Adventure Parties
Hjortr War-Fist
Male
35
Nord
Sign of the Warrior
Follows: Talos
Kin: unknown
Companion: Ansel, horse
Always with the serious faces, it's no small wonder that Hjortr is not expected to be the highlight of a party. But though he has a grumpy look on his face most of the time, it is typically because he is just thinking or scrutinizing things too hard for his face to handle. He is actually quite a pleasant person. He's big and burly and could kill anything that crosses his path, but he is a total teddybear on the inside. A lot of his friends call him such in a teasing way. They are probably the only people who can get away with that after all. He has a hard time not coming across as scary, but he is gentle when he is not fighting. Though he is very gentle and kind hearted, he was not hired out to be a mercenary on a whim. He can do a lot of damage, being rather excellent in the use of many types of weapons, most notably his steel greatsword, and his physical strength and bulked muscle aids rather well in those downward cleaves. If he knows any magic, he refuses to say. Hjortr looks rather older than his real age, seeming to be maybe mid forties rather than thirty-five. He has a well-worn face with slight wrinkles, probably from all that frowning, and slight scars on his face aid to the more weathered look. He has dark hair that he keeps above his shoulders, and he has brown eyes. It is no secret that Hjortr is best friends with his companion and fellow for-hire Rijja. When they met, he felt a pair of eyes on him while out wandering the great wide world looking for work. And the feeling didn't go away despite the towns and jobs he entered and took on. Then he learned that it was this slight Redguard girl that was always trailing along. She eventually confronted him, and she asked to join him in his work and his travels. But Hjortr did not want to get her involved in such a life, determined that her skills would be better used elsewhere. But her persistence won out, and she joined up with him on his journeys and jobs henceforth. He is rather happy that it turned out that way. They have become great friends and work well together.
Male
35
Nord
Sign of the Warrior
Follows: Talos
Kin: unknown
Companion: Ansel, horse
Always with the serious faces, it's no small wonder that Hjortr is not expected to be the highlight of a party. But though he has a grumpy look on his face most of the time, it is typically because he is just thinking or scrutinizing things too hard for his face to handle. He is actually quite a pleasant person. He's big and burly and could kill anything that crosses his path, but he is a total teddybear on the inside. A lot of his friends call him such in a teasing way. They are probably the only people who can get away with that after all. He has a hard time not coming across as scary, but he is gentle when he is not fighting. Though he is very gentle and kind hearted, he was not hired out to be a mercenary on a whim. He can do a lot of damage, being rather excellent in the use of many types of weapons, most notably his steel greatsword, and his physical strength and bulked muscle aids rather well in those downward cleaves. If he knows any magic, he refuses to say. Hjortr looks rather older than his real age, seeming to be maybe mid forties rather than thirty-five. He has a well-worn face with slight wrinkles, probably from all that frowning, and slight scars on his face aid to the more weathered look. He has dark hair that he keeps above his shoulders, and he has brown eyes. It is no secret that Hjortr is best friends with his companion and fellow for-hire Rijja. When they met, he felt a pair of eyes on him while out wandering the great wide world looking for work. And the feeling didn't go away despite the towns and jobs he entered and took on. Then he learned that it was this slight Redguard girl that was always trailing along. She eventually confronted him, and she asked to join him in his work and his travels. But Hjortr did not want to get her involved in such a life, determined that her skills would be better used elsewhere. But her persistence won out, and she joined up with him on his journeys and jobs henceforth. He is rather happy that it turned out that way. They have become great friends and work well together.
