Elder Scrolls Roleplay: Interregnum
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Character Sheet:
Name & Gender: Jamal, Male
Race: Redguard
Appearance: Black skin. Short curly hair. 6"4, ripped like a juicehead. Two scars on the right lower arm from a knifefight. One small scar just above the left knee where an arrow just missed the knee itself (phew, lucky!).
Weapons/Magic/Equipment:
- A ridiculously sized (x1.3 normal size), dwemer claymore. The blade is wrapped in a black cloth, leaving only the hilt visible when it is not wielded. It cleaves enemies like nobody's business... if you are strong enough to wield it.
- A silver dagger tucked away in right boot, concealed.
- Ring of invisibility, 10 seconds.
- medium armored with leather boots and gloves, chainmail cuirass, pauldrons and greaves
Personal history:
Born to a single mother in Saintsport, Stros M'Kai. Jamal's mother sold him into slavery at age 6 to a travelling Aldmeri alchemist, serving him as a beast of burden. As the years progressed, Jamal became stronger from the work and knowledgeable of alchemy and herbalism.
When he was 15, Jamal and his Aldmeri master were jumped by a 20 man strong band of mercenaries. They killed the alchemist but took the boy in as one of their own. It is there Jamal became a swordsman, fighting wherever coin is found. Six years later the merc band had thinned from failed campaigns and infighting. Jamal attempted to take control of the remaining five men, leading them into a dwemer ruin on the east coast of Vvardenfell in search of a huge golden claymore. When they had finally fought their way through skeletons, ghosts and bonelords they found out the blade was not golden but just really, REALLY big. A fight ensued... and Jamal emerged the victor, standing alone amongst the corpses of his past wielding the huge dwemer claymore.
Now, morally ambiguous and no strings attached he sets out for more chances of riches and fine b**ches in a war-torn world. First stop: The imperial city, selling loads of loot taken from my old 'friends'!
Style: Combat.
Attributes: Strength, agility.
Skills:
2h weapon (main)
dagger (backup)
Alchemy
Any armor
Merchantile
edit: added 1 emerald, a pearl and silver necklace, a few cheap rings and 800 gold in loot from the dead mercs. Also some potions and a few herbs (including one Jarrin root that I hide) because im a redgurd alchemist!
Name & Gender: Jamal, Male
Race: Redguard
Appearance: Black skin. Short curly hair. 6"4, ripped like a juicehead. Two scars on the right lower arm from a knifefight. One small scar just above the left knee where an arrow just missed the knee itself (phew, lucky!).
Weapons/Magic/Equipment:
- A ridiculously sized (x1.3 normal size), dwemer claymore. The blade is wrapped in a black cloth, leaving only the hilt visible when it is not wielded. It cleaves enemies like nobody's business... if you are strong enough to wield it.
- A silver dagger tucked away in right boot, concealed.
- Ring of invisibility, 10 seconds.
- medium armored with leather boots and gloves, chainmail cuirass, pauldrons and greaves
Personal history:
Born to a single mother in Saintsport, Stros M'Kai. Jamal's mother sold him into slavery at age 6 to a travelling Aldmeri alchemist, serving him as a beast of burden. As the years progressed, Jamal became stronger from the work and knowledgeable of alchemy and herbalism.
When he was 15, Jamal and his Aldmeri master were jumped by a 20 man strong band of mercenaries. They killed the alchemist but took the boy in as one of their own. It is there Jamal became a swordsman, fighting wherever coin is found. Six years later the merc band had thinned from failed campaigns and infighting. Jamal attempted to take control of the remaining five men, leading them into a dwemer ruin on the east coast of Vvardenfell in search of a huge golden claymore. When they had finally fought their way through skeletons, ghosts and bonelords they found out the blade was not golden but just really, REALLY big. A fight ensued... and Jamal emerged the victor, standing alone amongst the corpses of his past wielding the huge dwemer claymore.
