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This RPG is set in a Victorian-style Elder Scrolls society. Your character can either be a member of the Witchhunters, the Sorcerers or a bystander belonging to another faction.
For the settings, think 1890s London as portrayed in League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Sherlock Holmes. The Imperial City is dirty and old, the rich live in luxury and the poor in squalor. There are still the same races, but now they belong decisively to social classes: Imperials, Bretons and High Elves make up the aristocracy. Nords, Dark Elves, Wood Elves and Redguards make up the lower-middle-class, usually soldiers or workers. Khajiit and Arognians are mainly slaves for the aristocracy and are highly discriminated against.

If you have any questions, fire away. Here's the character sheet.

Name:
Race:
Age:
Social Class:
Profession:
Martial Status:
Weapons/Spells/Tools:
Personality:
Backstory:
Additional Information:

Cool. I will sign up in a little while.

Name: Murtagh Venim

Race: Dark Elf

Age: 30s

Social Class: Upper-Middle

Profession: Witchhunter

Martial Status: Married, one daughter

Weapons/Spells/Tools:
-Twin Revolvers
-Capable of summoning undead creatures such as ghosts and skeletons to do his bidding
-Telekenises
-Teleportation
-Knowledge of Alchemy and Enchanting
-Prefers to fight unarmored, and wears the traditional sinister garb of the witchhunters.

Personality: Murtagh can most easily be described as cynical, driven and determined. Once given and order, he will stop at nothing to carry it out. He has been trained to feel very little emotion about what he does. He is not demeaning of other races as most Dunmer are, though that is mainly part of his lack of emotional makeup. The only things he loves are his young Breton wife and his daughter.

Backstory: Born and raised in the city of Skingrad, Murtagh was raised to fight in the legions as an archer, like his father. Murtagh's mother had died in childbirth. Murtagh showed signs of magic from an early age, but quickly learned to hide them. At the age of 20 he was recruited into the Legion, and shortly after into the Witchhunters. Now he serves as a Captain and is genuinely one of the best at the trade.

Additional Information: Will add later

I'll post my sheet tomorrow morning.

I'll post a character soon as well.

I'm intrigued. I may post a character.

Here you go. I finished it early.

Name: Franco Rex

Race: Breton

Age: 38

Social Class: Upper class (aristocrat)

Profession: Chairman of Rex Industries, Sorcerer (secretly)

Marital Status: Married (Isabel Rex née Durand), 1 son (Lucien Rex)

Weapons/Spells/Tools:
-Customized Rex Industrial Standard .48 pistol
-Silver ornamental cane
-Telekinesis
-Invisibility
-Ability to shape shift
-Ability to summon powerful Daedra (Atronachs, Xivilai, Spider Daedra, etc… to serve his wishes)
-Detect life

Personality: Franco is a respected and exceedingly wealthy and important figure in modern society. But he is one of the most cruel and arrogant men alive. Brash, dangerous, and determined, he is a representative of fear amongst Tamriel’s people. But he cares greatly for his wife, Isabel, and his 13 year-old son Lucien.
Franco, along with Isabel, is very strict with Lucien and hold extremely high expectations for their son.

Backstory: Franco is a member of the renowned Rex family. The Rex family is famous for their creation of Rex Industries - a weapons and tool manufacturing company that now dominates the whole of the Tamrielic business world. Born to Jacques and Antoinette Rex, Franco was showered with wealth and luxury as a boy. However, unknown to most, the Rex family was actually a widely powerful sect of Sorcerers, using Rex Industries as a front for their operations. Franco gained control of the company when his parents were each slaughtered by a collection of Witchhunters when he was 20. Shortly after, he developed a relationship with Isabel Durand - a noblewoman from High Rock who was globally famous for her breathtaking gorgeousness. They married when Franco was 22, and had a child of which they named Lucien.

Additional Information: Franco is devilishly handsome and often flaunts both his good looks and wealth within the public. He is tall, muscular, and lean with long silver hair with dark gray eyes. He wears a white shirt and handkerchief, a black vest and leggings, and a pair of tall black boots and gloves. He also wears a black overcoat with a matching mantle bearing the Rex Family Crest - a red fox surrounded by a golden wreath.

Name: Leel
Race: Argonian
Age: unsure of his exact age; in reality he is twenty-two years old
Social Class: middle class
Profession: Gunsmith
Martial Status: unmarried, no children
Weapons/Spells/Tools: Possesses a single revolver which usually remains on his person

Personality: Leel has learned how to take care of himself, and is very independent; he has strong beliefs, both positive and negative, which he adheres to rigidly. He is very observant, always taking care to remember the small details of all he sees and all who meets. Leel takes pride in his work, and also very much enjoys it.

