Fandom Skyrim: Plague of the Dead CS

[Elysium]

If you are interested in this rp, please pm me your character and get accepted before posting. I like my threads tidy. Cs in cs, ooc in pic, etc.

Appearance: (Real pic, concept, or digitalart face claim only, Anything that's not realistic won't be taken)

Name:
Place of Birth:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Height:
Weight:

Major Skills [YOU MAY ONLY CHOOSE THREE]:
Minor Skills [YOU MAY ONLY CHOOSE THREE]:

Factions (here):
Moral Alignment: (refer here)

Personality Goods: [up to 5]
Personality Bads: [up to 5]

Background: (Character bio & History. Remember this is your lore and history building for your character so however much or little you create will make a difference!)

Writing Sample: [Here is where you prove your writing mettle to the Nine/Eight Divines. Do your best! worst!]

 

[Elysium]

Spoiler: Aesoroth Doucard

(Image credit to LoranDeSore on deviantart)
View attachment 452136

Name: Aesoroth Doucard
Place of Birth: Anvil, Cyrodiil
Age: 278
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer/Vampire
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 158 lbs
Major Skills: Hand-to-Hand, Heavy Armor, Block
Minor Skills: Athletics, Acrobatics, lockpicking
Factions: None
Moral Alignment: Lawful Evil


Personality Goods:
- Unshakable - After decades of revenge on the undead, the daedra, those who consort with them, Aesoroth has seen so much and become completely jaded to violence and death. You cannot scare him. You cannot threaten him.
- Strong Moral Compass - Aesoroth has a twisted code of ethics. He follows these without fail.
- Patient - Aesoroth has stalked foes for months in his quest to destroy the unnatural. Waiting is of no concern to the dead.
- Observant - Tracking intelligent evil requires a skill set based in perception and strategy. Aesoroth is remarkably well versed in the use of all of his senses, even without using the powers of his curse.

Personality Bads:
- Predatory - Vampiric bloodlust. He's reasonably good at controlling it in the earlier stages. But when his hunger gets to deep...
- Insane - ... He loses his mind. He becomes a monster. Raw. Instinctual. Malevolent. His code be damned, he will kill and feed upon anyone. As a wild animal, obviously he does not care about witnesses to his frenzy.
- Merciless - "If sweet old grandma is the vampire I'm hunting, and you get in my way, I will cut you down too."
- "Suicidal" - Not really, but he doesn't care if he dies. He was supposed to die over 200 years ago. He just refuses to die without a fight. Aesoroth's still here.

Background

Aesoroth himself has lost most of the memories of his life, and while he was a somewhat famous dungeon-crawler in Cyrodiil, he went missing a bit over two cemturies ago. His "legend" died there.

But Predator came to life, when he died and lost his innocence in that lonely ruined tower. Known as a monster who hunted the unnatural, Aesoroth spent years in the wilds, honing his skill and hunting Daedra, undead, intelligent evil, and any who get in his way. It was a thirst for revenge, and an ever widening emptiness that has yet to leave him.

Over the last decade, stories of Predator have dwindled, and, instead, Ironfist was born. An unarmed juggernaught, carrying nothing but his plated skin, hunting and destroying all forms of intelligent evil. Some hail him as a hero, he is anything but.

Honestly, he has forgotten the reason for why he fights. He just does.

Writing Sample

Battered eyes fluttered open, as slowly as the dank air of his unseen surroudings moved. His entire body was weak. The deepest hunger he had ever felt rumbled painfully through his guts.

Red eyes opened. Then instantly snapped back shut. The light burned, and his eyes watered instantly. Waves of pain crashed against the inside of his skull.

There were questions.

First, he had to assess his surroundings. His other senses told him some of the story. Damp, old stone under his bare hands and knees. Dank, still air, and deep silence. This was a ruin. Even castle jails had drafts. He was very, very deep underground.

Two, something felt wrong in his mind, and in his soul. But what?

