Elder Scrolls RP - preparation

[Guest]

I'll be closing character applications tomorrow, until then you can still apply. If you wanted to join, but couldn't be arsed to make a character until now, maybe you should reconsider joining. Then I start working on destinies. Basically, they will be your character's inner voice (me), trying to direct you to advance the plot. Most likely everyone gets one and each will be different, called upon when specific conditions are triggered, otherwise, the players will mostly be left up to their own devices and can completely derail the plot if they want. They will also resemble archetypes or tropes commonly found in literary works and games.

So, before I start working on them, consider what defines your character, their personality, values and events that formed them, then add it in the description. Feel free to stealth-edit, as I will be rereading all the apps tomorrow.

 

-snip-

 

Name: Abelard "Fire storm" Richter

Description: Ragged Mage robes, a long staff. A small Breton, very old judging by his beard. Behaves eccentrically, seeming both wise and insane at times.

Primary skill: Master level Destruction spells, fire branch. Skilled conjurer and student of Daedra.

Misc skills: He is a legendary Haggler, he could bring a shop to bankruptcy.

Disadvantages: He is slightly insane, being very old and exposed to Daedric influence, it is known to very few.

Backstory: Originally from a family of High Rock nobles, he left his family's lands at a very young age, seeking glory and advanture. He spent some time adventuring and join the Collage of Winterhold during his prime years. There, he spent a long time studying conjuration and destruction magic. During his spelunking trips through nearby caves, he found an ancient staff embedded in a rock. After spending a long time trying to get it out, he managed it. It proved to be a good conjuration staff, but during one testing session, he summoned something that was beyond his capability to understand. The events of it are fuzzy, but the creature went on a rampage and murdered one of his colleagues and then disappeared. Fearful of being blamed for the death, he ran away. He promised himself, that he would never use it, unless he really must. Being too old to continue adventuring on his own and terrified by the concept of research, he joined the Companions and has since spent some time working with them as a Sage and support caster.

There... I sort of... fixed it for you. Your original story gave it a charm, I just wanted the chuckly bits out. How does this sound?

 

Kek. I was debating on whether or not to somehow tie Ervas with house Indoril as well. Chose not to, as he's too young, with exception made to one element.

Also, Bokaza. As necessary, I can write up more backstory for the char. Whar I put up was about all I could manage before passing out last night.

None more needed, you are good. You've given sufficiently simple archetype to work with, but if you like, add anything further defines his character.

[coolbc2000]

Name: Abelard "Fire storm" Richter

Description: Ragged Mage robes, a long staff. A small Breton, very old judging by his beard. Behaves eccentrically, seeming both wise and insane at times.

Primary skill: Master level Destruction spells, fire branch. Skilled conjurer and student of Daedra.

Misc skills: He is a legendary Haggler, he could bring a shop to bankruptcy.

Disadvantages: He is slightly insane, being very old and exposed to Daedric influence, it is known to very few.

Backstory: Originally from a family of High Rock nobles, he left his family's lands at a very young age, seeking glory and advanture. He spent some time adventuring and join the Collage of Winterhold during his prime years. There, he spent a long time studying conjuration and destruction magic. During his spelunking trips through nearby caves, he found an ancient staff embedded in a rock. After spending a long time trying to get it out, he managed it. It proved to be a good conjuration staff, but during one testing session, he summoned something that was beyond his capability to understand. The events of it are fuzzy, but the creature went on a rampage and murdered one of his colleagues and then disappeared. Fearful of being blamed for the death, he ran away. He promised himself, that he would never use it, unless he really must. Being too old to continue adventuring on his own and terrified by the concept of research, he joined the Companions and has since spent some time working with them as a Sage and support caster.

 

Looks great mate, cheers.

[Guest]

People can still apply if they want, but they'll have to wait for me to confirm the App.

Rest of you, go here: TES RP - Contract Board and sign up ICly for a group you want to be in.

[Redfield5]

I'm wondering if I should join this.

[Guest]

I'm wondering if I should join this.

If you are wondering about it so much, maybe. But keep in mind, you've said you have little time for forum RP as it is. I would like to have you, of course.

[Redfield5]

I'm wondering if I should join this.

If you are wondering about it so much, maybe. But keep in mind, you've said you have little time for forum RP as it is. I would like to have you, of course.

 

Yeah, and I've got writer's block with Boadicea. I plan on advancing that sometime this week.

[Guest]

You can still apply, man, I'll be launching all three campaigns over the next few days. It's easy to overcome a writer's block when you are eager.

[Redfield5]

You can still apply, man, I'll be launching all three campaigns over the next few days. It's easy to overcome a writer's block when you are eager.

 

I'll see what I do. Expect a Talos-worshipping ex-Imperial Legionnaire who hates the Thalmor and the Stormcloaks equally.

