HK-47
Waker
Don't suffer from the ID-10-T Error! Report people suffering from ID-10T immedietly to your police!
Posts: 101
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Post by HK-47 on Jul 15, 2008 4:20:53 GMT
Please post your character sheets for the War of Lezraal Roleplay here and wait for the pending approval!
Name: Nickname (if applicable): Gender: Age: Race: Profession: Patron god: (if the character is a Champion)
Skills: (Is not limited to ones seen in-game. Other skills appropriate for the profession and time are allowed)
Physical Description: Height: Weight: Hair Color: Eye Color: Skin/Scale/Fur color:
Armor: Weapon(s): Clothing: Miscellaneous:
Personality:
Brief Bio: (required, but does not have to be too large)
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HK-47
Waker
Don't suffer from the ID-10-T Error! Report people suffering from ID-10T immedietly to your police!
Posts: 101
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Post by HK-47 on Jul 15, 2008 4:21:14 GMT
Name: Aril Larov Nickname: Ari or Aril Gender: F Age: 73 Race: Altmer Profession: Knight of the Nine Patron god: Akatosh Skills: Polearms, Medium Armor, Restoration, Athletics, Acrobatics Physical Description: ImageHeight: 5'8" Weight: Wouldn't you like to know? Hair Color: Auburn Eye Color: Brown Skin/Scale/Fur color: A very light bronze, like many Altmer Armor: Armor of Akatosh, a medium weight set of Aedric armor. Weapon(s): Glaive, Steel Daggar Clothing: For clothing, Aril often wears modest brown robes, fitting her duties as a priestess of Akatosh and allowing her freedom of motion as a holy warrior Personality: Aril is respectful and kind -- or so she would prefer that people believe. In actuality, she is impatient and quirky, and tries to hide it behind a serene mask (failing, for the most part). She has unshakable faith in the Nine Divines, and has devoted her life to Akatosh, leaving little room for anything else. Brief Bio: Born and raised in the Imperial City, Aril Larov was born to priests who served in the Temple of the One. She lived much of her life within the Temple, learning basic magick and how to live a life according to the Commandments of the Divines. On the side, she trained in the arts of combat at the behest of Uriel Septim, though her parents did not understand why. Few did understand, until Lezraal was released and the repercussions spread all over Tamriel. Almost immedietly after the Dragon Break, Akatosh's avatar appeared to Aril and informed her of his choice as Champion, and that he had bade Uriel Septim to see to her training in advance, knowing that the day would come when Lezraal would break free.
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Post by Vrek on Jul 15, 2008 7:02:03 GMT
Name:Khar gro-Erahg Nickname (if applicable): Khar Gender: Male Age: 33 Race: Orsimer Profession: Warrior Patron god: Malacath
Skills: Long Blade, Short Blade, Hand to Hand, Unarmored, Block, Athletics.
Physical Description: Khar is indeed a fearsome example of his species, standing taller then many Altmer, with wide shoulders and strong chest. Corded muscle bulge all over his body. His face bears strong wild tusks and teeth shooting from his lower lip. His head is bald and eyes are grey. When angered he seems like any berserking Orc, though has a feel of cunning to him when calm. Height: 6'4" Weight: 223 lbs Hair Color: None Eye Color: Grey. Skin/Scale/Fur color: Dark Green
Armor: Two Orcish Steel bucklers, one on each wrist. Weapon(s): A large, saber-like claymore, forged from Orcish Steel. Two smaller likenesses of the larger blade hang from Khar's hips. Clothing: Mostly void of clothing, Khar wears only dark cloth pants, and over it he wears a loincloth-like likeness to Malacath's preferred clothing. Miscellaneous: -Born on the 8th of Frostfall, Malacath's Summoning Day. -His feet are scarred due to a lifetime of walking barefoot, though this makes his feet more resistant to certain things, and thus is able to due small things, such as walking across hot coals.