Three, the still air on his entire body told him that he was naked. Why was he naked? He really needed to open his eyes. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes. Letting his eyes adjust before widening his gaze further.

After several minutes, the naked dunmer looked around, albeit still painfully. Everything was too bright.

With painful slowness, He stood up, looking down at himself as he did. This was his, Aesoroth Doucard's, body, but it was not right.

It was too pale. Too... gray. He was pale even among the dark elves but this was not right. This was the pastel gray of a corpse.

And what was this terrible feeling if imminent starvation? It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Aesoroth gazed upon his surroundings once again, and moved towards a puddle. He didn't care if it was clean. He could kill this hunger with some water, albeit temporarily.

Weakness faded as his figure left direct sunlight, and his eyes focused better. But why? What was wrong with him? Aesoroth had a feeling he knew, but he denied it with all of his soul.

But his reflection in the puddle told him that his denial was foolish. A twisted version of his face peered back at him, once crimson eyes burning a hateful orange, glowing with hunger, and hate, and instinct. His once handsome face hollow and gaunt, like some emaciated nightmare version of himself.

Aesoroth staggered back as the memories flooded through him. Vampires in Blackreach, up within Skyrim. They chased him back home.

He stared into the wall, his undead body unable to process the grief properly. His wife and son... His home... His life. They were all gone.

Hate started to fuel him, and the hellish memories receded. The hunger overcame his mind, and he lost it, giving in to the new senses he hadn't quiet come to terms with yet. He followed the scent of blood, until he came to, surrounded by slain and drained merchants and gaurds. Innocents who had taken refuge within an old tower.

If he could feel despair, he would have. This was horrible, but he could not feel a thing. Nothing but hatred and dread.

What was he to do now? He... Aesoroth... was over. There was nothing left.

He was tempted to fall on the guard's sword, but something held him back. Aesoroth would soon find a burn for revenge. A hateful fire that would never let him go.​

 

[Ian Temero]

Marina Drusus
Lion's Bane​

Age
29

Gender
Female

Race
Imperial

Height:
5'7"

Weight:
133 lbs

Alignment:
Chaotic-Good

Sexuality
Bi

Family
Varius Drusus (Father)
Petronia Drusus (Mother)

Homeland
Marina has no country that she would consider her homeland, but has set up shop (literally) in Solitude, Skyrim.

Occupation
Treasure Hunter/Merchant

Major Skills:
- One-Handed
- Stealth
- Acrobatics

Minor Skills:
- Speech
- Lock-picking
- Alteration

Factions:
- Khajiit caravans (Not really a faction, but she's on good terms with them)
- Bards College (Not a member, but is on good terms and uses them as a resource for her hunts)
- College of Winterhold (Mostly associated through her parents, uses them as a resource for her hunts)

Personality
If there was only one word to describe Marina it would confident. Confident in her looks; confident in her skills; and confident in business. She is the kind of women that laughs in the face of danger, even when death is certain. Of course confidence isn't the only thing that defines her. She enjoys cracking dirty jokes and yet is oblivious when it comes to her own romance. She has a deep love of adventure and uncovering the truth behind legends, but at the same time sees no reason not to make a profit while she's at it. In fact she is always looking for a way to profit from any given situation (much to the chagrin of her companion and assistant, Liette Camorun), and she always gets what she wants whether she has to barter for it, steal it, or fight for it. Despite this she is charitable to those worse off than herself and is always willing to help those in need.

In battle Marina prefers to forgo armor (despite what the picture shows), claiming makes it to hard to move, and attacks with duel swords with speed and ferocity, surprising her opponents with her agility. She also wields a little magic but rarely uses it for combat.


