RP Character Discussion

[Velvet LeChance]

TA2: Its not a coincidence that Arellius avoids conflict with Eolwyn - her personality is irreproachable and he can't figure out direction from which she might be undermined. Though he also sees her as more a natural ally than even the likes of Grelok. In his view she's a pragmatist and pragmatists he can deal with.

I think with Niralie it's interesting. I'm still not quite sure where that relationship is going. I think it will be made clear over the next in-game night or so.

[BetaB17]

I can't believe I'm advocating this.. But seriously, Arellius and Niralie's complicated mess of a, can we even call it a relationship? Association? Buddy system? Hostage situation? Ya no, relationship will do fine. But really not, it grinds me up sometimes >__<

:

Spoiler:

*Le after awkward Sanguine shenanigans*

*Le after touchy lakeside moment*

*Le after tea time*

I'm such a horrible person..
---
Also, I got to thinking here, but how interesting would it have been if Nora wasn't her 'Righteous hero/hot-headed redhead/fun-loving/spiritually wise self? Like, what if she was, by all intent and purpose, a straight up [&@%!]?

[BetaB17]

Does anybody else understand why Rook loved Nammu as a character? This, this is exactly why

Spoiler:

Name: Dar'Mora
Preferred Alias: Nammu

Other Alias's: Moriwel(Cyrodiil/High Rock), Nammu*(Vvardenfell), Dunmora(Valenwood), No Lo'igra(Hammerfell), Krinjo'Ri(Elsweyr), Fal'Bet(Skyrim), Pale-In-Touch(Black Marsh), Liivausdir(Akavir).

Race: Khajiit/Dagi-raht

Sex: Male

Age: Assumed 54 years(Actually 3286/3920 during Skyrim)

Appearance:

:

Once he held a figure that was both enchanting and lethal. His fur was one to take much pride in, his physic was not to laugh at, and his health was at its peak. This was ages long past. Now riddled with blights, only by his lord's grace can he pass off as more than corpse.

To the common eye he seems no more than an elder who's life has grown harsh, hardly an individual note worthy or memorable. Upon closer inspection more details bear light. His fur has grown grey and withered, barely kept and rough to the touch. His eyes has became cloudy, a faint trace of emerald still present. His breath carries that of rot, masked by the pungent herbs he smokes.

Upon his face he wears the look of benevolence, a man who could bring no harm, he is however uncaring, weaving emotions in deceit as he please. Striked from this, his face is lean and and wise. He bears no scars or tattoos on his skin, whether he wished to or not. Unseen beneath his attire, small portions of his fur is mangled from disease, that which took its toll b4 it ceased. Even the end of his tail has thinned, though he minds to keep any exposure bandaged in rags.

It may strike odd that this frail mage once was a prominent thief and the athletics to match. His frame is more slinder than his kin, as if all that remained was bone. He lacks the bulk most muscles grant,, only ever rewarded with speed over strength. Despite this he is far stronger and agile than assumed, though the years have dulled his former skills.
.
.

Personality:

:

By his nature he is passive to many things, believing himself neutral less he acts for others. But because of his long experience in the affairs of Daedra and his own shrouded affairs, it is challenging to say just how genuine he can be. Even his name can be questioned, taking any to which he's called no matter the irony. What more is he is very forgetful, his grasp on time long lost, maybe his prolonged stays in Oblivion are at fault for this.

An odd one he is, but always plotting and never short of surprises. What more is he sees no difference between casting blight or healing the weak. To him both are blessings, saving many from the torments of wars and the evils that roam. What more is he is very manipulative, often due to his kind words or feeble aspect, but proven so he has fooled many to their demise.

To his own hast, he dislikes anything to relation with skooma, almost barely tolerant to moonsugar of all things. What more, he holds a deep and irrational fear of mudcrabs, even to the point of diverting his whole travels just to avoid a single stream. There is no reasoning with this phobia, only panicked looks and woeful words. Lastly remains is his vendetta against Saxhleel and any whom trouble certain followers of Daedra. To the priests or intruders that seek to bring light or pain to the followers that seek only isolation anger boils forth. Likely his only point of weakness, nothing troubles him more when all they seek is peace. In such time, he often comes to aid for the followers of Peryite or Namira. In comparison he also commonly targets the denizens of Blackmarsh, though more so for the challenge than any ill intent.
.
.

Short Bio:

:

Born amongst the sands of Elsweyr, to what little even he remembers hs childhood was nothing more than mundane. These were days long since, days long lost. Howeverr even he has an origin, one that predates his blight.

He made his trade at night, stealing any he wishes and what more for the thrill. Often times those whom never make a name for themselves are either too novice or are very good at their job. One wouldnt be such a good thief as he if folks knew about his deeds. He had no shame, stealing from ruins or even the Mane himself, he did as he pleased with never a doubt of punishment.

Evidently, on a day when the land went dark and sky clouded with ash, he had felt unsafe within the shadows. Having quickly to abandon his small camp, he found an ancient crypt once buried in sand. Fearing more the sky than the crypt, he entered without hesitation. Once inside and the crypt doors shut, he thought of himself safe from the ash. With little more to do, he took view of the chamber that would sanctum him this day. It seemed void of life and anything of value, barren with stone walls and an idle darkness. He looked upon the interior, noting the strange markings and choice of decorativ design, all so alluring as he delved deeper into the crypt. Mummified corpses lay within, sand seeped through the stone, and a black altar lay in wait. Upon it's face was a crude urn, something of the likes he has never seen. Tempted so, he peeled back it's lid only for a fume of dust to blind him in surprise. As if hallucinating, he saw the darkness crept, growing over the corpses and the corners of his stunned eyes. His skin began to burn as a multitude of voicess murmured through the chamber, he could feel his very flesh wilt away. In a fright, he rushed to the crypt's door only to find them sealed, unmoving no matter how frantic his attempts. This crypt was built to seal away a terrible blight, and now he too was trapped within.

As he coughed, feeling himself grow feeble, an unworldly voice tormented him from amongst the black fog. For what seemed like a lifetime of unending anguish, but little more than three days, he pleaded for salvation, for mercy from this voice. Wilted away of all he had, he pledged himself fully to this voice. Not a pledge of fear, nor mercy, nor desperation, but a pledge born from utter defeat. He was broken by his new Lord, and now was his to mold as he see fits. Thus he was taken to his realm, to test his resolve and loyalty, however long it must in this timeless chaos. When he was once deemed Chosen, he found himself back in the crypt, with a thorned ring now on his finger. With a cold determination, he saw the crypt doors finally open, the ash within the sky nearly gone, he had actually spent little more to a year inside that crypt, and an unknown number of cycles in Oblivion. He was far from the same man before, and this ring was proof.

Thus his new life began, and his Master's work to be carried out. All across Tamriel he spread disease, countless centuries at the cost of countless more lives. The number of tales could be told from his journey, his accounts on and off Mundas. He had tracked down sources of great pestilence, from Red Mountain to the swamps of Black Marsh. Morrowind alone has proven to be his favorite domain to lurk, and home to a sanctum for Corpus to where he may research without trouble. He has spent multiple events amongst the Sload in Thras, learning a great deal in many things. Even his times spent in Oblivion carried a wealth of information, and all the time needed to perfect his skills. He even once held upon the fabled Spellbreaker, tasked by his Lord to hide it deep within the Dwemer ruin Bthaund and nothing more.

He never stayed in one place for long, such was the nature of his work. The longer he stayed, the more disease that would spread. He preferred more indirect routes for plagues. He once spiked a stream that fed through a small settlement in Summerset, causing the whole population to go sterile, a cruel fate for so many elves. He has also taken up in supplying healing temples and Mage charters with tainted potions, while selling much more to the common folk. This makes his role easier, as he too is the best suited for ailing the victims.

Thus far, he has avoided most suspicions, and while much of his character remains unknown, the Mages Guild has deemed him a malefactor. Between them and a few others, they have assumed this is not the work of one individual. Some think it's multiple accounts of daedra worshippers' deeds, while some think it's the deeds of various descendants. The fact alone, priests of his nature and even those foul at heart of sought to spread unrest. Nobody will believe that a mere Khajiit has lived so long, longer than most elves. The fact that he doesnt go by a common name, often adapting cultural slang's or insults doesnt make identifying him any easier

He has a tenacity for doing research within undead ruins, finding that they often pay him no mind unlike the sentries in Dwemer ruins. Often finding conflicts with vampires or power mad mages, he tends to be selective on where he stays, and even offering caution to those daring to venture. He has for sometime been practicing his craft in necromancy himself, though more so into preservation than for dominion. Other than hastening some rites or acting as diseased vectors, why would he need such a craft less he had some concern in mind
.
.

Gear:

:

He wears very little that may seem of worth, either due to thier worn age or his role as a peddling healer. He often smokes strange and toxic herbs in a dark carved pipe, venting off a smell that stains his very wake but for an alchemist this means little. He also had use of alchemical supplies that matched his skill; a complete Alchemy set of dwarven origin gifted to him for his worship, the mortar & pestel alone makes use of ebony in the instruments themselves. The unique aspect comes from thier ability to alter the final product, increasing the potency in negative effects and adding toxins to even benevolent potions. Aside from these tools, he keeps a collection of scrolls and spell tomes.

Now his attire is not viewed with value, hiding its true worth under its age. He was always prefered netch leather, easily for its modest defense. Having been worn from his travels, he wears netch leather boots and gauntlets. Having slightly modefied his gauntlets, all but one finger is exposed so they may not restrain his skills or claws. His left index however is encased in an ebony claw that fits pass his knuckle. Offering lethal precision and fine defense, the true treasure is the ring that it shields. An artifact blessed by Peryite himself, it grants it's owner not immunity but rather negates all negative effects gained from blights. To ensure dedication, this cruel ring bears its thorns into one's flesh, to remove it is that of abandonment and destroys this gift along with the finger it clings to. Paired with the blessings he has recieved, this is his only means of comfort, or mercy.

He also has chosen to wear a crude amulet that displays a dragon, while easily overlooked for Akatosh it is in fact that of a certain Daedric Prince. If it truly held any powers, surely they too were overlooked. A small chitin dagger hinges on his sash/belt, but little to look at as a threat. He has also taken to using a Greater Staff of Chain Lighting powered by the souls of two Storm Atronachs, thus prolonging its daily charges and adding chaotic results. Other than becoming significantly stronger, it seems to instead grown more efficient and overwhelming to those unlucky to be struck(10% chance for Paralysis or random status effect).

Next so is his most notable piece, and while his simple shirt and pants hide beneath, his robes may indeed be as ancient as he. Where at once it was an artifact in its own right, highly saught by the Undying, age has more than withered its dormant powers. Found in a tomb long forgotten, uncared for amongst ruin and darkness, not even the strongest of enchantments can defy time. Upon appearance, it bolds the style of many mages in Skyrim seem fond of, most notably that of an apprentice given it's pale blue appeal. It's darker colors have faded mildly, and the cloth nearly in tatters, it holds on firm but requests constant care. When originally crafted by a Lich, this robe was intended to mask the undead from the living while granting the living with all the strengths of undeath. Formerly known as the Robes of Binding, it can hardly be called thus after such loss. Where before it served greatly, now all it can muster passive gains void of perfection. It may cload any attempt for a Detect Living/Undead though not completely given keen perception. This too as well as shelter the undead from mutual threats brought by Restoration or sunlight though this too has limits. While certainly more valued by the living is the ability to walk among most types of undead unhindered(-Summons), but it neither binds them nor repels those more powerful(+Greater soul Level). It also is evident it once granted improved resistance though much was lost to slow it's own decay. It strikes concern what harm the Lich originally intended, or the questions brought to it's duality with the living. Maybe he only intended for each other to walk in the other's place?

Lastly he keeps a merchant box that straps to his back. While severly limiting his rations and comforts while on travels, its sturdy nature and adept storage aids him well. Multiple little slots help keep his exotic ingredients organized and dry, many of these goods hailing from oblivion. To secure his goods, every slot is individually trapped with a foul blight or curse, ensuring many will fail even at his request(+Master lock/Curse). Etched on it's underside are the runes for the mark/recall spells, linked to himself need he be seperated. Even if his box is damaged or destroyed, he can easily replace it, much unlike the supplies it held. Still, he will rather see them destroyed than stolen.

He lastly carries little in terms of food or drink, given so that both are merely a means of comfort and habit than a real necessity. What he does choose to eat tends to be wild herbs or the sparse meal from a tavern. Plus given his Alchemical supply-box, he cannot afford to carry the usual luxuries most travellers take. A small price to pay over comfort, nothing more
.
.

Properties:

:

Primordium Plaque: A unique disease cast from Peryite's own flesh, it is equally a curse as is a blessing.The carrier of this blight is feeble to all others, doomed to a short life by the pestilence they lure. Only flame can rid this ruin along with all else, a cure it is not. A cruel irony, this blight makes all ageless and quick to heal all wounds, bound by torment they will rot in an endless cycle till their will to live wilts away. Much in contrast to Corpus or vampirism, this immortality holds more than is led to believe. This Plaque cannot kill it's carrier, but the diseases it invites surely will. If one was so dire to fully embrace such a plaque, they would be no more dead than alive, though it is unheard of why. Carriers are also highly infectious, though the Primordium itself cannot be contracted, none the less caution is adviced. Even if death cannot be granted by age, weather, nor famine, yet blight and harm can ensure, certainly there are better means to escape mortality than this miserable existence?

Peryites Blessing: A hidden aspect found within the Primordium Plague, only noticeable once the Ring of Thorns is active, easily ignored if absent. Negated of all the rot and deformed flesh, the truth behind the sparse benefits grows more clear. When a wound heals, it is more than regeneration, the flesh is truly untouched by time like a Daedra's. Upon the early stages of corruption, the flesh is bound in stasis, trapped in it's new feeble form before disease consumes it. New wounds will promptly close and lost limbs will return, but all else done before cannot be undone. This also means no burns, scars, or even dye(whether skin or fur) can never last without eventually fading. This is the true blessing brought by this curse, but ever reminding the torments of this world less they be fully embraced, then respite may be granted.

Ring of Thorns: A Daedric Artifact blessed by Peryite himself, offering respite to his most dedicated of priests where previously there was none. This does not cure the Primordium Plaque let alone any blight, but rathers negates all negative effects to it's master. This also increases the ability to resist most natural toxins, helping to focus on the Primordium's trait on regeneration. It also supplements much of what was lost, returning one from near undeath. This blessing however is not perfect, only casting the illusion of good health but a feeble form no less, the plague's own toll cannot be undone once embraced. Nor can his faith if this ring shall ever be removed. To be drained and wilted, to endure and embrace, only then can the chosen bear this artifact and forever bound their fate.

Passive Traits: Chance to contract random diseases. Immunity to all diseased effects. Increased health regen(25%). Resistance to cures and most poisons/natural toxins. Inability for intoxication via basic drugs or alcohol. Resist frost(25%). Weakness to flame(25%). Bonus to unarmed combat(+10 Claws). Bonus to nighteye(Khajiit).
.
.

Skills:

:

.
Grand Master at Alchemy & Restoration
Master at Destruction & Conjuration.
Expert at Thaumaturgy, Alteration, Sneak, & Speech(+Orcish/Daedric)
Adept at Illusion, Mercantile, Provisioning, M/L Armor, & Short Blade
Minor at Mysticism, Security, Marksman, Blocking, & Hand-to-Hand
Novice at Blunt, 2-Handed, H-Armor, & Crafting(+Smithing/Clothing/Woodworking)
No experience at Enchanting(+Soul Trapping)
Naturally gifted at Acrobatics & Athletics
High Agility, Intelligence, & Willpower
Moderate Speed, Endurance, & Personality
Low Strength

Favorite Spells:

:

.
Restoration based spells(+)
Poison/Contract Disease(+)
Necromantic Healing(+)
Transmutation/Disintegrate
Absorb Fatigue/Magicka
Detect Life/Undead
Turn/Quiet/Command Undead
Reanimate/Summon Undead
Necromancy based spells
Teleport/Levitate
Etherealness
Burden/Slowfall
Shield/Mage armor based spells
Shock(rarely Frost) based spells
Conjure Wraith, Shambles, & Wrathmen
Conjure Gargoyle, Bone Colossus, & Lurcher
Conjure Frost/Shock Atronach, Spider Daedra, & Hunger
Conjure Daedric Prince Peryite(Limited use)