Aulakauss
Waker
WARNING: Active Toaster Area
Posts: 194
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Post by Aulakauss on Nov 16, 2009 18:50:15 GMT
If I have your MSN, I'll just tell you you're approved there. If not, I'll PM you here. For everyone's future reference, there is a list of approved critters at the bottom of this post.This is just my personal CS format, use it if you like or not. I don't care. Just make sure you include the basics so we know what your character looks and acts like. History/Bio is optional; just because I abuse it doesn't mean you have to. Also, feel free to just describe what they're good at in a Skills: section instead of a game-type Class/Major/Minor system if you prefer it. Name:Nickname(s):Gender:Race:Age:Birthdate: Birthplace:Class:Class Focus:Major Skills:Minor Skills:Birthsign:Eyes:Hair:Skin/Fur Color:Height:Weight:Build: Physical Description: Tattoo/Scars/Piercings:Clothing and Armor:Inventory:Weapons:Magic:History:Personality:Other Traits and Oddities:- Misc Skills [non-combat]:- _______ And now, predictably. I present the latest version of my troubled furball. Name: Karstine Maranay Zeterra (the Second) Gender: Female Race: Mixed-racial Dunmer and White Khajiit Age: 29 Birthsign: The Thief Birthdate: 17th of Evening Star, 3E 409 Class: Vagabond Class Focus: Stealth/Combat Major Skills: Sneak, Light Armor, Security, Marksman, Short Blade Minor Skills: Alchemy, Acrobatics, Restoration, Unarmored, Athletics Eyes: Bright Emerald Green Hair: A cascade of blood red strands, perfectly groomed to end just at her shoulder blades. Kept ponytailed with a leather tie in combat situations. Skin/Fur Color: Snow white with quarter inch long white fur. Fur has black striping on her sides and the outsides of her arms and legs. Also, the tip of her tail is black. Height: 5' 6" Weight: 148 lbs Build: Slender, with stringy musculature. Physical Description: Karstine is, in a sentence, a small but pretty Khajiiti woman. She has stark white skin and similarly colored fur with black striping on her sides, arms and legs, alongside a pair of sparkling emerald colored eyes, all attributes from her mother. From her father's elven lineage, Karst has blood colored hair and a soft elven face, as opposed to the usual feline snout that her mother bore. In body she is somewhat curvy, though what beauty she has is a warrior's beauty rather than a maiden's; her arms, legs and stomach have stringy-yet-strong muscles under them and there's not an ounce of fat on her body. Her hands are scarred but otherwise delicate looking, her fingers oddly long for the size of the rest of her, and her toes, while human in appearance, bear little claws on the ends of them. Karst's soft face often bears a look of determination, making her otherwise cute features look somewhat sinister. Like her hair, her eyebrows are a deep red color, a drastic contrast to the snowy fur, and the eyes themselves are slightly slanted inwards, almond shaped with long eyelashes and highly expressive. Like most Khajiit, her ears and tail are easily noticeable indicators of her mood at most times and her movements are graceful and smooth. Unlike most Khajiit, though, her voice is that of an elven woman, with only traces of her Khajiiti heritage audible. Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Many whip scars mar her back from mistreatment in the Imperial prisons, alongside a scar from a stab wound just under her collar bone and a gray gash just under her bottom left rib from a Dremora's blade. An extravagently jeweled ring rests in her left ear and two iron rings offset it in her right, all usually hidden beneath her hair. Her only tattoo is a small inking of her name in Daedric, which lies dead center of her shoulder blades. Clothing and Armor: In the casual everyday, Karst's usual outfit consists of a deep purple shortsleeve shirt overlayed by a fur lined black leather vest with silver buckles up top. Below that, a pair of comfortable linen pants the same shade as her shirt and and old set of adamantium boots, gashes everywhere in the blackened metal. When the weather takes a turn for the colder, a tattered old trenchcoat and padded leather gloves are added. For combat situations, everything changes save the boots. The ornamental vest is traded for a mithril one to protect her vitals. This is worn beneath light leather armor, both greaves and cuirass, finished with similar fingerless gauntlets covered on the back with steel plating. And no matter the occasion, Karst always has about her neck a pair of necklaces. One is a gift from her mother, a silver chain with an emerald sphere entwined in silver vines hanging from it, enchanted to ward off diseases of all sorts. The other is a green crystal pendant, burnt and cracked, the only remnant of a friend she lost in the Oblivion Crisis. Weapons: Mithril-stringed Steel Longbow/50 Full Steel Arrows, Elven Shortsword, Dremora Shortsword, Silver Dagger, claws. Magic: Mara's Kiss [Restore Health, self or touch], Flash Bolt [mid-level Shock, target], Wind's Companion [Invisibility 65 sec, self. Requires her to be almost fully charged], Dead Bolt [Lock 30pts/Easy Lock, target], Trespass [Open 50pts/Average Lock, touch], Lightning Grasp [mid-high-level Shock, touch] History: Karst was born in Elsweyr, the product of an unlikely love between a Khajiiti wise woman and a Dunmeri man who was taken into the tribe after being rescued from the desert. For a while she lived a happy existence with her parents and elder brother and even when said brother left at coming of age –fifteen years old in their tribe– she remained a relatively happy little girl until the age of five and a half. Her mother fell mysteriously ill and, over the next seven months, died a slow and agonizing death. Her father’s grief had him follow within another year, leaving Karst very much alone in the world. After the loss of her parents, she lived mostly off the charity of the kinder elders. As a half-breed, she was already unpopular with most of her tribesmen, but her frequent vandalisms, practical jokes and thefts made matters far worse for her. At age eleven, Karst pulled a prank on one of the younger warriors and, in his fit of rage, she was forced her to kill him in self defense. The incident presented the more resentful elders with an excuse to get rid of her once and for all and so, the next day, she was accused of murder and exiled into the deserts. Life didn’t improve much after that, either. Karst was forced to live as a wanderer, stealing food and valuables to stay alive, sleeping in alleys, never staying in one place for very long. Over the course of her travels, love was found and subsequently brought to a violent end on three separate occasions. By sixteen, her experiences had left her bitter, angry and mentally unstable. Eventually, after moving north into the southern Cyrodiilic town of Skingrad, she cracked. A nobleman had caught her stealing from him and had some of his guards harass her, to which her eventual, irrational response was to rob him at knifepoint. Karst doesn’t remember the details of what happened that night, but the next morning she awoke in the Imperial City Prison stripped of her belongings, covered in blood and, yet again, guilty of murder. The Khajiit spent seven years of her life imprisoned there, all the while subjected to unspeakable torture and defilement at the hands of the prison guards. Her only luxury, and only means of retaining what little sanity she still had, came in the form of fights in the nearby Arena. Although at first her forced participation in the Arena was a subject of fear for her, she found she excelled at ending the lives of others and, despite her original revulsion at the thought, came to enjoy it. Then, just as Karst had gotten accustomed to the daily routine of torment and violence, she was unexpectedly released back into the world. As her luck would have it, her release came at the beginning of the end of the world. She fought in the Kvatch Arena for a living in the brief time before the Oblivion Crisis began and when it did, the first town to burn was the only one in Cyrodiil she really cared about. Within a relatively short time, she met up with a ragtag band of adventurers, all claiming to be out to stop the Deadric invasion. With few thoughts but revenge, she lent herself to their cause. Over the course of two and a half months, Karst fought fiercly beside them, even the ones she detested, and made friends of many in the group, even managing to stumble upon her long estraged brother. Their efforts ultimately brought victory, though at terrible cost; some of her closest friends perished in the hells of the Deadlands, a burden borne with extreme difficulty. Karst and her companions were bestowed the title of Champions of Cyrodiil, given enough gold to live on for several years and treated as celebrities In the six years following the crisis, Karst grew tired of the 'hero lifestyle.' To keep busy, she joined the Fighter's Guild, landed a job bartending at night and bought a comfortable little nest in the Imperial City where she could more or less hide from the rest of the world. Personality: Under normal circumstances, Karst is playful, energetic and witty. She boasts a strong will, a twisted and somewhat dark sense of humor and rather striking lack of physical shame. Karst is unusually tolerant of pain, able to endure amounts of it that would make most folk black out, a skilled marksman and swordswoman, excellent sneak and an extremely compassionate person to those who she thinks deserve it. On the other side of the coin, Karst has problems with her temper, often speaks her mind when it'd be far better to be quiet. Displays of blatant arrogance and (what she views as) misuse of authority often garner fiery and violent reactions from the small woman. Though highly intelligent and quick-witted, she often does irrational and even incredibly stupid things in anger. She has a serious lack of confidence in herself in almost every way, is a frequent alcoholic and has a habit of judging people severely by first impression. Her biggest weakness by far, however, is her emotions. At the best of times, she is subject to mood swings ranging from psychotically happy to violently irritable and broods sometimes for days after being angered. At the worst of times, she is manic-depressive and borderline suicidal. Despite all her weaknesses, though, Karst is a kindred woman and, if one earns her trust, a fiercely loyal friend. Other Traits/Oddities:- Despises arrogance. - Enjoys pulling pranks. - Drinks when depressed. - Copes with certain kinds of trauma by masking it with humor. This sometimes leads to jokes at very inappropriate times. - Her fingers are slightly longer than most humanoid creatures her age by about half an inch. Misc Skills [Non-Combat]:- Is a good cook, but never admits to it when complemented. - Can be persuasive if need be, though she never claims to be smooth about it. - Is good at creating medicines from raw ingredients, a skill she leaned from her mother when she was young. - Has psychic potential that she cannot harness. Though she knows and accepts that she has it, the only use she currently has for it is the sort of sixth sense that it grants her, allowing her to sense and feel the emotions of those near her. This can often be as much a curse as it is a blessing, however. _______ Figured I ought to add a section for approved characters here, since I don't have MSN contact with everyone. So, shiny list time! Approved Characters- Vivian Marcy - Mia/Demona - Qa'Nari Zeterra - Jartod - Odeen - Lex Deloc - Nelson - Lance Cochrane - Reissa - Zaire Corva - Ormil - Alyssa Stormfield & Clyde - Do'Rhadi - Kha'Do Ra - Jet - Alex HerasinBoy we sure do have a lot of cats.
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Post by FC4 on Nov 17, 2009 4:43:57 GMT
Name: Vivian Marcy Gender: Male Race: Dunmer Age: 56 Birthsign: The Shadow Class: Bounty Hunter/Champion of Cyrodiil Class Focus: As a Champion of Cyrodiil, it’s hard not to get some respect around the Empire, and be asked to do nearly any job requiring some intense skill in ass-whipping. Vivian has found his specialty in being a Bounty Hunter for the Empire, but his targets are extremely specific. Major Skills: Archery, Martial Arts, Stealth, Short Blade, Acrobatics, unarmored combat. Minor Skills: Alchemy, Lock-picking, Trapping, wilderness survival Eyes: A deep, blood red color with an intensity to them that is trademark of the Marcy family. Hair: His hair is ebony black and fine as silk, falling down to his shoulders and held back in a ponytail. Strands of his hair fall over his ears and forehead that weren’t long enough to be contained in the ponytail. Skin Color: His skin is an elegant dark grey, like a faded smooth iron surface. Height: 5’ 8” Weight: 135 lbs Build: Vivian is quite obviously built for battle; lean and muscular, long and agile, he’s not got the bulky, barrel-chested build of human warriors. Rather, he has that slim, elongated build of the elves honed into a body muscular enough to rival a bandit in a contest of strength. Physical Description: Vivian looks more mercenary than Bounty Hunter/Assassin, and actually gives off a friendly, approachable air when in a civilian situation. Few people fear him, most who know him respect him, and it shows in the way he carries himself around others. But in battle, his entire body changes, and he takes on the visage of a killer. He always has the appearance of a man down-to-earth and business-like, to some degree. Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: His biceps and chest have cuts here and there from all sorts of nasty little wounds, mostly in battle. The most noticeable scar is a slash of pale grey flesh running from his left cheekbone all the way across the left side of his head. His left ear is missing a fourth of its pointed crest, cut off at the point of this scar line. Clothing and Armor: Black Leather bracers cover his forearms, and have metal rings that can be used to deflect small blades (like, say, a shortsword or smaller, no deflecting a claymore with these things!). Underneath the bracers, his arms are wrapped in a long strip of cotton, powdered cloth that covers his palms to his elbows. His boots are dark brown worn leather, which means they bend without squeaking. He also wears deerskin pants and a grey fur hunter’s vest. Sewn onto the vest is dark brown leather, so it looks like a leather vest with inner fur lining. Inventory: He carries with him a map of the land, small amounts of coin in a tight bag to minimize coin noise, and several vials. These vials contain poisons that he has been studying/purchasing for his hits. He also has a collection of potion bottles; one is for healing, one for invisibility, one for chameleon blending, and one is a general antidote. Around his neck, he wears a small beaded necklace, with a small circular amulet bearing a diamond inset. It is a memento of his lover. Weapons: A Yew wood Recurve Bow, with greater flexibility than his old oak bow. The wood is stained black. In a black quiver he holds 15 bodkin-tipped Elven arrows, designed to punch through armor, and 10 traditional Elven arrows. On his thighs are two daggers; one, a tempered, hardened silver dagger and on the other, the Dagger of Discipline, enchanted to enhance one’s wounds, rotting flesh and making the simplest cuts more dangerous as it drains the victim’s health, making them weaker the longer they leave their wounds. In one boot he has a hidden serrated steel hunting knife. Magic: Vivian does not know any magic, though occasionally accidentally turns invisible due to his birthsign. History: Vivian Marcy is the brother of Iris Marcy. When he was ten, their father was killed by a group of murdering prostitutes. The killers had been doing chain murders throughout Vvanderfall for a few years, managing to avoid the authorities, and leaving a trademark lingerie piece upon their victims’ bodies. Two years after their father’s death, their mother died of disease, leaving the twelve year old Vivian to raise his seven year old sister on the streets. Vivian had the constant pressure of being the fatherly figure for Iris. He made sure she learned proper morals, and ethics, and taught her to stay away from prostitution. Vivian and Iris often stole in order to survive, and their differences began to show as they aged. Vivian joined the Fighter’s Guild in Balmora at nineteen, as a way to earn money for him and Iris. He showed great skill with the bow, and decency with a blade. While he was off doing contracts, Iris was doing other things. Within a year, the two split ways, beginning their own careers. At 25 Vivian managed to track down the killers of his father, and got revenge. In killing the three prostitutes, he found an exhilarating joy in ending their lives, and so began his days as a murderer. Initiated into the Dark Brotherhood shortly after, he made a name for himself some years later, having lost all contact with his sister. That changed with the arrival of the Oblivion Crisis. At first commissioned by the Brotherhood to aid in the ending of the Crisis, it was felt that he was getting too attached to his ‘group’. Indeed he was, for his own sister was in the group. Refusing to return and facing the Wrath of Sithis, Vivian knew he had no option to return to the Dark Brotherhood. During this time he also grew into a relationship with a girl named Mia, who turned out to be a Daedric Seducer. After the Crisis ended and he became a publicly acknowledged figure in the Empire, Vivian knew the situation was only getting more heated. The Daedra sought to reclaim Mia. Needless to say, the Seducer lover didn’t last. With his background knowledge of the Brotherhood, he became target numero uno. Now, the situation has become kill or be killed; a game Vivian is growing all too adept at playing. For six years he has separated himself from everyone he loves to protect them, hunting down the Brotherhood as they hunt him. An assassin of assassins. Personality: Vivian is a determined man, who will stand up for what he believes in to the point of down-right ridiculous stubbornness. Rarely angered to a hefty degree, he is mostly a calm, collected man. Many know him as kind-hearted, loyal, and strong-willed. Others know him prudish, distrusting, and quick to act. But then there are a select few others who also know him as a bloodthirsty hound, a man who will hunt his quarry until he claims it, or the hunt claims it first; a methodical killer, a cold and devious destroyer of lives. But all these people are right, they just fail to see the full picture. Other Traits and Oddities:-His greatest distrust is of women, particularly distastefully dressed women -Has a history with the Fighter’s Guild that gives him some minor leadership qualities and a decent warrior. -His name was actually given him before he was born; according to a fortuneteller’s prophesy, his parents were to have a girl. The Fortuneteller might have meant his sister, Iris. It stuck while a child, his mother thinking it ‘cute’. -Good luck trying to get him in a grapple hold; seriously, good luck. -Has not stepped foot in Morrowind in over a decade. Misc Skills [non-combat]:-Actually a decent cook, though mostly in Cyrodiilic specialties. -Doesn’t know how to make a poison, but knows the difference between a good one and a crappy one.
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Post by shadow666 on Nov 30, 2009 16:40:15 GMT
Name: Demona Nickname(s): Mia Gender: F Race:Daedra Seducer (often uses a Mortal form of a Breton girl) Age: Appears 23 in Main Mortal Form (true age unknown) Birthdate: Unknown Birthplace: Unknown
Mia
Class: Healer Class Focus: Magic Major Skills: Restoration, Alteration, Alchemy, Illusion, Unarmored Minor Skills: blunt weapon, mysticism, destruction, block Birthsign: The Lover
Eyes: Silver Hair: Black and chest length, wavy small streak of red on right side Skin/Fur Color: slightly tanned Height: 1.7 m Weight: 60 kgs Build: slender
Physical Description: the Slender, almost fragile physique the mortal form demona uses allows her to be able to pass through most towns barely noticed, if kept at a distance from others. a faint blue glow resonates beneath her shirt which is the only feature that betrays her true nature to those who know what the markings mean.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: a tattoo of a set of wings beginning from the middle of her spine to each shoulder, with daedric runes placed along the wingspan of the tattoo.
Clothing and Armor: white short-sleeved shirt, with a knee-length skirt, both embodied with small shield enchantment runes.
Personality: When Demona had no memories of her demonic nature, her mortal form had a personality of its own. Mia once had an innocent mind before the worst of the Oblivion Crisis, but this had began to deteriorate when she could not save some of the companions in her journey, the worst was a young Breton inventor who she had begun to bond with before her untimely end. As her memories of her daedric self returned the thoughts about what she was brought up to believe were questioned, but they were still the ideals that kept her humanity intact. Always thinking of others first, Mia will go out of her way to heal others of serious wounds, without thought about how draining it is for her frail body.
Spells: Heal, Cure Poison, Cure Disease, invisibility, Charm mortal, night eye
-- Demona
Class: Seducer Class Focus: magic/combat (magic more-so) Major Skills: Illusion, blade, light armour, Destruction, Conjuration Minor Skills: Acrobatics, Mysticism, Alteration,
Eyes: black Hair: Black and chest length, wavy with a small streak of red on right side Skin/Fur Color: Olive tan Height: 1.7 m Weight: 60 kgs Build: Slender Physical Description: Fairly similar to Mia's form, but Demona is much more darker, with the obvious difference of the wings on her back, and her demonic eyes.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: daedric rune over one eyelid, branding her as a seducer and another rune on her stomach glowing a dull blue, similar to the one on her back in her mortal form.
Personality: Much more sadistic at times than her humane split personality, Demona knows that sometimes a swift and decisive move is better than staying on the sidelines waiting for someone to go down. as a seducer she tends to be open to either sex, and will sometimes even flirt with the other companions, yet there was one man she enjoyed doing this to the most, mainly since her mortal form seemed attracted to him.
Clothing and Armor: much darker style than Mia's Demona wears black tight-fitting pants, and a black-red vest type shirt, made so some cleavage is shown.
Magic: Fireball, shock, Absorb Health, Charm Mortal, Command Mortal, Night Eye, summon Clannefear, summon Daedric Katana. ----
Inventory: small medical pouch with alchemical supplies and potions. small silver ring with half of a cut diamond and ruby on it, given to her by someone Mia loved during the Oblivion Crisis.
Weapons: Duel Curved Knives, only needed as a last resort, but now Demona uses them efficiently.
History: Not much is Known about Demona before the Oblivion Crisis other than she was a Spy working for Dagon to find a way to weaken the defenses of the blades. The only way she could infiltrate completely was to be left at a priory in the form of a 14 year-old girl with all her memories removed. for 4 years she had grown up at the Chorrol Priory, trained in the arts of healing due to her natural ability to use magic easily.
As the Daedra did not know what she truly was, new memories of being human filled the Seducers mind, and so a new Personality was born. Mia.
When strangers came to speak with her adopted father Jauffre, little did she know that she would become involved in a quest to find the emperor's son and to fight the Daedra Hordes that threatened the Providence. The young healer had helped many of her new companions along the way, but not knowing how to fight, she was often the target of being captured by daedra or bandits, or the Mythic Dawn.
It was not until some of her companions began to die that the young Healer soon began to realize there was another force at work. After being captured by the Mythic dawn the dark Aura of the place had somehow reconnected her with her memories of her Seducer self, causing a change in her personality instantly. At that moment it seemed that everything that she had done for the good of mankind was to be destroyed almost instantly. But because if the rush of memories, the Mortal personality remained in the Daedroth's head and Mia had regained control.
In her Split-Persona state, Mia fell for the new self proclaimed leader of the group, Vivian after she helped to defeat the Wraith of Sithis sent to kill him. Both Personalities saw something in him, and their relationship grew. But as the final gates to Oblivion were closed and they were revered as the Champions of Cyrodill, a nagging thought was in the back of her mind.. She knew that by betraying Dagon in the final battle, she would be hunted down and slain in the mortal realm to be returned to the Dead-lands for judgment. A few months after the Crisis, she left the bed she had shared with her lover, and vanished into the night, with only a letter and necklace she was meant to give him behind. The Letter mentioned that she knew that while the two of them were together they were too big a target, and that he should not search for her, for she feared her time on Nirn was limited.
The years that followed saw the Seducer roaming the country side, under constant attack by Daedra summoned by remnants of the Mythic Dawn. But despite this she also, along the way, helped many in need of assistance, but left as soon as the were okay because of the danger that followed her. Many began to call her the "Siren" because of the danger that followed any who followed her.
She continues to help those in need however, as by doing so, she hopes to make the message clear, that not all Daedra are evil.
Other Traits and Oddities: - has a Split Personality - Mia can be shy around new commers - Demona can be quite flirtatious with either sex - Demona still has trust issues with new members concerning her true identity and does not show herself in her Seducer form often.
Misc Skills [non-combat]: - can make Potions and Poisons - can sense other daedra seducers even if the are in a mortal form - can cook a bit after watching Karst on their travels
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Post by Vicorva on Dec 23, 2009 12:39:56 GMT
Okay, here is my character. He seems a little noobish now, and roleplaying seems like a long time in the past for some reason. I'll probably bring in a second later. Woot for the awesome rp idea, Aula!
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Chriso
Apprentice
The Birdman
Posts: 97
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Post by Chriso on Dec 23, 2009 21:25:50 GMT
Okay, here's my sheet. Sorry if something doesn't make sense; I did this a long time ago for another RP and I've had to do a lot of editing. Oh, and I'm sorry if the wording is a bit crap, but I was kinda a 'newb' when I did it and I don't see the point in changing it completely. Name: Jartod Nickname: J Race: Redguard Gender: Male Age: 34 Birthsign: The Warrior Class: Hero of Cheydinhal Skills: Long Blade, Hand-to-Hand, Light Armour, Block, Weaknesses: A little bit too hyper at times and will often get on people's nerves. However, people seem to let him be most of the time. Jartod is rather challenged mentally, both academically and emotionally. He isn't very smart and will often run head long into battle with out much thought, with no tactics. Also gets upset about almost everything personal. Seems to have more bark than bite you could say. Temper often needs to be controlled. On a more physical side, he has a problem with his knee. When he does too much strenuous activity it cramps up and he is barely able to walk. This is why Jartod is mainly only good for short bursts of power and force. Weapons: A well-kept silver claymore that has his name engraved on the hilt. It was given to him as a gift for his contribution in helping Cyrodiil during the Oblivion crisis. Jartod also has a steel dagger, just in case it is need; but he rarely uses it. Armour/Clothing: His clothing consists of stitched up green shirt with the sleeves removed. He likes to show off his arms. His pants are simply brown coarse linens and shoes are also brown. He has attached a hood to his shirt; he thinks it looks good. Under his armour he wears a thick brown tunic as his arming doublet. His armour itself is simply leather but with extra padding, producing extra protection but adding some weight. Even though Jartod is a big, strong man, he thinks heavier armour is too much of a burden; especially considering he is quite slow. Jartod does not wear a helmet, for he feels that donning one would only impair his vision and hearing. Equipment: A small pouch that he keeps in his greaves pocket. This pouch usually contains 100 septims and some peanuts – he likes peanuts. Spells: Does not use magic, and even if he wanted to, Jartod wouldn’t have the intelligence to summon a blade of grass. Physical Description: He is generally quite handsome, however his big boned frame and often oversized body features put people off. His eyes are large and quite piercing; however, they seem more happy and friendly rather than aggressive. Though, he can make them look menacing if he likes. His nose is quite small but wide, with big nostrils – it can look somewhat intimidating. His cheekbones are quite high, which would make him a quite good-looking man if everything else was in proportion. Also, he has big lips that seem almost unnaturally thick. His forehead falls quite far back, which Jartod thinks is the reason his eyes looks so big. The Redguard is very large in frame; he always was bigger than most boys when young and that carries on today. His arms are long and thick, but from so much heavy weight lifting and swordplay, they have gained a lot of hard and defined muscle - when he tenses it is almost scary. His long arms are very useful for claymore fighting, making him able to make long swings without getting too close. His chest is also quite bulgy, perking out forward. However, his abdomen is not quite so defined; Jartod never really worked on the stomach, which to be honest was quite silly of him. With his height most opponents would target the body. Although, with that said his overall weight can still let it take a beating. His legs are also quite muscular, from a lot of running and leg lifts. But it is odd that he isn't very fast; he thinks his weight slows him down. Jartod's hair is very short. He keeps it in a buzz saw style cut, with a streak going across the front. He was thinking of growing an Afro for fun. His eyebrows are quite thin, and nearly unnoticeable, likely dominated by the other features. He doesn't keep any beard or stubble but likes a little chin goatee. Height: 6'5'' Weight: 235 lbs Hair colour: Dark brown Eye colour: Green Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A fair amount of small scars from his days fighting during the Oblivion crisis, but nothing major. In Jartod’s opinion, tattoos look ugly. Personality: Jartod is very loud and energetic and always wants to have a laugh with his friends and play around - quite childlike really. In fact, he is actually very nice, just too eccentric, often getting on his friend's nerves. However, over the years they've learnt to put up with it. Often seems a little bit too optimistic and always thinks everything will work out. He always wants to play fight with the people he lives with, whether it is for fun or to improve his skills. Seeing as the village Jartod resides at has a small duelling pit, he makes good use of it. People often turn down his offers, though, as he has the tendency to go a little overboard with the fighting. On the other side of that is a very sensitive man. His feelings are hurt easily with nearly any insult; he believes that they're trying to pick on him – which is rather odd seeing as he’s the Hero of Cheydinhal. Jartod hates people not liking him, and if someone was to push his buttons too far, then uncertain consequences could be a result. Sometimes this leads to him just walking away by himself; other times he can go off in a blinding rage, threatening to kill people and all that. However, this is rare, as people do not often try to annoy or be hurtful towards him. History: Was born to a mother and father in a small village to the south of Cheydinhal. At a young age he was quite athletic and strong, and often his dad would try and abuse this, making him beat up other children for fun. He would even bet with other parents who would win in fights – for his own personal entertainment and money. At first, Jartod didn't think any better, and actually broke one kid's nose once. However, as time went on he started to not like it, seeing it as mean and cruel. He stopped doing it and his father tried to beat him. The beatings went on for a while until Jartod's father pushed his luck. As dad was about to hit him Jartod picked up a dagger from the floor and plunged it straight into his father's face, stabbing him repeatedly. Jartod cried and was upset for many a weeks until he finally got over it. The people of the village were shocked, but understood at the same time, so forgave him. The body was dumped in the river and has long gone. His mother was obviously upset with what happened, but three years later she started to get over the event and even went on to look for another man. She found one - another Redguard called Kaltor. Jartod always liked him; they would share jokes and play fight lightly together. However, sometimes the play fighting would go a little far, but Kaltor didn't mind; it turned the boy into a fit young teenager. Unfortunately, something always goes wrong. One day Kaltor and Jartod’s mother got a little drunk during the night. They wanted to get away from the people of the village and foolishly went outside into the night. They disappeared and never returned. What actually happened to them is not known, nor did it matter, for either way it was just another pain Jartod had to deal with. He was taken in by and raised by the village smith - a man they just called 'Scruff'. He didn't look too good but sure knew a thing about training and repairing weapons and armour. He taught Jartod everything he knew about combat and helped train him into the muscular man he is now. By his 20s, Jartod was the most popular person in the district due to his enthusiastic personality and because he’d always defend the town of threats; everyone knew him and would trust him to do nearly everything, be it fighting for their entertainment, fending off raiders or just being an inspiration for their children. However, he was still a little too loud and energetic, and could irk people sometimes - but they just tried to think about the positive things. Nevertheless, having a fun, easy life would not be a possibility… especially not for Jartod. One day, while on patrol, he spotted something in the distance – something of frightening appearance. It towered from the ground, emitting a nightmarish, fiery glow. The Redguard didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he had to: what stood there was an Oblivion gate – and it was scarily close to Cheydinhal. Even though Jartod’s village was well out of the way, even they knew about the gates opening and what had happened to Kvatch. He knew that if Cheydinhal was taken, his settlement would likely be next – Jartod could not let that happen. After many tears, the people of the village let Jartod leave, understanding what could happen. The Redguard travelled to the gate, where guards met him. Reluctantly, the soldiers let him into the gate with them, where they fought ferociously for at least a week, having to feed on anything they could find. Eventually, Jartod and the remaining soldier stumbled upon two ‘knights’ – Count Indarys’ son Farwil and his friend. The four men charged the tower and after a bloody battle, closed the gate. Jartod met the count and was dubbed ‘Hero of Cheydinhal’ and made an honorary Knight of the Thorn… if it really meant anything. Since that day, the warrior joined forces with a few Cheydinhal soldiers and helped remove any Daedra from the area. He made friends within the group, and still drops by to see them sometimes. Despite being given much money and offered a manor in Cheydinhal, Jartod remained loyal to those he knew all his life, and returned to the village to try and live in peace. Instead of keeping all the money to himself, Jartod spent it on improving the village and gave much to the poor. He never really worshipped the Nine, but still was an extremely generous man. These days, Jartod remains with his people and still defends the village to death. Though, he also decided that in case he was absent for whatever reason, the people of the settlement needed to learn how to fight. The Redguard regularly trains the adults how to fight and tries to get all the children in shape. Miscellaneous: *- Loves to drink beer, and has one every night. *- Jartod still has trouble writing legibly, despite being in his 30s. *- Even though he’s been through many traumas in his life, Jartod’s still the cheery man he was before the Oblivion crisis. People wonder how it is possible. *- Is very, very determined and loyal * - Doesn't like bullies or really anyone obnoxious. *- Loves animals, especially dogs. *- Has a fear of snakes. *- Has a scar on his chin, but is mainly covered by his goatee. EDIT: Made a few changes to the sheet. I hope what I've changed is okay, Aulakauss.
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Post by Kleidium on Dec 25, 2009 15:59:27 GMT
Name: Odeen Gender: Male Race: Argonian Age: 26
Height: 6'1 Eye Color:Light purple.
Hair Style: Longish fins that protrude from both sides of his head, the left one has an old cut scar, barely noticeable,
Skin Color: The color of his skin resembles that of some sort of smoky steel.
Class: Magnus, title given to him by his Breton caretaker long ago.
Class Focus: Magic/Alchemy
Major Skills: Restoration- His skill in restorative energies has improved a bit, as he can now heal minor poisons instead of focusing mainly on healing wounds. His skill in healing wounds is still quite good.
Alchemy- One of Odeen's passions, alchemy is something he knows just about everything about these days, as long as the ingredients involved are in Cyrodiil. Unfortunately, Odeen still hasn't gotten his hand on a sample of anything from Morrowind or any other province. This doesn't stop him from making all sorts of useful potions, some of which he sells to travelers on the road to make a decent sum of money.
Mysticism- His skill in mysticism is concentrated mostly on Detecting Life, and over the years he had delved into learning how to Reflect Harmful spells from himself. He also has decent Telekinesis.
Alteration- His primary knowledge in alteration lies in being able to conjure shields, and a good amount of them too. Although it strains his magicka, keeping all his shields active while downing a magicka potion or two counters his loss of magickal energy. He can also cast a decent feather spell on himself or others.
Illusion- None of his skills in illusion negatively affect his enemies. His only concerns in the school of illusion lie in creating Light, making use of Night-eye, and turning invisible for a short time.
Destruction- Odeen is very adept at utilizing Frost magic, and decently so in Shock magic. Believing to have a natural affinity and interest in Frost despite being an Argonian, he became a master at manipulating and conjuring frost. However, that's his only use of the Destruction school of magic, along with shock spells that just aren't as powerful as his ice. His only experience with Fire is generating warmth.
Enchanting- His skill in enchanting is notable, as he knew how to enchant things without an altar for as long as he could remember. He prefers to keep his enchantments unique and one of a kind, just like some of his more special potions. His enchanted gauntlet, Corshanx, is his most powerful creation.
General Appearance: Not quite as slender as he used to be, Odeen is now around average size, as he had built up slight muscle in the past 6 years. However, he is still mostly physically weak.
Tattoos/Scars: A large scar across his chest is his most noticeable. Others include a couple of cut scars on his right arm, and one on his left fin.
Apparel Worn Most Often: Odeen never goes anywhere without one of his robes, whether it be blue, green, or black. Underneath he has a plain straw-colored silk shirt with white trousers that happen to have many dirt stains and rips toward the bottom of them. He wears plain straw sandals. He has a singular dark brown leather glove he wears on his right arm, Corshanx.
Weapons: Odeen couldn't burden himself with carrying a sword all the time (as his pack of potions is heavy enough already) so he chooses to have at least one dagger with him if the need to to melee arises. However, his enchanted frost gauntlet Corshanx more than enough suits his needs for melee combat.
Birth sign: Mage
Spells: All sorts. Most notable are his shield spells, his frost spells, and his healing spells.
In pack: Odeen tends to have a myriad of different potions in his pack of items, along with ingredients for on-the-go potion concoction. Some potions are unique, some are generic. But all are potent.
Mental Description: Ever since the crisis ended, Odeen began to become more independent, and mentally stable. Finally letting go his lack of knowledge in his past, he believes that one day he may remember, but until then, he's to press on with his life and find his purpose. Even though he's not as much of a pushover as he used to be, he is still easily persuaded and threatened. However, he no longer hesitates in combat. He learned that during the Oblivion crisis, hesitating can be a fatal mistake. However, overall, he is a tender and gentle man.
History: Odeen was born 26 years ago, close to the border of Cyrodiil/Black Marsh. However, the poor mage knows nothing of his past, save for the last 9 years or so of his lifetime. He often says that all he can remember is that a Breton was taking care of him before he left his residence in Leyawiin, at 17. Those are among the first things he recalls of his past. For three years he wandered from town to town, getting by on the money he made by selling potions and healing the wounded. Eventually he had heard of the destruction of Kvatch, and journeyed to Weynon Priory, driven by a rumor of a group of heroes arriving there from Kvatch.
Once he arrived, he was greeted by the leader, Adeth, and became quick friends with Karstine and Zanna, the latter of which dying soon after he arrived. Odeen had never had real friends before, and became unstable, leaving the group for a while. He met them again in the Imperial City. Determined to be more useful this time around, he stuck by Karstine's side and participated in battles with the group against Daedra, although he often stood back and maintained shields or, whenever the need for healing came around, he rushed in with either potion or spell. He claimed he would never leave her. It was in these days he learned that his ice magicks and his enchanted gauntlet were crucial to survival, and bloodshed can't always be avoided.
Eventually, he became adept at combat, but still preferred to support others at every chance he got. Sometime during his quest with the group, his magick gauntlet, Corshanx, began to speak to him. Odeen quickly thought he was going insane, but when the gauntlet spoke aloud, to where Karstine could hear, he felt a little bit relieved. However, he was still confused. Corshanx claimed to be able to read the minds of whoever was wearing the glove, and he could also crawl around on his own. He told the Argonian he was a Dunmer spirit sent by his master to keep watch over him, but it seemed like he enjoyed tormenting Odeen more than anything. The spirit in the glove said he was to hold Odeen's memories hostage, and told Odeen that if he didn't go through with this quest, he would never know of his past.
Keeping this in mind, a frightened, but determined Odeen continued to fight with the group, only able to do so with the support of his Khajiit friend, Karstine. He began to develop feelings for her, though he was unsure and was very insecure about it all. Odeen also wondered, would he be happy with who he was, who he used to be before losing his memory? Only time would tell.
At the climax of the crisis, in the final battle in the Imperial City, Odeen had suffered a near fatal wound resulting in the scar on his chest. Corshanx's voice was the last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness. Miraculously, he survived. Awaking in a bed to find that the city and his life were saved, he felt happier than he had ever felt before. He quickly found out, though, that Corshanx no longer spoke to him. Realizing that he had been probably played for a sap by some wizard or something, he believed he would never remember the first 17 years of his life. Although he still felt strange energies from the gauntlet, Odeen smiled. And ever since then, he had been living somewhat harmoniously, finding time to study, travel a bit, and spend time with his best friend, Karst.
However...a strange force beckons him to travel to the same place Karst is gathering adventures to explore. This, along with his vow of staying by Karst's side, drives him to journey alongside his friend once again.
My returning character, hopefully not too many mistakes. It's been a while.
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Cirith
Apprentice
Roleplaying mad genius
Posts: 59
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Post by Cirith on Jan 2, 2010 0:38:39 GMT
sorry i'm late, but since my character only shows up once people get inside the realm of sheogorath i don't think it would be such a big problem.
here's the character, we hope you will enjoy your time with Sheoth touring & torture company...
Name: Lex Deloc Nickname(s): N/A Gender: male Race: Imperial Age: 31 Birthdate: 16 of first seed Birthplace: Chorrol
Class: Adventurer Class Focus: combat Major Skills: marksmanship, short blades, restoration, Illusion Minor Skills: athletics, light armor, block, speechcraft Class Description: Adventurers make a living of chasing myths and near unreachable rewards, taking the gamble to gain incredible riches, or die for them. There is wide variety in styles of survival and combat. Lex uses his skill in the school illusion to his advantage as long as he can with his small amount of magicka reserves. Can manage with both bow and blade and prefers the use of light mail or other armor for the agile fighter. Birthsign: the Lord
Eyes: grey blue Hair: short brown hair Skin/Fur Color: a slight tan from earlier that year Height: he stands just above average at 1 meter 86 Weight: 81 kilograms Build: slender build and fit body, not very powerful appearance but still shows some.
Physical Description: At first you would not expect him to be a strong fighter – like with most agile fighters- his slender build allows him to use speed instead of brute force and overall his appearance just isn’t intimidating and hardly ever interferes with his social skills. Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: several wounds on his arms from failed blocks against bladed weapons, on his right leg he has the still recovering scratches of his first encounter with a baliwog he did not notice soon enough.
Clothing and Armor: because he already needed a fresh set of clothing he took what he found in the inn of passwall, now deserted, and is quite comfortable in the red suit, although the overall shape still take a bit of getting used to (with the widened shoulders ). Outside the village he wears a chainmail vest and leather braces
Inventory: In his travelbag in his house in passwall: hammock, his old clothing, his last bottle of Tamika’s, his armor when he’s not hunting.
Weapons: a lightweight bow forged by an orc in the Imperial city, 30 dwemer arrows with forked arrowhead, 7 elven arrows of illumination, kept in a separate compartment of his quiver. Also he carries with him a silver shortsword enchanted by his grandfather to use in his necromantic experiments, he called it Lucius and it casts a small soultrap while draining the magical force from its victim, he uses this blade in tandem with a small ebony dagger which cost him most of his money to obtain.
Magic: he uses a mall array of spells to hinder his opponents by blinding them, distract them with sound or alter light with darkness and light spells. His small reserves of magicka don’t allow him to use many spells at once but each one will last for a while to aid him. He usually uses them to tip a fight back into his favor.
History: in his youth he was an archers apprentice in the skingrad fightesguild, he was taught how to hunt, how to track and how to defend himself. Unfortunately he did not like life in the guildhall and at age 17 he joined a mercenary group, they did many jobs and although some were not always good for ones sense of morality but the group itself was always a big family of fighters as they leader called it, Trip Levis, one of Tamriels best swordfighters. Years passed and Lex grew to become the respected marksman and ranger of the group.
After years of fighting together the mercenaries arrived at a point where they could no longer agree and the group split when the new leader wanted to accept a contract involving the dark Brotherhood assassins when many were against the idea of working along with assassins who already were known for giving problems in joint operations for a client, often ending with the assassins eliminating the ‘competition’. Sides were chosen and several of the ‘old guys’ like Lex left the group as they could se the job ending badly.
Lex and the other mercs who left the group tried to stay in business as a group for a while but they proved to be with too few and too badly coordinated to continue as a group and so they each went their way, some going on solo, others finding a new job, or a new life in Lex’ case
Now after a few months of wandering he lives in the fringe of madness, after seeking a new start away from Cyrodiil, unable to explain just why he chose to enter the realm of Sheogorath he is slowly getting mad, he starts thinking he came to the Isles for a reason, to be the guide of whomever else enters the fringe of madness, however with his mind he is also losing his sense of direction and as a result he often finds himself lost while wandering through the fringe. Sheogorath found it amusing to see where this would lead to if exaggerated and soon will give him his blessings to allow him to enter the rest of the isles, however if he will ever get there is a whole other matter.
Personality: of nearly sane mind. Spare his slight manic delusion he is normal and doesn't mind having people around him. He is however a bit too careless from time to time as he takes his current task very seriously.
Other Traits and Oddities: - Madness: Lex is under the delusion that he was invited to the Shivering isles to act as a guide for others, that while he has no sense of direction and the ability to get lost very quickly. (once he is allowed through the gates of madness his sense of direction will be almost completely gone and leave a strange side-effect that allows him to get completely lost and able to unintentionally find places where he might be going to)
Misc Skills [non-combat]: -basic survival skills (cooking, setting up camp, knowing where to find water, how to make small animal traps, etc.) -he sketches landscapes when he finds time, often in the morning at breakfast. -has a knack for reading enchantments, if he can get his hands on an enchanted item he can often find out what exactly its enchantments might be.
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Post by Anticlere on Jan 5, 2010 11:24:49 GMT
Sorry I'm late, just thought you guys could use another shiny, what with all the experienced heroes around. Name: Nelson (he has no last name as his parents are unknown) Gender: Male Race: Breton Age: 21 Birthdate: 3E 418, 9th Sun‘s Dawn Birthplace: City of Anvil, presumably Class: Squire/Acolyte of Dibella Class Focus: Nelson can‘t claim to be a mage; nor is he a great warrior. If pressed to choose, however, he‘d describe himself as a warrior, though one who relies more on agility than strength (he has little). Skills: Nelson can‘t claim to be great at anything. He‘s rather handy with a sword, but though he can hold his own in a simple duel, he lacks experience and extensive training, which leaves him at a disadvantage against skilled opponents. His skills with Restoration magick are also very feeble, consisting mostly of a few blessings that are not hard to call upon for a worshiper of Dibella. He is, however, a great runner, and can endure more than his frame might suggest. Birthsign: The Lover Eyes: Green Hair: Not too long dark brown hair. At the back, where they‘re longest, they reach around mid-neck length; his ears, though covered, are still pretty visible. Though he pays little attention to his haircut, his hair never gets too untidy even without his care. Skin/Fur Color: Pale, due to his race, but not sickly so. Height: 5‘9 Weight: 127 lbs Build: Quite frail, though one couldn‘t mistake him for a mage; more like a rogue of some sort. Physical Description: Nelson has been blessed by Dibella by quite good looks. Being young, he gives off that energetic feel of someone who still has much to see; he may appear slightly naive at times, though one shouldn’t mistake him for someone who knows little of how the world works. Though his build might not appear impressive to a warrior, he can claim to have more strength than it may seem (that doesn’t say much, though). One can, however, make the correct presumption he is a quick one. He moves with a certain grace, unrefined perhaps but something that can make one think Nelson might have noble ancestors. Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: A scar across the right side of his chest, a leftover from training and a reminder to always watch his enemy. Clothing and Armor: Nelson’s clothing is rather humble and practical, meaning that certain individuals are swift to declare it ‘lower class’. He wears a white linen tunic; it is, though not a particularly flamboyant piece of clothing, warm and rather sturdy, so it needn’t be changed often. His brown pants appear rather baggy, that being made worse by the fact they’re a bit too large for him; in fact one with a careful eye could make out that a part of both legs has been cut off, making the ends of them quite uneven and still a bit too long, covering most of his around mid-thigh high leather boots. Little can be found in his possessions that could be considered armour, although he does have a leather lamellar cuirass, a gift from his knight. The only steel armour of his is on his fingerless leather gloves, being a single plate sewn on top of both of the gloves, covering the front of both his lower arms nearly to the elbow. Over his whole outfit he wears a once-white, now greyish pilgrim’s cloak, as indicated by the clasp being the gem of Pelinal Whitestrake. Inventory: Nelson hasn’t got many items, and his travel pack is appropriately small. He has some food in the form of some fruit and two loaves of bread; he also has a canteen with water and, hidden away on a separate pocket in his pack, a small bottle of mead, a gift from one of the Nordic knights from his order; though Nelson doesn’t drink, he didn’t throw it away as the Nord and him were good friends and he did promise that it’d be useful ‘once things got cold’, being true Skyrim mead. He also has a few basic supplies – some bandage, a pretty short rope and a needle and a thread in a small box. He also has a spare white tunic, just in case. Weapons: His only weapon and greatest pride is another gift from his order, an arming swordhe received after his first real duel. Magic: Nelson is not a skilled mage. Asides from his race’s inherent ability to toughen their skin and the blessing of his birthday to be able to paralyze someone with a kiss (a rather awkward ability if one asked him), the spells he can call upon are mostly blessings of his patron deity, Dibella; they can give one an almost divine appearance for a short while, however not much use in combat. He does know some Restoration magick, but nothing about serious healing – only enough to heal his own bruises and push his body to and beyond the limit for a very short while. History: Nelson doesn’t know his parents; he grew up in the chapel of Dibella in Anvil. According to the priestesses, they never found out who his parents were and simply raised him when they found him at the chapel’s door. Though without parents, Nelson found the care of the Church of the Nine to be a fine replacement, and never missed his parents all too greatly, perhaps because he was separated before he could even remember them. So he lived happily as a child, becoming an acolyte of Dibella. Happiness was not to last, however, as the dreadful day came when Umaril’s Aurorans attacked the chapel of Anvil. The only family he could remember was killed, his home desecrated and Nelson himself barely avoided death by hiding in the depths of the undercroft. After the horror passed, he was forced to live on the streets for a while, before a knight found him and took him under his wing. It seemed like Nelson was destined to remain involved with the Nine Divines, as his saviour was, in fact, a member of the reformed order of the Knights of the Nine. Nelson’s life with the knights proved a rather happy one, though he found the knights tended to set the bar very high. Though he tried his best, he always seemed one step behind the acceptable knight; particularly stood out the fact he was willing to use rather non-knightly measures like threatening if the situation called for it, even if it might’ve seemed odd and he never really meant it. He always had his doubts, despite the efforts of his master to encourage him to try harder; these doubts culminated when, just a month ago, Nelson exiled himself from the order, making this decision on the basis that if he couldn’t be a knight no matter what, there was little reason to keep trying and failing. His master chose not to attempt to find him, as he hoped a little wandering might help Nelson decide who he wants to be in life. Personality: Nelson is a rather jolly young man, despite life not always being kind with him. As an acolyte of Dibella and one who was born under the sign of the Lover, he’s a quite romantic soul, something that even the Knights of the Nine couldn’t knock out of him; he loves beautiful lands, for which reason he also worships Kynareth. However, though he finds himself falling in love quite often, he’s always too shy to reveal his affection to the woman in question. However, one shouldn’t mistake him for a fragile thing; the training of the Knights of the Nine amounts to something, and the fact he continues to be a normal man after what the Aurorans did to his family speaks volumes. If he wants to, Nelson can be very determined; however he has self-confidence issues that get in the way of his progress. When faced with a serious problem it is best he’s not left to himself, as the doubts tend to get to him sooner rather than later. Other Traits and Oddities:-An abstinent; he tends to avoid alcohol like the plague, although doesn’t try to force the same view unto others; -Has no idea whatsoever where he was actually born or who his parents were; -Considers Dibella his patron, also a devout worshipper of Kynareth; -Considers the Church of Dibella to be his mother and the Knights of the Nine – his father, for which reason he seldom misses his real parents or thinks about trying to find them. Misc Skills [non-combat]:-He has some basic first aid abilities -Actually quite good at sewing things, which tends to come in handy as it is an useful skill many adventurers tend to overlook
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jan 5, 2010 19:05:15 GMT
Well Aulakauss, here's my sheet, for what it's worth. Let me know if there's anything you want changed, elaborated on, or the like.
Name: Lance Cochrane Race: Imperial Gender: Male Age: 25 Birthsign: The Steed
Class: Spell Brawler Description: Fusing together elements of both destruction magic and unarmed fighting, these seldom seen warriors rely on powerful punches and kicks to deliver their spells to the enemy. Skills: Hand to hand combat, destruction magic, acrobatics, athletics, unarmoured
General Appearance: His build both tall and lean, Lance is more well toned as opposed to overtly muscular. His skin is quite healthily tanned, considerably more so than most Imperials, and sports a handful of scars from past ‘adventures.’ Despite the somewhat seasoned appearance of his sharply defined face, it is also a site of youthful vibrancy, often showcasing a look of hopefulness and determination. Eyes: Sky blue Hair: Jet black, worn relatively short and unkempt Height: 6’3” Scars: A small collection of injuries, mostly superficial, are scattered across his body
Mental Description: Generally speaking, Lance is an optimistic, upbeat kind of guy, with a passion for life and having fun. He often possesses a surprising air of immaturity and casualness about him, even in times of danger and battle. This is not to say he is incapable of being serious, however: when the situation warrants it, such as the life of a comrade in danger, he can become a staunchly determined combatant.
Preferred Weapons: Traditionally, Lance uses a pair of white silk hand wraps in battle, enchanted to protect his fists from injury. Secondary Weapons: Used less often than his fists, Lance is also fully capable of fighting with his feet. Clothing: A fairly loose, short sleeved white cotton shirt, accompanied by a pair of similarly loose black cotton pants. On his feet, he wears a pair of comfortable brown leather shoes. Inventory: A small amount of gold.
Bio: Born in the province of Elsweyr, Lance was raised by his parents in the village of Senchal. As a coastal resort, and as a port notorious for its black market smuggling, Lance was witness to a number of interesting sights as a child, and to this day claims to have once seen the Empress of Akavir. It was here that he began to develop his combat and magical skills.
When Lance was 20, he and his family were attacked by a band of privateers. Though in the end they were able to fight them off, his father was mortally wounded in the battle. After his father’s death, Lance and his mother moved from Senchal, eventually finding their way to Cyrodiil.
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Agito
Novice
Fantastic Musical Diatom
Posts: 20
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Post by Agito on Jan 5, 2010 23:08:53 GMT
Here ya go! Has a kitty!
Name: Reissa Nickname(s): Rei (I also call her Reikitty a lot) Gender: Female Race: Khajiit (suthay-raht) Age: 19 years Birthdate: 3 Heartfire, 3E 419 Birthplace: Border Watch, Cyrodiil
Class: Arctura Class Focus: Magic, self-defense Major Skills: - Destruction: The Arctura is specialized in magic and magic theory, and often relies on it for self-defense. Most Arctura study the college of Destruction to cause harm to foes and has powerful elemental spells. - Alteration: Considered a basic magic, the Arctura is supposed to be well-versed in the college of Alteration, which improves their mobility and allows them access to defensive spells, as well. - Restoration: In order to increase the Arctura's self-sufficiency, they are expected to know healing spells from the college of Restoration. They may also use it in other ways to help in their endeavors. - Athletics: Reissa loves to run, so she got better at it, of course. - Unarmored: Since the Arctura is not expected to learn traditional battle techniques, they usually rely on magic, wit, and agility to avoid injury. Minor Skills: - Short Blade: Arctura usually use a weapon in the event that they find themselves out of magicka and without time to regenerate it. Small, light weapons are usually preferred, especially daggers and shortswords. - Acrobatics: Reissa is fast and lightweight, and gifted with quick Khajiit reflexes. Thus, she naturally develops this skill and loves to use this advantage to attack from places unreachable to enemies. - Conjuration: Though not considered a basic skill of Arctura, they may develop skill in the college of Conjuration in order to summon weapons and armor, or to use daedra to help them in their studies and battles. - Alchemy: Reissa was encouraged from an early age to cook, clean, and basically be a good wife. However, she instead became interested in the magical properties of things, which led to alchemy. - Block: Reissa was taught how to effectively use shields during the Oblivion Crisis by her parents' contacts. Though she prefers lighter shields, she can use heavier ones, as well. Birthsign: The Lady
Eyes: Green Hair: Well, she has fur everywhere.... Skin/Fur Color: Reissa's fur is mostly a golden color, being lighter on the front and darker on the back. She lacks any other discernable fur pattern. Height: 5`6`` Weight: ~130 lbs. Build: Reissa has a very light build, overall, as do most suthay-raht. She has a small frame with an adequate amount of muscle, and very little fat.
Physical Description: Reissa is more-or-less the image of a healthy suthay-raht Khajiit. She has short, well-kempt fur, a lithe form with average musculature, and a low concentration of body fat. Her focus on magic studies makes her less physically strong than others, but she appears as quick and agile as she is. Though she is mature, she has an air of youthfulness.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: None
Clothing and Armor: Reissa tends to wear leather pants and a black top. Over this, she wears a dark blue robe, which usually hangs open with the lower corners dangling near her feet. The belt she wears will be placed over the robe if it is closed, but she will put it on her pants when she leaves it open. She loves trying on clothes, so finding her wearing anything else is not unusual. If she has armor at her disposal, she will wear lighter armor, but does not often keep it for long unless it is enchanted. She is good at using shields, and likes to carry them if they are available.
Inventory: Generally consists of some magicka potions in small steel vials, assorted scrolls, and whatever other magical items she finds. Usually carries small amounts of money. Always has a miniature mortar and pestle on hand and may keep some ingredients. Most of these are typically kept in a pouch secured to her belt.
Weapons: A small, curved steel dagger with silver plating and a steel wakizashi. She will use almost any small blade if she needs to replace one, though. Magic: All kinds of Destruction spells, especially elemental damage, as well as ones that weaken foes. Water breathing/walking, levitation, shield, and opening spells from Alteration. Strength/agility/speed increasing, healing, resisting, and cure disease spells from Restoration. Summon weapon, armor, and lesser daedra from Conjuration.
History: Reissa was born to a pair of Khajiit living in Border Watch, the small Khajiit village in southern Cyrodiil. There, her parents were Thieves Guild contacts conducting illicit trade with the villagefolk. Though they kept it quiet from her, she always had her suspicions about what they were doing. Although they were hardly traditional in their actions, they nonetheless raised her to be a polite young lady in all the normal ways of typical Cyrodilic maidens, hoping that she would marry early.
Unlike her parents, and for that matter, most of the rest of the village, Reissa harbored an interest for magic. This was a difficult topic to study in the small town of Border Watch, and so she mostly figured out what she knew from experimentation, much to the dismay of her family and even many of her friends. Village leaders looked at her with suspicion, and even the matchmaker was hesitant to come near her.
However, before she could be matched with anyone, the Oblivion Crisis struck. The rumors of Oblivion gates nearby caused her parents to move from the open town of Border Watch to the walled city of Bravil. Though this was not much of a step up, in some respects, it was a safer, busier environment, where her parents took to more honest trade, stabilizing their lives.
During her time in Bravil, although she was expected to do the house chores and flirt with the village men, Reissa often snuck off to the Mages Guild to study, instead. She kept her membership quiet, though her extreme curiosity and surprising talent inspired some and upset others of the Guild mages. She was easily capable of producing powerful spells, something with which many apprentices struggled, though the Altmer mages made fun of her reduced magicka pool.
Her parents eventually realized that they could not control her interest in magic, nor her sneaking out of the city gates to gather ingredients. Instead, they pulled in a couple of favors with their Thieves Guild contacts to give her some basic combat training, which would prove to be her true step up on other mages. She developed fighting skills with blades utilizing her natural agility, and was taught how to effectively use shields. Mixed with her knowledge of magic and ability to use her claws, she became a decent warrior.
At the end of the Oblivion Crisis, with things settling down, Reissa's parents decided that they should move back to Border Watch. She outright refused, which did not go over well with her parents. Instead of moving back with them, she ran off to the Mages Guild, where she secured a recommendation for the Arcane University.
For the next few years, she dwelled in the Imperial City, living in tension with the now-disorderly Mages Guild. She was young and powerful, and spent most of her time in her studies and in practice, unable to run freely in search of alchemic ingredients like she had in Border Watch and Bravil. It was not completely dull, as she did enjoy the studying, but she ached to be free, and to find new friends who actually enjoyed her for her own merits rather than consider her a threat and a nuisance.
With the word of a portal to another realm of Oblivion, she became quite excited, and began preparing for the trip. She left as soon as she was able.
Personality: Reissa is a lighthearted, energetic young girl. Though she has seen dark times, and is often lonely with her lack of sincere friends, she manages to keep a bright outlook with her success in her studies. She is extremely curious and, though this can lead her to trouble, she is often smart enough to look in a book first instead of trying things herself, when possible.
Though generally cheerful, she can be moody, and when she is not happy, it is usually pretty clear. She finds passive-aggression very satisfying, but may be directly rude or openly hostile with those who have upset her. It is not unlike her to use her claws or fangs. If particularly upset, she may also seclude herself.
Since she has few friends, she is not socially adept. She tends to talk about magic a lot, and is not familiar with many other subjects, except her relatively limited knowledge of swordplay, cooking, and household chores. She is not a leader, and is typically submissive.
Other Traits and Oddities: Come on! A magic-obsessed Khajiit? Is that not enough oddity or something?
Misc Skills [non-combat]: - Cooking: Though more knowledgeable about alchemy, Reissa is actually a decent cook. - Literacy: Reissa is an adept reader and can read almost anything in Cyrodilic. She also has basic knowledge of a few other languages.
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Post by Vicorva on Jan 8, 2010 19:02:45 GMT
Hope you like 'er, Aula. If anything needs changing, I'm happy to.
Zaire is a low skill level courier who can successful fulfil the role of scout (sometimes). She’s a fast learner, however, particularly if she is apprenticed to a more knowledgeable teacher. She’s less than useless in combat, but her sensitivity to magic and her skill with Detect spells means she can sometimes warn of danger before it comes. She usually chooses to protect herself with a summoned creature, and her vast reserves of magicka aid her greatly.
Name: Zaire Corva Race: Khajiit (Ohmes-Raht) Gender: Female Age: 23 Birthsign: The Apprentice
Occupation: Courier
Skills: Hand-to-Hand, Light Armour, Acrobatics (Dodge), Conjuration, Mysticism, Sneak, Restoration
Minor Talents: She’s learned to pick locks with some skill, but it can take a while and may cost her a few lockpicks (Security). She’s got a bit of a talent for charming and calming spells, but does not know powerful ones (Illusion). She’s a very raw beginner with a bow (Marksman) but would never want to use it in a fight anyway.
Non-Game Skills of Note: Riding, Animal Husbandry, Magic Sensitivity
General Appearance: Zaire is a short-furred ohmes-raht, with a face somewhere in transition between feline and human; all the features of a khajiit, but deemphasised and falling into a more familiar shape. She is short in build, but doesn’t appear fragile, and the curves of her body belie the new muscle she is building. Her hair is a wiry mess of copper, which she has tied into short braids, pushing the rest back with a thick headband of burgundy. Her tail is disproportionately bushy compared to the rest of her fur. She has very faint leopard spots on the outside of her limbs and down her back, darker than the rest of her fur.
However, her original colouring is impossible to tell. Her fur has been dyed a blue-green. This tends to distract all attention from any other aspect of her, except perhaps from her hair, which clashes magnificently.
Hair: Short Coppery hair that only reaches just past her chin, plaited into multiple braids, but the shorter hair at the front still sticks out in a mess, held back by a burgundy hairband. Eyes: She has large, dark brown eyes, and the whites are not visible. Height: Zaire is very slight of stature, standing at less than 5ft2” Build: She’s got some good feminine curves to her, suggesting she’s not much of a fighter or athlete, but she’s got some small build-up of muscle and her stance suggests she’s got good balance and dexterity. Fur: Very short fur, dyed a marine blue-green.
Apparel: Zaire usually wears a simple dress of some kind- often brown or beige in colour, that doesn’t look expensive but has a full, knee-length skirt and a nice cut. She also usually wears leggings of some kind beneath this, since she doesn’t like to ride side-saddle, and she most often wears her ‘adventurer’s boots’, which are brown with wolf-grey fur.
Alternative Apparel: Not that you really need to know her whole wardrobe, but she has a fancy black-and-burgundy dress (as in OB) for formal occasions and alternative footwear both for that and for training. She puts on a long duster sometimes for ‘armour’, lightly armoured on the inside. It was originally midnight blue, but is so faded and covered in mud splatters that the colour is rather lost to the casual observer.
Weapons: Well, Zaire doesn’t really have any weapons, but she keeps a silver dagger on her person (for practicality, not battle-readiness) and there is a steel shortsword strapped to her saddle.
Misc: Zaire has a sturdy but small grey mare. She’s a swift enough beast, and can take a lot of beating. She keeps most of her belongings (spare clothes, food, water, gold and non-essentials) in the saddlebags.
Mental Description: Personality-wise, Zaire is a little shy, quite intelligent, very instinctual and a somewhat eccentric. She occasionally has insights of great wisdom. She likes to laugh and smile, but is wary of others, expecting judgment (for good reason, perhaps). She has a firm reign on a terrible temper, and is always seeking to know what is ‘right’, and the truth of matters.
However, mentally, Zaire is a little… unstable. That is to say, she’s completely and utterly mad. A highly powerful imagination coupled with a strong will and many conflicting desires have led her to extreme paranoia, to seeing things that aren’t there, and to a conviction that everyone is out to get her. She hides this well, however- well, except for the blue fur.
Short Bio: Zaire isn’t much of a student of anything. Too strong-willed to be a good daughter, and too weird to be a worthwhile friend. Too fearful to be a good warrior. Too noble to be a good thief, and too wild to be a good mage. But the stars that marked her birth (which often seem more curse than blessing) drive her to learn, to seek out knowledge and understanding, to better herself. Her extreme openness to the mercurial forces, so uncommon in khajiit, has added to an already stressed mind, and when she was a child, this was taken advantage of.
But no need to speak of that. Regardless of her childhood, Zaire lives as a lodger with former mage lecturer Ontus Vanon now, who teaches her every now and then but is too old to either mentor her fully or care about her worrying instabilities. She works as a courier, as she finds the most clarity of thought when she is riding, and riding fast, leaving all the people in her life behind to just be… herself.
She knows all about Sheogorath- she’s been cursed as his spawn often enough- but has always feared him too much to seek his shrine. But when news of a Strange Door reached her, her natural curiosity got the better of her paranoid conservativeness. The voice that called to her there shook her to her soul. Fear prevented her from entering, but she found no solace back in her daily life.
She wanted out. After weeks of seeing posters up seeking adventurers for a journey into the unknown, Zaire finally resolved that she was going to do it. She would go with the champions to the Strange Door, and she would face that voice at the Door one more time.
And wherever it led… well, maybe fortune would find her there.
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Post by Darkom on Jan 19, 2010 3:43:24 GMT
;D Hey guys, how are you doing? I couldn't resist joining something like this, if you'll still have me. Thanks Aulakauss for telling me about it. Most certainly looking forward to it Thanks: Name: Ormil II Nickname(s): Psijic (He rarely gives out his name) Gender: Male Race: Altmer Age: Appears 34 (Not getting into that math) Birthsign: The Atronarch Factions: Psijic Order Class: Mystic Class Focus: Magic Skills: Alchemy, Mysticism, Alteration, and Unarmored Appearance: Ormil can immediately be recognized as a mage by his flowing robes and heavy tattooing. He stands up very straight, for his master disapproves of any slouching, and holds himself with an air of snide dignity. When not around superiors he keeps a very pensive and smug look on his face. Eyes: Ruddy Bronze Hair: His hair is shaved in the tradition of Psijic apprentices, though a slight silver fuzz has started to grow atop his head. Skin/Fur Color: Honey Gold Height: 6’ 4’’ Weight: 143 lbs Build: Ormil has the traditional tall and thin build of his people, coupled with scarce exercise and a vegetarian diet he has few muscles to speak of. Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: He has the traditional tattoos of the Psijics (Tribal tattoos across left face and body) Personality: Ormil is very ambitious, and very ready to please his superiors. However, he regards anyone outside the Order as trivial, and despises any other mages, particularly those from the Mages guild. He is difficult to anger, only insulting his guild will set him off, but when he is it is difficult to calm him down, and he holds grudges viciously. Goals: Following his masters’ orders, rising to a high rank in the Order, greater knowledge of magicka Fears: Physical danger to himself, failing in his tasks, looking foolish Hobbies: Creating potions, experimenting with magic, reading, and visiting certain less than reputable establishments Religion: The Old Way (Psijic Ancestor Worship) Clothing and Armor: The gray robes of the Psijics, with the symbol of the Order over his heart. Weapons: A stone hard wooden staff, made of gray wood with a orange gem at the top. Inventory: Alchemy equipment, multiple potions (kept in an inner pouch of his robe), and a journal of notes and important quotations. Magic: An accomplished mage, he has dabbled in many schools of magicka, though his primary study remains in mysticism. Dispel, Telekinesis, Detect (Life, Magic, Enchantment), Absorb (Spell, Health, Magicka, Fatigue, Skill), Reflect (Spell, Damage), Teleportation, Burden, Jump, Open, Lock, Levitation, Shield, Water Walk, and Soul Trap. History: Ormil II was born a bastard child, his father, Ormil I, was a talented Psijic, but his mother was a common worker in the fields of Artaeum. His father knew nothing of the pregnancy, and as a child his mother told him his father had died while he was young. However, his father’s magical prowess manifested itself at a young age, and he was quickly recruited into the Order. He carried his father’s name into the complicated entry rituals, and Ormil I quickly figured out what happened. Rather than embarrass himself and bring dishonor to his family by denying the youth, he allowed Ormil into the Order, assigning him to one of his good friends as an apprentice. His time within the Order passed rather uneventfully, climbing ranks slowly and painfully, endless hours of practice at his magic showing little results. Nonetheless he became a rather competent mage and scholar of the Old Way, one of the most respected apprentices within the Order. However, he still detested being an apprentice, and asked his master to test him for Psijic-hood. As his last trial before shedding his apprenticeship his master assigned him the task of studying the Champions of Cyrodiil, and learning more about the new mortal Madgod. Motive for Joining: When the Psijics heard that several champions would be visiting the new Madgod, they immediately assigned one of their best men to investigate, as they believe it is their duty to make sure those in power are good. And the newest mantling of Sheogorath is most certainly powerful. Unfortunately, the man they assigned the task to had a date with his fiancée, so he delegated the task to his apprentice, thinking that it was doubtful he would even find a way into the realm.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Feb 5, 2010 20:23:13 GMT
Name: Alyssa Stormfield Nickname: Stormfield the Mad Age: 27 Gender: Female Birthsign: The Apprentice Race: Breton
Physical Description: Average build, slightly smaller due to focusing on the magical. Green eyes, flowing black hair that reaches her sholders. Mental description: Rather unstable, but not usually in a dangerous way, she enjoys making things explode and making things live again.Loves Clyde and kittens. She can be talkative when she wants to be, and is a rather pleasant person despite her profession. Often oblivious to all but the most blatant insults and taunts, except those aimed towards her invention and profession. Despite appearing aloof, she is formidable in combat, with the aid of Clyde.
Class: Necromancer. Aside from normal necromantic practices, Alyssa studies alchemy to a far extent, creating an explosive-like concoction. She also Learned to wear light armor and wield a short blade for protection. Major Skills: Destruction, Mysticism, Conjuration, Alteration, Alchemy Minor Skills: Short Blade, Marksman, Light Armor Misc Skills: Rites and rituals, sacrifices, explosives,
Melee Weapon: Silver shortsword with a moderate Ice Enchantment. Ranged Weapon: Rusty Iron Crossbow in the coffin. 30 bolts. Misc Weapon: 6 explosive potions, attached to belt. Armor and Clothing: Dark black robes adorned with blood red gems. Light leather-and-mithril cuirass underneath, with two black, bloodstained leather gauntlets. Misc Items: Scalpel, Alchemical Apparatus, 5 large brown bags filled with powder used in explosive potions hanging from belt. Nord-Sized Coffin strapped to back, enchanted with feather to make the thing manageable. Contents of Coffin: -One (1) preserved Nord corpse, wrapped somewhat like a mummy; soul gem infused into skull, giving it somewhat of a personality. -One (1) set of alchemical apparatus. -One (1) enchanted Mace -One (1) love story with a tragic ending -One (1) alchemical formula for creating explosive potions
Bio: Alyssa was born to a family of mages and, from a young age, was encouraged to study the magical and arcane. Her family was not the most wealthy, but they were members of a small group of necromancers operating out of one of the many caves in Cyrodiil and could afford many texts and apparatus required for a proper magical and general education. Introduced at a young age to necromancy, she learned not to fear death but to see it as a beginning to a new purpose for the bodies used. She never questioned how the bodies came into their possession. She had a peaceful childhood, and sometime just after her twenty-first birthday, after receiving a license which granted her one permanent corpse servant and a slew of dead convicts to experiment on, she encountered a ghost in the tomb of a wealthy nord she had just visited for a reliable, preserved servant. Before she could get rid of it, the spirit drained part of her mind while inadvertently boosting another, giving her a wonderous insight into the world, at the cost of becoming rather naive. This inspired her to go into seclusion and study the alchemical. While in the cave, she infused the corpse of the Nord she stole with a black Soul gem containing a bosmer she had slain. Her servant now had a semblance of life, at least enough to be useful- and helped her with her tasks over the years as she studied formulae to improve the alchemical. Eventually, while trying to create something completely unrelated to explosions or fire, which was unusual as she enjoyed both, the compound exploded, taking a chunk out of her servant and destroying several apparatus. Quickly, she jotted down the ingredients used and spent time refining it into a more controllable nature, until eventually they could be activated at will by someone moderately skilled with magic. Eventually, soon after completing her new creation, she packed up Clyde, which is what she had named her minion, and her equipment and headed into the countryside, leaving a few skeletons and zombies to keep the place warm. Or, cold, as the case may be.
Notes: Alchemical Explosives activated by sending a current of magicka through the potion, then throwing the potion at a target. As it shatters, the magicka triggers a reaction combined with the kinetic force of the impact, making it violently and brightly explode. Having not quite figured out the specifics yet, she has been quoted saying "It is sort of like a centipede. If it doesn't worry about each little leg and only looks at the whole thing, it can move all its little legs just fine. If it focuses too much on one of those individual legs, it might hit a building and kill everyone inside in a violent and fiery death." The powder Is completely safe while not combined with the rest of the mixture. Do not let children get near the mixture. For that matter, do not let anyone get near the mixture.
Name: Clyde Race: Nord (Mummy, Bosmer soul) Class:Warrior Weapon: Extremely weak fire enchanted steel mace, to the point where it would only be a bit hot to get hit with. Enchanted mainly so it could defend Alyssa from spirits. Description: Wrapped in yellowish white cloth, he is decaying and sewn up from various explosions. The organs necessary for him to function properly as an undead servant have had a few replacements courtesy of Alyssa. He has a black soul gem jammed and infused into his head, giving him the soul of a bosmer who Alyssa had slain. Personality: Loyal to a fault and enjoys philosophical debates and chicken. Home: Coffin on Alyssa's back. Bio: Theorin the Wood elf didn't know what hit him. One moment he was walking to Chorrol, the next he felt like he was being pulled, the next he felt trapped and alone in a pitch black room, and the next he was looking through the eyes of a slightly stinky Nord and seeing someone who he had an irresistible desire to serve and care for. Brisskar Frost-Bringer's corpse didn't see it coming either.
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Post by sibera on Apr 6, 2010 6:24:13 GMT
Name: Do'Rhadi Race: Cathay-raht Khajiit Age: 32 Gender: Male Birthplace: Alabastar Birthdate: 3E 407 12th of Rainshand
Appearence: Weight: 142 Kgs Height: 6ft 3 in Eye colour: Green Fur colour/pattern: His fur is pale light stripes of a golden sandy tan colour, he has a slightly longer mane than before, it running down his back to just between his shoulder blades. tattoos/scars: Do'rhadi has a new set of tribal Tattoos that work their ways up his right arm and down his spine in black inks, a scar that traces down his spine, another over his left eye. Build: Living in a tribe of Khajiit has built his body up, endurance strength and speed, he is well built for melee combat.
Class: Arcane Archer Class Description: Arcane Archers are exactly that, Archers whom have been trained to use magic while slinging arrows out. Similar to enchantments they infuse each individual arrow at the point of casting with some form of magic or none at all, Since it draws from the users mana pool. Focus: Combat Skills: Stealth, Marksman, Blade, Illusion, Destruction, mysticism, Tracking, Light armour, Hand to hand (Rawlith Khaj and a few others), Skinning, fletching and sewing. Birthsign: Warrior
Weapons: A pair of Kukri made from Argonian Silver and engraved with various tribal runes. An oak longbow carved with various runes, 40 silver tipped arrows. Apparel: He wears a white turban like head gear thats wrapped around his head, leather armour that has been strengthened. Gloves are missing their fingertips. Misc inventory: Gold signet ring, a pouch of gold coins some rations and water skin.
Personality: Bright, Bubbly and always looking for a good time. Somewhat has a dislike for commitment, disliking the boundaries that come with it. Has a fear of spiders, especially ones with big hairy butts and large fangs.
Bio: Do'Rhadi was born and raised on the road, always travelling with his family and stopping off at various villages selling trade wares. They made a decent living and trained themselves and each other in self defense. He left his parents when he was 16 and began to work as an apprentice to a monk. When he left them and began to travel through tamriel, During the oblivion Crisis Do'Rhadi hooked up with a group of adventurers whom helped stem the tide of the invasion. While only getting to know very few of them and keeping to himself, he did however get to know Zant one of the fellow Khajiit.
After the battle inside the Imperial city, he disappeared from the streets just after it. He was presumed dead but his body was never found. He has lived in Elsweyr, getting back to his 'roots' so to speak and hooked up with a rather civilized tribe. Unfortunately he has been pushed into a marriage he did not want with the Shamans daughter. Any excuse will help..
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Post by pat673 on Jun 19, 2010 5:52:47 GMT
Name: Kha' Do Ra (Great Desert Warrior Man basically) Nickname(s): Kitten (If you are a trusted friend, otherwise known as Ra) Gender: Male Race: Khajiit - Cathay-Raht Age: 32 Birthplace: Riverhold
Class: Mercenary Class Focus: Combat: to provide protection, escort or aggressive action to whoever pays. Major Skills: Blade, Hand to Hand, Light Armour, Acrobatics, Athletics. Minor Skills: Sneak, Security, Blunt, Alchemy (Hardly skilled in these at all) Birthsign: The Warrior
Eyes: Moss Green Hair: Ra's mane falls down past his shoulders and past his shoulder blades on his back. It is slightly lighter in colour in most parts than his fur, with thick strands of black throughout. Large parts of his mane are banded together in leather thongs, or small metal braces. Skin/Fur Color: Large creamy patches on his stomach and underside of his arms and legs. Otherwise a chestnut brown with occasional irregular white dots. Height: 6'5" Weight: 128 kg Build: Muscular
Physical Description: Kha' Do Ra is an imposing figure at 6'5" and while not quite as ridiculously muscular as some Cathay-Raht's, Ra is nonetheless very well muscled. His fur is a few inches long, and is chestnut brown over the majority of Ra's body. On the underside of his arms and legs, as well as on his stomach and chest, his fur is a creamy white colour. Where the white melds into the chestnut, there are irregular white dots.
His mane falls to either side of his feline face, some parts bound in leather thongs or small metal braces, other parts free to fall where they choose. He looks the part of an experienced and wise Khajiit, the fur on his face weathered with long white whiskers, a tear in his left ear and his striking green eyes.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Ra has a collection of small scars a few inches long on the left side of his jaw, one going across the soft pink of his nose, as well as several battle scars on his body but are usually hidden by his thick fur or clothes. Ra used to have piercings but has since removed them and has no tattoos.
Clothing and Armor: Ra is against any clothing at all a lot of the time, but understands that he should. He wears a very simple cotton blue warrior skirt cinched at the waist by a thick brown leather belt. Attached to this leather belt is a leather harness which he wears over his chest, allowing for his swords to be sheathed on his back. Ra also wears a pair of simple iron braces and greaves on either arm, and legs respectively. Unless Ra is in fierce extremes of weather, he will don a large grey homespun cloak complete with a hood.
Inventory: Ra carries with him a large buckskin rucksack in which he carries the majority of his supplies. This includes: -His coin pouch: as the name implies, a pouch full of funds. -Basic medical supplies: Bandages, stitching apparatus, ointments etc. -Weapon and armour maintenance: Oil, rags, whetstone, a small hammer and rudimentary pliers all in a rolled leather wallet. -Rations: Mainly consisting of pieces of dried meat and grain cakes. -Survival supplies: A torch, flint, bedroll, waterskin, etc. -Personal: A few nickknacks not worth mentioning.
Weapons: Ra uses two curved scimitars of folded steel. Both lack a proper 'T' crossguard, instead favouring the 'L' design leading into the hilt, without particular design or marker stamp. The grip is simply wrapped red leather and the pommel is a ball of rounded steel. While his favoured weapons look plain, they are still sharp and deadly. They are sheathed on his back, creating an 'X' formation. He also carries a small iron dagger in his left bracer, not to mention his claws and fangs.
Magic: Ra has no talent for magic.
History: Kha' Do Ra was born in the Northernmost city of Riverhold, and as such learnt the Imperial tongue and ways of life from an early age. He was born to a poor Merchant and his wife where they lived trying to scrape a living from the funds of travelling men and women who used Riverhold as a gateway between Cyrodiil and Elsweyr. One day when he was young, Ra's father came home, his hands full of gold and his head full of dreams: The trading of Moon Sugar and Skooma.
Soon enough, with the right contacts, business was booming and Ra was to become a Merchant just like his father. However, nothing in the Skooma trade is so easy. At the age of 19, his father was killed by competing Merchants and Ra hotheadedly swore revenge. For years he tracked down the men behind his father's death - training himself to peak efficiency as a killing machine.
When Ra did track the Khajiit down, and slaughtered him and co-workers in the Capital of Torval, it caught the attention of the local authorities. Ra was found at the scene of the crime, weeping for his father's death but instead of being hauled to prison, he was brought before the Mane - the ruler of Elsweyr. It was then that Kha' Do Ra became a member of the Mane's personal guard and trained for years following in the arts of Rawlith Khaj and armed combat.
It was in this time that Ra, still mourning the loss of his father, became addicted to Moon Sugar. One day, while the Mane was meditating in his palanquin and Ra was one of the many Cathay-raht servants instructed to lift it for hours on end, the effects of the Moon Sugar wore off and a deep state of lethargy began to set in. Ra stumbled and let the palanquin fall, the Mane with it. Kha' Do Ra was exiled from Elsweyr on pain of death. Leaving his homeland, Ra set out for Cyrodiil and has since become a Mercenary, typically working alone as an escort for travelling Merchants or as a personal bodyguard.
Not that long ago, however, while working in the Imperial City, Ra heard rumours of a band of adventurers marshalling. Probably in a state of euphoria from excessive Moon Sugar consumption when he heard of it, he has nonetheless decided to take up with the group on their adventure...
Personality: Despite his menacing exterior and ordeals of his life, Ra has never fully matured. At the height of his near-constant state of euphoria from Moon Sugar, he is playful, excitable and enjoys playing. He can, however, with the effects of Moon Sugar wearing off, change his mood completely to depressed, miserable and often can fly into fits of unprovoked rage.
Despite his constantly shifting moods, Ra is a steadfast friend and companion - unless you come between him and his drugs, in which case you are chopped liver. He has considerable endurance and is mentally able to cope with stressful or abnormal situations.
Other Traits and Oddities: -Loves taking baths, but would never admit to it. -Sharpens his claws every night before he rests. -Addicted to Skooma and Moon Sugar. -Is lonely and searching.
Misc Skills [non-combat]: -Has superb hunting and tracking skills -Persuasion [Intimidate] -Storing large amounts of Moon Sugar in strange places.
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