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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 24, 2009 17:41:30 GMT
As usual, standard sheets apply. I trust you all to do a good CS. Please await approval before posting. Ill post my first sheet in a minute. And the thread.
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Post by FC4 on Jun 24, 2009 18:23:04 GMT
Name: Majulin Redoran Nickname: Mah, Maju Gender: Male Age: 55, but looks to be his twenties Race: Dunmer Birthsign: The Warrior
Class: Redoran Warrior Class Description: Redoran warriors are renowned for their ferocity in battle, and were one of the House armies that truly gave Tiber Septim a run for his money. Individually they are skilled, but in a squad they are astounding. Trained from their adolescent years, they are bested only by Redoran Guardsmen and Elites in their skill. Skills: Longsword, Spear, Medium Armor, Athletics, Blocking, Armorer
Appearance: Majulin is rather stocky built for a Dark Elf, with beefy muscles and broad shoulders. But he retains some of the characteristic Dark Elven leanness, as while stocky he is nothing like the Nords or Orcs in build. Imposing in stature for an Elf, he seems perfectly fit for the warrior trade. His face does little to dispel this idea; strong jawed and square chinned, his features are chiseled and angular, with high cheeks and large nose. To those who have a taste for Elvish, brawny men, he looks rather handsome. Height: 5’ 10” Eyes: Deep, fiery red; like looking into the pit of a bonfire. Skin: Dark blue-gray Hair: He sports a short Mohawk of dark red hair, that goes from his forehead to the back of his skull. Tattoos/Scars: A dark red tattoo of a bear paw is painted onto his face, around his right eye.
Weapons: Chitin Spear, Silver Longsword. Armor: A Native Chuzei Bonemold helmet covers his head, but usually only in heavy battles or in ash storms as it has a film of transparent resin in the visor. Gah-Julan bonemold cuirass and pauldrons, Bonemold bracers, greaves, and boots conceal his body. A Bonemold shield accompanies that he uses in conjunction with both his spear and his sword. Clothes: His clothes are merely an ash robe to protect against the storms of his home region, which he often wears over his armor, but underneath his armor he wears a plain cotton shirt and trousers. If not wearing his armor he wears more exquisite clothing. Inventory: A small ring on his left hand protects him magically from poisoning, while a small ring on his right hand protects him from minor paralysis magic. He carries provisions in a small back satchel.
Misc: –His two rings were given to him by his father before he left Vvardenfell for a Redoran contract. They were meant to protect him from covert assassinations, but neither are very powerful, so a skilled assassin could still spell his ruin. -Wished to become a Redoran Elite, but never received enough training and was sent into duty. -Excels with his sword more than his spear.
Spells: –Other than the basic Dunmeri inheritance of a firebolt spell and the summoning of ancestors, Majulin has not dabbled in magic and prefers not to use it.
Mental: Majulin puts few things in his mind above duty and honor. His duty to his people, to his House, to his family; His personal honor, his family’s honor, his House’s honor. They are first and foremost in his mind, and guide a majority of the actions he performs. Second is loyalty to his family, House, and friends. He is unafraid to kill for these primary principles.
His humor is what one would consider slap-stick and barbaric, with a touch of sadistic. But it does not make him a cruel, heartless man. He won’t laugh at something that truly injures someone he has some tie to. In fact, when it comes to injury prevention, he is downright suicidal, putting the lives of others before his own without a second thought.
Generally a serious, yet eager and upstart man.
Bio: Majulin Redoran was born and raised in Ald’Ruhn, always dreaming of becoming like those majestic Redoran warriors. Since he could walk, he had been holding some manner of spear or blade, though not often dexterously. This early kinship with spear and sword, however, made Majulin feel like he is not himself without them. At the beginning of his adolescence he signed on to the House Army.
He was a perfect candidate for the mission Redoran had. His youth training on the Morrowind mainland meant he knew the area well, and the outskirt regions near other provinces. The Vvardenfell House Redoran Council therefore sent him along with two other soldiers as guard to their diplomat representative in King Helseth’s Court.
Because of this job, Majulin Redoran has spent several years off the island of Vvardenfell, and has heard of the events on the island. He was one of the first to inquire to the Empire for hiring.
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Post by Vrek on Jun 24, 2009 20:17:21 GMT
Name: Reese Mathes Gender: Male Age: 51 Race: Redguard Birthsign: The Shadow
Class: Blades Interrogator Class Description: Blade Spies, the eyes and ears of the Empire within the provinces, all have the ability to garner information one way or another. When ordinary espionage doesn't suffice, interrogators are called upon. Interrogators have the knowledge and ability to retrieve information from enemies of the Empire, and are masters of physical and psychological torture. Skills: Small Blades, Destruction, Illusion, Speechcraft, Sneak, Anatomy.
Appearance: At first glance, Reese appears like just a harmless, friendly old man. Gray hair sits on top of a laughline-wrinkled face. Calloused hands show a lifetime of work, and healthy teeth show just the tiniest bit of luxury. He has a natural smile, which can throw many people off guard. Height: 5’ 9” Eyes: Light Blue Skin: Dark brown, as if he spent a lifetime in the sun. Hair: Short, crly and gray. Tattoos/Scars: Small scars, mostly on the hands, like on would expect a farmer to have. Missing his ring finger on his right hand, having been ripped off by Valenth
Weapons: Silver dagger, kept in his armpit, under his shirt. Armor: None Clothes: Simple commoner's clothing, thick shoes, and a worn traveling cloak. Inventory: -An old brass ring which protects him from Illusion magic. -A leather pouch that unrolls to reveal a crippling set of tools used in torture, including small knives, hammers, tweezers and pliers. -A flask of chloroform, with a rag he uses with it. -A waterskin and traveling rations.
Spells: While Reese isn't a warrior, he has quite a repertoire of destruction spells, especially lighting and shock magic, which he is far more skilled in the nuances of then fire or frost. He also maintains several illusion spells of every sort, notable fear, rally, berserk, paralyze, and noise.
Mental: Reese always has an objective, and sticks to it. He's lived his life in the morally gray, and often times, outright cruel, side of espionage his entire life. He is unafraid to hurt innocents and ruin lives, for the sake of the Empire. He spent his life looking at the larger picture, and could easily burn down an orphanage if he believed it was the right thing to do for the future. He thinks like a realist, seeing much more then the victim, as most people are want to do.
He is not a cruel person, though. Infact, most people who meet him would describe him as an amiable old man, someone you could trust holding your children.
Bio: Like many Blades, Reese was born into his life, and trained from birth as a Spy. He spent his childhood growing up in the Cloud Ruler Temple, rather then stay in the field with his parents. It was in his adolescence that his skill with torture became truly apparent, and he was forever designated as an Interrogator.
In the beginning of his adulthood, he returned to where he was born to start his life as a Spy; a village, east of Wayrest, High Rock. Several years later, and we come to the infiltration of Vvardenfell. Reese was one of several of Blades sent in to Vvardenfell. Just another call to duty.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 25, 2009 4:14:41 GMT
Name: Slethnil-Eij (Sings-With-Poison) Nickname: Sleth Gender: Male Age: 35 Race: Argonian Birthsign: The Thief
Class: Khajiiti Night-Leopard Class Description: Sleth travelled far and wide after his father's death, refining the skills he was taught by his instructors to new peaks. He formed bonds with a sect of Khajiit in the plains of Elsweyr and was taken under their tutelage, learning how to be a veritable god of the shadows. Skills: Shortsword, Light Armor, Athletics, Marksman, Alchemy.
Appearance: Sleth is a towering mass of muscle and scales, standing head and shoulders above all but the tallest high elves. He maintains a rather lean build, though. Height: 8'10" Eyes: A deep, emerald green, invoking thoughts of a gentle sea. Skin: Morrowind-Style tan. Hair: Two fins pierced with rings Tattoos/Scars: A sprawling lion tattoo climbs his back, with criss-crossing scars running all along the front of his scales.
Weapons: A beautiful, gem encrusted, dwarvern-crafted, new gladius-style dwemer short sword with an extremely powerful smite undead enchantment, given to him when he was an infant so he might protect righteousness everywhere. Armor: A simple leather haulberk reinforced with chainmail and an extremely potent shield enchantment. Clothes: Elegant, extravagant finery is donned when he isn't in full armor. Inventory: Nothing but the clothes on his back, a map of vvardenfel, and his weapon.
Mental: Sleth is righteous and goodly in everything he does; he will always try to settle something without violence.
Bio: Nothing much is known about Sleth, except that he is an illegitimate child and is hell-bent on revenge for his father.
AS A NOTICE: Do NOT build a character like this. Do NOT be uber. Do NOT expect to see him around long. I will be posting my main character (And the thread) tomorrow morning. And by morning I mean twelve noon for me. I trust you all to realise that this guy won't last long. But I do hope you speculate on what sort of force could possibly kill him.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 25, 2009 4:32:09 GMT
Okay Screw It. Also, Vrek, FC4, you're both approved. Feel free to post in response to Plutonius's 'story'.
Name: Cyrus Rubyheart Nicknames: Cy(Sigh), Rus(Russell) Gender: Male Age: 37 Race: Redguard Birthsign: The Steed
Class: Privateer Class Description: Cyrus worked aboard one of the minor pirate ships in the Abeccean. This gave him skills and endurance. When the blight storms hit his trade became less profitable and more dangerous. So he moved inland. Skills: Longsword, Unarmored/Dodge, Athletics, Acrobatics, Blocking, Security
Appearance: Cyrus is lean and fast, with well defined muscles and a slightly taller than average hight. He has a rounded face, though not fat, but his scars downplay his beauty. Height: 6'9" Eyes: A brilliant, sea blue; almost irradescent. Skin: Dark brown. Hair: He has tight cornrows; very small space in between. Tattoos/Scars: He had a faded, black jolly roger over his heart, and is absolutely covered in scars from before he knew how to efficiently dodge. His face is marred by a huge, deep scar over his left eye.
Weapons: Ebony Rapier (With a fire enhancement, so unnaturals feel it's bite as well), Steel Dagger Armor: Two studded leather bracers with a reinforcing enchantment, to give them the strength of steel. Clothes: A comfortable, baggy pair of common cloth pants. A fine leather sheath/belt. Inventory: 8 bottle of rum, a few sea charts for the sea of ghosts and the inner sea and the abeccean,, a map of vvardenfell, all carried in various waist packs.
Misc: -He got his rapier from his captain, who died under...mysterious circumstances. -He was adopted by Bretons living in Tel Uvirith. -Has infact honed his speed and reflexes so well that he can block an arrow with his sword, or just catch it.
Mental: One might consider Cyrus to be 'morally dubious' at first glance; he's rough, obviously a pirate, and has an almost constant scowl. However, he is actually rather fair, to what he believes to be justice. He does not execute prisoner's without fair reason, and the fact that he keeps them in the first place speaks well of him. Although rather quiet, he isn't a cold man; he just is protective of himself and those he cares about.
Spells: Some minor chameleon and restorative spells, and a snap-flare for lighting fires.
Bio: Not very much at all is known about Cyrus, less than even Sleth, one of his travelling companions. The only things known are his name and his previous profession, the former being Cyrus Rubyheart and the latter being a pirate.
(He does have a story, I have it written somewhere, but you'll find this out during the RP if you take the time to talk with him.)
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jun 25, 2009 5:42:05 GMT
Name: Terra Megdar Race: Altmer Age: 35; Appears 18 Gender: Female Birthsign: The Atronach
Class: Mage Skills: Alchemy, Enchant, Destruction, Restoration, Mysticism
General Appearance: Despite her slightly elongated and refined features, Terra has a distinctly casual, laid back appearance. Her physique is modestly curvy, neither athletic nor voluptuous but decidedly feminine, and she wears both her hair and clothing in a relaxed fashion. She often wears a warm smile upon her gentle, expressive features, and her skin possesses the subtle golden hue attributed to the Altmer. Hair: Bright blonde, slightly feathered in appearance, worn to her hips in length Eye Colour: Bright green Height: 6’0”
Mental Description: Generally speaking, Terra is an outgoing, kind-hearted individual. Light hearted and humorous, she is quick to befriend others, likes to keep an open mind about most situations, and possesses a strong sense of empathy.
However, under times of considerable stress, Terra begins to exhibit some of her father’s more...unsavoury qualities. She becomes markedly more judgemental, with these judgements often taking the form of sarcastic, sometimes frantic remarks. While she is neither cruel, nor even ‘angry’ in a typical sense while in this state, it is something Terra is extremely self-conscious of.
Primary Weapon: Destruction magic Secondary Weapon: Mysticism magic Clothing: Terra sports a simple white shirt with short sleeves, worn to fit her frame and revealing a small amount of midriff. Over this, she wears a burgundy suede jacket with long sleeves and a high collar. Finally, she wears a black skirt worn several inches shorter than her knees, and a pair of comfortable leather shoes.
She also possesses a pair of self-enchanted, black leather gloves, with Elvish characters stitched on the palms. These are used when she is absorbing magic from a direct source (enchanted items, magical barriers or other persistent spells...other people), and as such she does not typically wear them.
Inventory: A miniature, marble mortar and pestle carried in her jacket pocket, as well as a pair of potions used to restore magic.
Misc: –Being both a mage, and having been born under the Atronach sign, Terra has developed something of an addiction to magical energy. Unable to regenerate it herself, she either uses potions to restore it, or siphons it from other sources, including teammates, should they be willing. -Prefers destruction magic, but can use mysticism spells, such as telekinesis, offensively
Bio: Terra was born and raised in Cyrodiil, in the very heart of Imperial culture. She had a relatively happy and carefree childhood living with both her mother and father, who educated her in the ways of magic.
When Terra was older, her uncle, who happened to be a magister at the Arcane University, saw to it personally that she was admitted into the Mage’s Guild. Claiming that his brother, Terra’s father, was incompetent, he wanted Terra to receive a more ‘formal’ education. This, of course, only furthered the animosity between the two brothers, but Terra continued in the guild regardless, and became quite proficient with magic.
For the last few years, she has been serving as a member of the guild, refining her abilities and instructing others, when the need arises.
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Post by webster52402 on Jun 25, 2009 7:25:21 GMT
Hehe... This is going to be fun. Name: Artmer Randas (House Hlaalu) Nickname: Art Gender: Male Age: 58 Race: Dunmer Birthsign: The Thief Class: Jack of All Trades Class Description: A jack of all trades is just as the name implies. They dabble in a bit of everything... except combat. Flitting from job to job has given the jack of all trades a variety of useful skills, and the hours upon hours of hard work it has taken to train them has hardened his body. However, due to the non-combative nature of the jack of all trades, they are not much good in combat situations... Skills: Sneak, Mercantile, Armorer, Speechcraft, Security, Athletics (Note: Not one combat skill. Do not trust this man with pointy objects.) Appearance: Artmer, due to his noncombative nature, does not have anything resembling a truly 'soldier' physique. Though he is by no means frail, as he is lean and wiry from moving from job to job, Art looks like he would be more at home running away from battle at the speed of the wind than joining in it. With fair, delicate features, though they have been washed out slightly thanks to hard living, he still maintains a sharper, more mellow kind of handsomeness. Despite his burning red eyes, he somehow manages to exude a calming aura, something he has used to further a brief stint in mercantile. Height: 5’ 11” Eyes: Deep crimson, like the final burning rays of the sun as it sets. Skin: Dark blackish gray, slightly darker of a shade than most Dunmer. Hair: Wears his raven black hair in a long ponytail that runs down to his shoulderblades. Tattoos/Scars: He is missing a finger - his ring finger - on his left hand from a mishap when he was still a blacksmith's apprentice. No tattoos, though. Weapons: Weapons? Er... Maybe I left them at home? You guys go and fight that guy, I'll be right back... Armor: Unused to wearing armor, it would only serve to hinder him. Thus, he is rarely seen with any. Clothes: Favoring something a bit more loose, as he feels very constricted in a shirt and trousers, he prefers a midnight blue robe to everything else. Though this may make a few people mistake him for a mage, he finds it rather comfortable. Inventory: He carries tools of his various trades around with him, namely blacksmithy tools; lockpicks/probes; and a few scrolls of Charm Person that he pilfered from a local mage. Misc: – His past as a thief is one that shames him, and his personality becomes more withdrawn if this comes up. - Though he rarely does it, his voice is not only good for speech and mercantile... But apparently he is a decent singer as well. Shy about it, though. Spells: –Like all Dunmer, he has his ancestral spirits to protect him, and an innate fireball that he may use in an emergency. However, magic has always eluded him, much like the ways of the sword. Mental: Artmer Randas seems weary on the inside as much as he is on the outside. Having grown up and lived a rather poor life, and on hard times, the recent events have left him rather disheartened as he searches for a place to call his own. Feeling very much like the wanderer he is, he has problems getting his heart to settle