Personality: Khar is proud, authoritative, and strongwilled. While he is a reckless warrior, he is very cunning and skilled, and easily adapts to changing circumstances. Khar dislikes when things don't go his way. He generally talks down to people whom haven't proven to be his equal, and commonly brushes aside their opinions.
Brief Bio: Born on Malacath's Summoning Day, in the Wrothgarian Mountains, Khar seemed destined for greatness. He grew up near a shrine to Malacath, train tirelessly from infancy to be a disciple to Malacath in the best way Orcs know how: as a warrior. Years were spent with naught done but training, practicing and learning. He chose for himself what he would do for coming of age: Barely a man he single handedly defeated a Necromancer and his host of undead protectors. When Lezraal was released his skill and devotion made him an obvious choice as Champion for Malacath.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 15, 2008 17:43:26 GMT
*Wipes* Dangit, there went my mad character. Recreating.
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Post by Vicorva on Jul 15, 2008 18:03:24 GMT
OOC: I'd like to join. Here's Ren. Name: Renoit Aurelle Nickname: Ren Race: Breton Gender: Female Age: 19 Birthsigns: The Lover Patron God: Mara Focus: Stealth and Social Skills(In Game): Sneak, Acrobatics, Athletics, Speechcraft, Blade, Security Skills(NonGame): Sleight-of-Hand, Acting, Singing Class: Bard Class Description: Renoit is skilled at being a bard: she sings well, has a good sense of humour, tells very exciting and innovative stories and can juggle like nobody’s business. However, she isn’t really good at much else- she nearly drops her blade when fighting, even though she’s been trained, she isn’t exactly graceful, although she has her moments, and nobody would consider her strong or magical to any noticeable degree. Even she is unsure how she survived this long. General Appearance: She's petite, very small-boned and slender-limbed. To most, she appears fragile, until one notices her wiry agility and incredible resilience. Her skin is very pale. Her dark brown hair is pinned back into a long plait down her back. Her large eyes are light purple with an elvish tilt, rimmed by darkly by long eyelashes. Her nose is small and straight, and her smile is even and friendly. A spattering of freckles crosses her nose and cheekbones. There is something beautiful about Ren that tends to strike people late, a subtle beauty, unusual and unique but hard to notice at first glance, and sometimes at all. Hair: Thick brown, worn back in a plait. Eyes: Light Purple Height: 5ft0” Build: Petite, Agile Skin: Pale Tattoos/Scars: None Personality: Sharply intelligent, willfull and very self-sufficient, Ren has been living rough for a long time and it’s toughened her. She likes to make people happy, and is very compassionate and friendly, although she requires time to herself and spends a good deal of her time day-dreaming. She’s a deep thinker, and likes to solve puzzles or challenges, and can be quite competitive (but only if she knows she’ll win…) She has a fiery temper and little patience, but she regrets it when she lashes out. She embarrasses easily, however, and can be a little nervous of people at first. She’s quite contrary, both towards others and simply in herself: she’ll say one thing one day and then something completely different the next. She has a good-natured sense of humour, although she can be a bit zany at times. Those who get past her eccentricities find her to be the most loyal of friends. She has tendencies towards drama, and also has fits of bravery which frankly she'd do better without. Weapon(s): A rusty iron dagger. Clothing/Armour: Knee-high leather boots, and a pleated and faded black skirt that just reaches her knees. She has a loose blue shirt on and a patched-up long black coat. Around her waist is a heavy utility belt. She has a pair of fingerless leather gloves that extend to her elbows, and around her neck is a septim hung on a leather thong. Inventory: Change of clothes, food rations, a waterskin. Misc Skills and Traits:-Ren tells wonderful stories. -Ren is an untrained but beautiful singer. -Is terrified of heights. -Loves animals. -Has occasional mood swings which might put others off balance- her passionate nature doubtlessly being an effect of her birthsign. Short Bio: Born in High Rock, her parents were very poor, and found it hard to support her. When she turned sixteen, she sailed to Cyrodiil to try and make her way in the world.
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Post by Vrek on Jul 15, 2008 18:39:11 GMT
Halfway through reading Web's character, all I could think of was Gollum.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 15, 2008 18:46:59 GMT
Gollum inspired Janus, that's why. Though I assure you, Janus is much more... er... vicious is the only word I can give, than Gollum was. Just ask FC4, he dealt with and eventually killed Janus in Bioshock enough to know just how brutal Janus was. And curse our lack of an 'Evil' smiley!
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Post by Vrek on Jul 15, 2008 18:48:32 GMT
Bah, smilies are the root of all evil anyway, so it fills it in anyways.
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Post by storyteller on Jul 15, 2008 21:16:52 GMT
Sent this through PM HK, had no idea there were template posts. Same character from when we did this way back when.
Name:Lucius Dastel Patron God: Ysmir (Talos) Race: Imperial Age: 34 Gender: Male Class:Legendary Dreadnaught Weapon: Dawncleaver (unenchanted Katana of Daedric Orgin) Armor: N/A Clothing: A travel worn Scarlet cloak, worn leather boots,black gloves, pants, and shirt of cotton. Misc items: A rusty iron dagger with an edge only used for shaving, a jug of Sujamma, and Jerky.
Skills: Longblade, athletics, Acrobatics, Dodge, Heavy Armor, unarmored, Hand to hand
Misc Skills: Linguist: Speaks Dunmeris, Aldmeris, Bretic, and Dune Yoku. Understands Hist, but cannot speak at all. An excellent observer and Tracker. Basic Blade maintenance, and survival in specific enviroment (Desert), also naturally dexterious as living his whole life as a swordsman.
Appearance: A tall Imperial man with a constant stubble, shot back brown hair that is always in a mess, and an appropriate build for a dedicated warrior.
Height: 6'0
Weight: 190 lbs.
Eye color: Brown
Hair color: Brown
Personality: Bitter, Grizzled, and Taciturn to those who does not know well. Often found in a drunken stupor, and prone to ignoring personal hygiene.
Biography: Ten years ago, Lucius Dastel was the ideal Imperial Citizen. Strongly patriotic, serving time in the Navy of the Red Ruby as one of the Empire's few naval special force units, the Imperial Dreadnaughts.
As a marine force dedicated solely to fighting groups larger then themselves, and land to sea raids, Lucius began to become more and more exposed to the atrocities of war. During the Solthseim incursion, a large rebellion hosted by a force of disgruntled Nord mercenaries and anti-Empire revolutionaries, Lucius had given the order to unknowingly slaughter women and children from a distance.
Haunted by his own demons, the successful Imperial Captain and branded hero left the Military. Two years later he returned to a life of war, as the leader of the Band of the Lion, a small force of sell-swords fighting against any whom they were paid to. After mere a year of war profiteering, the Band was eventually assaulted unexpectly during an expedition in Argonia, by radical isolationists of the Marsh. Lucius was the only one to survive, the others were captured and most likely fed to the fearsome creatures of that area, or were killed immediately.
Yet, his story continues.
Three years of fighting amongst the Great Houses of Morrowind, the Baronies in High Rock, the Chieftain Tribes in Skyrim, and the Argonian Guerillas of Black Marsh, Lucius Dastel has earned a legendary status amongst Swordsmen, mercenaries, and soldiers alike. Doing nothing to disturb his reputation as a Cad, and Vagabond Lowlife, the vagabond grew distasteful of constant blood shed, blood the Sujamma could never drown out.
Heading towards the fiery Alik'r of Hammerfell, he was found by Nomad Dunedwellers, and taken in. He wandered for monthes with them, learning to live in the desert, to care only for those at your side, and how to protect a family. Eventually arriving at a Halls of the Virtue of War, home to Swordsingers and Ansei, he was reluctantly allowed to reside within. Completely enthralled by their ways of life and customs, he took to their tutelage whole heartedly, studying the abstract swordsmanship, the artisan heritage, and the history of their tactics in war. The extremely demanding and intensive training nearly killed the aging man at first, most of the other students were in their teens and far more able to learn the techniques of the Way of the Shehai-Shen-She-Ru.
Four years spent in Hammerfell, in the Halls of the Virtue of War, and the Imperial Ansei, dreadnought, vagrant, and drunk has left for his walk-about. His journey to right wrongs, test his skill, and defend the weak, as is custom, but more so then any of that,he wishes to find a place for himself in the world.
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HK-47
Waker
Don't suffer from the ID-10-T Error! Report people suffering from ID-10T immedietly to your police!
Posts: 101
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Post by HK-47 on Jul 15, 2008 22:18:52 GMT
Vrek, looks great! Post it up! Web, sorry dude, but I had thought that the mention of Jyggalag, not Sheogorath, in the opening post would have made it clear that Sheogorath has already transformed back into Jyggalag (as happened in Shivering Isles), so the Prince of Madness is no more. Illusionary, I just have one question, and that is why did Mara chose Renoit as her Champion? (You don't have to be a Champion, so you know) And Storyteller, my Raisin friend, you are more than welcome with the same character again.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 15, 2008 23:23:02 GMT
Name: Baa'Saddha Gender: Male Age: 34 Race: Khajit Profession: Cultist Patron god: Vaermina Skills: Short Blade, Unarmored, Athletics, Hand to Hand, Destruction, Restoration, Alteration Physical Description: Baa'Saddha is like most Khajit. Tall, covered in fur, and with bright eyes. His claws are much sharper than normal, though, as he keeps them carefully trimmed, for maximum damage done when he is fighting hand to hand. He himself is also much more imposing than normal, something about the way that he carries himself along with the various scars that decorate his body. His eyes contain a deep loathing, though it isn't really directed at anything. Height: 6'3" Weight: 140 lbs Hair Color: Orange mixed with gold. Eye Color: Bright green. Skin/Scale/Fur color: Orange mixed with gold. Armor: None Weapon(s): A simple steel dagger. Clothing: To compliment his look, Baa'Saddha wears a deep, forest green robe, tied with a crimson sash around his waist. Tied to this sash is a small bag, the contents of which he keeps a secret, at least to those that are not Champions. Miscellaneous: - Baa'Saddha has a scar along his throat, deep enough that his voice is unnaturally hoarse. Personality: Baa'Saddha is a strange one. He is nearly always silent, though this could be because of the way his voice is. His actions speak volumes about him, though. Much like the Daedra that he serves, Baa'Saddha has a very sadistic side, relishing the fear of others. His morality is loose at best, willing to do whatever it takes to secure his goals, ESPECIALLY if it involves terrorizing another. His devotion to Vaermina and her cause is complete. Brief Bio: Baa'Saddha has been a child of Vaermina as long as he can remember. Throughout his childhood, he suffered from terrible nightmares, that would make him wake up several times in the night, screaming until he couldn't scream anymore and instead curled up in a wheezing, trembling ball underneath his covers, hoping that the creatures that haunted the darkness of his dreams wouldn't find and kill him where he lay, unprotected in the night... This lasted until he was sixteen, when he was approached in a nightmare by Vaermina herself, visiting her in the house that she was most at home in, in the terror that surrounded nightmare. Running away from his home that very night, Baa'Saddha ran until he came across his new Mistress' shrine, being raised for the next few years by the cultists around the altar. Over the years, he became more used to the nightmares, becoming at home with fear. Under the tutelage of Vaermina, in the dreams that torment him even now, he became ENAMORED with the fear, loving it, relishing it, as though it were the finest of wines. He became cold and sadistic, as his devotion to the fear that had haunted him for so long, and to Vaermina, became complete... And it was to this effect that Vaermina chose him as her Champion, when Lezraal rose to power. Giving him a token that would allow him to be recognized, which he carries in the bag at his side, she sent him to find the other Champions, and to show Lezraal the fear that only Vaermina and her followers could bring, teach him what true terror was... How's that, HK?