Now, morally ambiguous and no strings attached he sets out for more chances of riches and fine b**ches in a war-torn world. First stop: The imperial city, selling loads of loot taken from my old 'friends'!
Style: Combat.
Attributes: Strength, agility.
Skills:
2h weapon (main)
dagger (backup)
Alchemy
Any armor
Merchantile
edit: added 1 emerald, a pearl and silver necklace, a few cheap rings and 800 gold in loot from the dead mercs. Also some potions and a few herbs (including one Jarrin root that I hide) because im a redgurd alchemist!
I won't comment on an individual's unless they approach me on it or there is some lore-breaking shizz going on it the Bio, (For instance, the Dark Brotherhood didn't exist at this time, but the Morang Tong was starting up, and the Mage's Guild was only being set up around now)mcpop9 said:
Right now your character looks solid, and I like the idea of someone high-tailing it out of a region and not knowing whether they think she's a killer or dead or whatever.
true, you'll need to change that, of course you could just SAY that you and a few others track down and stop Daedra worshippers (they never were viewed sympathetically by the general public anyway)ruedyn said:
You could've found a wayshrine to stendarr where your disease was cured and have chosen to devote your life to his mercy and benevolence?ruedyn said:
Character Sheet:
Name & Gender: Enric, Male
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: About 6 feet, a modest beard. Hair going about halfway to the neck.
Weapons/Magic/Equipment: Wields a single sword made of steel. Knows some beginner level ice spells.
Personal history: A sellsword by nature, Enric was born in Cyrodiil after his parents fled Morrowind under threat of a marauding band of rogues. They disappeared soon after he reached his twenty-second birthday. While he looks fervently for any trace of them, he has faith that someway, somehow they'll turn up. Has a general distaste for gods and their worship.
Name & Gender: Enric, Male
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: About 6 feet, a modest beard. Hair going about halfway to the neck.
Weapons/Magic/Equipment: Wields a single sword made of steel. Knows some beginner level ice spells.
Personal history: A sellsword by nature, Enric was born in Cyrodiil after his parents fled Morrowind under threat of a marauding band of rogues. They disappeared soon after he reached his twenty-second birthday. While he looks fervently for any trace of them, he has faith that someway, somehow they'll turn up. Has a general distaste for gods and their worship.
Okay, I might as well give this a go. First time doing this but I have too much time on my hands to not do stuff like this.
Standard story about a rich kid that doesn't want to live in his father's shadow and ends up in way over his head for 25 years.
Name: Larisus Galenus
Gender & Age: Male, 43
Race: Imperial
Appearance: Tall with a medium build. Dark brown hair that has been swept back behind the ears. One large scar from the nose to the left cheek, covered partly by a full beard and dirt. Hands are rough and covered with calluses.
Equipment & Magic: Wields an Elven bow covered with scratches and chips and a Dwarven one handed axe, brand new. Wears a hood and cloak over leather armour, greaves and boots, all of which have been treated to be as dark brown as they can and are all covered with dirt. Keeps books of restoration spells and knowledge to improve on his skills, though he's no amateur when push comes to shove. Always has a fresh set of regular clothes in his pack which he keeps filled with bread, cheese and wine, along with a bed roll.
Personal History: Raised on the border of Cyrodil and Black Marsh, Larisus lived as the child of a rather prominent and rich Imperial noble, Plautis Galenus, tasked with overseeing the relationship between the two regions. His easy life came as a gift to him with Argonian servants ready to fill his cup whenever it reached half way. Feeling that he had not done anything worthy of all these servants he packed his bags the night before he came of age and left as the clock struck midnight for which ever Argonian settlement would accept him and let him earn his lifestyle. However, Plautis' actions had angered various people in Black Marsh that sought to send him a rather tragic message. The inevitable encounter between Larisus and the assassin shortly after his leaving left Larisus with scars and little blood still pulsing through him. Realising that his life was someone's wages, he fled Black Marsh for Hammerfell and hid for as many years as he could, travelling all of Tamriel, making sure to never sleep in the same bed twice and to keep his name a closely guarded secret. 25 years on and he still hides, a slave to paranoia, taking rare jobs that pay a lot of coin for someone who can keep secrets. Joining the Morag Tong would be perfect for him, if he didn't believe they were trying to slit his throat.
Gender & Age: Male, 43
Race: Imperial
Appearance: Tall with a medium build. Dark brown hair that has been swept back behind the ears. One large scar from the nose to the left cheek, covered partly by a full beard and dirt. Hands are rough and covered with calluses.
Equipment & Magic: Wields an Elven bow covered with scratches and chips and a Dwarven one handed axe, brand new. Wears a hood and cloak over leather armour, greaves and boots, all of which have been treated to be as dark brown as they can and are all covered with dirt. Keeps books of restoration spells and knowledge to improve on his skills, though he's no amateur when push comes to shove. Always has a fresh set of regular clothes in his pack which he keeps filled with bread, cheese and wine, along with a bed roll.
Personal History: Raised on the border of Cyrodil and Black Marsh, Larisus lived as the child of a rather prominent and rich Imperial noble, Plautis Galenus, tasked with overseeing the relationship between the two regions. His easy life came as a gift to him with Argonian servants ready to fill his cup whenever it reached half way. Feeling that he had not done anything worthy of all these servants he packed his bags the night before he came of age and left as the clock struck midnight for which ever Argonian settlement would accept him and let him earn his lifestyle. However, Plautis' actions had angered various people in Black Marsh that sought to send him a rather tragic message. The inevitable encounter between Larisus and the assassin shortly after his leaving left Larisus with scars and little blood still pulsing through him. Realising that his life was someone's wages, he fled Black Marsh for Hammerfell and hid for as many years as he could, travelling all of Tamriel, making sure to never sleep in the same bed twice and to keep his name a closely guarded secret. 25 years on and he still hides, a slave to paranoia, taking rare jobs that pay a lot of coin for someone who can keep secrets. Joining the Morag Tong would be perfect for him, if he didn't believe they were trying to slit his throat.
Standard story about a rich kid that doesn't want to live in his father's shadow and ends up in way over his head for 25 years.
For those who don't know what that is, it's from Shivering Isles. These things:Josh12345 said:
It has armor that looks like an insect exokeleton, grey-purple skin, eyes like Masane Amaha, an ugly jacked-up sword, and an ultrafeminist douchebag civilization.
http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Mazken
Name & Gender: Markus, Male
Race:Breton
Appearance: 5'6, a goatee, blue eyes, medium long brown hair and an athletic build.
Wears a coat and a hood with fingerless gloves. Has a cut on his left eye due to a bear incident in his youth.
Weapons/Magic/Equipment: An elven bow with steel arrows and a Cutlass-like sword with a Golden handle.Carries around a jug of Ale
Personal history: Abandoned at birth, Markus was brought up by his uncle who was a former Thieves guild member. His uncle taught him the arts of thievery, hunting and most importantly, sailing. He spent most of his youth with his uncle setting up shop in docks all around skyrim. One night he heard rustling in his Uncle's quarters and had seen his Uncle stabbed to death by three bandits. He managed to get off of the ship just as the bandits burned it down. All he could salvage from the burnt ship was his Uncle's Generals sword. They were docked at Riften at the time and he managed to join the Thieves guild where he lived most of his years.
Now, at the age of 31, Markus works as a freelance mercenary. He recently learned about a job where he had to escort a Package. He made his way to The Imperial city thinking this will be an easy profit.
Race:Breton
Appearance: 5'6, a goatee, blue eyes, medium long brown hair and an athletic build.
Wears a coat and a hood with fingerless gloves. Has a cut on his left eye due to a bear incident in his youth.
Weapons/Magic/Equipment: An elven bow with steel arrows and a Cutlass-like sword with a Golden handle.Carries around a jug of Ale
Personal history: Abandoned at birth, Markus was brought up by his uncle who was a former Thieves guild member. His uncle taught him the arts of thievery, hunting and most importantly, sailing. He spent most of his youth with his uncle setting up shop in docks all around skyrim. One night he heard rustling in his Uncle's quarters and had seen his Uncle stabbed to death by three bandits. He managed to get off of the ship just as the bandits burned it down. All he could salvage from the burnt ship was his Uncle's Generals sword. They were docked at Riften at the time and he managed to join the Thieves guild where he lived most of his years.
Now, at the age of 31, Markus works as a freelance mercenary. He recently learned about a job where he had to escort a Package. He made his way to The Imperial city thinking this will be an easy profit.
That book was the bane of Larisus' childhood, no one would leave him alone for having Argonian maids after that book was published.ruedyn said:
I haven't role-played in ages, but I'll toss my hat in. 
Name & Gender: Vargmir Beast-Born
Race: Nord
Appearance: A hulking brute, even by Nordic standards. He has messy deep red hair and a big shaggy beard. His left eye is clouded with blindness, a scar running through with a deep scarlet patch of warpaint across.
Weapons/Magic/Equipment: He carries a large iron battle-axe, wears hide armor. He carries a large pack with various necessities within.
Personal history: Vargmir was born in the woods of Skyrim to a werewolf mother and rogue mage father. When he was ten, his mother and father were killed by a group of vampires, hunting his mother for killing their leader. He escaped into the woods, raising himself as a wild man. When he reached manhood, he began to venture out into the civilized world. Eventually he assimilated into society, taking the name Beast-Born.
A werewolf himself, he was an amazing hunter. He now works as a traveling blacksmith and occasional mercenary, having learned the trade when he left the woods. He doesn't like to stay in one place for any expanded amount of time, in case his bloodlust gets control of him.
He harbors a severe hatred for all vampires.
Race: Nord
Appearance: A hulking brute, even by Nordic standards. He has messy deep red hair and a big shaggy beard. His left eye is clouded with blindness, a scar running through with a deep scarlet patch of warpaint across.
Weapons/Magic/Equipment: He carries a large iron battle-axe, wears hide armor. He carries a large pack with various necessities within.
Personal history: Vargmir was born in the woods of Skyrim to a werewolf mother and rogue mage father. When he was ten, his mother and father were killed by a group of vampires, hunting his mother for killing their leader. He escaped into the woods, raising himself as a wild man. When he reached manhood, he began to venture out into the civilized world. Eventually he assimilated into society, taking the name Beast-Born.
A werewolf himself, he was an amazing hunter. He now works as a traveling blacksmith and occasional mercenary, having learned the trade when he left the woods. He doesn't like to stay in one place for any expanded amount of time, in case his bloodlust gets control of him.
He harbors a severe hatred for all vampires.
This looks interesting, never been in one of these before.
Name & gender: Garath, Male
Race: Breton
Appearance: Short and scrawny with light brown hair. Two scars on his face as a result of a barfight with a khajiit monk.
Equipment and Magic: Wears a cloak over his Scale armor, and wields a glass shortsword. He uses a staff of fireballs as a walking stick but prefers to save its charges in case of emergency. An expert with restoration magic and alchemy and carries a large bag of potions and ingredients.
Personal History: Born into a merchant family Garath has spent most of his life traveling. He claims to have sworn off drinking after the "Khajiit incident", but has been known to indulge himself. Prefers to avoid combat through fast-talking, stealth, or trickery. In combat he prefers to play a supporting role through use of healing magic and potions, as well as poisons. He especially enjoys experimenting with alchemy and creating new potions.
His travels have made him a skilled merchant and he can be relied upon to fence goods or obtain supplies for the group. He has met and traded with a great variety of people and is indifferent to necromancers, vampires, werewolves and thieves; though he is terrifed of Daedra after witnessing a summoning go awry. Was part of a Vaermina cult when he was younger, though he generally hides this, where he learned many unique spells and potion recipies including those for the miasma and the dreamstride, left after the aforementioned summoning incident and prefers not to discuss it.
His family has helped supply the blades for generations and his own love of traveling and adventure led him to join the expedition.
Edit: added the vaermina connection because my char seemed a bit mundane compared to others.
Decided to change my char to a Khajiit and made a few other changes.
Name/gender: Dro'Araaj, Male
Race: Khajiit
Appearance: Short and skinny with light brown fur, though he is convinced it is starting to go grey. Two scars run across his face from a nasty encounter with some werewolves
Equipment/spells: Leather armor, a staff of fireballs used mostly as a walking stick (Dro'Araaj prefers to save it for an emergency), wears a werewolf fang around his neck enchanted to enhance his strength, agility, and sense of smell), and carries a variety of potions and alchemical ingredients. Dro'Araaj is an expert at restoration and alchemy, and like most Khajiit he is talented at sneaking and unarmed combat.
Personal history: Dro'Araaj has spent most of his life traveling as a merchant, sellsword, or adventurer and has been across almost all of Tamriel. He learned most of his skills while traveling, both through teaching himself and from teachers he met while traveling. Dro'Araaj is laid back, good natured, and loves to travel and experiment with alchemy. He prefers to avoid conflict if possible but is surprisingly strong and fast for his size and is more than willing to fight dirty with poisons or even just by throwing sand in his enemies face.
Dro'Araaj's penchant for exploration led him to wander into a hunting ground of some of Hircine's followers, and quickly found himself fight three werewolves at once. Dro'Araaj emerged badly wounded but victorious, a feat that impressed Hircine, who instructed him to remove a fang from a werewolf, dazed by blood loss he obeyed without question. Hircine blessed the tooth to show that Araaj had his favor and enchanted it.
Dro'Araaj enjoys the benefits the tooth brings, though he dislikes that other followers of Hircine occasionally try to kill him to claim the favor of the Daedric Prince. Araaj himself is not particularly dedicated to any faith and in truth considers the tooth's greatest drawback to be that it made him acutely aware of how bad some people and places smell. He holds no particular emnity to werewolves, and is generally uncaring about vampires or necromancers, though he is somewhat terrified by Daedra.
Araaj likely joined the expedition in order to see the sights of Valenwood.
Name & gender: Garath, Male
Race: Breton
Appearance: Short and scrawny with light brown hair. Two scars on his face as a result of a barfight with a khajiit monk.
Equipment and Magic: Wears a cloak over his Scale armor, and wields a glass shortsword. He uses a staff of fireballs as a walking stick but prefers to save its charges in case of emergency. An expert with restoration magic and alchemy and carries a large bag of potions and ingredients.
Personal History: Born into a merchant family Garath has spent most of his life traveling. He claims to have sworn off drinking after the "Khajiit incident", but has been known to indulge himself. Prefers to avoid combat through fast-talking, stealth, or trickery. In combat he prefers to play a supporting role through use of healing magic and potions, as well as poisons. He especially enjoys experimenting with alchemy and creating new potions.
His travels have made him a skilled merchant and he can be relied upon to fence goods or obtain supplies for the group. He has met and traded with a great variety of people and is indifferent to necromancers, vampires, werewolves and thieves; though he is terrifed of Daedra after witnessing a summoning go awry. Was part of a Vaermina cult when he was younger, though he generally hides this, where he learned many unique spells and potion recipies including those for the miasma and the dreamstride, left after the aforementioned summoning incident and prefers not to discuss it.
His family has helped supply the blades for generations and his own love of traveling and adventure led him to join the expedition.
Edit: added the vaermina connection because my char seemed a bit mundane compared to others.
Decided to change my char to a Khajiit and made a few other changes.
