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Post by FC4 on Oct 5, 2009 22:43:57 GMT
Character Sheet: Dragons Name: Dragon Age: (Dragon young become adult around 100yrs.) Gender: Dragon Size: (Height, length, Wing span) NOTE: The largest Dragon ever recorded was 150 feet tall on his hind legs, 200 ft long adding tail, with a wingspan of 160 ft. This is far from average. Dragon Appearance: (Scale color, eye color, horn patterns, etc.) Weakness: (Make it a hard weakness to exploit, but a crippling one.) Personality: Bio:
Human form (When they shape-shift, the most common human form they take.) Age: Race: Class: Skills: (Magical skills and the like may also be powerful in Dragon Form, though human combat skills will not be, in Dragon Form.)
Appearance: (Height, Weight, body build, hair, etc.) Clothing/Armor: Weapons: Pack:
Character Sheet: Non-Dragon Name: Age: Gender: Race: Class: Skills:
Appearance: (Height, weight, hair, body build, etc.) Clothing/Armor: Weapons: Pack:
Personality: Bio:
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Post by FC4 on Oct 5, 2009 22:44:13 GMT
My Character Character Sheet: Dragons Name: Sunshadow Dragon Age: 750 (roughly late 40’s-50’s in human yrs.) Gender: Male Dragon Size: Unknown Dragon Appearance: His right eye is a dark bronze while his left eye is a deep, foreboding black and the eye socket scales are darker, as if bruised. His scales are a brilliant sunrise golden color, and a series of gradually lengthening horns divides his head from nose to crown, forming a crest. Two horns sprout from the back of his skull and curve back to jut forward, parallel to the top of his head. Small horns crest the spine of his entire tail. Weakness: First and foremost, Sunshadow is a hemophiliac. To further trouble the issue, his scales are softer than the average dragon’s (more equivalent to Dwemer armor than Daedric). Inexplicably, he can never fully shift from human to dragon form. He is limited to 2-3 sections of his body (limb, head, tail, etc.) at one time, and shifting one part of his body takes as long for him as it would take the average dragon to shape-shift their entire body. Personality: Most dragons grow calmer and wiser with age; Sunshadow grew wiser but never calmer. Temperamental, he is liable to snap at even the most minor of aggravations, but will sometimes brew in his anger instead or completely ignore the source of aggravation… for a time. He will socialize, but doesn’t actively pursue relations with others. His humor is sadistic and sarcastic often, and he carries a grim, gritty view of the world, seeped in pessimistic realism. He will stand beside and in defense of those he deems ‘good’ people, or are on his side, but don’t expect him to put his life on the line for you. Bio: Sunshadow’s past is his; he’ll reveal it as he pleases.
Human form Name: Selinus Age: 38 Race: Imperial Class: Monk/Scholar Skills: Staff fighting, Self-Restoration, Agility, Acrobatics, Stealth
Appearance: Selinus is a lean, well built man; he does not look very attractive, but certainly not ugly. With a strong, squared jaw and shallow cheeks and nose, his most intimidating/unique aspect is the dark bruise around his left eye; and the fact that his left eye is completely black. If he had two of his bronze eyes, he might’ve looked more appealing… maybe. Height: 5’ 9” Hair: His hair is a dirty blond, and long enough to touch his shoulder blades. He keeps it bound by braided rope into a ponytail, though several locks persist in front of his ears and over his forehead.
Clothing/Armor: A dark brown monk’s robe, tied at the waist by a plain braided rope. Leather sandals protect his feet. Weapons: A light battle staff made of Mithril. It is capped at both ends by orbs of tempered steel, with slightly flattened tops to serve as flat ends for the staff. Pack: Tied to his rope belt is a small satchel with a meager amount of money. In another satchel, he carries a pipe, flint and steel, and tobacco leaves.
Misc: –Seems generally unwilling to kill a foe; initially. -Is incapable of magic other than self-affecting spellcraft, and the magic is weak -Can fly, breathe fire, and harden skin to scales depending on where he shifts his shape -Bleeds excessively from even the simplest of wounds, bruises badly, and has a difficult time performing complete and proper healing -Has a high resistance to magicka, both harmful and beneficial.