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 16, 2008 1:14:48 GMT
Here's mine, let me know if it's ok or if I need to change anything. I want to see just how far I can go with a Molag Bal worshiper. Name: Titus Allectus Nickname: Ed Gender: Male Age: 36 Race: Imperial (Imperial mother, Breton father) Profession: Conjurer Patron god: Molag Bal Skills: Conjuration, Mysticism, Destruction, Alteration, Short Blade, Daedric (language). Physical Description: Titus is an odd-looking man. His head his shaved (though already has a receding hairline), leaving only his eyebrows and barely visible stubble that comes into a widow's peak. His face is kind of long, it's features are bony, and he has a hawk-like nose. His frame is not as stocky as a full Imperial's, but he still very fit. His appearance has a sort of wild energy about it. Height: 6'1" Weight: 165lbs Hair Color: Very dark brown, almost black. Eye Color: Blue Skin/Scale/Fur color: Not as dark as an Imperial's, but not as pale as a Breton's. Armor: None. Weapon(s): Obsidian dagger with an elaborately ornate jade hilt. Clothing: Very high quality dark blue robes, on the hem of which are gold designs. Under these he wears a fairly plain dark grey tunic and black pants. Also wears leather sandals. Miscellaneous: -Speaks with a stutter, making it difficult to start a word sometimes. - Hates the Dunmer people, following suit of his Patron. -Tends to display violence towards animals, along with anything made by the Aedra. Personality: A very bad egg, to put it simply. Molag Bal didn't exactly draw his personal champion's name out of a hat. Above all, Titus is fully and completely devoted to Bal. Twisted, malevolent, profane, perverted, corrupting, and crafty, Titus is almost a mortal embodiment of Bal's sphere. He goes about doing the Prince of Corruption's will with great relish, boldly challenging anyone who goes against him. Titus is also a very energetic individual, bearing an air of wild energy, especially when excited. But he is not insane. Brief Bio: His mother was a priestess of Stendarr who was defiled by a worshiper of Molag Bal. After being born in Chorrol, his mother hid him from public for two months before the cultist who had impregnated her found out about the child. Titus' father tracked down the woman who had bore his son and killed her, claiming his son and naming him. The Breton cultist raised Titus among the worshipers of Bal, teaching him and guiding him accordingly. Titus adapted well to this environment, almost naturally. As he matured, he began to become more and more like Bal's Sphere. He began to despise the nature of Tamriel, its plants and its animals. And the Aedra...those false gods whose power paled in comparison to that of Lord Molag Bal. Contempt grew in him toward them, their followers, and their creations. As he matured, he became more powerful. The Bretonic blood in his veins gifted him in the art of Conjuration in particular. He became a leader among Bal's worshipers in Cyrodiil. In all he did, he never once turned his back on Molag Bal. The Daedric Prince was pleased by this. There were times when even Bal himself would task Titus with a duty. The Prince spoke to Titus directly; his name became known to even some of the Daedroth. Then came the news of Lezraal. At the shrine, Molag Bal spoke to Titus and made him the Daedric Lord's champion. Titus set off immediately to serve the will of the Prince of Corruption. His father couldn't have been more proud.
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HK-47
Waker
Don't suffer from the ID-10-T Error! Report people suffering from ID-10T immedietly to your police!
Posts: 101
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Post by HK-47 on Jul 16, 2008 1:20:32 GMT
Looks good, Webhead! Post it up Tom! Just don't go around trying to rape people, okay? No spear polishing in this Rp please
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 16, 2008 1:39:52 GMT
I'll try. But seriously, I'll keep it suitable for the forums. EDIT: By that I mean I won't be raping anyone.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 16, 2008 1:44:33 GMT
Hmm... I will champion... Hircine... I have a good werewolf character.
