to illusions and mind control.
Backstory: Once an urchin brought back from the brink by a begrudgingly charitable mercenary, Abigail has spent the past 6 years training as an apprentice huntress. She’s pitiful compared to her peers but knows how to work her strengths, is eager to learn and owes her life to her mentor. During an attempt to flee Skyrim the duo were caught and sent to Markarth. Abigail was the first to fall; enchanted but not bitten by the snake-men that rule the city, she works mindlessly in the forges, incapable of breaking the spell on her own.
Extra: Cannot swim.
I’m going to guess marksmanship is archery
;-; Didn't you play Oblivion?Everything looks good, except I’d change Acrobatics to something like Sneak and remove climbing all together as I feel like that falls under the same umbrella. If you want another skill, I’d Suggest Light Armor as that can help your speed.
Other than that, accepted
I’m going to guess marksmanship is archery
Other than that, accepted
No I have not, sorry I’m basing everything off lore and my skyrim knowledge >.<
Chanticleer
's friend here. Sorry it took me so long, but i've finally had free time to finish up the CS. Give it a whirl and let me know if you need anything altered. =)
AcceptedHeya,
Name: Brok
Nickname(s): Rocky
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Appearance: A hulking mass of muscle and battle scars, Brok's appearance can be deceiving. His skin is dense and a dull greenish hue which darkens into a muddy river-clay brown at the fingers and toes. He has thick wiry black hair and an offset nose. His eyes are dark and narrow, his palms are calloused and he's missing a couple of toes. His face is lined with age.
The marking on his right bicep have been tattooed into his skin, but they are faded and pierced by a series of greyish scars littering his body. The most prominent one is a rippled gash across his chest, from his right shoulder all the way down to the left side of his waist. It looks badly healed, a wide bubbling stream of tissue of a would-be deadly wound from long ago.
Age: 47
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 200lbs
Personality: Brok is best described as a civilised berserker. For the most part he is a quiet man, reserved from the rest of the group in a way that implies self-sufficiency instead of timidness. He has a thoughtful demeanor and tends to plan out his moves before he acts. Unfortunately, this reflectiveness is marred by his incredibly short temper and sense of superiority. Say the wrong word or try to put yourself above him in any way and Brok will quickly fly into a rage. He has a strict sense of morals and a long list of expectations, passed down to him from his old tribe. Those who disregard his rules and his culture are also susceptible to his wrath. It should be noted that Brok does have a sense of self control and has recently learned how to curb his temper for the benefit of others, but it's a hit and miss situation.
Brok is also a fairly guarded individual. His immediate response to a situation is suspicion and he's stubborn enough to stick to his intuition until some very solid proof is revealed to him. This makes him difficult to persuade but equally as difficult to trust. Earning his respect, however, is a particular effective way to avoid injury during his outbursts.
Likes: Hunting, reading, horse-riding, meditation
Dislikes: Submitting, not being in control of a situation, slavery
Affiliations/Faction/Guild: Exiled tribesmen
Armor/Clothing: Brok wears fairly sensible clothes. First, a tunic and some cloth trousers. Then some leather braces, topped off with a metal breastplate. In combat he goes for a full set of orcish steel armour, lined with the shrivelled trophies of previous heroic feats. They're pretty standard affair; obviously bearing an orcish touch but no distinguishable markings from any tribe or family.
Weapons: Two-handed Axe.
Spells(Anything that runs on magica.): N/A
Race Abilities: Beserker Rage, Craftsman, Brawny
Magica/Health/Stamina(5 Points; up to 3 for each)
Top Skills(3): Heavy Armor, Two-handed, Blacksmithing
- Magicka: 0
- Health: 3
- Stamina: 2
Weaknesses: Stealth, magic, speechcraft
Backstory: (Optional)
Extra:
