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Fandom Skyrim RP Characters

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Wolfblaze7711

Wolfblaze7711

Lord Wolf
It has been 20 years after the Dragonborn events in Skyrim and for a moment there seems to be peace and prosperity for all until the Thalmor charged in. Hearing about their precious embassy being attacked and rumors of those still worshiping Talos in Skyrim has to lead to another war. The white gold concordat has been broken and the Empire is back to face yet another enemy.



Plot:

All of you were captured by the Thalmor and heading toward one of the prisoner camps they have set up all over Skyrim. A band of rebels came upon your convoy and freed you the Rebellion is small but they are determined to help the Empire drive these Thalmor out of Skyrim.





Character sheet



Name:

Race:

Age:

Skills(includes crafting abilities, magic, fighting skills, etc):

Weapons and Equipment (remember you all just were prisoners so think of items that you would find there, there is no way you can get ebony weapons and armor, you might be able to craft them but you don’t have them yet):

Background:

Other:





Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia Karcen Karcen Ms. Sparrow Ms. Sparrow OddlyParanoid OddlyParanoid CatJones CatJones Dark lord steel Dark lord steel BlightGiver BlightGiver
 

  • Name: Lileath Cananora
    Gender: Female
    Race: High Elf
    Sexuality: Straight
    Age: 150 (quite young for a high elf)
    Occupation (previously): Assassin
    Bounty: Summerset Isle (and Thalmor held Skyrim) - 20,000 gold for the assassination of four high ranking Thalmor members
    Religion: Worships the Daedric Prince Boethiah

    Appearance:

    571882
    ​
 
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571923
Name: Arratay Karun

Race: Redguard/Breton

Age: 24

Skills:
Major: Sneak, One-Handed, Pickpocketing, Illusion, Lockpicking, Archery, Light Armor
Minor: Alteration, Restoration, Smithing, Block, Alchemy, Heavy Armor, Enchanting

Weapons and Equipment:
.Hooded Robes with pieces of leather armor on top
.Elven Sword
.Steel Dagger
.Hunting Bow
.Iron Arrows x15
.Minor Potion of Health x3

Background:
Born to a Reguard father and a Breton mother, life did not begin easy for Arratay. His birth took his mother from the world and killed the smile of his father. Arratay was raised in the order of assassins known as the Hidden Ones, a group that held multiple branches in different provinces. This order of killers dated back to the Third Era, just before the Nerevarine unseated the Tribunal. The Hidden Ones were originally part of the Imperial Blades, but disagreed with their viewpoints and felt that the group should put the people first instead of the Emperors desires. So they split off and began their own organisation, focusing on targeting corrupt individuals in high positions of power. For years, they remained hidden from the public eye. Until the Great War of the Fourth Era where they met their TRUE enemy. The Thalmor of the Aldmeri Dominion had wiped out the Blades and recovered information on their existence. While severely outdated, the info was enough that they began locating and killing Hidden Ones in droves. Thus the shadow war between the Hidden Ones and the Thalmor began. It seemed like a losing war for the Hidden Ones as the Thalmor had greater numbers and resources on their side. In the fortress of Alsyaf, bordering Cyrodil, the Thalmor attacked the home of the young Arratay. In the midst of his trial to become a Master Assassin, he found himself facing down an army of Elves. While he was able to scatter their number with a few well placed logs and even sank a sword into the back of their commander, the Hidden Ones still lost that day. Captured and beaten by them, Arratay was transported to Skyrim. After being freed by the Rebellion, he decided to stay and fight in hopes of rebuilding his Brotherhood.

Other:
WIP
 
Venril Greenbrook​
33646333673_bf5f265aed_b.jpg


Race:
Bosmer (Wood Elf)

Gender:
Female

Age:
22 (Physically, real age about 110)

Sexuality:
Bisexual

Occupation: Former spy, working against the thalmor/Infamous thief/Bard


Appearance:
tumblr_inline_ouort4e3eK1sfkkzn_1280.jpg

Venril looks almost typical to her fellow Bosmer folks, sporting pointed ears with a lithe, tiny frame that doesn’t stand quite so tall. But that’s were the similarities seem to end. Venril sports, long, wavy, dark, ginger hair that reaches her just below her waist if not kept up in her usual hairstyle. Her skin is more on the fair tan side, rare, but not uncommon compared to her fellow Bosmer. She sports yellow and light-green tattos/warpaint that run all over her body, a tell-tale sign of the Bosmer clanfolk she grew up with, along with her position in the tribe. Venril also sports pretty, unique features, her fair face dotted with light freckles are the most common thing on her face, with her catlike, amber colored eyes that seem to pierce right through you, framed by dark lashes and light, dark warpaint that acts as makeup. Overall,Venril is a very striking and beautiful elf sporting vivid features.

Hair:
Dark ginger, typically kept up in large ponytail with loose strands in the front, (AKA the hairstyle she wears in the photos)

Height:
5’5”

Weight:
105lbs

Body Type:
Hourglass, petite and athletically fit.

Voice Comparison:
((Think Ygrette from Game of Thrones)) Northern English accent ((Hull))


Hobbies:
• Hunting
• Painting
• Singing
• Playing the Lute and Flute
• Spending some alone time with nature

Likes:
• Meat
• Causing a stir
• Causing mischief in general
• Having something to fight for
• Music
• Lots of alcohol
• Dancing//reveling in general
• Animals
• Forests
• Nature
• “Kicking it” to the Thalmor officials

Dislikes:
• Thalmor
• Has a hateful bias towards high elves
• Crowds
• Oathbreakers
• Bosmer that stray from the Green Pact
• Spiders
• People mentioning her past
• Jesters
• Rich/Noble types of people
• Enclosed spaces
• Big cities/capitols

Family:
—Grandmother Amarthe: deceased

—Mother, Mirithe: Murdered

—Father, Etheal: Murdered

—Younger brother, Fernis: Murdered

—Older brother, Aethas: Murdered

—Older sister, Merrill: Alive

Religion: Follower of the Green Pact/Worships Y’ffre

Skills:
Major Skills — Restoration, Destruction, Illusion, Alteration, Speech, Sneak, and Conjuration.

Minor Skills — Lockpicking, Alchemy, One-handed, Light Armor, and Enchanting.

Weaknesses/Lack of:
Two-handed, Archery, Smithing, Block, Heavy Armor

Weapons and Equipment:
Currently, Venril typically keeps a dagger at her side with her oddly magicked staff at her side, holding some strange nature magic that runs only typically in the Valenwood forests, taught only to the most devoted of Y’fiffre’s followers. The staff she holds currently is very much the same. Her armor however, is light and could be considered more of robes, designed by her grandmother, whims a tailor, fashioned specifically for Venrils preferences and tastes.
DEktucUXsAAtLTl.png

Background:
Venril grew up reclusively in the wilderness near the Deepwoods in Malabal Tor, accompanied by her two brothers, her twin sister, her parents, and her grandparents. Her family believed deeply in the Green Pact, especially her grandmother and grandfather, whom were no ordinary individuals. Her grandmother was the Green Lady, and her grandfather, the Silvenar. As such, Venril from an early age was ingrained with the teachings of Y’ffre and the Green Pact ya a young age, though her family thankfully never participated in the Meat Mandate. Unlike her siblings, Venril showed an aptitude for magic at a young age, and with the help of both her mother and grandmother, she was schooled on magic at an early age. Venril was very close with all her family, especially her siblings and grandmother. She was however, the wild child by far, causing mischief wherever she went it seemed.

But everything changed in one day.

It had been an ordinary day for Venril. She, her sister, and her grandmother, were all out hunting the day of the incident. Just a few days before, Venril had played a prank on a traveling high elf that was passing through the Deepwoods. A dispute arose between the high elf and a Bosmer tradesman, and the high elf had struck the Bosmer across the cheek, angered at the display of violence, Venril had set his robes on fire. Unknown to her, the man was a high-ranking Thalmor official, and he would not forget it. While she was away hunting with her sister and grandmother, the Thalmor attacked...

What happened that day would result in the deaths of her family, all but her grandmother and sister, and scars that would stain her back for the rest of her lives. Venril sought revenge. Fueled by grief and anger, she changed her name and background, and left home soon after her grandmother passed away, dying from the loss of the Silvenar, scared she would befall the fate of becoming the next Green Lady, Venril left her twin sister and never looked back. She buried her past away from the Thalmor officials when she infiltrated herself into the affiliation of the Thalmor, working her way up their ranks until she’d made it near the High Court, there she began her work of trying to dismember the court from the inside, starting rumors and lies that turned them against each other, she stole important valuables and then reported it to be someone else who store them. The Court began falling apart, and on the side, Venril began making a name for herself in the Summerset Isles, stealing on the side from nobles she believed, to her judgement, deserved it. She earned the name “Red Sparrow” and for years she worked and stole, and even killed, and not once was she caught. Until she was betrayed by her partner. An ambush was set, and Venril walked right into it. Enraged at her treachery and betrayal, the Thalmor eventually discovered the rest of her crimes. She was tortured and beaten before she was forced into the prison cart, sentenced to a a long, painful death.

But then she was saved. And her whole world would change.
 
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Name: Greentail "Green"

Race: Argonian

Age: 34

Skills(includes crafting abilities, magic, fighting skills, etc):
Light armor, heavy armor, one handed, block, smithing, & sneak

Weapons and Equipment:
steel long sword and shield,
Mixed of steel heavy armor and leather

Background: Green had a pretty tough life. Born in Blackmarsh but was sold into slavery at a young age to a dark elf house. They treated him poorly and beat him regularly. once he grew to a young teen he one day had enough. In his master's sleep, he killed him by strangulation. Knowing that he would one day be captured again by the authorities or slavers again in Blackmarsh he fled to Skyrim in search for a new home. He found a simple life in Riften working in the fishery. He kept to himself keeping out of the business of the thieves guild and the Blackbriar family. but then one day as they were on their normal fishing run a Thalmor ship came and harassed them one of the shipmates conveniently had some bottles of skooma on him and they were instantly attacked. Green barely escaped with his life by diving into the sea. A day later he washed up on the beach. His friends gone and life ruined he had nothing else to do but get revenge on the Thalmor for messing up his life. He formed a small band of others that had it out for Thalmor blood and they began harassing them.

Other:



dbec8f94b5ddfe9bfdc5d0c9d45d5c0d.jpg

Name: Thargos Moontail

Race: Khajiit

Age: 26

Skills(includes crafting abilities, magic, fighting skills, etc):
brilliant skills in restoration & conjuring
knows basic alchemy potions

Weapons and Equipment: Mages Robes, simple alchemy kit, spell book.

Background: Thargos was born in one of the trading caravans in Skyrim. he learned the ways of trading and speachcraft from his father who ran the caravan. He loved his family but the trade didn't hit home for him. He didn't like the ways of deals and coin. when ever he could he would "barrow" the spell books of travelers as they came into his father's caravan and would practice in the woods or plains of Skyrim. He eventually after coming of age decided to leave the trading caravan to study magic at the college of Winterhold. His family didn't like the Idea but they respected his decision. He studied for a while before the Thalmor came and decided that there shouldn't be any race studying magic but high elves. He was put in chains and sent off to one of their prisoner camps.

Other:
 
573013

Name: Nilthil Dreamwalker

Race: Bosmer

Age: looks around 27 real age unknown

Skills(includes crafting abilities, magic, fighting skills, etc):
major: Conjuration, alteration, illusion, archery
Minor: one handed, smithing, destruction, enchanting.

Weapons and Equipment: just her clothes in the pic she mostly uses bound weapons.

Background: Nilthil's background is something of a confusing mystery as her own stories are contradictory and beyond fantastic. Some of her claims involve time travel, alternate versions of tamriel, and even a colony on secundus, she sometimes even claims to be royalty. What is known is she is surprisingly well learned for a seemingly insane person knowing many of the more esoteric secrets of the world that have been forgotten over time. This knowledge has lead her to being placed on a Thalmor list of people of interest, and thus they have devoted their time. What is certain is that Nilthil is no friend of the thalmor and that she might just pose more of a threat than she seems to them.
 
Name: Starkad Long-Fang

Title: Ulfhaednar, Ice Wolf, Traitor, Baba

Race: Nord

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Skills: Two-handed weapons, Block, Smithing, Archery

Weapons & Equipment: Longfang, his heirloom greatsword of ancient skyforged steel. Mixed vestments of his Stormcloak armor. A long dagger of Khajiit make. All of which would have been taken.
He otherwise has a totemic necklace of wolf teeth and beads around the thick trunk of his neck.

Starkad stands at a staggering 6’7” and weighs in at roughly 235 pounds. His physique of steely cables and ridges beneath a scarred hide. His hair is flaxen like beaten gold with wings of silver beginning to spread at the temples. A furious eye like a blue chip of ice from the Throat of the World itself burns within its shadowed socket. His skin is crisscrossed with scars from his years fighting the puppet Empire and its allies. Around his bull-neck he wears a leather chord adorned with sabercat teeth, a snarling amulet dangling just beneath his collarbone. Starkad's stony face is lined like a man who has known both great mirth and melancholy, happiness and hardship.
1b9ef5308adad942c43cdb4d14819f2a.png

Art by Yours Truly

Born and reared of Skyrim, Starkad was the eldest-bred son of the House Long-Fang, a respected clan known for rigorous adherence to ancient tradition. They were a family of true Nords, as much a part of Skyrim as the tundra and the unmelting snows girdling the Sea of Ghosts. Long-Fang Hall is a hearth and home well-removed from the cities and Holds, nestling itself in the mountainous between Hjaalmarch and the Pale. It was here that Starkad learned his use of the sword and axe, the rush of combat and the thrill of the hunt. It was an austere and spartan upbringing, but it was all part of the great riddle that was life.

Every Sundas, Starkad would join his father on his cart to Morthal, trading pelts and lumber for fish, produce, and other necessities. Whenever Imperials made their way through, young Starkad ensured he was bold and boisterous in his cursing of them, just as he was taught. They were usurpers, unworthy of their hold on Starkad's beautiful homeland. As Stakad aged, this youthful energy was hammered and tempered into pointed aggression. Hatred, even. He partook in rallies against Imperial displays of dominion, setting fire to standards, defacing effigies of the puppet emperor, and pelting legion patrols with rocks and rotten vegetables.

Once ushered into adulthood, Starkad was gifted the Long-fang, the heirloom sword of their clan. To bear it in service to Jarl Ulfric, the true High King, was an honor beyond expression. During his service, Starkad was present through the burgeoning days of the rebellion, the years leading up to the explosion of conflict and open revolution. He was there at the battle of Whiterun, the innumerable skirmishes and assaults on fortresses and encampments. He partook in songs of victory as often as toasts to the honored dead.

During the the Stormcloak campaign, Starkad had been courting a woman he met while soldiering. She found a strong man in a uniform scrumptious, and Starkad was enchanted by the woman's lithe grace. Both knew Starkad's family would never approve, and if word got out, their clandestine rendezvous would end in fire. So they played the sly game, sometimes going months without seeing each other. How sweet the nights were after such absence...

However, life in Skyrim is never easy, and it is never fair. Seeing Starkad in the present is like seeing the ghost of the man he once was. It wasn't the war that broke him, but the evil it spawns in the hearts of men. Men whom he'd called kinsmen and shield-brothers took from him the woman he loved in the most violent and vile fashions, the memory of that ever burned into his mind as the final sight of his right eye. Seeing the hatred his once fostered turned back at him and those he loved, Starkad abandoned the war effort.

With the increasing intensity of the war, Starkad moved to the Rift. Those along the road saw him not with his lady-love, but a mewling child swaddled in furs and blankets. His posture was crooked, burdened beyond hauling their measly cart. What people saw was a man kept together by the love of his sickly child, nothing more.

There, in the Rift, Starkad built a humble little home for himself and his daughter, whom his late lover had named "Mara", after her preferred goddess. Starkad would hunt for meat and pelts, teach Mara how to fish and tend soil, keeping as far away from any side of the war as they could. Every time a caravan passed, or a hunting party stalked through, Mara wished to go play. Every time it broke Starkad's heart, but he couldn't let her go beyond their measly fenced garden. Skyrim belonged to the Nords, but it was no less perilous. Nothing changed for Skyrim, but things had only gotten worse for him.

Allegiances: His family

Once, Starkad was a shining example of what a true son of Skyrim should be. Strong of body, mind, and will. He was a patriot and a worshipper of Talos, proudly wearing his loyalty to Skyrim on his sleeve. A man of great mirth, he could commonly be seen boasting in the mead halls and taverns. But there is a vague shadow left of that Nord.

The loss of Mara's mother struck a primal cord inside Starkad, not only taking his right eye, but much of the joy he felt among his kinsmen has faded, his patriotism left in the ruin the war left behind. Now, he only really smiles when speaking to Mara, playing the part of dutiful and doting father proudly. With her, the pains of the past are numbed and the bleakness of Skyrim fades to the fringes of perception and memory.

However, fatherhood was not universally calming to Starkad. He is a man damaged and downtrodden, beaten to the point of shattering by circumstances. Starkad is a man who no longer speaks to his gods out of resentment, a man who has something bile-black churning in his core. Burning in his remaining eye is rage gone rampant, a hatred and contempt turned to a savage and cold battle-rage from which even the Falmor flee. Starkad hates the world for what it has done to him and to his family - not the Nords that forsook him, but the family he chose and raised all his own.

Other: Totally not a werewolf...

Name: Ma'rajii Long-Fang

Title: Mara, Mau, Flower

Race: Appears of be Ohmes Khajiit

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Skills: Archery, Stealth, One-Handed, Pickpocketing

At first glance, Mara might pass as a Nord if the beholder's scrutiny is lax. Being biologically similar to an Ohmes Khajiit, she has the features of a daughter of Man, but with minor differences. Her eyes are larger than a human's with little visible scalera, being a vibrant cerulean. Her nose is dainty and slightly bifurcated, the tip pink and velvety. Mara's ears, however, are long and fur-tufted, which she frequently covers. Several of her teeth are sharp, and her fingernails are hardened, un-retractable claws She frequently wears gloves or mittens to cover them.

Looking at her, one might assume Mara is afflicted with vitalogo, her skin two-toned a deep bronze and the pale white of her father. The odd splotching, however, seems to form a vague stripe and spot pattern. She's got a youthful face with chipmunk cheeks and expressive lashes, her hair is a rich auburn that hangs in a loose mane except for a single braid behind her right ear.

Her story is still in its early chapters, but Mara has experienced a fair share. Her first memories were of the humid Rift, of the sighing springs and the smell of burning maple wood. Since then, she has lived a sheltered life in the wilderness, kept company only by her father. She does not understand his fear or mistrust of others, but she can see a pain in him, no matter how he tries to hide it.

Ever since her baba had taught her to fire a bow and use a knife, she's practiced diligently, joining him on hunts since she was eight.

Allegiances: Her baba, and surely her friends (once she has some)

Ma'rajii is a bubbly and excitable sort, always eager to learn and experience new things. Her attention span is, in a word, childish. She'll obsess on something for a few minutes before finding the next best thing. Mara has a bit of a foul mouth, though she hides it well, she's steadily picking up the art of swearing from dear old dad.
 
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