Name: Norien Histran Nickname: Nor Gender: male Age: 50 Race: Imperial Birthsign: The Thief. Class: Werewolf/ Demon-hunter Class Description: Norien is a werewolf himself, and a mercenary by trade. A werewolf now for over thirty years, he has begun to grasp very basic control of himself in Werewolf form, able to choose who he kills. He has become in the last ten years a very infamous Hunter, tracking and destroying desecration and taints. His methods are questionable, his purpose is questionable; hell, he’s questionable. But he gets the job done. Patron God: Hircine
Skills: Blade, Hand-to-hand, Destruction, Unarmored combat, Acrobatics, Tracking, Trapping, Sneaking, Being an ass.
Appearance: Norien is not a large man, average in height and in width. But he is by no means skinny nor is he bulky. A well toned body shows years of steady exercise and battle. His posture is always slightly hunched over, his chin in line with his shoulders and back bent. His eyes are hard and serious, and he generally looks ready to kill anyone who would take a mug of ale from him. He also doesn’t look like a man who appreciates the idea of regular bathing, as he is always dirty and smelling of wet dog. Height: 5’ 8” at full height, 5’ 7” because of his slight slouch. Eyes: Hard, weary hazel. Occasionally they turn a deep golden in color. Skin: tanned well, and smeared with black dirt in many places. Hair: he has a military cut hairstyle, and his short hair is black. Tattoos/Scars: His chest, arms, and back are like a painting canvas for some sick, twisted artist, a myriad of scratches, burn scars, and bruises. Four parallel scars run across his left cheek.
Weapons: A silver katana, and a silver Wakizashi with leather handles so he can touch the weapons. Armor: He wears no armor, though the leathers he calls clothes come close. Clothes: He wears a leather shirt without sleeves, and tight leather pants. A buckle shaped like a wolf head holds his belt in place. Inventory: Along his belt he has a few bottles of healing potion, as well as money, a map of Tamriel, and a compass in a satchel on his belt.
Misc: –prone to taking risks. -heightened senses of smell, sight, and hearing, though only a little over that of an average man. -When a werewolf, he is vicious, unrelenting, and deadlier than human. He is around 5’ 11” in height, with more muscle mass than a Nord and more hair than one too. His hair is glossy black, and his eyes a fiery gold. He exercises only a minimal semblance of control, able to stop himself from killing certain people, on occasion. He transforms every night, something he takes immense advantage of in his line of work.
Spells: He knows only minor fire spells in Destruction, to deal with vampires.
Mental: Norien never was a ‘safe’ boy, always rough-housing the other children and throwing stones. His favorite games included King-of-the-Hill and sword-fights with wooden blades. He always won, or else the winner got beaten up afterwards by him.
That mentality continued through adulthood despite his infection, and he is as risky and danger-loving as ever. He willingly walks into danger, laughing at Death as he slaps it in the face. His humor is aggressive in nature, and he isn’t the politest of men.
Bio: Norien was only 20 when he was infected with the disease of Lycanthropy while vacationing in Morrowind with his family. Afterwards, he killed his family, finding the taste of their blood better than the greatest feast. For twenty years he hunted under the name of his Lord, until the anniversary of his infection, when he began to combat his own urges. That night had come with the death of another Lycanthrope at his own hands. Maybe it was the Lycan blood in his throat, or maybe it was just his own conscious realization, but he found himself capable thereafter to control just who it was he killed. Barely, as he still had to kill each night, but he could stop himself from killing a child and kill the father instead.
And what came with this reality was a decision. He was going to hunt his own kind, and other outcasts of society tainted by Daedra. Though he is feared by all that employ him, he has risen as the greatest Demon Hunter in Tamriel. However, his disease is not forgotten, and one step out of line in a town, and he is likely to find a sword in his chest in any city.
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