Fantasy The Elder Scrolls :: A New Rule (restart) - Character Application

[Wackadoodle0987]

Please read the OOC first


Link to the Main RP (IC)


Please submit all character applications here. You may follow the below template, if you wish ::


Name :: 
 


Gender :: 


Age :: 


Appearance :: 


Place of Birth (optional) :: 


Faction (optional) :: 


Race ::


Attire :: (This includes weapons , clothing/armour if not mentioned in appearance (or if a picture was used), items carried (realistically), and other mentionables.


Biography ::


Additional Information :: (Could be their alignment, their personality, any notable things about your character, or anything you deem worth mentioning that doesn't fit into the above categories)

 

[Xion136]

Name: Zion de Wynter


Nickname: Falling Angel


Race: Nord (Experimented)


Gender: Female


Age: 19


Apperance:

Items:


A small pack of minimalist supplies


Bedroll


Sweetroll


A few health potions


Occupation: 


Escaped Experiment


Weapons:


Two Akaviri Swords she calls Lux and Noctis (found in a sunken ship).


An unusual blade she calls Oathkeeper.


Is on the lookout for a bow, as she wishes to learn how to use one.


Personality:


Zion is quite the cheerful girl, despite her harrowing experience. Having undergone terrible experiments by the Thalmor haven't impacted her personality much, but she has a fear of Thalmor that she will act on through fight or flight. She really just wants to go home and be left alone, but she fears it won't happen. It never happens. Despite this, she's a very kind and generous soul, who wants to believe people are better than what they appear. This naivety can be dangerous, but even then Zion is just an innocent soul, wanting both justice and solace of what she transpired.


*History:


Born on the outskirts of Solitude and living a simple life with her family, Zion and her elder brother, Soren, had no real want for anything...but as the wars raged and Ulfric Stormcloak called for aid. Her father was an idealist, who took up arms, heading to Windhelm to join the Stormcloak rebellion. Leaving them back in Haafinger, Zion and Soren did their best to help their mother, but for many whose family left to the Stormcloaks, soon came the Imperials...and the Thalmor.


With their door busted in by a Thalmor Inquisitor squad, Zion was forced to watch their entire home ransacked and nearly destroyed. And if it had ended there, Zion might have been happy. But no...instead, the Thalmor found their father's Amulet of Talos. As soon as the last link to their father was found, the Imperials were forced out and the Thalmor took over completely. Zion was further forced to watch her mother tortured for information, her brother beaten, and that was when she lost it. She unleashed the Master-Spell Lightning Storm, killing two Thalmor in a fite of rage. It was the only time in her life she ever managed to use magic beyond a bit of Flames or Sparks spells, and the effort made her pass out. She was lucky it didn't kill her.


When she woke up, Zion was tied in the hold of a ship, on her way to the Summerset isles.


The Thalmor saw her willpower and latent magic, and wished to tap into her. Their tests were painful, degrading. Zion refuses to say what the Elven Supremacists did to her within the walls of that Keep, but half a year into her captivity and they began other experimentation. She was an orphan with little friends, a Nord who was lower than even a Bosmer. The madman who ran the tests was beyond even the most rigid of Thalmor Inquisitors, his wanton use of dangerous and ill magic causing the deaths of dozens of prisoners...but Zion persevered. Despite the pain, the degradation and the exhaustion, Zion refused to let these monsters win. And then, the Elf decided to try augmentation. For months she was magically experimented on, the pain nearly killing her, she would later say. But on the first day of winter, she unfurled two snow-white wings, unable to even sob, unable to stand....barely able to keep from pitching over. He had made her a monster...but he had made a mistake.


Slowly, in her cell, during their experiments, she learned. The mad Altmeri thought he might create an army of flying elves; quite the character, his zeal in finding new ways to bring forth Elven dominance would become his undoing. Once she was sure she could fly, Zion struck. With every ounce of mana she had been saving within her, every moment of concentration, meditation, trial and error, she had gotten enough. And she killed the mad elf, the guards, took up a blade the blacksmith had sent for enchantment and somehow managed to get out. She had barely any mana and was surrounded...but as soon as her face hit the cold, free air, she unfurled her snow-white wings and took flight. Arrows flew past, one stabbing her calf. But she got away, she flew and escaped.


Zion would spend the next few months recovering and getting stronger. She watched the ships, waited for the next one to Skyrim, to home. And the day it left, she followed. Under the cover of night she managed to sneak on, and hiding deep in the hold, she waited. The ordeal of surviving the mad experiments had taught her how to make food last, and somehow made it. Zion swore Akatosh himself, maybe even Talos, watched over her. But finally, as dawn rose, she saw the coast. Dawnstar, Skyrim, her home. She powered forward, but suddenly arrows stabbed her wings. She had stayed too long, hadn't gotten lower to keep from their sight. She lost altitude and plunged into the sea.


That was a few months ago. Now she hides in Solitude of all places, doing oddjobs and living in a room at the Winking Skeever...wondering if there truly would be a way she could gain justice for her family...and if her family still lived.

Faction: Indipendant (for now)


Birhtplace: Skyrim, Haafainger


Misc:


Zion has latent power magic power for sure, but she fears going to the College, scared the Thalmor would find her.


Zion - Seraphim Form (Endgame)


Zion - Normal Form

 

[ANONASAI]

Name: Vaun Elsinthar
 


Gender: Male


Age: 24


Appearance:

Place of Birth (optional): Small Breton Farm (but was raised by a Thalmor Ambassador)


Faction (optional): Thalmor Embassy


Race: Breton


Attire: (This includes weapons , clothing/armour if not mentioned in appearance (or if a picture was used), items carried (realistically), and other mentionables.)


Weapons: 


1. Esh Molog: Literally meaning 'High Fire' in Aldmeri Language, the Esh Molog is a gauntlet of extreme magicka capability. The gauntlet was used to replace Vaun's right forearm after it was cut off during an attack. It greatly decreases magicka consumption, increases destruction damage (particularly fire), and can offer incredible improvements to all things magicka. Vaun has yet to discover all its capabilities. 

(The gauntlet in the pic looks like it only has 4 fingers and is for the left forearm. But please bare with me and imagine that it is for the right forearm and has 5 fingers. Couldn't find a better pic sorry)


2. Brutal Elegance: Personally crafted by Vaun, the Brutal Elegance is a rapier of great speed and accuracy. It can be used to detect if someone is lying as the blade heats up tremendously and burns flesh and meat once it senses false statements from the person it has applied physical contact to.

Clothing:

This one is a personally modified Thalmor robes for ease and combat movement. Vaun usually folds its sleeves up the elbow. No, it does not have a hood.


Items: 


1.Health Potions and Magicka Potions


2.Acid used to dissolve corpses


Other Mentionables:


Vaun is a balanced mage-melee character so do expect for him to have abilities to paralyze people, conjure flame weapons ( a mix of conjuration and destruction ), raise the dead, use magic fire shields, and pretty much all that stuff. I didn't really elaborate all that in here as it's hard to keep track of it. But long story short, Vaun is very talented, resourceful, and a man of many weapons and skills. Oh, and, concerning magic, almost all his abilities concern fire. Take note that he also has great power against weak-willed minds. He has the power to make them mute, blind, and even sink into their deepest thoughts. 


Biography: Vaun is the adopted son of two Thalmor Ambassadors. He was trained with magicka and melee combat at an early age and easily excelled in both. Sadly his mother and father was murdered by Stormcloak rebels and after the incident, Vaun has never been so hateful with them. As if it wasn't enough, he greatly improved his combat skills and was later given the job to assassinate powerful targets of the Thalmor. During one mission, he underwent so much power that he exploded the ship he was in and the debris led to the amputation of his right forearm. Today, he continues to spread death and destruction all across Skyrim. He's entirely infamous inside the Embassy so much that many, soldiers and ambassadors alike, fear him. But outside, nobody even knows he exists.


Additional Information: Do take note that this character is applying for one of the main antagonists of the RP and this is why he's got lots of strength and capabilities and very OP. Do not worry as I will certainly and definitely give him weaknesses and give the protagonists equal opportunities to overpower him.


As I said, he's a man of magic and melee. Yes, he can create fire scythes, fire glaives, fire shields. Yes, he has telekinesis. Yes, he can burn people with just his mind. Yes, he's good in parrying. Yes, he's good with blacksmithing, enchanting, and necessary traits and skills. But No, he's physical body cannot really absorb that much damage so he compensates this would swift dodges and long-range attacks.


He may be strong, talented, and deceiving, but his arrogance, pride, and ego will sometimes get him in big trouble. Use this to your advantage to overcome Vaun. 

(If you guys feel like he's too OP. Tell me which things to diminish or reduce  Other than that, I hope this char gets to be an awesome bad guy.)
(Yep, this Vaun is completely different from the old RP. Obviously..duh.)

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@Xion136 @ProxCnC - They're both good to go ^ ^... but just please don't go overboard with Vaun's powers .

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

Name ::  Amelie Montclair
 


Gender :: Female


Age :: Approximately 2475, born in 1E 1980


Appearance :: 

Place of Birth (optional) :: Shornhelm, High Rock.


Faction (optional) :: House Montclair


Race :: Breton Vampire (Noxiphilic Sanguivoria)


Attire :: Depending on the situation. Her more formal attire, which varies between the contents of an exceptionally large wardrobe, allows for little. She'll oft carry a small vial of something particularly potent (poison), as well as at least one magicka potion. However, if and when attired for battle, she'll usually carry a pack or bag of sorts containing some magicka potions, a small supply of blood, and a hand mirror... a necessity of course. She dresses in dresses, and the fashionable ones only, at all times. Only in battle does she don the just as fashionable robes. Most prevalently, her voice. She's felled a great many with but a slip of the tongue. More directly, her claws... only when forced, and she does her utmost not to make a mess; and then there's her magic (her go to in a battle). She uses a mix of lightning, illusion and alteration to disorient her foes, and incapacitate them. Amelie is a master of illusion, not only her skill, but her application of it. The true power of magic lies not in its brute strength, but how its wielder uses it.
 


Biography :: (See bottom of Annalise's CS)


Additional Information :: Amelie's a peculiar one. Often deemed to be ruthless, even cruel at times. She sees her 'ruthlessness' as determination, and recognition of necessity. She does what she must for the benefit of the majority, or for her house. Often resorts to underhand tactics, such as manipulation, deception, even assassination - but only if she deems it necessary. Her actual attitude is quite generous. She's calm, patient, understanding; but will not tolerate brashness. She does not lie though - neither does she tell the truth, most often skating between half-truths and avoiding elaborating her true intentions. She is an illusionist and alchemist most prevalently, though if forced into direct combat can also act as a powerful tempest witch - using a mixture of lightning attacks and illusion / alteration to disorient and incapacitate her foes. Without any melee weapon of any kind, Amelie will resort to using her vampiric claws if forced into close-quarters combat. Her most deadly weapon is her wit and her sharp tongue though... with no small amount of poison in the mix - Amelie is a master of the game, and a dangerous opponent in all matters.... pray you don't become her enemy.


Occupation - First Matriarch of House Montclair, Queen of Rivenspire (though the official title is Queen of Shornhelm), and Grand Duchess of Evermore (closely related to its Queen).


Name :: Annalise Montclair


Gender :: Female


Age :: Approximately 2488, born in 1E 1967 (13 years older than Amelie)


Appearance :: 

Place of Birth (optional) :: Shornhelm, High Rock.


Faction (optional) :: House Montclair


Race :: Breton Vampire (Noxiphilic Sanguivoria)


Attire :: She carries little at all in the manner of personal effects, at most she'll carry a single vial of blood, if desperate times call for it. She oft dons a set of silver armour, the greaves, boots, and gauntlets all made of strong plate, whilst the torso is crafted from silver mail, with a leather corset over the top. A Silver Straight Sword, forged in the mid-Second Era by a now deceased loyal friend of the family and smith, for Annalise. She has since kept it in exceptionally good repair, and has since only ever taken the sword to be reconditioned at the Arenthian Armoire - a smithy belonging to a dear friend of Ambassador Tavari. She also carries a small silver dagger, named Priscilla, which had belonged to their family perhaps since the founding of the Montclair name. Annalise didn't care about its history, only that it had been passed down to her, and when she did eventually die, it would be passed on to whichever incompetent fool was next in line to receive it.


Biography :: Amelie and Annalise Montclair, heralded as the famous (or infamous, depending on who you are) Montclair Sisters. Now the eldest surviving members of the Montclair line. Direct descendants of Lamae Beolfag, the two belong to the Lamae bloodline of Vampire Scions; one of the most powerful - and the first - vampire bloodlines to have come into existence. Sharing their progenitors hatred for both Molag Bal and Arkay, those of House Montclair belong to no religion - though they accept the presence of both Aedra and Daedra, do not deign to refer to them as gods.


The Thrassian plague devastated House Montlcair in the late 1E, ending many members of the family including sisters' brother, and several of their cousins, aunts and uncles. Now only eight direct relations remain. The end of the Direnni reign gave House Montclair more freedom to expand their influence, and after the death of King Ranser, and their appointment to rule over Shornhelm, House Montclair regained their determination that had been somewhat lost since the Thrassian Death. During the Interregnum, Amelie's grandson (by association, not birth), Baron Wylon Montclair was corrupted by the Lightless Remnant, and his assault on Northpoint cost House Montclair much of their reputation - though Amelie, having been working 'behind the curtain' and using Lleraya as somewhat of a puppet, managed to oust both House Dorell and House Tamrith and rule solely over Rivenspire.


Annalise was not fit for politics, and thus remained separate, overseeing House Montclair's merchantry, and commanding their forces. Thus Amelie became the new Queen of Shornhelm, and ruler of Rivenspire. During the acts of Rel Dasak in the Imperial City, only 10 years after the Tri-Faction war, and his introduction of the Magickal Regulation Act; Amelie used the distraction to cause more dissent in High Rock. When High King Emeric travelled to the Imperial City, leaving Queen Maraya to tend to High Rock, the Montclair began her deception of the young Queen. 


Having spoiled Maraya's relationship with Emeric, Amelie set up an arranged marriage for Lleraya and Eileen (her cousin) alike. Lleraya was engaged to King Casamir III of Daggerfall, and Eileen married Prince Adrien of Evermore. Unfortunately, not all went to plan. Amelie proposed to Emeric, hoping to unify the noble houses of High Rock finally, and turn the province into the greatest economic power in Tamriel, but the elderly man 'kindly' refused - causing her to resort to a game of patience.


Within two decades, both Lleraya and Eileen had given birth to children of their own - inheritors to the thrones of both Daggerfall and Evermore, and Emeric was approaching his last breath. House Montclair found itself to be the most powerful noble house in High Rock. With her expanded influence, and her trade monopoly extending to almost every province, the Montclairs had assembled enough influence and power for Amelie to finally set her true plan into motion. Surprising most everyone, whom saw her to be a ruthless, almost tyrannical leader, Amelie approached the leaders of the provinces, calling for a meet on the island of Stirk. Empress Rhea Petilia, King Fahara'jad, Queen Ayrenn, King Camoran, High King Jorunn, the Tribunal, all were present, among other representatives of the provinces to hear out Lady Montclair's plea.


Amelie managed to introduce a new treaty, encompassing all the provinces of Tamriel, and ensuring a long-lasting peace. The leader of each province would convene in the Imperial City every full moon to discuss concerns, intentions, and merely avoid conflict between the provinces. It seemed promising... until Tiber Septim.


His invasion of High Rock forced House Montclair to retreat, and reduce its influence in the surrounding regions of High Rock to focus their defence on Rivenspire. Though not being utterly devastated, once High Rock regained its independence, the other noble houses used the opportunity to 'set up shop' in place of House Montclair. Once again re-introducing the old fractious kingdom it once was. Amelie hadn't given up, but she allowed House Montclair to retain its foothold in Rivenspire, and began to rebuild from within - content to leave the other regions of High Rock for now.


It wasn't until 3E 417, and the Warp in the West, did House Montclair begin its movements. Quickly attempting to use the event to pressure the regions of High Rock into unifying once more. Though successful for the most part, the five remaining regions still remained separated, though on amicable terms. It was better than before at least. Northpoint and Evermore came under joint rule, and House Montclair made occasional attempts to push their influence southward, but the forces of Camlorn, Daggerfall and Wayrest proved difficult to overcome.


Additional Information :: Quite different to her sister. Often finding the two together, one would also often find the two arguing. Annalise despises her sister's aptitude for dishonesty and 'underhandedness'. Annalise believes that one should combat on fair ground, and to at least make the enemy aware of your intent. Annalise, unlike her sister, will always tell the truth. Though she too puts her house first, Annalise cares less for the majority of people, but more so her own people. And despite appearances, cares greatly for her younger sister. However, her downfall is her short temper. Quick to anger, though quick to calm herself as well - though Annalise does not forget an enemy, nor can she swiftly forgive a betrayal - Baron Zemithar found that out. She wields a sword, and a dagger. Both made of pure silver, despite her vampirism, and are a symbolic gesture of House Montclair's ascension above the rest of their kind. She fights with a martial technique borne in Akavir, favouring speed, agility and precision - a dangerous swordsman. 


Occupation - Second Matriarch of House Montclair (despite being the Eldest, explained in the bio), General of the Armies of Rivenspire, and Commander of the Knights of the Flame of Anticlere.

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

Name :: Taure Tavari
 


Gender :: Male


Age :: 1242


Appearance :: 

Place of Birth (optional) :: Silverwood, Summerset Isles


Faction (optional) :: Third Aldmeri Dominion


Race :: Altmer


Attire :: A couple potions of magicka. He typically dons an illustrious gown or robe, usually a dark colour with gold embroidery. Lately he's been 'encouraged' by his 'associates' to wear more Dominion (Thalmor) clothing, with the crest of an eagle, or with feathers at the lapel etc. He also carries a large pack at most times, inside which is usually a couple soul gems, the magicka potions, his scrying orb (a crystal ball), and a leather bound tome - upon the front of which depicts the merging of Nirn and Aetherius. Magic. He is mostly proficient in Alteration, Fire (Destruction) and Restoration; though is somewhat adept in the cognitive manipulation branch of the Illusion field. As always, it is the application of the magick that determines one's power. He also has a short Aldmeri Sabre, which he is well-trained in using, though his age makes it a very very bad choice as anything other than an absolute last resort. Lastly, his staff. A tall wooden staff, with a dark hue. Down the main body spirals golden embellishments in a pattern of swirls, whilst upon the staff's crest sits a golden eagle - wings spread - depicting the Dominion.


Biography :: (Before I start - Taure was my first ever RP character, and has been in existence for years, thus he has a vast history, and thus [to keep it short] I'm going to cut out HUGE chunks of his past - and what I do include won't be descriptive... more of a fact file so I can fit in as much as necessary without having to read a wall of text.)


Born in 2E 456 (this wasn't a randomly picked number, it was purposefully chosen, despite what 456 would indicate). He was raised in the South Eastern town of Silverwood, on the Summerset Isles (now known as Alinor). During his 30th year, he left the town in pursuit of an Altmer battalion, heading south to investigate the Maormer presence, though was redirected to send a message to King Hidellith, but was waylaid on his way to the city of Alinor. Upon his arrival, the fleet sent to apprehend the Maormer were already killed, but the mer was commended for his efforts (scolded by the King himself, but a sympathetic Emissary thanked the Altmer). He there, joined the Alinor Mage's Guild; and swiftly became a prevalent researcher into the arcane and histories of Nirn. During his time as a researcher, in his path to unravelling what he could of the histories, the Altmer travelled a great deal for some years. His travels took him to most of the Provinces in Tamriel, during which time he pursued a personal matter as well.


Before the war, during his time of travelling, Taure found a young girl orphaned in the Imperial City. He had adopted the girl as his initiate, her name Ysolde, though as she grew the two became more attached - forming a relationship more akin to father and daughter. At least, this is the story he told her, as he had stripped the memory of the true events from her... perhaps you'll learn the truth at some point. Ysolde was killed during the final assault on the Imperial City, and the battle against Mannimarco.


During the war on Coldharbour, Taure was conscripted into the service of the Aldmeri Dominion, though not as a soldier. His capability as a 'neutral party' had intrigued Queen Ayrenn, whom Taure had aided in tutoring during her upbringing; and had the Altmer become a member of her council and advisor in political matters.  For some time during the war, the Altmer acted more as an agent, and gatherer of information; and though proving proficient at doing so, his abilities were best suited elsewhere. Taure was swiftly appointed as Ambassador of the Dominion, and Right Hand to the Queen. His efforts during the war on Coldharbour, and during the Tri-Faction war only helped exemplify his prowess as both an arcanist and a diplomat. At the end of the war, when his services were still required by Ayrenn, but less often; the Altmer was promoted to Arch-Mage of the Alinor Mage's Guild, the previous having been killed in the conflict.


After the war, the Altmer was approached by the Psijiic Order. Having been both intrigued by his devotion to maintaining balance, and his arcane skill, he was adopted into the order. Thus allowing him to further extend his studies into the history of Nirn, and also many of the Order's own unique abilities became known to him - most notably their immortality. Though at this point the Altmer was already almost 300 years old, and thus appears as a very elderly mer. Magic allows him to mitigate the effects of old age, but not excessively, and not indefinitely.


Additional Information :: True Neutral. Taure is an advocate for balance, and thus attempts to take a neutral position in most things. Naturally, he is affected by his own bias, but tries his hardest not to be. His loyalty is to his friends first and foremost, though often finds himself being questionably loyal to his faction and sometimes friends in support of the 'greater good'. It's difficult to describe anyone's personality with words, unless I write an essay, and so I'm going to keep it simple. His personality will become more prevalent the more I write. Simply put, he is polite, good natured, and refrains from taking sides.


Occupation - Ambassador of the Third Dominion (he doesn't like being referred to as Thalmor, due to their Fascist standpoint), Arch-Mage of the Alinor Mages' Guild and Member of the Psijiic Order.

 

[ANONASAI]

@Xion136 @ProxCnC - They're both good to go ^ ^... but just please don't go overboard with Vaun's powers .

I promise you I won't  It's not my first time handling OP chars. 

 

[Abendrot]

Name: Jeelum-Zei


Race: Argonian


Gender: Male


Age: 34


Items:


- Bandolier


- Potions/Poisons


- Field Provisions


- Money


- Map of Skyrim


- Ring of Resist Cold (to protect himself from Skryim's climate)


Weapons:


- Argonian Machete


- Kukri


Personality: Jeelum is an optimist, a rare sight in such a dreary land like Skyrim. He has a kind heart, and while he's a mercenary by trade, he'll only take jobs he knows will benefit others. He's a calm man, laid-back and easy to befriend, and he's able to crack a good joke every now and then. He holds an unwavering loyalty to those he holds dear, which includes his companions, even though he may not admit his fondness for them outright. Even his enemies will admit that Jeelum is a skilled fighter, though the man's not one for boasting. He prefers to treat others with kindness, and is surprisingly humble about his skills and capabilities.


*History: On a rainy evening on the 23rd of Frostfall, 4E 167, an Argonian hatchling was born to two humble residents of the city of Blackrose. The father was a rather wealthy An-Xileel politician, and the mother a talented healer. Not long after the hatchling's birth, he underwent the customary naming ritual of drinking the sap from the local Hist Tree, and from that point on, the young Saxhleel was known as Jeelum-Zei. The boy had a relatively easy childhood, growing up with an insatiable curiosity. In his youth, he wanted nothing more than to see the world outside Argonia, and to become a hero of the ages. Jeelum constantly bombarded his elders with questions, and spent more time pestering foreign travelers than any other child his age.


This fascination with adventuring and glory did not go unnoticed. Jeelum's uncle, an enforcer for the Fighter's Guild, came to him on his tenth birthday offering to train him as a warrior. Jeelum's parents refused at first, not wanting their son to be put in any sort of danger. After several months of convincing, however, they allowed it, on the condition that he wouldn't be training with real weapons until he was older. They agreed. Several years passed, and while Jeelum's mother and father would've preferred to see him wait until sixteen before training, he began to do so at fourteen. His uncle would teach him the way of the sword while other Guild members helped instruct him in tactics and leadership. As it was, Jeelum had been particularly talented with the blade, which had come as a surprise to everyone, even himself really.


At the age of sixteen, Jeelum officially joined up with the Fighter's Guild with his uncle's good graces. He was a competent fighter, and listened to his superiors obediently. Travelling thoughout every corner of Black Marsh, he and his siblings-in-arms dealt with some of the deadliest creatures and bandits the province had to offer. By the time he left the Guild, he'd been raised to the rank of Warder, in charge of his own squad and helping the other guild members hone their skills whenever they could. Jeelum had been in the guild for ten years, though his reasons for leaving had come about because of, well, his ever-present wanderlust. He was not content to just explore Argonia, but to explore all of Tamriel and maybe even beyond. After leaving his beloved homeland, he traveled through Elsweyr, then through Cyrodiil and finally to Skyrim, the ancient land of the Nords.


Province: Blackrose, Black Marsh


Goals: Explore all of Tamriel


(I just copy-pasted him from the old RP and changed the picture. I'll adjust it for your new CS if needed)

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@Lorkhan - No need, the template was just a suggestion mostly for newcomers. PS - Accepted, obviously.

 

[Slothtastic]

Name: R'Jeer
​

Age: 27
​

Place of Birth: "This one does not know..."
​

Faction: Thieves Guild/Nightingale
​

Race: Khajiit
​

Attire:
​

-A blue vest, boots, and an amulet of Arkay, along with a ring of resist cold. 
​

Combat Attire:
​

-Nightingale Hood
​

-Nightingale chestplate
​

-Nightingale boots
​

-Nightingale gloves
​

Biography: "This one would rather not tell you..."
​

Additional Information: Cheery, a thief who can use his fists and weapons to take down his enemies. Chaotic Neutral. His weapons include: Nightingale blade, Nightingale bow, ebony dagger. 
​

@Taure Tavari (This still going on?)
​

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@Slothtastic - Only just started, so yes, still going on. We're sort of expecting more to come along before really beginning the RP though. PS - Accepted.