Backstory: Leel was born into the life of a slave, and consequently, served a cruel master for the whole of his childhood. He never knew his parents, being seperated from them at some point which he cannot recall. Somewhere near the age of thirteen, after a group of fellow slaves was slaughtered for refusing to work, Leel witnessed a violent revolt that left the Dunmer slave owner and his wife dead, among others. The remaining slaves departed independently in order to avoid capture. Leel wandered aimlessly for several weeks, eventually relocating to the Imperial City. He lived in the dirtiest, darkest corners of the poorest districts and scavenged for food.

One day, starving and desperate, Leel attempted to rob an Imperial nobleman's home during the dead of night. He was caught by the estate's guards, who beat him badly and meant to throw him into the street; the estate's merciful owner, named Samuel, appeared and ceased the punishment. Samuel took pity on Leel, feeling guilty for having previously been an owner of slaves. He had him live in his manor and made sure that he recieved an education; Leel grew fond of the man, his wife, and their children.

When Leel grew older, Samuel asked an old friend for a favor and got Leel a job as a gunsmith's assistant for a local business, firearms being his most prominent skill. He soon surpassed his mentor, the gunsmith, in skill; the man eventually retired and Leel took his position, now living in a small house near Samuel's estate. He is fascinated by the Witchhunters, several of whom have their weapons maintained by him.

Additional Information: red-brown scales with a flat, mildly dull look to their color; bright eyes and very sharp facial features. Tips of head spines and tail are clipped, a common punishment doled out by slave owners.

I'm really looking forward to this. I haven't played the rich and arrogant jerk in quite some time.

Erm...Nevermind.

Name: khazakra

Race: khjaiit

Age: 88

Social Class: poor

Profession:
A small bit of necromancy
Telepathy, but not as good as he used to be.

Martial Status: wife murdered, son and daughter are both slaves

Weapons/Spells/Tools:
Skilled in dual wielding and polearms
Can speak telepathically, but only 40% of the time
Able to resurrect the dead into zombies
Can move / stop objects in mid air

Personality: Wise and a bit crazy

Backstory: Grew up in peace in a village which was a sanctuary to khajiit and argonians. At 40 years old, the village was raided by imperials. His wife was murdered. Him and his son, jakra, and daughter, alvana, where taken as slaves. They where separated from eachother. Khazakra believed in this ancient "magic" and successfully self-taught himself simple spells. He soon took on the task of a necromancy spell: resurrecting the dead to zombies. After another 30 years he was skilled enough in his new necromantic spell to atleast occupy his overseers, giving him the time to escape. A graveyard was so conveniently placed near the place he worked (also the place where he practiced the spell) he summoned 3 extremely weak zombies, but that was enough to scare the crap out of his overseer. He ran away, now living off the water he finds and whatever he catches. He swore for the rest of his life to find his children.

Additional Information: khazakra lives alone and traveles the wilderness, and sets up camp with a hand made tent. Even though his race is hated throughout Cyrodiil, he will still search for possible allies. He will soon join the sorcerers.



Sorry if any sentences are odd, I'm doing this in an iphone

We should start now, mate.

But we only have 4 people O_o

That's enough. And more people could join later on.

Don't start anything without me!
Name:Zip Zero
Race:Breton
Age:20
Social Class:Upper class
Profession:Sorcerer
Martial Status:Never married
Weapons/Spells/Tools:
-Silver shortsword that's been passed down for generations
-Teleportation magic that is less accurate over long distances
-Minor shock magic
-Healing magic
-Telekinesis
Personality:Kind and caring
Backstory:Born into a rich family, Zip had a sheltered and privileged life. Her family owns a mining company, and her father is a high-ranking member of the witchhunters. One day, she overheard her father talking about what the witchhunters were doing, and she ran away. She later joined the sorcerers, and is now able to cast several spells.
Additional Information:She looks like Sintel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRsGyueVLvQ but with longer hair.

This is my first RP, hopefully it lives a long and endearing life and is updated more than 1 time a month

Name: Sayeal Bourdabas (Talon)
Race: High Elf
Age: 37
Social Class: High class
Profession: Turncoat / Spy (publicly witch hunter)
Martial Status: Married once, husband deceased, son executed as traitor to the witch-hunter cause
Weapons/Spells/Tools:
- Spell-weave - an enchanted short-sword that belonged to her husband, never leaves her side
- revolver - she views it as part of her disguise, nothing more, and has rarely used it
- Strong lightning spell
- High proficiency with healing magic
- Spells to unlock doors
Personality: High and aloof, highly intelligent and quick-witted, ruthless,
Back story: Sayeal was born in a time of magic and wonder, when high elves were regarded and feared as mighty spell-casters and were paid the proper respect. As a follower of Azura, she knew great power. It was with Azura's guidance that she found Naervin, her husband. It was only after they had their son that she realized the truth of him, that he was a double agent working for both the witch-hunters and the sorcerers she has pledged her life to from the moment she ceased to hear Azura's voice on the wind. She took spell-weave, his treasured sword, and plunged it through his heart the moment she discovered his treachery. She then joined the witch hunters herself, claiming that she wanted revenge on the sorcerers who killed her husband. In truth, Sayeal works toward the revival of the Daedric lords, her beloved Azura above all. Her son Taermic chose to follow her path, joining beside her in her quest, and also working double agent. He was executed when he was caught leading a group of sorcerers out of a soon to be raided home. Sayeal spat on her son's corpse for the benefit of those eying her suspiciously, silently praising him for the work he had done even as she publicly denounced him. She took the name Talon, a symbol of vengeance, and continues the work of her husband, but this time, she works for the right side...

Additional Information - I would be quite willing to work as intermediary between the two teams when the time comes for them to join forces.

Okay, let's start.........

It was rain season in Cyrodiil. Heavy drops of water smashed against the roofs and walls and roads of Imperial City, and upon the enormous statue of Akatosh at it's center.
Thunder crashed across the sky like charging white knights as far below, a black carriage cut through the rain and mist. The paupers and commoners stared at the carriage as it passed, some of them running away, others falling to their knees.
Inside sat four people, dressed in long black coats, leather gloves and huge hats.
In the right corner of the carriage was a Dark Elf of middling size and good build. He was named Venim, descended from a Dunmer family of nobles. His red eyes glowed florescently in the dark as he spoke.
"This is one of the largest dens in the city we're cleaning out," Venim said, his voice an impossibly rough growl. "Huge fluctuation of mystical energies towards the building."
Sitting opposite him was a handsome young Imperial with close-cropped hair and grey eyes, who was munching an apple. This was Morhaus, the rookie of the team. While most new additions to the squad preferred to listen and learn, Morhaus(like most Imperials, it seemed)could just not be convinced to shut up.
"Alright, cap'n. And what beasties will the sorcerers be summonin' for us today?" he asked, his accent a Skyrim-border brogue.
Venim looked over at Callantios, a tall Altmer with wild red hair and a prematurely lined forehead. Morhaus was the healer of the squad, and at somewhere in his eighties, the oldest.
"Not a Daedra, exactly," Callantios said, loading his weapon. "A.....disease."
"What possible use could a sorcerer have for summoning a disease?" piped up Monet, a young female Breton with a piercing blue gaze and long, brown hair tied back in a plait.
"Apparently this illness is sacred to Molag Bal, King of Rape," said Callantios, leafing through an old, leatherbound book. "Polphaeric Haemophilia. No entry. It just says--of this, vilest of afflictions, we shall not speak."
"Why mention it then?" Morhaus chuckled. "Any ideas, Monet? Your cousins up there in High Rock seem to have a pretty high opinion of their literature."
"Shut up," Monet growled, giving Morhaus a glance of sheer hatred.
"Ahh, y'love me, really," Morhaus smirked, leaning back in his seat.
Venim spoke up. "Can we concentrate on the job at hand, please? Silver bullets."
He handed around small but heavy white boxes.
"Whatever this thing is, I'd like to see it stand a few rounds of these."

Leel was standing in the doorway that separated the two components of his shop; the area where customers arrived, featuring a well-polished wooden counter and a variety of simple decorations, and his personal work space, which was obviously dominated by racks of tools, and weaponry. The shop was not really Leel's (it was owned by the company that also employed him) but he was the only man, woman or beast that worked there, which was the way he preferred things.

Leel took a few steps from the doorway and sat on his worn four-legged stool, both being positioned behind the counter. He had a bit of work to do yet that day, but, as usually was the case, it was not urgent and so he took a moment to contemplate. A witchhunter had brought in a weapon for modification, it being situated on a bench in the workshop; of course other projects needed to be completed as well, but this particular job weighed heavily on Leel's mind at the moment. The man had wanted the barrel of the weapon greatly enlarged, and the firing mechanism heavily altered; he couldn't help but wonder what sort of ammunition he was planning on firing. Additionally, he would have to depart in the morning to install locks for a wealthy customer's doors; being of a mechanical nature as well, Leel had picked up this second skill quite easily, and had supplies for the trade available. As he thought, he watched the busy street through the shop's large window.