Lone Adventurers
Torin-Svaer
M
41
Argonian
Sign of the Shadow
Follows: Sithis, The Hist
Ex-Shadowscale from Cyrodiil, Adventurer
Kin: n/a
With his days in Tamriel numbered, Torin-Svaer is just hoping that he can go down fighting. It seems like such a bleak prospect, to have proud, able-bodied Argonian like him being so sure of his own demise, but you see, he is a Shadowscale. An ex-Shadowscale to be exact. Meaning every other Shadowscale in Tamriel (though few and far between but nevertheless deadly and to be reckoned with) is keen on hunting him down should the opportunity arise. Torin-Svaer has been hunted from Skyrim to Hammerfell to Black Marsh and all the way back to Skyrim again. The years have seasoned and hardened him, but he knows it's only a matter of time before one younger, quicker, and fiercer than he should contest and best him. As said, he only prays that they might grant him the ability to fight back. It would be rather dishonoring to die with a dagger in the back. Even though he turned his back on his brothers, it was never betrayal. He does not believe it would be justice for him to die a traitor’s death, no matter what they might believe.
M
41
Argonian
Sign of the Shadow
Follows: Sithis, The Hist
Ex-Shadowscale from Cyrodiil, Adventurer
Kin: n/a
With his days in Tamriel numbered, Torin-Svaer is just hoping that he can go down fighting. It seems like such a bleak prospect, to have proud, able-bodied Argonian like him being so sure of his own demise, but you see, he is a Shadowscale. An ex-Shadowscale to be exact. Meaning every other Shadowscale in Tamriel (though few and far between but nevertheless deadly and to be reckoned with) is keen on hunting him down should the opportunity arise. Torin-Svaer has been hunted from Skyrim to Hammerfell to Black Marsh and all the way back to Skyrim again. The years have seasoned and hardened him, but he knows it's only a matter of time before one younger, quicker, and fiercer than he should contest and best him. As said, he only prays that they might grant him the ability to fight back. It would be rather dishonoring to die with a dagger in the back. Even though he turned his back on his brothers, it was never betrayal. He does not believe it would be justice for him to die a traitor’s death, no matter what they might believe.
Hirelings
Casmero Witchhazel
M
39
Wood Elf
Sign of the Atronach
Follows: Kynareth, Julianos, Arkay, Azura
Mercenary
Kin: Haymthor Witchhazel (father), Metdra Witchhazel (mother)
Casmero Witchhazel is a tough, hard man with the resolution of a statue and the quality of a soldier. His lack of direction makes him rather spontaneous and unpredictable, which is a good thing for himself when he is alone, but not exactly an admirable quality when in a group. Hence why he is such a loner, even when others wish for his compliance, he is more likely to be a little obstinate. He seems so austere and stern, but there is a wildness to him that was never broken. It's a piece fashioned into him by genetics and an unbreakable spirit that the Bosmer are so known for, passed down through the generations to wind up in his soul. Even the harsh military regimes could not tame him. He was only in the military so long, having been honorably discharged after a severe trauma to the face was determined to be incurable. The higher ups thought it meant he was permanently impaired and unfit for duty. He was barely out of the hospital bed when they handed him the scroll that sealed his resignation. He left the ranks more broken in spirit than anything. But he healed and healed well, learning to adapt with only one eye. It wasn't terribly hard, for once he sets his mind to something, he's a bit of an unstoppable brute. It's what kept him going when others said he should stop. Now he's a skilled hunter and a full-fledged mercenary, hiring out his skills to the largest purse. He doesn't find honor in it, but he enjoys it. And every day his skill is honed and sharpened and refined. He feels the best when he is being challenged physically. Hence why he sometimes takes on things for very little pay when he hasn't been out adventuring for some time. He hates to be bored.
M
39
Wood Elf
Sign of the Atronach
Follows: Kynareth, Julianos, Arkay, Azura
Mercenary
Kin: Haymthor Witchhazel (father), Metdra Witchhazel (mother)
Casmero Witchhazel is a tough, hard man with the resolution of a statue and the quality of a soldier. His lack of direction makes him rather spontaneous and unpredictable, which is a good thing for himself when he is alone, but not exactly an admirable quality when in a group. Hence why he is such a loner, even when others wish for his compliance, he is more likely to be a little obstinate. He seems so austere and stern, but there is a wildness to him that was never broken. It's a piece fashioned into him by genetics and an unbreakable spirit that the Bosmer are so known for, passed down through the generations to wind up in his soul. Even the harsh military regimes could not tame him. He was only in the military so long, having been honorably discharged after a severe trauma to the face was determined to be incurable. The higher ups thought it meant he was permanently impaired and unfit for duty. He was barely out of the hospital bed when they handed him the scroll that sealed his resignation. He left the ranks more broken in spirit than anything. But he healed and healed well, learning to adapt with only one eye. It wasn't terribly hard, for once he sets his mind to something, he's a bit of an unstoppable brute. It's what kept him going when others said he should stop. Now he's a skilled hunter and a full-fledged mercenary, hiring out his skills to the largest purse. He doesn't find honor in it, but he enjoys it. And every day his skill is honed and sharpened and refined. He feels the best when he is being challenged physically. Hence why he sometimes takes on things for very little pay when he hasn't been out adventuring for some time. He hates to be bored.
NAME: Valnir Blackmane
GENDER: Male
AGE: 31
RACE: Nord
RANK/ROLE/OCCUPATION: Mystic Sellsword
STAR-SIGN: Sign of the Steed
RELIGION: Hermaeus Mora
KIN: Blackmane Clan (unknown amount of relatives left alive)
"I can see a great deal of things, and something I see, isn't good for you."
If there was ever more a mysterious person, it'd be Valnir the 'All-Knowing' Blackmane. A colossal Nord mystic clad in strange plate, Valnir seemed to come out of nowhere and kept the concept that he appeared from another realm. Aged around thirty years old, Valnir is also a giant man at six foot ten, weighing a heavy three hundred pounds outside of his Daedric plate, with the heavy set Nordic features painted black around his eyes and face to conceal his face inside his helmet. But unlike most folk, he is actually a Daedra worshipper but not like some would suspect being a madman or that type. Despite a servant to Hermaeus Mora, Valnir is a mystic. Gifted with Daedric plate of Hermaeus, Valnir keeps a vast collection to work and keep his position as both a mystic to those who ask of it at the right price, a soldier of fortune. Wielding a massive tower shield decorated to be a massive eye with tentacles wrapping around it, designed both as a terror factor and as an actual weapon. His actual weapon is a gift from Hermaeus Mora itself, an enchanted Chaos bastard sword. In truth, much of his gear was gifts from the Daedric prince, including one that was especially unique. It was a large bloodshot red eye ring that seemed to move on its own. It is a ring that holds Soul trapping abilities, in offering to the Daedric prince of knowledge. Though he serves Hermaeus Mora, doesn't mean Valnir won't offer his services for the greater good, but only if it benefits him in some way. Living currently in Whiterun with his home built both as an actual house, and as a large parlor for his mystic powers, using the abilities given such as Scrying or fortune telling, this is a side job for Valnir to make some money. His primary means of income is being a mercenary, offering his blade to whoever can afford it. Using his skills as a former soldier of his family, who he keeps anonymous for their own sake though Valnir tries to keep in contact with them through letters. Born in Skyrim quite around thirty years ago, Valnir Blackmane was always an ambitious boy. As a kid, he was determined to show people he could trick anybody into believing something he said. Over time simple trickery became con-artistry, and gained the attention of Hermaeus Mora. But he never came into contact with the Daedra till his early twenties, exploring as a sell-sword cave crawler. It was there, in some forgotten cave that Valnir found a set of Daedric plate, complete with a shield and sword claiming that the wearer would become unbridled with power. So naturally, being a skeptic, Valnir took the armor but never wore it. Instead he did research into it. Turns out this armor was called the All-Knowing Plate. And for good reason, the last wearers died using it to start a small war between two fledgling nations for his business but died before he saw it through. But like all men, Valnir had his own desires. Casting aside personal honor to don such armor, Hermaeus Mora came into contact. Offering him powers he never thought possible in return for service. A price Valnir paid dearly, realizing once he put the armor on, he was bound by contract to wear it until his deeds were done. Unfortunately for him, his goals were set a little too high.
GENDER: Male
AGE: 31
RACE: Nord
RANK/ROLE/OCCUPATION: Mystic Sellsword
STAR-SIGN: Sign of the Steed
RELIGION: Hermaeus Mora
KIN: Blackmane Clan (unknown amount of relatives left alive)
"I can see a great deal of things, and something I see, isn't good for you."
If there was ever more a mysterious person, it'd be Valnir the 'All-Knowing' Blackmane. A colossal Nord mystic clad in strange plate, Valnir seemed to come out of nowhere and kept the concept that he appeared from another realm. Aged around thirty years old, Valnir is also a giant man at six foot ten, weighing a heavy three hundred pounds outside of his Daedric plate, with the heavy set Nordic features painted black around his eyes and face to conceal his face inside his helmet. But unlike most folk, he is actually a Daedra worshipper but not like some would suspect being a madman or that type. Despite a servant to Hermaeus Mora, Valnir is a mystic. Gifted with Daedric plate of Hermaeus, Valnir keeps a vast collection to work and keep his position as both a mystic to those who ask of it at the right price, a soldier of fortune. Wielding a massive tower shield decorated to be a massive eye with tentacles wrapping around it, designed both as a terror factor and as an actual weapon. His actual weapon is a gift from Hermaeus Mora itself, an enchanted Chaos bastard sword. In truth, much of his gear was gifts from the Daedric prince, including one that was especially unique. It was a large bloodshot red eye ring that seemed to move on its own. It is a ring that holds Soul trapping abilities, in offering to the Daedric prince of knowledge. Though he serves Hermaeus Mora, doesn't mean Valnir won't offer his services for the greater good, but only if it benefits him in some way. Living currently in Whiterun with his home built both as an actual house, and as a large parlor for his mystic powers, using the abilities given such as Scrying or fortune telling, this is a side job for Valnir to make some money. His primary means of income is being a mercenary, offering his blade to whoever can afford it. Using his skills as a former soldier of his family, who he keeps anonymous for their own sake though Valnir tries to keep in contact with them through letters. Born in Skyrim quite around thirty years ago, Valnir Blackmane was always an ambitious boy. As a kid, he was determined to show people he could trick anybody into believing something he said. Over time simple trickery became con-artistry, and gained the attention of Hermaeus Mora. But he never came into contact with the Daedra till his early twenties, exploring as a sell-sword cave crawler. It was there, in some forgotten cave that Valnir found a set of Daedric plate, complete with a shield and sword claiming that the wearer would become unbridled with power. So naturally, being a skeptic, Valnir took the armor but never wore it. Instead he did research into it. Turns out this armor was called the All-Knowing Plate. And for good reason, the last wearers died using it to start a small war between two fledgling nations for his business but died before he saw it through. But like all men, Valnir had his own desires. Casting aside personal honor to don such armor, Hermaeus Mora came into contact. Offering him powers he never thought possible in return for service. A price Valnir paid dearly, realizing once he put the armor on, he was bound by contract to wear it until his deeds were done. Unfortunately for him, his goals were set a little too high.
NAME: Eva Lithellian
GENDER: Female
AGE: 35
RACE: Dunmer
RANK/ROLE/OCCUPATION: Mercenary
STAR-SIGN: Sign of the Shadow
RELIGION: Boethiah.
KIN: Casil Lithellian (father), Zirian Lithellian (mother), Foryn Lithellian/Torborn (sister), Khald Torborn (brother-in-law).
Small and sneaky. She weighs a minimum of 130lbs and only reaches 5'3", and to her irritation, she probably won't grow any taller. She uses her shortness, speed, and agility to make herself a difficult target against multiple forms of attack, avoiding most direct conflict until she can get behind her enemies and drive her knife through the places their hearts should be. Her black, leather armor is enchanted to muffle her sounds and make her less visible, allowing her to move quickly and silently. Her two daggers are permanently covered with a strong paralysis poison, causing whomever's infected to have slow and sluggish movements before she finishes them off. She's also very clever in alchemy and loves to experiment with different types of poisons. However, when combat or stealth isn't an option, she can use her sly tongue and quick wit to talk her way out of conflict...or out of a sour game of cards. Sarcastic, selfish, easily irritated and slightly sadistic. She doesn't trust easily, because she herself is distrustful. In all honesty, probably the only way to really get her loyalty is by gold...and even then a larger amount of gold will easily turn her blade against you. But despite her obvious love of money, Eva has a pretty good sense of when she's gotten in to deep, and that's when her armor enchantments really help her run the hell out of there. Eva has been an orphan of Skyrim for has long as she has lived there; which has been her entire life. Over a century ago, when the Red Mountain erupted and scattered it's fire and ashes all over Morrowind, the family of Lithellian, Eva's grandparents, where just barely able to escape. They fled to Skyrim and there started a new life, setting up a small but steady shop in Winterhold, and both being very clever and patient businessmen, their shop soon turned into a famous and prosperous business that spread across Skyrim, and they were very wealthy and content. Soon they had children, and after they passed away, the oldest child, Casil, inherited their company. Later Casil married a Dunmer named Zirian, and so Eva Lithellian was born...and then orphaned. As always, successful businesses have competitors, and one of Lithellian's competitors were particularly violent. The owners of this particular company made their eldest son seduce and marry Eva's older sister, Foryn, the heir to the company. It seemed like a good idea to her parents; two companies combined through marriage would be a profitable move. But only two years after this marriage, Eva's family; her parents and sister, all died in a tragic "accident". Trapped inside their home as it burned down, the month-old infant Eva just barely survived, having been saved by a brave guard who later died from damaged, smoke-filled lungs. Some would say that Eva would have become the heir of the company that day, and it would have been so, if her house had been the only one that burned. But alas, the fire had spread to multiple nearby buildings, and so her saviors could not identify where she had originated from. With no one to claim her as their own, Eva was transported to a shabby orphanage in the icy city of Windhelm... in the Grey Quarter. And there she grew, a bastard Dumner girl with no knowledge of her true family, surrounded by the cold words and cruel actions of "dirt-elf" hating Nords. For a long while, she tolerated it, but at the age of 17, on a dark night as she walked back to the orphanage alone, a group of drunk men approached her. She tried to walk around them, but they stopped her, groping her and saying slurred words. For Eva, this was just another day for the life of a Windhelm Dumner, and she tried to excuse herself, but the men wouldn't stop touching her. Irritated, she snapped at them to leave her be, and that's when one of them slammed her against the wall. It wasn't until she was pinned against said wall that Eva realized what their intention was. But instead of being terrified like she thought she would be, she was filled with wrath. How dare these pig-humping Nords try to force themselves on her, what gave them the right? No one! But with their actions, they had given her a right. Pulling her hidden knife out from her cloak, she drove the blade into the man's neck, killing him instantly. The other man, shocked in his drunk stupor, was easily struck down with two swift blows. And Eva was once again alone, standing in a growing pool of blood, staring down at the knife that had just helped change her life....forever. No witnesses but her, no proof of her self-defense...the word of a Dumner was meaningless in such a heartless city. And so she left. As she fled, she ran into a group of bandits, whom did not try to kill her immediately. Not knowing what else to do, Eva asked if she could join them. It took a bit of persuasion, but her wit eventually won them over. Ever since, Eva Lethallian has honed her skills in stealthily murder. She's not a mercenary of large renown, but her skills keep her alive and get the job done. Besides, it's hard to remain in the shadows when your target knows you're coming.
GENDER: Female
AGE: 35
RACE: Dunmer
RANK/ROLE/OCCUPATION: Mercenary
STAR-SIGN: Sign of the Shadow
RELIGION: Boethiah.
KIN: Casil Lithellian (father), Zirian Lithellian (mother), Foryn Lithellian/Torborn (sister), Khald Torborn (brother-in-law).