 

[coold00d12]

Name :: Drex Tellgar
 
Gender :: Male
 
Age :: 24
 
Appearance :: 

 
Place of Birth (optional) :: Wayrest, Highrock (although raised in Cyrodiil)
 
Faction (optional) :: Imperial Loyalist/Companion
 
Race :: Breton
 
Attire :: Drex can normally be found with an Imperial shield and a set of Light Imperial Armor, however, if he knows he is about to face a serious confrontation, he will use a set of Heavy Imperial Armor, with the latter, he will wear an Imperial Officer's helmet. His weapons include: An Imperial Sword (enchanted with flames), an Iron Dagger (hidden inside his boot), and a crossbow. He also wears a Gold Jeweled Amulet, he is never seen without it.
 
Biography :: Drex was born in Wayrest, Highrock, although he has no memory of the city. When he was five months old, his parents took him to the Imperial City, Cyrodiil. He was raised to support the empire, however, he could never support the White Gold Concordat. At age nineteen, he joined the Imperial Legion. At age twenty, his service took him to Skyrim, where he fought in the civil war.
                  He arrived as a Quaestor, but was promoted twice, settling at the rank of Tribune. He fought at the battle for Whiterun, he fought in the Siege of Windhelm, and he fought during the skirmishes afterward. The horrors he witnessed during his service are many. His best friend, Jorlund, was decapitated beside him, he witnessed two Stormcloaks, begging for mercy, be tortured and murdered by a Thalmor operative. These horrors scarred him, leaving a husk of the Breton he used to be.
                  At age twenty-two, he resigned from the Legion, knowing full-well he could've been a Legate within a month or two. He wandered for months, only stopping in towns to resupply and keep from being sober. He drank constantly, eventually winding up in the Bannered Mare, within the city of Whiterun. While drinking, a chatty companion-recruit sat next to him, informing him how he'd recently joined, how he was so excited and badass, etc. Drex couldn't stand this, and promptly punched the man in the jaw, initiating a bar-fight. By the time it was over, they were both severely injured, and in the Temple of Kynareth for healing.
                  He had expected to be attacked the minute he exited the temple, instead, he was greeted by a bruised, yet cheerful companion-recruit, and the rest of his group. Instead of beating him down, they offered him a place in their ranks, along with pay, mead, and food. He had been wandering long enough, so he accepted, albeit hesitantly. Over the next year, he fought alongside the companions, the mercenary work filled the hole his service had left, giving him a new purpose. He now wears his armor with pride, seemingly healed from the horrors he had faced during the war.
 
Additional Information :: Drex is very skilled with his sword, expert rank. He is also adept with his crossbow, and adept at blocking

 

[Soleil]

Name :: Ina 


Gender :: Female


Age :: 20


Appearance :: 


At first look she appears to be average size with toned muscles only years of hard labor can bring. However at a closer range you can begin to see the signs of years of starvation that even muscles can't hide.  She has long wavy white hair, almost like snow. 


Place of Birth (optional) :: Around Winterhold


Race :: Elf


Attire :: Solid black light armor with a hood that covers the face.  Carries a dagger enchanted with frost damage strapped to her leg, and a bow. 





Biography :: Looking for work, she wanders Skyrim moving from village to village.  She was orphaned as a young child with only faint memories of a family that she doesn't know what happened to them.  She learned from a young age that work and hunting mean survival. A lot of time is spent traveling to find work so she lives off the land mostly between villages. She is usually found alone, and rarely speaks until needed. She started off with simple gardening or wood cutting jobs when she was a child.  However she found that the real money comes from being a paid mercenary. After learning this she began teaching herself how to use a sword, but found that she is better with her bow. With incredible aim she can take down her target at a safe distance going unnoticed. Years of hunting for survival paid off. Although she can handle her sword she is not the best at one on one combat, not being properly trained. 


She is not fierce or outspoken, however she has a lot of spirit and loyalty. She keeps to herself not because she is timid but because she is watching, always calculating her next move. 


Additional Information :: She knows only one spell, frostbite which she learned from a close friend who lives outside Winterhold.  Her friend attended the college for a few years before leaving.  She usually will stay with her whenever she's in the area. Secretly she wants to attend the college, grow her knowledge of magika. Her favorite thing in the world is reading. 

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@Soleil @coold00d12 --- Both accepted. Welcome.  PS - @Soleil - You said Ina was an elf, and judging by the art I'll assume she's an Altmer, but can you confirm what kind of mer she is? Ta.

 

[Soleil]

Great and yeah she is sorry

 

[GreenEyedStranger]

Name:  He-Who-Devours


*Nickname: Devours


Race: Argonian


Gender: Male


Age: 27


Faction: Vampires


Apperance:


A devilish, ram-like appearance. His torso and arms are also marked in the natural red, which he also accentuated with blood from his victims.

Items:


Book of Necromancy, although he learned all of the spells inside, he likes to re-read it for entertainment


Sugar roll: More than anything, even treachery and dark magic, Devours loves anything sugary. He always makes sure to carry a treat with him.


Pouch of coins: A pouch of what seems to be golden coins. Unfortunately, the 'coins' are actually worthless pieces of metal, coated in a deadly toxin designed to kill whoever it touches. A grim, cruel joke by Devours.


Occupation: 


Apothercary/General Store (Uses this as a disguise, thanks to his skill in mending wounds, although through unusual methods)


Secretly a necromancer, vampire follower (Although he can not become a vampire due to his argonian blood)


Weapons:


Wicked Curved Blade: A strange scimitar dagger hybrid that has a heavily serrated edge, designed to inflict maximum pain.


Heretics focus: A magical focus, lined with blades and sharp metal spikes. If his magic fails him, Devour can smash his opponents skull in with this.


Personality:


Devours is certainly not the most stable character. Although he may appear to be friendly, he has an insatiable urge to harm people. The closer and more important to him they are, the more he wants to harm them, a twisted and perverted way of showing affection. Of course, those near him usually don't suffer the fate of death as strangers, who he sees as objects instead of people. Also, he has developed a taste for flesh, preferring the sweet and tender high elf morsels out of anything.


*History:


Originally raised in a shamanistic society with a nomadic group of argonians in skyrim before he got his current name, Keeper-of-Hearts was on his way to attaining one of the most valuable positions in his society, a doctor. To his people, he expressed his gratitude and thanks, although secretly he resented becoming what he was and sought out for something more entertaining. Eventually, he came across a group of vampires and spied them at a distance as they used their dark magics and devoured their prey. Their habits fascinated him, and he wished to learn more. While keeping a safe distance, Hearts eventually made contact with the vampires and soon started recieving informal necromancer training. With his current knowledge of magic, he was quick to learn the art of necromancy. The second fascination of vampirism, being, was not available to Hearts however. He was devastated to learn this, though the vampires took pity on him and named him an honorary member. Seeking to imitate their ways, he started devouring flesh, at which point the vampire cult named him He-Who-Devours.


What province do you come from?: Skyrim


Whst are your characters goals? : Survive and become wealthy while still maintaining his lust for blood.

 

[ANONASAI]

I think we forgot to mention those who applied here that the RP is up  anyways. GUYS!! THE RP IS UP!!! Like... a week ago.. actually...

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@GreenEyedStranger - Welcome back  

 

[Abendrot]

Name: Morthil Maldrizes


Nickname: Just Morthil, or "that cheeky dark elf"


Race: Dunmer


Gender: Male


Age: 203


Items:


- Knapsack


- An eight year old horse named Sazed.


- Magicka Potions


- Money


- Apothecary satchel filled with ingredients


- Mortar and Pestle


- Leather-bound notebook w/charcoal.


- The Pocket Guide to the Empire


Occupation: Wandering Mage / Scholar (Currently staying at Winterhold)


Weapons:


Magic


Silver Shortsword


Personality: For the most part, Morthil is a pleasant man, if a bit eccentric. He is abnormally enthusiastic about all things magic related, eager not to just learn more, but to share his knowledge with others. He is highly intelligent, needless to say, having also been educated in history and various languages. One of his more prominent traits is his dry sense of humor, which is often employed during dangerous situations, making him seem rude and unprofessional in the eyes of some people. However, should his merry jests put a smile on at least one face, he'll be pleased. Despite his often harsh treatment at the hands of the local Nords (or perhaps because of it), Morthil has developed a thick skin, able to brush off rude gibes about his race and his magic. But despite his generally calm demeanor, he can have a violent temper if he is pushed over the edge.


*History: Morthil Maldrizes could not have come into the world at a more inopportune time. He'd been born at the turn of the Third Era in the city of Ald'ruhn to two staunch members of House Redoran, a happy couple, and moderately wealthy at that. Yet not even a year after young Morthil's birth, the Oblivion Crisis began, and while most of the violence was centered in Cyrodiil, Ald'ruhn was nearly decimated by the sudden daedra onslaught, forcing the family to flee Morrowind with their infant son. When the Crisis finally ended, Morthil's parents emigrated to Cyrodiil where they used what money they had left to purchase a modest house in the Imperial City. While their life in Cyrodiil hadn't been as prosperous as their life in Morrowind, it was comfortable nonetheless, safe from any sort of danger from the homeland, especially after the Red Year.


From an early age, Morthil's father wanted to teach him the ways of the warrior, being such a fervent believer in House Redoran's code, but the boy had no interest in swords or axes. He'd read about the Mages Guild, and aspired to be more like them when he grew up, much to his parents' chagrin. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he was forced to endure his father's lessons of war and combat, though he longed for the thrill of wielding magic for the good of others. When he turned eighteen and officially of age, Morthil went against his parents' wishes of being a fighter and instead joined the College of Whispers at the Arcane University. He did not fail to impress. Intelligent and creative, Morthil showed a natural aptitude for magic beyond that of most of the other Associates. While he showed a particular knack for history, he mostly focused his energy on learning Conjuration, Alteration, and Destruction. On occasion, Morthil would travel throughout the province -- sometimes abroad -- to gain practical experience from excavating ruins and the like.


Eventually, however, Morthil began to grow disenchanted with both the College of Whispers and the Synod, believing them both to be too politically oriented with a decreasing focus on actual magic and research. Fed up with his fellow academics, Morthil cut off all times with the College of Whispers after more than a century of being a member, and instead decided to spend the rest of his days as a travelling scholar residing in various residences in Hammerfell, High Rock,, and now Skyrim. While living in ancient city of Windhelm, Morthil quickly grew to resent its cold climate as well as the even colder Nords who hated and distrusted his kind, despite the fact that most of the Dunmer there were refugees from a now uninhabitable land. For a time, he learned to ignore their rude and offensive japes before he mustered up the resources to move further north to the once great metropolis of Winterhold. This brings us to today. For now, Morthil continues his research, working closely with the College of Winterhold and giving the occasional lecture there in exchange for enough money to pay for his inn room and to keep food on the table.


Province: Ald'ruhn, Morrowind (raised in the Imperial City)


Goals: To learn all that the world has to offer him.

Name: Damien Dufort


Race: Breton (Altmer father)


Gender: Male


Age: 24


Items:


- A stallion named Kafka


- Money


- Compass


- A set of lockpicks


- Waterskin


- Potions of stamina, magicka, and healing


- Disguises


Occupation: Thief / Nightblade


Weapons:


- Magic


- Twin daggers of traditional Breton make


- A wooden bludgeon, for when he's not feeling lethal.


Personality: With his cunning wit and his roguish air, Damien's personality could probably be described as typical for a thieving man such as himself. Sly and easy-going, he easily finds ways to lighten the pockets of those too burdened with money, but while he's just as concerned with his own welfare as much as the next man, he's not completely selfish. Almost always, he'll share a great deal of his purloined wealth to those less fortunate. For this reason, he doesn't affiliate with the Thieves Guild, who have sadly resorted to stealing from the poor to give to the rich. While he's outwardly friendly to most, he's not a trusting man. If working on the other side of the law has taught him anything, it's that he must rely and trust only himself


History: Damien Dufort was born to a young mother -- named Vivienne Dufort -- on the 14th of Morning Star, 4E 180 in the port city of Wayrest. Vivienne was a commoner by birth yet her lover was a highborn Thalmor Justiciar. The mer had been a maiden's fantasy, if she was to be believed. Handsome and charming with a glamour that attracted women like bears to honey. It was no surprise that the two became such fast lovers. Their affection, however, was fleeting, as the Altmer had been sent back to Alinor mere weeks after Damien's conception, leaving Vivienne to raise the child on her own. The two lived poor together with Vivienne trying to make as much money as she could as a fisherman while her son had been looked after by relatives and neighbors. Food was a valuable commodity in young Damien's eyes and getting two or three meals a day was something unheard of to his ears. It had been hard to resist the temptation of stealing from the abundant food stalls, yet it was impossible to ignore the waste boxes of spoiling produce. It took a few months, but soon Damien's patience had been pushed too far, and soon the boy found himself stealing these unwanted foods not just for himself and his mother, but for the other urchins in his district. He did this for about a year or so, training his ability to sneak through crowds and snatch up fruit without any watching eyes on him.


When Damien was seven years old, the unimaginable occurred. Wayrest was viciously raided by corsairs. In the span of a few hours, the boy lost his and his family's possessions, his friends, his innocence, and most horribly, his mother. Damien fled the city on a Khajiiti trader ship with as much as he could carry, along with a handful of other people. For a time, the boy lapsed into a period of depression. Wayrest was no longer home to him, even after the city was retaken and rebuilt. Aside from the fact that he had no money to feed and shelter himself, he couldn't bear to stay in a place that reminded him of all he had lost. The next year, Damien signed on as a cabin boy for the same ship from Elsweyr that had brought him out of Wayrest on the day of the raid, captained by a young and idealistic Ma'dran.


It was from there, at the age of nine, that Damien's adventuring days began. The crew traded across the Abecean Sea, selling their exotic wares from Daggerfall to Dusk, from Stros M'Kai to as far east as Senchal. For a time, Damien was content to perform menial tasks like doing night watch and handling the ropes, sails, and lines. Shortly after he signed aboard Ma'dran's ship, Damien met a fair-haired wizard named Augustin Lachapelle, the only other Breton (or more specifically, the only other non-Khajiit) aboard the ship. The two befriended each other rather quickly, bonding over their shared homeland, hobbies, and Damien's growing interest in girls. After a fashion, Damien began to dabble into magic at his friend's behest, and after taking notice of his aptitude, Augustin took to tutoring the boy in the arcane arts himself. Years passed, and Damien had become a respected member of the crew in his own right and his understanding of magic became even greater.


Some years ago, Ma'dran had gained ambitions well past maritime trading, instead seeing a lucrative market in caravanning across Skyrim. The crew was disbanded, though its former members were encouraged to follow the caravan north to Skyrim, which Damien had, though he only stayed with them for a few short months before he left to pursue his own interests.


Province: Wayrest, High Rock


Goals: Help the downtrodden.

 

[The Daemon Sultan]

Name: Sun


Gender: Male


Race: Breton Vampire


Role/Occupation: Assassin


Age: 1186 (Physically 15, Mentally 25)


Birthsign: The Thief


Primary Skills:

• 
  Sneak 80
  
• 
  Hand-to-Hand 60
  
• 
  Light Armor 60
  
• 
  Illusion 60
  

Strengths and Weaknesses: Sun is also capable of nighttime regeneration, nighttime sneak bonuses, and night vision. He is quick, and extremely hard to detect. He’s also subject to inhibited daytime regeneration, sun damage, fire damage, and restoration damage. His frame is only capable of carrying his own body weight, and snapping necks, otherwise he is not strong against bigger opponents.  Because of Sun's expertise in the Sneak skill tree, and his mental age being extremely discordant with his physical one, he suffers from bouts of personality loss, and slips between the mindset of an adolescent and adult. It maintains how he appears on the outside, but robs him of the tact and precision an adult would normally have consistently.


 

Faction: The Dark Brotherhood


Religion: Sithis


Appearance:

Spoiler

 

Spoiler

Height: 5' 4"


Weight: 110 lbs.


 

Inventory:

• 
  Ring of Peerless Sneak
  
• 
  Necklace of Peerless Sneak
  
• 
  Hist Sap
  

Weapons: None


Armour:

• 
  Ancient Shrouded Hood
  
• 
  Ancient Shrouded Armor
  
• 
  Ancient Shrouded Gloves
  
• 
  Ancient Shrouded Boots
  

Sexual Preference: For all intents and purposes, asexual


Bio/Backstory:

Spoiler

Sun was born in Bravil, of Cyrodiil, in 2E 320, on Evening Star 11th, on Loredas. He grew up in a household that was cursed with a twisted wife to a long gone soldier, a man who probably planned never to return, for the wretch was so awful, and hadn’t compared to her sister whom he’d planned to marry before she deserted her homeland, accompanied by a suspected lycanthrope. Figuratively, of course. The father had been acquainted with the woman’s sister, and some time after they’d married, her footsteps changed into something more wicked. He enlisted with the Empire, and she never notified him of the labor he’d bestowed upon her to bear alone. And Sun was born, not named in love or affection, but because she named him the first thing that came to mind when it was morning.


Sun had the backhand of his mother just as known to him as she herself was to her extremity. Day in and day out, she ignored her son except for when he was within arms reach. She never planned on feeding him, deliberately going out of her way to pay for enough food for one person, and every scrap he took was soon kicked out of him. He’d taken to steal off of the streets for any morsels, at such a tender age. Sometimes he offered others labor for some food in the mouth, though at his age there wasn’t much he could do for them. So instead, he stole from them. Took cooling pies off window panes, snagged septims from a coinpurse, etc.


His anxiety only grew with age, that someday his mother would kill him. That he would have nothing to look forward to. He panicked, looked at knives in the drawer. He felt insane, to think that way, that he’d want to kill his own mother. He began to fight against the back of her hand, when he’d sidestep or trip his mother, glanced off her blows with a swift arm. She’d eventually get to him, but one night during an intense battle, he slipped out the door, climbed the roof, and hopped along rooftop to rooftop. He’d felt he’d kill her that he needed a breath of fresh air to calm himself. His intelligence and cunning only paved the way for his chronic paranoia, and it seemed the silence was the only way to accept his fear and move past it. It’s what gave him his strength.


And one day, it spoke to him, and pointed at a hidden cove in an encirclement of houses. What a hidden place, what a queer courtyard. He approached it, and found an old Dunmer woman who sat back, and stared at Aetherius. She looked to him, not in surprise, but in a welcomed expectation of his presence. He walked to her, and she opened her arms to him. He sat next to her, and cried on her shoulder, told her everything, and the words fell in choked whispers out of his mouth. She nodded, as though the silence had told her all of this and more. And when all was said and done, and again they sat in silence, she whispered to him. That the Void gave him strength for a reason, and that it’s presence and obstruction is what gives mortals form. She told him to become one with the Void, one must learn to present it, and obstruct it, to become something that they are void of, something that they are not. But she told him the Void had made him perfect, and that he can embrace it, for it brings with it a home for him to fall back on, and a real mother to take care of him. You are a sweet boy, she said, but you have yet to begin life as you see it.


“Take this poison, she said, and offered him a bottle. Feed it to that pig of a woman,” she said, “and I will keep you safe from mortals forever. You can do what you like, whenever you like.”


And Sun found himself persuaded by her words, not a hint of trickery or honey coated them, but the concern of a real mother. He gave her a hug, and scrambled to the rooftops, back to his home. He finally had the strength to leave his mother once and for all, and when he entered the house, the bottle in his hand was already uncorked, ready to do as he wanted it to. He decorated all of his mother’s favorite treats in her meathouse, and stood over her seized body as she squirmed with the vigor of a stuck pig, he tipped over the rest of her kettle onto her body, kicked a log out of place, and left the entire house to burn, and stayed as long as he could to watch from the shadows. He found the woman outside his house, and walked with her home.


His life in the Sanctuary was without hardship. He was part of a real family now, one that looked after him. And when he came to the age of 14, he decided he wanted to take on more dangerous missions. But to do that, he’d need years of more practice, even if he was capable,, it didn’t mean he was without risk of of death each time. So, to help him get better faster, he proposed the idea to work alongside a Shadowscale in Black Marsh. To shadow a Shadowscale, so to speak. But to overcome the diseases of the Marsh, he’d have to contract Sanguinare Vampiris, or Porphyric Hemophilia. He did so willingly, fed upon by another Silencer, and became a vampire.


Life in Black Marsh was hard at first, as Sun was not accustomed to being away from the Night Mother. Her age made him weary, he was only part of the third generation of Dark Brotherhood initiates, and though she herself seemed unwilling to let someone take her to Sithis, she was equally unwilling to let someone keep her away from him by if she became a vampire. She walked through life like a wedding aisle, slowly but with determined steps. But Sun didn’t feel either her presence or Sithis’s leave him. He grew up with the Shadowscale, Eyes-in-Dusk, and though the Shadowscale aged and changed, Sun’s gothic innocence remained. They still shared stories and expeditions just like brothers would.


Sun’s fascination with Black Marsh didn’t stop at his training. He had an obsession with the Hist as fellow Sithis-worshippers, and his religious practices and education from the Night Mother was furthered, but hadn’t been taught just how deep the relationship between Sithis and himself was that he could commune with him on will. For hours a night, he’d meditate on the Void. Some nights, he could hear the naught of the Dread Lord’s voice, other nights he’d hear his own voice come back to him, or those of others echoing across the vastness of time, finally free in the Void. He became much closer to Sithis when he took hospice in Black Marsh. While there’s no way for him to commune with the Hist, as the hallucinogenic sap doesn’t work on vampires and is generally toxic for non-Argonians, he asked for a bottle at the end of his training before heading home, wanting to become strong enough to speak with the Hist someday.


 

When he came home, he arrived at the Night Mother’s deathbed. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been away, but even being in the presence of her corpse, she hadn’t left him. He could hear her voice, even after death. He hugged the coffin, and was chosen as the Listener of Bravil’s Sanctuary. Upon his victims, he kept his hands painted black regularly. Black handprints found on victims’ necks or faces always linked back to him, he who strangled his victims or broke their necks. He never used a weapon. Sometimes, in suicide cases, the victims would have a smeared black hand on their cheek, as though they’d been caressed before dying.


At some point or another, he fell into a coma. Only recently has he woken up, and his goals remain the same: kill for Sithis. He wandered Skyrim for a long time, and just wandered upon some unexpected heroes.

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@The Daemon Sultan - Looks great.  Welcome. Feel free to jump straight in if you have an idea of how you wish to do so.

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

Name: Aten Nalion
 


Gender: Male


Age: 23


Appearance: 


Aten Nalion

Place of Birth: Skyrim, The Reach


Faction: The Order of Sacrifice


Race: Imperial


Occupation: Mercenary


Attire:


Weapons: Two daggers and his family weapon "Sunfire" an flame enchanted Katana.

Spoiler

Armor: Despite being a Knight, Aten actually prefers to wear leather armor instead of heavy armor, preferring speed over defense, also leading to his lack of Shield use.

Spoiler

Skills: Knight Major Skills, Sneak, as well as an apprentice level of Alteration magic.


Items: Gold, a small bag of dried meats and vegetables. waterskin, and a couple Potions of Healing.


Biography: Aten is from a family of knights, originally based in Cyrodiil. However, after a terrible betrayal, the family was forced to flee from their ancestral home and travel to Skyrim instead. There, the family set itself up in The Reach as a noble mercenary family. Over the years, the family has acted as guards and warriors for various factions. 


Aten was meant to be the next leader of the family and the Order of Sacrifice and was raised as such. From the time he could wield a blade, he was trained, hard. The Order of Sacrifice had many members, most who had come from a different profession before joining them. This enabled Aten to be trained in various techniques, though his family wanted him trained in their Knight skills, he also picked up a couple of Thief skills as well as showing a strange aptitude for Alteration magic.


As he got older, his training became more stabilized, focusing on the skills he was best suited for and leaving others behind. He abandoned the concept of a Knight's heavy armor in exchange for the quieter, easier to move in leather armor of a Thief. A combination of speed and technique became his forte. He didn't use a shield, preferring to have an extra hand available during a fight.


When he started going out on missions for the Order, he generally worked alone, not because he liked to work alone, but because he liked the idea of meeting new people without having members of his family watching his every move. He knew he had to lead the family eventually, but he wanted the freedom of exploration first.


Additional Information: Raised among Knights, Aten possesses a strong sense of nobility and will often help people in his travels. However, he is not forgiving towards betrayal, often personally dealing with the betrayer. He is a very loyal person and will do his best to aid those who have placed their trust in him.


When he has time, he often practices his Alteration magic.


His family sword, Sunfire, is a Katana that is enchanted with fire magic, as well as an enchantment that prevents it from rusting.


His family's mercenary order, The Order of Sacrifice was founded on the concept of giving aid, even to the point of sacrificing one's life. They believed that Mercenaries who worked only for money weren't noble. When one takes a job, then one must finish that job. This Order focuses on loyalty and order.

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

@Seraph Darkfire - I'm torn. Whilst I'm perfectly content accepting Aten Nalion, I'm not comfortable with the Daedric Prince side of things. I know you've made it clear your 'Prince' is very weak and minor compared to the others, but accepting a character that was born human and 'became' a Daedra through a simple ritual - especially at such a young age (a 15 year old triumphed over a Dremora - which would kill most fully trained, grown men) would be a complete disregard of the lore.


I've been lax with some applications, like Xion's experimented upon Nord (but considering some things made in ES, that could probably be possible) - however, Daedra are beings that have existed before the creation of Nirn... and they aren't just 'made'. The only exception would be Sheogorath appointing the Champion as Sheogorath, to fight Jyggalag, though the character hardly gained the powers of a Daedric Prince, merely the title (and that was in place of another, and not formed from nothing).


I'm sorry, but I can only accept half of this application. It's up to you if you're okay with that.

 

[ANONASAI]

Maybe some sort of ascension to a stronger being with be far more better? Like Talos? He doesn't have to be good and all but yeah I agree with boss. Use another term to describe his 'godliness'.  

 

[Wackadoodle0987]

Maybe some sort of ascension to a stronger being with be far more better? Like Talos? He doesn't have to be good and all but yeah I agree with boss. Use another term to describe his 'godliness'.  

*cough* *cough* Tiber Septim (Hjalti) never ascended. That was a big fat lie conjured up by a scumbag of a man too scared of being forgotten. Some believe Talos 'mantled' the Aedra (ie imitating them so well he became like them) but his entire life was spent being an arseh*le, I doubt he had the time to become a god.


The only instances of 'alternate being' I know of in ES are ::


- Lichdom


- Psychological Disorders


- Were-beings


It is possible for someone to become a Daedra, but not a Prince, and not to exist between forms. They would have to be a Daedra throughout,