[Redfield5]

Name: My name is Adventus Hayek, formerly Tribune Hayek of the Imperial Legion.

Description: For an Imperial, I don't have a "cosmopolitan" build. I'm tall, at 6'2, and I'm about 190 pounds. I'm fit, trimmed, and my arms and legs show muscle gained through persistent usage. My skin is tanned; I spent my formative years in the deserts of Hammerfell, and I've had a considerable tan for as long as I can remember. Hair's brown and cut short on the sides. I've kept the sides shaved down, and the hair up top is short, though I can still control it with a brush or comb. I guess this is my face, though I've been growing a beard. Nothing too crazy, but it's got my face covered up, along with that scar running from my left cheek and down through my neck.

Primary skill: I've got a sword arm, but that's not how I made my name. It was my tact and intelligence that earned me a role in the Companions. Give me five men, or five-hundred. I can lead, I can plan, and I can command. It's an intellectual exercise, to plan a military action. Do people understand that? No. It takes a special kind of warrior to take into account the strengths and weaknesses of not only the enemy, but also of my own force. The songs and stories of war and brotherhood do not take into account the brutal calculus of war, but I do not strive for song or story.

Misc skills: I can kill you. Not very descriptive, huh? Put a sword in my hand, and I can put three pounds of pressure on your unprotected knee and shatter it, and then I can chop through your spine. I grew up in post-Empire Hammerfell in a Legion remnant enclave, and thus I had to learn how to fight at an early age. Since then, I have honed my skill through constant usage and practice. Put a bow in my hand, and I will go with your gut and leave you a broadhead. Put a spear in my hands, and I will put your ass ten feet in the air. I've been around for years, and I've learned my fair share of skills.

I was a cavalry officer, so put me in a saddle. It's not all about knowing how to ride; it's about taking care of your creature. It is irresponsible to neglect your steed, and thus if you want a dependable, reliable animal, you had best take care of it.

I can swim. When I finally got out of that accursed desert, I learned to swim. I can swim for 2 miles before I need a rest. It's an excellent way to remain in a better level of fitness.

I'm learned, as well. I lived out in an Imperial fort, but we had the priests to provide schooling for me and several other children that lived in the fort. I can read, I can write, and I can do math. I can understand human desires and intentions, as well; the old priest Varus was interested in how people thought and acted, and so he taught me how to read folks.

Disadvantages: I drink. I'm not talking about a glass of warm mead after a day of trekking through the tundra; I need this stuff to survive. I'm a man scarred by life; I grew up among forsworn Imperial legionnaires in Hammerfell, I've watched the Thalmor tear through Tamriel, and I have watched my Nord cousins forsake the covenant that protects Man from Mer. The inner demons of my mind encroach ever-closer, each day, and thus I need my escape at times, when the warrior high has left my veins.

Backstory: I was born five years before the Great War ended, out in Fort Al'Hassan in Hammerfell. My mother was a soldier, as was my father. Hammerfell was burning, with open warfare between the Imperial Legion, Aldmeri Dominion, and the Alik'r warriors. I grew up watching death, as the fort defended a strategic canyon that led to Taneth. I watched as the legionnaires fought tooth and nail to prevent the Thalmor from sacking the fort. It was a bleak life, one that revolved around constant fear and stress. However, despite the forces through against us, Al'Hassan held the line. However, it was a brutal turn of events that led to Hammerfell being ceded to the Thalmor. We found out only when the Thalmor, in the middle of a pitched battle, made the announcement.

Al'Hassan did not fall. I grew up a partisan; a forsworn Legionnaire. The Legate would not surrender the fort, and the respect that his men had for him made him a powerful figure in Hammerfell's resistance struggle. Even the Alik'r warriors who scorned the Empire respected the Legionnaires of Al'Hassan. Legate Caeius would not abandon Hammerfell, and thus from the age of 7, until I was 15, I was taught the way of war. I learned to swing a sword and fire a bow; I learned where to direct the malice of my weapon, where to quickly end the life of my opponent. I learned not only the standard, conventional tactics of the Legion, but also the long-range reconnaissance and unconventional tactics of the warriors of Al'Hassan. I drew blood for the first time at the age of 12; I slew a Thalmor warrior at close-range, with a mighty lucky slash that had cut his neck. The rise of the bright red blood into the air and the power that I felt would fuel me and expose me to a drug more powerful than Skooma. For the next three years, I fought as a young soldier, aging before my time.

Our success would not hold. The Thalmor caught us at dawn and they almost slew the scouting party that I was in. By the time that we got back to Al'Hassan, a massive Thalmor force had surrounded the fort, pouring into it to kill my friends and family. We had no choice but to flee through the desert, to try to make it to Cyrodiil. It was our only hope.

Only two of us made it into Colovia: myself and another warrior that I had grown up with, a girl by the name of Ingrid Steelnight. We were caught by a Legion as we crossed the river; I almost drowned when my stolen horse lost its footing. We were taken in a stockade to the Imperial City Prison and interrogated over the course of several days. Ingrid and I explained the situation, that Al'Hassan had not been initially informed that the war was over, and that Legate Caeius had fought for what he believed in and died an honorable man. The officer overseeing our situation was one Legate Tullius. He knew of the Hayeks of Colovia, who had contributed most of their sons to the Imperial cause since the Second Era. He took Ingrid and myself into the fold; I cannot thank him enough for his generosity.

I spent the next several years in the service of the Legion, working my way up through the ranks. I started out as a rank-and-file legionnaire working the border with Elsewyrr, and I took up part-time work with the Fighter's Guild as a method of earning extra coin and building up my craft. It was good, honest work, as we took on the Skooma trade in the area. However, the most difficult part was living in a world with only Eight Divines. Many in Cyrodiil secretly worshipped Talos, but the Thalmor had forbidden his worship in the Empire. It was disgusting, revolting even. Many in the Legion, like myself and Ingrid, felt that the Talos cause was worth going to war over. Tullius felt the same way, but we were not yet strong enough for yet another destructive war. Man had to re-unite if they wanted another shot at the Thalmor. All we could do was work hard and bide our time, waiting until our Empire regained her strength to fight.

It was bitter-sweet.

In Skyrim, the Nords grew restless and tired of waiting. I have said this and I will continue to say it: Ulfric Stormcloak does not deserve to hold the throne of High King, and nor does he deserve to force the Nords into damnation. We cannot be divided, and yet he does not see this. On the outset of war, I was a Tribune, in charge of a cavalry element. These were turbulent times, and reinforcements were required to replace the deserters who had flocked under the Stormcloak banner. Even Ingrid, of whom I had developed an attraction to, had left her post to fight the Empire. This cut me deep; the woman that I had loved, the woman that I had faced death alongside, the woman that I had faced the new Empire alongside, had left me and everything that we had believed in together. Tullius, the man that I considered an adoptive father, was sent to quell the insurrection.

Catching Ulfric the first time was a coup. My column and I rode up with spears and swords in hand and swept through a score of men before Ulfric suddenly surrendered. We swooped in, took them prisoner, and carted them off to the garrison at Helgen. As I rode down the road, the cold biting my skin as I pondered on what was coming next for Skyrim, I never once thought about what was going to happen.

It was a dark beast, full of malice and hatred. I watched several of my men immediately desert upon seeing the World-Eater. I could not believe what I saw, and I still cannot believe how it had completely destroyed a village. We fought to no avail and our weapons had no effect. We started evacuating the civilians. It was all that we could do, at that point. I was badly-injured during the battle, and I spent a week healing in Solitude before I got back in the field.

We fought the best we could, but Ulfric's cause brought many unscrupulous characters into his fold. War profiteers began to benefit the Stormcloaks, and their successes put more troops on the ground than we could slaughter. My force killed scores of Stormcloaks and coated the nation in a coat of blood, but it was not meant for us to win. I fought at Solitude, and we attempted a retreat following Tullius's death.

We were captured before we even made it out of Haafingar. Guess who got us? General Ingrid Steelnight, standing before me, wearing a bear, and holding a massive axe. I couldn't fight her, to which she remarked that I was a milkdrinker, or something of the like. I was forced into a stockade, where I was held for 2 years. During my time here, I took a strong stance as an advocate for the rights of my fellow Imperial prisoners as we were shipped off to Markarth, to work in the dreaded Cidna Mine.

It took me 2 years to finally snap. I tried to reason with the guards, to get them to grant us the rights that we were entitled to. I was mocked, laughed at, beaten even. After recovering from a sudden fever, I decided that enough was enough. I started floating the idea of a revolt about. The others in there with me; Stormcloak deserters and ner-do-wells, bandits, rabble, other Imperial prisoners, and Forsworn - they were of a similar mind. We started stockpiling makeshift weapons and pickaxes, and we built traps to be used in the likelihood of a significant counter-attack. We planned how exactly we would begin the revolt. It took 2 months of planning for the operation, and we started engendering the guards to post more personnel in the mines with us. Usually, they only came in every now and then, but our plotted disobedience forced them to take more preventative measures to force us to work harder and faster. We mapped out their patterns and protocol, and we memorized their faces. I even named the most visible ones, giving them Daedra names.

During an average workday, we struck. Armed with shivs and picks, we swarmed the security presence and killed them within seconds. We moved into the atrium, and a few made it past the gate, locking us in. With an improvised battering ram, we broke through that gate and slaughtered most of the guards who didn't leave Cidna. Had we chosen to follow them, we would have been killed instantly. Several prisoners tried to flee, though we watched as their corpses tumbled back inside, filled with arrows. So, we hunkered down and established a barricade. We broke into the Cidna armory and outfitted ourselves with weapons and armor. We took our time and prepared for a siege situation.