Amidst the heavy rains, a large black carriage roared down the streets of the Imperial City. The carriage was drawn by four large and powerful black horses. The driver wore a black hood and overcoat with gloves. On each of the doors was the image of a red fox circled by a golden wreath. This was the renowned symbol of the Rex family - the ruthless founders of the globally prominent Rex Industries. Inside the carriage was the owner himself - Franco Rex, a monstrous Breton who struck fear into the hearts of all men, women, and children around him. His long silver hair rested upon his black mantle, his gray eyes gazing out of the window of the carriage as he balanced his silver cane on the floor. Beside him was his wife, Isabel - a woman as beautiful as the sun of the day and the stars of the night. She wore a gorgeous gray dress and gloves that must've cost at least 1,000,000 coins. The Rex family enjoyed flaunting their wealth in public, which was one of the major causes of the lower class's hatred toward them. Across from the pair sat their son, Lucien. Lucien heavily resembled his father, but he had his mother's eyes and mouth. He wore an outfit quite similar to his father's. Like his father, his hair was silver. But it was certainly not as long.

The carriage came to a sudden halt in front of a large fruit market. The driver leaped from his seat onto the street. He hurried to the side of the carriage and opened the door. Franco, Isabel, and Lucien each stepped out and made for the shelter of the market. "Mother," Lucien called his his mother as Franco busied himself picking through a selection of apples at the edge of the market.

"Yes, my son?" Isabel replied.

"May I visit the blacksmith's shop across the street? I find the fruit market rather boring."

Isabel nodded. "Very well. But not for long. You have fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Mother!" Lucien hurried across the street to the blacksmith's shop. He opened the door and stepped inside. An Argonian man (Leel) sat behind the counter. The Breton boy slowly approached the counter. "What kinds of swords do you make, lizard?" he asked abruptly and impolitely.

Leel cringed as Lucien voiced his ignorant query, slipping from the stool to stand as he always did when speaking to a patron of the shop.

"I do not make swords. I am not a blacksmith." His arms were crossed on the counter.

Sayeal stepped into the small and quaint shop of her old friend Leel just as the child voiced his ignorant question. Recognizing this child immediately as the son of the lord Rex, a fellow Sorcerer, though both practiced in secret, and in public at least, had no knowledge of the other. She stepped behind the child as Leel answered the rude child and spoke evenly and calmly."

"Child, have you no manners? You step into this fellow soul's place of business and address him as a lizard? What if I were to call you a "Flesh Sack?" how would you feel then?"

Ignoring the child's indignant snort for the moment, she drew her revolver from her cloak and placed it on the table in front of the diminutive and much relieved Argonian.

"This damnable rain, I fear the powder has gotten wet and clogged the firing mechanism, anything you can do for it?"

She was aware of the coming raid the witch hunters had planned of course, being a high ranking member of the cursed organization, but as it pertained to none of her allies, and never had her dear Azura named Molag Bal a friend, she was more than willing to let this battle play out as it would. To show her hand unnecessarily would only bring her more trouble after all.

She turned to the Argonian Leel now inspecting the barrel and stock of her weapon and grinned sheepishly. "so, can anything be done?"

Leel nodded.

"Yes, of course. It isn't a major problem. I could fix it right now, if you're in a hurry." He started groping for tools before she had answered.

Sayeal nodded, sliding the small revolver across the table as well as a small pouch, containing approximately thirty coins.

"that will be fine, thanks... Perhaps this rain will end soon." she was pointedly ignoring the child, who was glaring at her and pouting and turned to watch Leel work, his tools seeming to have a mind of their own as they flew across the small pistol, removing small screws and tightening others as he went about his craft.

She nodded toward the still pouting child. "see how he works child, it is obvious that he is quite adept at his craft, a craft which keeps the great witch hunters well supplied in working weaponry. You should know to show more respect for one so highly valued by those in power." she kept her voice neutral and even, but with a stern edge to it.

"Perhaps, if you were to apologize to this fellow, I would allow you to hold a real sword, would you like that?"

The carriage slammed to a halt. Inside, Callantios rose and pulled open a hidden compartment in the large interior. This contained a variety of strange equipment: purple gems, alternate bullets, daggers, weighing scales, a retort stand and a golden-handled rapier.
Venim took two sandlewood-handle pistols and strapped them to his hips. Morhaus took the sword and strapped it to his belt. Monet took a single, silver-colored revolver, slotting it into a shoulder holster. And Callantios took a long hunting rifle.
Venim lead the squad outside and into the building.