Name/gender: Dro'Araaj, Male
Race: Khajiit
Appearance: Short and skinny with light brown fur, though he is convinced it is starting to go grey. Two scars run across his face from a nasty encounter with some werewolves
Equipment/spells: Leather armor, a staff of fireballs used mostly as a walking stick (Dro'Araaj prefers to save it for an emergency), wears a werewolf fang around his neck enchanted to enhance his strength, agility, and sense of smell), and carries a variety of potions and alchemical ingredients. Dro'Araaj is an expert at restoration and alchemy, and like most Khajiit he is talented at sneaking and unarmed combat.
Personal history: Dro'Araaj has spent most of his life traveling as a merchant, sellsword, or adventurer and has been across almost all of Tamriel. He learned most of his skills while traveling, both through teaching himself and from teachers he met while traveling. Dro'Araaj is laid back, good natured, and loves to travel and experiment with alchemy. He prefers to avoid conflict if possible but is surprisingly strong and fast for his size and is more than willing to fight dirty with poisons or even just by throwing sand in his enemies face.
Dro'Araaj's penchant for exploration led him to wander into a hunting ground of some of Hircine's followers, and quickly found himself fight three werewolves at once. Dro'Araaj emerged badly wounded but victorious, a feat that impressed Hircine, who instructed him to remove a fang from a werewolf, dazed by blood loss he obeyed without question. Hircine blessed the tooth to show that Araaj had his favor and enchanted it.
Dro'Araaj enjoys the benefits the tooth brings, though he dislikes that other followers of Hircine occasionally try to kill him to claim the favor of the Daedric Prince. Araaj himself is not particularly dedicated to any faith and in truth considers the tooth's greatest drawback to be that it made him acutely aware of how bad some people and places smell. He holds no particular emnity to werewolves, and is generally uncaring about vampires or necromancers, though he is somewhat terrified by Daedra.
Araaj likely joined the expedition in order to see the sights of Valenwood.
Yes, I had a lusty Argonian maid. She was worthy of a two syllable "damn" I'll tell you that.ruedyn said:
Hey, can I be an Imperial? If so...
Name & Gender: Jace, Male
Age: 60
Race: Imperial
Appearance: 5 foot, Long salt n pepper hair and beard, grey eyes, and a gauntish face
Equipment: Brown tunic and pants that are discreetly reinforced with leather and an old cloak that's covered in splotches of various shades of green, grey, and brown. Has a pair of steel daggers on his belt, smaller ones in each sleeve and boot, one in the back of his collar, and his magical daggers are in hidden sheaths of the cloak. (I'll put the enchantments up if you want me to do that, and do they have to be enchantments you can have in the game?) He also has some caltrops, tripwires, and lockpicks in pouches on his belt.
Magic: none
Bio: Jace has lived in the Imperial City all of his life, and has been amongst the Thieves Guild since his parents died at a young age. As a youngster, he was raised by the entire Guild and learned various tricks from many of it's members, giving him a well rounded repertoire. He climbed the ranks of the Guild, making it fairly high up, before "retiring" after he found a stash of rare weapons. After selling all but two of the daggers and giving a cut to the Guild, he spends his days doing what he pleases.
Age: 60
Race: Imperial
Appearance: 5 foot, Long salt n pepper hair and beard, grey eyes, and a gauntish face
Equipment: Brown tunic and pants that are discreetly reinforced with leather and an old cloak that's covered in splotches of various shades of green, grey, and brown. Has a pair of steel daggers on his belt, smaller ones in each sleeve and boot, one in the back of his collar, and his magical daggers are in hidden sheaths of the cloak. (I'll put the enchantments up if you want me to do that, and do they have to be enchantments you can have in the game?) He also has some caltrops, tripwires, and lockpicks in pouches on his belt.
Magic: none
Bio: Jace has lived in the Imperial City all of his life, and has been amongst the Thieves Guild since his parents died at a young age. As a youngster, he was raised by the entire Guild and learned various tricks from many of it's members, giving him a well rounded repertoire. He climbed the ranks of the Guild, making it fairly high up, before "retiring" after he found a stash of rare weapons. After selling all but two of the daggers and giving a cut to the Guild, he spends his days doing what he pleases.