40 days. 40 days of stalemate in the siege. We were blessed to have been able to seize the recently-supplied Cidna pantry, and we rationed what we had. The City Guard and the Stormcloaks poured boiling water and pitch into the mines and sent their soldiers into the mines. It was brutal, terrifying. We could hardly breathe or see when they used fire, but our booby traps and the opposition's own underestimation of the environment that they had created a lucky break for us. The situation became extremely serious, as Forsworn tribes in the region amped up their raiding activities upon hearing word of the riot. The Silverbloods were being choked by the revolt, too. It wasn't all fighting; I was able to trade captive soldiers for food, water, and medicine. Ulfric had to end it, so he sent the best to deal with it.

I was surprised that Ingrid handled it the way that she did. She called into the tunnel, asking to speak to the leader. I called back, and I agreed. I still don't know why I went, even though I knew that she had tons of men just waiting for me. I keep thinking back to that day, and I've surmised that I was ready. I was ready to go out, and this was an honorable way to go. I approached Ingrid at the entrance to the mines, her men watching me, arrows nocked and ready to end my life.

We went back and forth. Ingrid accused us of murder and called us common criminals; I called her dishonorable for not granting amnesty to Legionnaires who sought only to go home. It was heated, but I knew how to hit her. I reminded her of the old days; when we were idealistic Imperial Legionnaires who sought to avenge the Ninth Divine. I reminded her that we were Legion for life in spirit, and I told her that it was a slap in the face of Talos to dishonor warriors in such a manner. She conceded, although it took a fistfight in addition to verbal negotiation, and the Legionnaires were released. Over the next few days, I stayed behind as my comrades returned to Tamriel, ensuring that the other prisoners would at least receive a modicum of civility in Cidna. Ingrid was responsible for these negotiations, and we worked closely. It was good to be working with her again; the coldness that had fallen over our friendship was gone.

I chose to stay in Skyrim, and I was brought into the fold by the Stormcloaks to serve as a military advisor. I could've gone back to Colovia; I should've, but Ingrid made me stay. I found that my early feelings for her prior to the war were reciprocated, and love blossomed between us. We married in Solitude three years later, and for the first time in a while, I was happy. I chose to accept Skyrim for what it was, though I would never forget the Legion. Trust me, the Legion, for all of its faults, is Man's hope.

Happiness was not to last, however. A year ago, Ingrid fell ill in Windhelm, and I was disheartened and furious when she passed on. She was my only love, my only reason for staying in Skyrim. I left the Stormcloaks and wandered for several months before finding myself in Whiterun. It was here that I found the Companions; noble heroes who fought for what was right. I joined the Companions, because I wanted to find a sense of belonging, like the one that I had just lost. I wasn't readily accepted; people knew about the Cidna Mine Riots, and I didn't hide from my own history. I fought discrimination, and I fought for a chance to prove my worth.

I am still fighting for that chance. I may be a full-fledged Companion, but I am still a pariah.

Edited March 16, 2016 by Guest

[Guest]

Looks good so far. I'm going to post start the first campaign (one which is already full to bursting), read it then and you'll know if its something you can enjoy being part of.

[Jboy2000000]

I just noticed, Aela is called the Dragon Huntress now. Is that just because of the events of the Alduin invasion, or does she got some knife eared tongue in her mouth with the Harbinger-born?

[Guest]

She's one of the Companion's Dragonhunters. Obviously, dragons in my universe cannot be killed by a city guard, and killing one is a feat of strength worthy of a name. Most Nord last names are results either their own achievements, or those of their ancestors. Clan Shatter-shield, for example, means someone in their family was probably a person of great strength and was able to smash shields with a warhammer or kept breaking shields, thus the last name.

As for the dragons themselves, the Dragonborn didn't put them all back into the graves, because as her experience, and those of Skyrim players may have shown, not all of them are unrepentant assholes. As a result, many dragons remain even now more than a decade after the invasion.

[Redfield5]

My application is ready, Bokaza.

[Guest]

Right. Read it completely now and remembered most of it because I'm not reading it again when I need more details. All things fit the parameters of the setting except the years. His legion started retreating way too early, but we can ignore the details anyway.

Sign up ICly here, sooner you do it, less you'll be behind ICly. For the first one.

http://aurorastation.org/forums/viewtopic.php?f=53&t=5472

[Redfield5]

Right. Read it completely now and remembered most of it because I'm not reading it again when I need more details. All things fit the parameters of the setting except the years. His legion started retreating way too early, but we can ignore the details anyway.

Right, I'll edit.