in any one place, leaving him with an air of aloofness and distractedness. Generally courteous, if a bit airheaded and aloof, Artmer makes no enemies as a point wherever he goes. However, he also makes few friends, as the 'generally courteous' side applies even to those that he considers his friends. As such, it is hard to get anything out of the man. His aloof nature only drops when he is either in a fight - in which case it's replaced with a flighty nature, as he fears pain terribly and isn't exactly handy in a battle - or when he has ale in him, in which case he usually retires before he can do anything. Bio: Artmer was born and raised in the streets of Balmora, like many other Dunmer. However, when it came to finding his PLACE there... Well, that didn't work out so well. With Balmora's stunning amount of residential area compared to actual shops and worth of industry, it was no surprise that Artmer wasn't exactly in high demand. Desperate to form a life for himself after his mother - his only known parent, having never known his father - perished during his childhood, he quickly set about learning as many skills as he possibly could. Having no interest in leaving Balmora to go into the army, and possibly get himself killed, the only thing that he DIDN'T apply himself to was soldiering. Though he dabbled in this and that - serving as a blacksmith's apprentice, 2 different merchants' apprentices, and even as a courier all in short order - he never could find anything that he truly enjoyed. Even when he went a bit more criminal, he couldn't find a place where he belonged... And his reign as a thief, though he quickly became adept at sneaking around and picking locks, was a short one. Turning himself in to the guards, he was just in time to be witness to the rise of the much darker Nerevarine. Though his crimes were never punished, as he quickly fled Morrowind, one of the guards that escorted him safely to the sea left a mark upon him. The woman - whom he had seen every now and again around Balmora, but never actually got to know, much to his chagrin - died beneath the blows of the corprus creatures, while Artmer fled. Shamed, he joined this group mainly as penance for leaving her to die... Yay, I get to weigh everyone down.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 25, 2009 15:43:03 GMT
They're both good. Vrek, thats going to be a VERY interesting char. Thumbs up for you!
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 26, 2009 13:12:41 GMT
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jun 26, 2009 16:19:27 GMT
Name: Babur gro-Shadbat Race: Orc Gender: Male Age: 28 (middle aged, for an Orc) Birthsign: The Steed
Profession: Pilgrim. General Appearance: Babur is slightly shorter than a Nord, and slightly taller than an Imperial. His face is long and broad, with a jaw bearing the short tusks of an Orc, and a brow that looks low and heavy. His farsighted gold eyes are deeply set in his face, just above the nose. His head is very large, the lower part of his face (the jaw and mouth) more so, almost giving his head the shape of a squash. His body is very average by Orcish standards, excepting that he has a well-traveled appearance.
Hair: Dark brown, and it only exists as a single flipknot on the top of his head. The rest of his head is bald. Eyes: Gold Height: 6'2" Tattoos/Scars: He has a large scar where a barbed arrow caught him just below the right clavicle. The wound healed cleanly, but left a very obvious scar.
Personality: Babur is a scholar at heart. He is a friend of anyone offering insight and knowledge, be this individual a beggar or a Daedric Prince. As a result of this impartiality of relations, he tends to over-criticize people, even if he does not speak this criticism, and can be quite dry in conversation. He is rarely very emotional, or at least rarely expressive of emotions. His true loyalties are...hard to judge, at times. The few individuals that could call him a friend often find themselves unexpectedly abandoned (literally) by him, but quite often just as unexpectedly aided by him. And his life on the road (and off) has sharpened his wits, causing him to often rely on his wiles, rarely using sheer force.
Weapon(s): An Orcish scimitar, obviously repaired and reforged several times over. Clothing/Armour: His travel-worn attire is changed often, due to the fact that he can scarcely carry more than two sets of clothing at any given time. He presently wears a faded maroon shirt and brown pants under plain, utilitarian leather armor.
Recent Bio: Babur left his beloved Orsinium some time ago for the life of a traveling scholar. Since his departure, he has been rarely heard from by his relatives, and does not frequent one place for extended periods of time. He had never ventured into the east, and he found the idea of an expedition into Vvardenfell to be...enticing.
Misc: -Farsighted -Very well-read -He is only decent at fighting; he often tries alternate methods to direct combat.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 26, 2009 23:32:45 GMT
All approved. Feel free to post up! (Srry bout the wait; I've been moving furniture all day.)
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