Small and sneaky. She weighs a minimum of 130lbs and only reaches 5'3", and to her irritation, she probably won't grow any taller. She uses her shortness, speed, and agility to make herself a difficult target against multiple forms of attack, avoiding most direct conflict until she can get behind her enemies and drive her knife through the places their hearts should be. Her black, leather armor is enchanted to muffle her sounds and make her less visible, allowing her to move quickly and silently. Her two daggers are permanently covered with a strong paralysis poison, causing whomever's infected to have slow and sluggish movements before she finishes them off. She's also very clever in alchemy and loves to experiment with different types of poisons. However, when combat or stealth isn't an option, she can use her sly tongue and quick wit to talk her way out of conflict...or out of a sour game of cards. Sarcastic, selfish, easily irritated and slightly sadistic. She doesn't trust easily, because she herself is distrustful. In all honesty, probably the only way to really get her loyalty is by gold...and even then a larger amount of gold will easily turn her blade against you. But despite her obvious love of money, Eva has a pretty good sense of when she's gotten in to deep, and that's when her armor enchantments really help her run the hell out of there. Eva has been an orphan of Skyrim for has long as she has lived there; which has been her entire life. Over a century ago, when the Red Mountain erupted and scattered it's fire and ashes all over Morrowind, the family of Lithellian, Eva's grandparents, where just barely able to escape. They fled to Skyrim and there started a new life, setting up a small but steady shop in Winterhold, and both being very clever and patient businessmen, their shop soon turned into a famous and prosperous business that spread across Skyrim, and they were very wealthy and content. Soon they had children, and after they passed away, the oldest child, Casil, inherited their company. Later Casil married a Dunmer named Zirian, and so Eva Lithellian was born...and then orphaned. As always, successful businesses have competitors, and one of Lithellian's competitors were particularly violent. The owners of this particular company made their eldest son seduce and marry Eva's older sister, Foryn, the heir to the company. It seemed like a good idea to her parents; two companies combined through marriage would be a profitable move. But only two years after this marriage, Eva's family; her parents and sister, all died in a tragic "accident". Trapped inside their home as it burned down, the month-old infant Eva just barely survived, having been saved by a brave guard who later died from damaged, smoke-filled lungs. Some would say that Eva would have become the heir of the company that day, and it would have been so, if her house had been the only one that burned. But alas, the fire had spread to multiple nearby buildings, and so her saviors could not identify where she had originated from. With no one to claim her as their own, Eva was transported to a shabby orphanage in the icy city of Windhelm... in the Grey Quarter. And there she grew, a bastard Dumner girl with no knowledge of her true family, surrounded by the cold words and cruel actions of "dirt-elf" hating Nords. For a long while, she tolerated it, but at the age of 17, on a dark night as she walked back to the orphanage alone, a group of drunk men approached her. She tried to walk around them, but they stopped her, groping her and saying slurred words. For Eva, this was just another day for the life of a Windhelm Dumner, and she tried to excuse herself, but the men wouldn't stop touching her. Irritated, she snapped at them to leave her be, and that's when one of them slammed her against the wall. It wasn't until she was pinned against said wall that Eva realized what their intention was. But instead of being terrified like she thought she would be, she was filled with wrath. How dare these pig-humping Nords try to force themselves on her, what gave them the right? No one! But with their actions, they had given her a right. Pulling her hidden knife out from her cloak, she drove the blade into the man's neck, killing him instantly. The other man, shocked in his drunk stupor, was easily struck down with two swift blows. And Eva was once again alone, standing in a growing pool of blood, staring down at the knife that had just helped change her life....forever. No witnesses but her, no proof of her self-defense...the word of a Dumner was meaningless in such a heartless city. And so she left. As she fled, she ran into a group of bandits, whom did not try to kill her immediately. Not knowing what else to do, Eva asked if she could join them. It took a bit of persuasion, but her wit eventually won them over. Ever since, Eva Lethallian has honed her skills in stealthily murder. She's not a mercenary of large renown, but her skills keep her alive and get the job done. Besides, it's hard to remain in the shadows when your target knows you're coming.