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Post by Vrek on Oct 6, 2009 4:51:23 GMT
Name: Tyrol Mycroft Race: Breton Gender: Male Age: 38 Birthsign: The Shadow
Focus: Speed Skills: Athletics, Acrobatics, Marksman, Restoration, Unarmored, Cartography. Class: Scout Class Description: Scouts are found wherever there is untamed land. In armies, they move ahead of large groups, finding ambushes and poor land alike, in peaceful times they often serve as guides for travelers. General Appearance: Tyrol has an average appearance, though tanned skin and sunbleached hair stand out. Beyond that, it'd be hard to pick him out of a crowd.
Hair: Light brown, greying at the roots. Eyes: Brown Height: 5'11" Build: Slim and fit Skin/Fur/Scales: Tanned, but a healthy amount. Tattoos/Scars: None
Personality: The first thing one would notice about Tyrol is his jittery nature. It's easy to learn that he just doesn't like standing still. He is nice, and sociable, though has a tendency to pick onto anything at hand, always keeping himself busy. When it comes to fight, Tyrol isn't a warrior, and he knows it. When attacked, he makes it a priority to play to his strengths, and run away.
Weapon(s): Steel crossbow, with several iron bolts, and a short steel machete, for more of a tool then a weapon.
Clothing/Armour: Heavy cloth shirt and pants. Leather boots with sharp steel cleats on the bottom, particularly under the toes, heel, and sticking out of the front, like cats claws. The boots are subtly enchanted to make him faster. He also wears two rings, one silver, also enchanted to make him faster, and one gold, unenchanted. Around his neck is an copper amulet with a sapphire set into it. When called upon, it also increases his speed for a short time, drastically more then his other two, which are constantly active. He tends to avoid using it, as he has found it rather costly to recharge it.
Other items: Tyrol usually has a few potions, which fortify speed further. He also carries several maps, blank sheets of paper, and a few quills and inkwells with him, along with other cartographer's items, such as both sorts of compasses, a telescope. He also has a fishing hook and bit of line.
Short Bio: Tyrol led a long life. He started as son of a tanner, but joined the Imperial Legion when he was still young. After serving as an archer for two years, he left, became a scout, married and started a family.
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fantome
Novice
Moonlight becomes you....
Posts: 10
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Post by fantome on Oct 6, 2009 5:01:11 GMT
Character Sheet: Dragons Name: Mooneye Dragon Age: 150 years Gender: Female Dragon Size: Height of 30 feet from the ground to the point of the spike on the crown of her head, Wingspan of approx. 35 feet Dragon Appearance: Shiny black scales shot through with silvery streaks. There are no horns, just spikes trailing from the crown of the head down to the tip of the tail. Her eyes are the color of the moon. Weakness: Mooneye’s eyes are moon-colored because she has been blind since birth. She has learned to compensate for the lack of natural vision through the use of a continuous spell providing her with some sight. Faraway objects are difficult to distinguish at best and bright, concentrated light (such as a bonfire) have negated the effects of the spell through blocking of surrounding images. Colors are not completely unknown to Mooneye but their brilliance is hard for her to detect. If someone capable of wielding magic was to stop the flow of magic that Mooneye uses to give herself sight, she would be completely blind and quite vulnerable to attack (physical or otherwise). Personality: Because of her blindness, Mooneye generally prefers to walk away from a fight……generally. She will fight if she deems the cause worthy or if cornered. Like any dragon, she is fond of gems and is interested in enhancing her collection when possible. She’s not a very sociable being but does enjoy the hustle and bustle of human towns. She’s pretty clever (if she does say so herself). Bio: Mooneye was the runt of the clutch she hatched from. Her parents tried to protect her and teach her the best they could before Mooneye struck out on her own at the age of 80. She likes to live near people but nowhere near her own kind if she can help it. This is due to an incident involving the favorite emerald of the clan elder going missing about the same time Mooneye suddenly acquired a new emerald.
Human form Name: Jo’Dar Age: somewhere in early 20s Race: Suthay-raht Class: Thief Skills: Stealthy, hand-to-hand combat, acrobatic, and agile
Appearance: Jo’Dar is about 5’ 7” and is a fairly attractive Suthay-raht; lean but with curves in the right places. Her fur is black and her eyes are still moon-colored. Her fur has a tendency to stick up in ridges along her spine recalling the spikes that line Mooneye’s spine. Clothing/Armor: Jo’Dar wears a dark green tunic and dark gray breeches with a black leather belt. Armor is never worn as it reduces her ability to wiggle through tight spots quietly. Shoes are also not needed. Weapons: Prefers to use her keen claws as weaponry in hand-to-hand combat but is capable of using a dagger and so carries one with her. Pack: Carries basic lock picking tools and a pawful of money. Occasionally rations will also be tossed in if she intends to maintain Jo’Dar’s form for an extended period of time. A small pouch of the Moon Sugar of the Kahjiit to further uphold her disguise is often in her pack. Misc: • Agile flier and powerful fire-breather • Can’t use magic much in a battle due to continuing spell for sight; prefers physical combat • Hearing and smell are marginally sharper than average due to lack of natural sight but not really enough to give a great advantage in fights/hunting
Edit: Corrected some spelling errors and expanded upon weakness
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Post by webster52402 on Oct 6, 2009 5:05:49 GMT
Least we read the OP, eh, FC? ^_^
Character Sheet: Dragon
Name: His dragon name is unpronounceable, but he calls himself 'Sylvan' around others. Where he got this name is unknown. Dragon Age: 143 Gender: Male Dragon Size: 86 ft. tall (On hind legs, neck upward.) 18 ft tall standing on all fours. 120 ft long (Tip of the nose to tail tip), with a 136 ft wingspan. Dragon Appearance: Sylvan's coloration is only describable as 'electric'. Bright, sapphire blue scales intermingled with yellow-green streaks that blend all along his body in chaotic, sharp patterns comparable to the way a Shock Spell - when contained in a sphere-form - crackles give him a strange appearance. The only place this chaotic burst is broken is along the plates of his chest - which are more heavily colored with yellow-green - and along his spine, where a small, bony ridge is present.
In facial features, Sylvan has a more modest, delicate-looking face than the usually stronger-looking dragons. Though his skull is still blunt and broad, the chaotic pattern of yellow-green and blue makes his head look slimmer than it actually is, while drawing attention towards his eyes, which shine a bright, wise silver.
On first glance, it appears that Sylvan is completely without horns, but this is untrue: Though Sylvan does have horns, they are short, and sweep back so close to his head that they appear almost like ridges that encircle the crown of his head. The only ones of any length are the ones that start on the back of his skull, which sweep down along his skull to curl just behind his jawbone, where it meets his neck.
Misc: - Sylvan, contrary to most 'Dragon' images, does not breathe fire. Instead, he breathes a particularly potent mist, which is cold enough to freeze his foes. - While most dragons' talons are strong, there for evisceration, Sylvan's talons are more delicate. They also have an edge to them that wavers, giving them the effect of a serrated knife when used on flesh. - Sylvan has another unique mutation: While most dragons' talons are comparable to birds of prey in their use, Sylvan's claws are connected by thin, leathery membranes. He uses these to swim easier. - Though Sylvan has wings, he prefers to be on the ground, or even better... In the water.
Weakness: Oddly enough for a dragon, fire is Sylvan's main weakness. His body is kept at a naturally lower temperature thanks to his affinity for ice, and destabilizing this low temperature is deadly to him. If he ends up in a place of particularly high heat, Sylvan will suffer an attack of heat stroke, unless kept cool. Fire magic in particular is deadly to Sylvan.
Personality: Sylvan is as cold as the ice he breathes. Hermit-like in nature, Sylvan constantly declares that he does not require another's presence to get along in his life. Paradoxically, in the presence of others, he is alternately boastful - constantly seeking the approval of those he is with - or withdrawn.
Sylvan has a lazy streak to him, and rarely steps forward to aid unless it is absolutely required, or if it has a personal stake for him. He claims this is because he sees 'No logic behind it', but in reality, he simply hasn't found a reason to care.
Morose and overly logical, Sylvan often appears hesitant in any moment where moral decision is required. Prideful and headstrong, he is nonetheless weak-willed, creating an odd, sporadic nature where he will throw himself desperately at one task, only to turn at the behest of another, and throw himself at another. This in particular preys on his hatred of losing, which brings out a childish - and sometimes violent - spark.
All in all, Sylvan is a dragon of much insecurity, with a veil of cold logic and nihilistic outlooks to protect his insecurities.
Bio: Will be revealed by him during the RP.
Human form
Age: 25 Race: Argonian (It was the easiest.) Class: Mage Skills: Destruction, Alteration, Restoration, Mysticism, Conjuration, Light Armor
Appearance: Lazy as Sylvan was when it came to transformation, it comes as no surprise that his Argonian form isn't much different than his Dragon form. With the same 'electric' scale type as his draconic form, Sylvan stands out like a sore thumb even when he is transformed. It also doesn't help that he stands at over 6 feet tall, has the same 'nub horns' effect around the top of his head, and has the same silver eyes - which shouldn't be possible in an Argonian period.
The only thing that changes is Sylvan's voice capability. While as Sylvan the Dragon he has a lot more musical of a voice, in a reverberating bass tone that hums with latent power, Sylvan the Argonian's voice steps up one to a rasping barotone, and lacks the musical quality of Sylvan's natural voice altogether.
Clothing/Armor: Somehow, Sylvan managed to secure a robe that looks as electric as his scales. Maybe he had it custom tailored for him, but the sheer gaudiness of it may leave people's eyes bleeding. Bright and flashy, with the traditional blue and yellow-green coloring, it's seemingly designed to attract attention and insults. Beneath this, he has a set of simple leather armor for a modicum of protection, but beyond that, he prefers mobility... Enough to run away. Weapons: He relies heavily upon his magic. As such, he sees fit not to carry any sort of weaponry: Not even a simple iron dagger.
Pack: Several magicka potions, a Health potion or two, several blank scrolls, quill and ink, and some rations foir traveling.
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Fanchon
Waker
Scourge of Eberron!
Posts: 126
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Post by Fanchon on Oct 6, 2009 8:35:54 GMT
Name: Shelby Brisbane Age: 27 Gender: Female Race: Breton Class: Thief Skills: Acrobatics, Athletics, Stealth, Short Blades, Sleight-of-hand, Speechcraft (languages) Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearance: Shelby stands around 5'3, with fiercely blazing green eyes and long, fiery red hair. Her build is slim yet athletic, with just a hint of musculature showing at various places throughout her body. A long, evil-looking scar runs from the tip of her left shoulder blade to just before her wrist, terminating in a knot of scar tissue left from an additional puncture wound.
Clothing/Armor: Eschewing armor in favor of mobility, she usually wears whatever clothing is available, preferring functionality over fashion. Her favorite outfit usually consists of a simple dark-colored tunic and pants, tight enough to prevent snags, but loose enough not to hinder movement. Sometimes she'll wear her hair back with the aid of a bandanna to keep it out of the way. Weapons/Combat Style: Twin steel daggers, beautifully engraved, with handles carefully wrapped in black leather, worn on the hips. Unfortunately, they are otherwise perfectly mundane. Also tends to keep several well-honed throwing daggers in various places on her person for emergencies. Her style of use depends on stealth or extensive acrobatics; she is extremely capable in an evironment where she's more or less free to move around, but at a distinct disadvantage in tight quarters against a skilled opponent.
Pack: Thieves' tools, a few days rations, a short length of rope, manacles, blade maintenance tools (steel, stones, etc.)
Personality: Shelby is quite passionate about what she believes in, and tends to show her emotions quite often, especially when speaking on subjects particularly dear to her. She is fiercely independent, caring little for most laws or those who make them. These two traits have gotten her into touble before, since she rarely considers the consequences of her words or actions. Despite these traits, she has proven herself a very effective leader when the situation demands it and cares greatly for those whom choose to follow her, feeling disproportionately guilty when one of them dies or is seriously injured.
Her dry (and sometimes morbid) humor along with her heavy use of sarcasm can come off to those unfamiliar with her natural demeanor as quite abrasive. Inversely, those who take the time to get to know her usually end up finding themselves liking her no-nonsense attitude quite well.
Although preferring not to kill when possible, she understands that it is often a necessary evil in her chosen line of work and won't hesitate to do so despite the guilt she feels for it. She does not have the slightest guilt in wounding or even permanently maiming someone, however. Especially slavers; her hate for them borders on outright mania.
Bio: The daughter of a captain in the Imperial Navy, Shelby spent most of her pre-teen years as the typical navy brat, constantly moving from port to port in various provinces. Much to his delight, her father discovered that she had a nearly insatiable appetite for knowledge of all things nautical, and gladly spent many a night (as duty permitted, of course) instructing her on a great deal of subjects, from navigation to tactics. By the age of eleven, she knew almost as much as him, and was fully determined to pursue a naval career despite her gender. Sadly, the Divines had woven another fate for her.
The news of her father's death at sea was a devastating blow. Her mother, having always been a bit mentally unstable, was rendered partially catatonic by the shock and was institutionalized. Although she eventually partly recovered years later, it was far too late. Shelby, now 14, was on her own for the first time. Despite her father's record of near-perfect service to the Empire the navy abandoned her, citing the increasing costs of piracy prevention as reason for their lack of charity. Of pity there was no lack, but pity does not buy clothing or food.
The next eight years passed swiftly. Although reduced to simple beggary at first, Shelby soon learned that thievery suited her abilities much better.
Years of climbing about the rigging and masts of her father's ship and others had improved her already impressive natural agility to an almost catlike grace, as well as providing necessary muscle tone. The practice of tying complex knots over and over again gave her hands the dexterity needed to perform rather intricate sleight-of-hand techniques, and feel the delicate vibrations of tumblers through a pick.
Despite these advantages, she spent most of her early career in various dungeons throughout Cyrodiil. Yet even these experiences did their part to improve her skills, and most importantly, taught her how to fight, how to maim, and how to kill. Not all of these lessons were given freely or even wanted, and many left their mark upon her in one way or another. Indeed, one nearly took her left arm. Even through the pain of that experience, she persevered, she learned, and she became a better thief.
At 22 years of age, her skills had improved dramatically, and she no longer feared much of getting caught. Although not truly wealthy, she amassed enough of a fortune to return to her first love: the sea. With a small, leaky ship and a handful of her fellow associates, she set out to make her fortune in piracy...
And a fortune she made, not just in physical wealth, but knowledge as well. She spent time among the beast-men of Elsweyr and Argonia, learning their languages and culture as she sheltered in their ports. Eventually she even became a welcome sight for many of them; not just for the plundered goods she brought, but also for the freed slaves she brought home.
Over the next 5 years, 'The Dread Pirate Brisbane', amassed a small fortune, a large and well-crewed frigate, and no small amount of infamy among other seafarers. The last three years were especially profitable, the Oblivion Crisis having made shipping overland problematic in some areas, and downright impossible in others, forcing dependance on the sea lanes. For the second time in her life, Shelby was truly content.
Unfortunately, like most good things, it wouldn't last. The Imperial Navy cracked down hard on piracy, and after a fierce battle, apprehended her and any crew that weren't either slain or summarily executed. Shelby was dragged to the Imperial City in chains, and after a ridiculous sham of a trial, was sentenced to death by beheading.
Yet, as is commonplace in her life, destiny has another place for her...
(FC, I'm sure you'll know where to pick it up from there) =D
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Oct 6, 2009 11:34:53 GMT
Character Sheet: Non-Dragon Name: Borsalmas "Bors" Talpynyalas Age: 183, and he looks as though he has never known a youthful age. Gender: Male Race: Altmer Class: Enforcer Skills: Decent with a blade, better with a crossbow. He knows how to fight, and fight dirty. He's no stranger to doing business, nor is he too shabby at "persuasion," either.
Appearance: Bors stands at about 6'3", and his physical condition certainly isn't what it used to be. Upon observation, it may be inferred that this man, at one point, held a semblance of vitality in his body; if so, this time has long since passed. Bors is more or less around the middle-age of his race, but his fatigued features make him seem a measure older. His tied-back gray hair hangs down to his shoulders, and his light brown eyes are set slightly farther apart than what would be considered average. Clothing/Armor: Nowadays, Bors is usually clad in a shabby brown shirt and pants, with a pair of worn leather boots. He hasn't touched his leather gauntlets and chain shirt in years, keeping them locked away in a chest under his bed. Weapons: Accompanying his old armour in their exile are an old steel short sword and a crossbow made of yew wood. Pack: The contents of Borsalmas' hovel include his chest of old equipment, an extra set of clothes, a bottle of rather old wine, a simple old metal cup lined with foreign designs, and just enough money to buy tomorrow's food.
Personality: Borsalmas threw in the towel a long time ago. Vim and vigor have been replaced by quiet resignation and mild temperament. While not exactly of an amiable disposition, he is usually as polite as one could expect from a person that has the air of a regular tavern patron about him. Has never seemed to feel a desire to do any more than go about the daily grind and converse at the local inn. Occasionally - at very rare intervals - those few that are acquainted with old Borsalmas Talpynyalas have seemed to detect a hint of an underlying spirit of restlessness in the man. Bio: "Bah, you wouldn't care to hear an old man's story; and if you were, you would regret hearing half of it."
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Cirith
Apprentice
Roleplaying mad genius
Posts: 59
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Post by Cirith on Oct 6, 2009 21:19:11 GMT
Well, this is my dragon, I hope I can still join with him because i spent quite some time preparing him this past week. (also my apologies for the typing errors that show up, I got a new keyboard and I'm still not used to it completely as it is a bit worse at allowing me to type quickly) Character Sheet: Dragons Name: Cirith Dragon Age: 378 (dragon race: mountain drake: most of them live deep blow the mountains of Tamriel near the warm magma of volcanoes or other cave systems, although also found occasionally in Skyrim most do not prefer snowy peaks and live in the forests and canyons of the highlands, they have no wings suitable for flying, but evolved into excellent climbers and tunnelers in their years spent in the mountain caves) Gender: male Dragon Size: a relatively small dragon compared to other dragons, especially in length, from head to tail he's only 35 ft long (due to his short neck and tail) when standing on hind legs he is 30 ft tall and his wingspan is about 40 ft. Note that he cannot fly, but instead his wings function as hard and sharp edged hooks/blades he uses much like a tonfa for defense and attack. Dragon Appearance: Cirith the mountain drakewith a short, almost stumpy tail and a relatively small head his scale coloring is mostly a clear scarlet scaled hide with his big armoured neck/spine and shoulder scales a brown color, his belly is a faded orange and on his back and tail are black tiger like stripes Weakness: he has little protection against the cold spare for his thick hide which only protects against natural frost, also just behind his highest ridge of thick rock like scales is an unprotected area which, although small can easily cripple him (note, a dragon's claw might not be able to reach that far behind his scale due to it's shape (see drawing) but a mortal can better reach it) a (near) fatal blow can be delivered if both weaknesses are expoited Personality: a careful and not very social person, Cirith spent most of his time up in the mountains north of Chorrol, close to the Hermaus Mora shrine. he isn't very aggressive if he can help it (although the blood lust still has effect on him) and he enjoys to be able to talk to someone once in a while. he prefers the climate and terain of colovian highlands and although he can swim in mortal disguise he hates swimming and heavy rainfall. Bio:like all mountain dragons Cirith was rejected from his father's territory soon after learning how to hunt and survive, as a juvenile dragon he found shelter and hunting grounds in the colovian highlands where he has a lair just at the border of the Jerral mountains in a deep canyon close to an old mountain road and a daedric shrine to hermaus mora. He lived in his lair long enough to become known in the area as a guardian of the mountains, he sometimes saves lost travelers, some times he kills them when he is in his bloodlust rage. unfortunately now he had to flee his mountains due to the large number of Oblivion gates opening near his lair, he managed to close one gate after hearing about the retaking of Kvatch in one of his rare visits to civilization and has left him a sigil stone he has yet to find a use for, but now the daedric hreat is simply overwealming and it forced him to seal his cave (against looters of his possesions) and set out to the cities which he takes are the safest places o be these days. Now he is in the city seeking more information on the oblivion crisis and stays at the local inn. Human form (When they shape-shift, the most common human form they take.) Age: in his early thirties Race: breton Class: mage Skills: alteration, Restoration, destruction, acrobatics, agility, blade (twin daggers) Appearance: a broad shouldered and tall breton, his hair is short and brown and his eyes are the same hazel as when a dragon Clothing/Armor: grey robes and a green sash and hood. Weapons:two daggers he wields much like he uses his elongated claws/wings Pack: Food for another two days, a few spices and a gold bag with a few gems and gold pieces or nuggets worth a total of around 300 septims a Sigil stone which can grant a strong life detection enchantment.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 6, 2009 23:51:29 GMT
Every time he thinks he's out...I pull him back in...
Name: William Ross Nicknames: Prefers ‘Will’, loathes ‘Bill’ Race: Redguard Gender: Male Age: 32 Birthsign: The Warrior
Class: Warrior Skills: Long blade, Block, Heavy armour, Athletics, Armourer
General Appearance: Even amongst other Redguards, Will is considered to be of a tall, and intimidating, stature. Years of harsh physical combat have manifested themselves with a grizzled appearance, and a host of lean, well toned muscles across his body. Overall, many might consider him to have an intense, almost bestial look to him.
Height: 6’5” Eyes: Dark Blue Hair: Dark brown, nearly black, worn loosely past his shoulders. Also sports a scraggy moustache and goatee. Scars: His entire body is riddled with all manner of scars, from light to heavy, mundane to magic, aged to recent.
Personality: Considering his appearance, many are surprised to find that Will has a remarkably sociable, outgoing demeanour about him. He gladly strikes up conversations with strangers, and has been noted for his wry sense of humour. With age, he’s learned to control his rage, and as a result is slow to anger. However, once enraged, he becomes incredibly difficult to calm down.
Will is also quite fixated on notions of honour. Generally speaking, he will never attack an opponent incapable of defending themselves, and prefers to fight his enemies head on, as opposed to ambushing them. He deplores using secrecy to achieve his aims, and is wary of most forms of magic.
Weapons: Will wields an old, incredibly weathered ebony claymore that he claims has been passed down through his family. The once smooth, pristine black surface has been tested by hundreds of separate scratches and minor dings. Nevertheless, it appears in relatively good condition, and seems to emanate an unusual aura. It is capable of increasing his strength or speed, in times of battle. Armour/Clothing: A simple, short sleeved black shirt, worn beneath a dented and scratched steel cuirass, along with a pair of loose black pants, and heavy black leather boots. He also wears a long black trench coat when travelling.
Inventory: Besides a small satchel of gold and a couple of healing potions in his jacket, he also carries a small amulet, folded inside a silk cloth, with a small red ruby at the centre.
History: Born within the cosmopolitan province of Cyrodiil, Will was instructed in the ways of combat by his parents at a young age. When he was 18, he joined on with the Fighter’s Guild for a short time, but left shortly after when both sides agreed his was a bit too ‘enthusiastic.’
At that point he struck out on his own, adventuring across Tamriel looking for freelance work and adventure. When he returned to Cyrodiil, he unexpectedly met a young woman and fell in love. The two of them had a son, and for some time, Will spent his time at home, as a family man. Since then, he has once again taken to freelance work around Cyrodiil, to support his wife and son.
He was last reported in the Imperial City, hoping to find some mercenary work...
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Post by Anticlere on Oct 7, 2009 20:17:55 GMT
Character Sheet: Non-DragonName: Richard du Blois Age: 24 Gender: Male Race: Breton Class: Spellsword Class Description: Richard is a pretty unorthodox kind of mage - feelings are his main drive as he favours letting stronger emotions feed his power rather than approach battle with a calm mind. Due to this, his ways in battle can be hard to predict initially - they vary on how he feels, ranging from rashly offensive for anger to almost solely defensive for sadness. He realizes this isn't the best way of spellcasting sometimes, which is why he's also more handy with a blade than your usual mage; the fact he needs less time concentrating and calming the mind than most other mages means he has a bit more time to practice, too. Skills: Destruction, Long Blade, Unarmoured, Athletics Appearance: 5‘9 feet tall, Richard isn‘t a highly unusual man from first sign. Typical of a Breton his skin is pale, despite the amount he spends travelling under the skies; his built is, however, a bit more sturdy than usually expected from a Breton. His muscles aren‘t as obvious as those of the races more commonly associated with warriors and with a robe he probably could be easily mistaken for someone who doesn‘t fight all that much from up close. Though his face may appear a bit snobby and detached from the first glance, Richgard certainly doesn‘t try to maintain that look; it tends to remain unemotional in all but the more extreme of occasions, looking a bit melancholic perhaps with his thin, pale lips, slightly snub small nose and a general longer shape; perhaps his deep black, nearly shoulder length hair drops a bit of a shadow over it, too, acting as a dark frame. His fairly large dark blue eyes, however, tend to reflect his true nature most of the time; if someone should be unsure of Richard‘s feelings, they need only look him in the eye and most of the time it‘ll be there. Clothing/Armor: Richard‘s current clothes are pretty warm, given his lack of experience with colder environments (having grown up in Anticlere, which was quite a bit warmer than Skyrim and northern Cyrodiil, and spent most his life afterwards in Hammerfell). It‘s designed for some protection as well as fairly unhindered movement. He wears thick leather boots, nearly knee high, with some steel plates sewn onto the front for more protection; they‘re pretty worn and the steel is in dire need of polishing. His black woolen pants are slightly baggy, stuffed into his boots where they reach them and held by the waist by a fairly thin black leather belt; the pants have some small tears in them and are quite dirty, while the belt looks to be newer. Fixed to it Richard keeps his sword‘s sheath and his small money pouch. His shirt is dark brown, also slightly baggy on him and with sleeves a touch too long for someone his size. Currently Richard took to wearing a gray scarf most of the time, as he has a habit of catching annoying colds in Cyrodiil and having a sore throat nearly all the time. Usually over all his clothes he wears a pretty heavy-looking lighter-brown travel robe. This outfit, coupled with the dark brown sack/improvised backpack he carries around all the time, marks him as a wanderer type in the eyes of strangers, particularly if he has his hood pulled on. Weapons: A steel Ra Gada yataghan. 4.bp.blogspot.com/_XAqlVZkP_mw/Shg9_5E6W4I/AAAAAAAAAWU/ZY7odkONzYY/s320/Sword+2.bmpPack: Bits of various foods of the more humble sort, a small canteen with water, a small book with a brown leather cover – Richard‘s diary. In a separate pouch he keeps some septims, around fifty. Personality: Given his way of approaching magick, Richard is a quite passionate man. His emotions show easier than most peoples'; he's pretty easy to upset, grief also overtakes him more often. Sometimes it can all seem rather jarring to new friends, a reason why Richard doesn't have too many - it's not that he doesn't try, but more than a few are offput by wide array of emotions dwelling right beneath the surface, waiting to jump out. He tends to be an 'act first then ask questions' kind of person, frequently choosing to let his emotions guide him. Bio: Born in the province of High Rock, Anticlere, Richard spent all of his youth that he can remember in an orphanage. He was a bit different from the other children; more emotional, and with a bit of a mystery about him - accidents tended to happen when he got a touch too emotional. He was handed to the Mages' Guild of the city to handle at a pretty early age, around 13; there, the mages tried to cramp him into their frame. Richard didn't really give up though, fighting back attempts to base his magick on calmness and detachment from emotion (burning a few pieces of furniture in the process); in the end he left, that happening when he was around 19, and has been wandering Tamriel ever since. He has come to regret some of his past actions by now, however his magick has changed little, except growing stronger as his emotions did.
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Post by Beniamus Revas on Oct 7, 2009 21:53:22 GMT
Character Sheet: Non-Dragon Name: Beniamus Revas Age: Mid-twenties Gender: Male Race: Breton (half Dunmer – father’s side) Class: Healer Class Description: Skilled in restoration and the crafting of restorative potions, but not limited to the employment of the church or charity. His services are offered to those with noble or worthwhile causes and he’s learned the archer’s skill set to compliment his primary trade. Skills: Restoration, Marksman, Conjuration (weapons primarily), Alchemy (potions, little knowledge of poisons), Speechcraft
Appearance: At a hair over 5’10 and coming in at just over 150 lbs, he tends to weigh in on the lighter side. Ben tends to stand out some due to his red hair and beard and his sharp, angular facial features; all traits passed on from his Dunmer father. Coupling that with the reddish tinge in his otherwise deep brown eyes, he isn’t your run-of-the-mill Breton. Clothing/Armor: A thick leather cuirass and a weathered forest-green cloak under which he wears a light cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a fitted pair of tan pants paired with a pair of tall deer-skinned leather boots.
Weapons: A sturdy wooden re-curve bow of Ra Gada design, and a treated leather quiver containing two-dozen steel and silver tipped arrows. Pack: A simple water canteen strapped to the back of his belt, as well as a pouch containing whatever number of coins he has at the time. He also has a pouch for storing various herbs and ingredients as well as a simple shoulder slung pack with an extra set of clothes and an assortment of potions, books, and alchemical equipment.
Personality: Beniamus is a man of various talents. His many journeys have provided ample time to develop his appreciation for communication and spellcraft as means to resolve conflict. As a young man, he found able trainers in both of his parents and they schooled him accordingly, his father a mer of Redoran and his mother a woman of Breton heritage. He is soft hearted, compassionate and is often found in deep thought. He’s also gained some acclaim due to his skill with a bow and as a healer, finding himself often employed by either mercenaries or on local matters.
Bio: Born on Vvardenfell to his Dunmer father and Breton mother, his family moved to Leyawiin, the home of his mother in Cyrodiil, when he and his brother were quite young. His father was a smith and jack-of-all-trades in service of House Redoran before moving his family from Vvardenfell in the face of Dagoth Ur’s increasing menace. After acquiring a simple home in Leyawiin for himself a few years back, Beniamus had taken to offering his various skills to the towns and villages dotting the Blackwood region and even further into Elseweyr’s Anequina region. With the onset of the Oblivion crisis, the jobs have dried up around Leyawiin, so he started taking jobs in the Imperial City where life appears to go on even when the sky is falling on Tamriel’s head.
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Post by Vicorva on Oct 9, 2009 16:46:27 GMT
Hi, I've got my character! She has a lot of skills, but she can't use two of them very well (if at all), so they don't really count. Also, she's blind, and she has not extra senses to help her out, so she's un-uber. If I may, FC, I'd like to keep her bio secret, but I'll PM you the major points. Hopefully she'll be alright.
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