Biography
Born but not raised in Cyrodiil, Marina has spent her entire life traveling Tamriel. Her parents, both mages of the College of Winterhold and archaeologists, would often bring her with them into the ruins they were studying. While many would question the decision to bring a young child into trap filled dungeons, no harm ever came to her and it nurtured in her a love for history and adventure. However there was one thing she couldn't agree with her parents on. Money. Her parents were never interested in making a profit on their finds and only made just enough to travel to the next dig-site. Tiered of being poor, Marina struck out on her own when she only fourteen.

It was shaky at first, scrounging through ruins, sneaking into excavation-sites at night, and stealing relics from nobles that couldn't appreciate what they had, but Marina eventually began to turn a profit and even began making a name for herself. She made a bigger name for herself in Elsweyr at the age of nineteen when she slew a giant white werelion that was terrorizing the city of Orcrest. In thanks for her actions, the Clan Mother of the city adopted her into their tribe under the name Zha'ja-do and gave Marina one of her earrings, which she still wears to this day. She was also given the title Siirto Qara Vardariit, which translates to White Cat Killer. She has shortened this to Lion's Bane.

Four years later in Valenwood, Marina met a Bosmer girl who was sick of her mundane life. After a brief adventure together, Marina invited Liette Camorun to join her and the two of them have been traveling together since. Curently Liette has take a break from adventuring to study at the Bards College.


Likes

• Adventure
• Hunting
• History
• Money
• Good company

Dislikes

• Bandits
• Wasting resources
• Dogs
• Racism

Spoiler: Writing Sample

"...Tent... Check. Two sets of winter gear... Check. Silver swords... Check..." Marina Drusus walked around the inn room, checking off items on a piece of parchment. Spread out around the room, sorted into neat piles were swords, daggers, arrows, wool blankets, fire wood, rope, climbing spikes, potions, and scrolls; everything needed for an expedition deep into a mountain ruin. Her armor, which she had traded out for a simple blue silk dress, lay in a corner, along with her dragon bone swords and glass bow. On the double bed rested a map of Skyrim, a circle of red ink drawn on the northern base of High Hrothgar and the word Stórrsannindi written next to it. Sitting on one corner of the map was a wooden mask with words in the dragon tongue carved into it's face.

After accounting for the last bottle of Resist Frost, Marina let out a sigh of relief and tossed the list aside. "And with that we can finally start packing." She said, turning to her companion... who was nowhere to be seen. "What? Liette!...Ugh." The girl was probably chatting with the bard again, so picking up her skirt, Marina quickly made her way downstairs to fetch her friend and protege.

"Liette!" She called out as she stepped out into the tavern area, "I know the prep-work is boring, but we can't leave tomorrow if you don't-" She was interrupted as the inn doors burst open and a bearded man stumbled in.

"Everyone! Come quick! The Jarl's son has returned!" He managed to gasp out. The whole building was quiet for a moment before it exploded into excitement. Cries of "Eric's back" could barley be heard over the noise as patrons knocked over chairs and drinks in their rush to get out the door, and pretty soon Marina found herself in an empty room. She had to admit, the return of Jarl Sternberg's only son certainly sounded more interesting then packing, so she followed the crowd outside.

Outside the entire atmosphere had changed. The energy from inside had vanished and had been replaced with a somber silence as the towns folk stood by the side of the road, watching the dark armored figure plod up the road.

"The heck is going on here?" she asked lightheartedly, "You'd think this was a funeral parade, not a welcome party."

Then the cart came into view and the prayer reached her ear. Marina's hand went to her mouth and she could only say one thing.

"Oh..."

 

[Karcen]

Name: Lolrelv Kanaethv
Place of Birth: morrowind
Age: old
Gender: female
Race: dunmer
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 120 lbs

Major Skills [YOU MAY ONLY CHOOSE THREE]: conjuration, destruction, alteration
Minor Skills [YOU MAY ONLY CHOOSE THREE]: enchanting, smithing, one hand

Factions : house telvani
Moral Alignment: neutral good to chaotic good

Personality Goods: [up to 5]
Powerful
Kownledgable

Personality Bads: [up to 5]
Cryptic
Arogant

Background: