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Unapproved character sheets go to the OOC thread to await approval. Once they're approved you can upload them here behind spoiler tags.

For the sake of keeping this one more organized than the last time, it'd be preferable if everyone either only uploads one character per post or follows these instructions (courtesy of Witch) to include multiple sets of spoiler tags in a single post:

Create the first spoiler and save the post. Edit the post and add an empty line above the spoiler tag. Use the little round handle at the top left corner of the spoiler tag to move it up. Add the new spoiler tag below and save. 


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Boldir Iron-Brow


Name: Boldir Iron-Brow
Gender: Male
Age: 43 (at the start)
Race: Nord

Birthsign: The Warrior

Faction: Stormcloaks
Rank: Captain

Appearance: Boldir is tall and broad, even for a Nord. He has blue eyes and long dark hair with a beard to match. There is a long scar running horizontally on his left cheek. The left side of his body has suffered numerous burns including on the arm, back, shoulder, and around his left ear and cheek. Recently has had his head shaved and tattooed in Nordic style.


Equipment: As a soldier, Boldir sported Stormcloak blue over a full suit of Nordic Carved armor with a full-faced helmet. His weapon of choice is the battle-axe, though he often carries a smaller war-axe for backup, and prefers to fight with a shield.

Personality: Boldir is a very reserved Nord, usually happy to let someone else do the talking. This is not to be mistaken for shyness. He is perfectly willing to speak out, and will often do so bluntly and as straightforward as he can in order to get his point across. As a Stormcloak, nothing mattered more to Boldir than his shield brothers and sisters. After retiring and starting a family, he found something that did. Boldir does not care for magic, and only ever accepts the advantages it brings reluctantly. However, he despises when it is used for trickery or the summoning of spirits or creatures that he feels do not belong in this world.

Background: Raised by a blacksmith in the Rift, Boldir joined the Legion at a young age, following in the footsteps of his father who died in the Great War. He trained with other Nordic Auxiliaries at Fort Greenwall in the Rift, and got his first taste of combat helping defeat the bandit clans that had emerged in the area. He remained in the Legion for some time until a run-in with a local crime family ended with him being branded a criminal and a traitor. Not long after, he discovered a militia in Eastmarch that would become like family to him. It wasn't long before Boldir was calling himself a Stormcloak.

He made many friends during this time. Beirlan, Ysarald the Pierced, and eventually Baldur Red-Snow, a man he would come to consider his brother. They stood together throughout much of the civil war, most notably at Helgen, where they witnessed the first dragon attack in hundreds of years. This event landed Baldur a promotion for the heroism he displayed there, which in turn resulted in Boldir becoming his right-hand man for many a conflict. After the Battle of Solitude, Boldir was sent to the southern border, to manage a garrison near Pale Pass and hunt down Imperial loyalist soldiers who still operated in those woods.

Between the end of the civil war and the upcoming Imperial invasion, Boldir met a woman in Whiterun named Carlotta. They took to one another quickly, but so long as he was a soldier, the mother refused to marry him. The father of her own child had been a soldier who died in war, and it was not a pain she wished to experience twice. Boldir rode south with a heavy heart, and assumed command over forces near Pale Pass. Soon, the Cyrodiils invaded with aid from their Aldmeri puppet-masters, and what became known as The War of the Sundered Dragon occured. Once again, Boldir fought alongside his old family to keep their homeland free. He distinguished himself in the most important battles, and once the elves were repelled, Boldir returned to Carlotta and promised to retire as a war hero, so long as she would have him. They married soon after, and Boldir vowed to be a good husband, father, and protector to his new family.

Motives: Boldir cares little for his own personal gain, and initially joined the Stormcloaks out of desperation. However, the longer he spent among them, the more passionately he felt for their cause. By the time the civil war broke out, he was a fervent believer in the fight to free Skyrim, and hated everything that the Empire stood for. He fought them out of anger for their injustices to himself and his country, and also out of loyalty to the family he had found in the Stormcloaks. After peace was finally achieved, Boldir retired and married. He loved his wife, and came to love her daughter like his own. Boldir's drive to protect them and their wellbeing soon became his primary motivation.

Skills: Boldir is a warrior through and through. His favorite weapons over the years have bee two-handed axes, but he is just as comfortable with smaller axes and swords. His time as a captain of the Stormcloaks proved him to be a gifted leader and battlefield tactician, while his youth in the Rift taught him the art of blacksmithing. He is comfortable in both heavy and light armor, but his preferred suit is heavy.

Carlotta Iron-Brow


Name: Carlotta Iron-Brow (Previous surname: Valentia)
Gender: Female
Age: 38
Race: Imperial

Birthsign: The Lady

Appearance: Carlotta is just a little above average height for an Imperial. She has long brown hair that falls down just past her shoulders, and deep emerald-green eyes. Her build is slender, but with a slightly muscled edge that is the result of doing almost all of her household's manual labor alone for nearly a decade. Her skin is slightly paler than average for an Imperial, which is likely because her father's bloodline was primarily Nordic.

Equipment: She wears normal middle class clothing, which usually consists of a plain but practical dress with an apron or jacket over it. She also has some traveling garb that consists of hunter's pants, and a plain shirt with a light jacket over it. Whatever outfit Carlotta has on, she always wears three pouches on her belt, one is for money, and the other two are for whatever she thinks is worth bringing along wherever she is going. She wears a traditional Skyrim band of matrimony on her left ring finger to symbolize that she is married.

Personality: Quick-witted and humorous, Carlotta can be counted on to make a light-hearted and sarcastic remark at the best of times. She's usually cheerful and friendly, but is also curious, a trait she claims to get from her mother. She's not usually very emotional, and tries to hide it when she is, but her angry or defensive side comes out when anything remotely threatening regarding her daughter, Mila comes up.

Background: Carlotta was born in Riften to her Nord father and Imperial mother, Jorvik and Selene. She is the middle-aged of three siblings, with an older sister named Vex, and a younger brother named Aerin. When she turned 22, Carlotta met a young Nord Legionare named Tolik, who was on leave and staying with his own brother in Riften. After almost a year together, Tolik and Carlotta got married at the temple in Riften, and shortly after, they moved to Whiterun, where Tolik decided to leave the Legion and started a small farm, while Carlotta opened a food stand. Two years later, they had a baby girl. They named her Mila.

After three happy years, there was a bad one, and Tolik's farm suffered from a devastating fire from which very few crops were saved to be reaped. By the time winter had arrived, they were deep in debt to clan Battle-Born, whom they'd had no choice but to accept loans from in order to feed themselves and young Mila. When the winter ended, and Tolik was able to farm again, it would not be enough to pay off the debt, and so with little choice, Tolik had to leave Carlotta and Mila to rejoin the Legion and pay off the debt. He was killed in a failed attack on a bandit hideout not two months later.

Carlotta, while distraught, didn't have much time to grieve. She was still deep in debt and had a young daughter to feed. Desperate for money, she was forced to sell her husband's farm cheap to the Pelagia family, who promised that they would keep her stall supplied at bargain price. Finally, between the sold farm and money she made at the stall, Carlotta managed to raise the money needed to pay back the Battle-Borns.

For the next seven years, Carlotta would live in Whiterun running her fruit and vegetable stand. During this time, she had many suitors, but turned them all down, believing that none would ever be a father to Mila. That changed with Boldir Iron-Brow.

Much like Tolik, Boldir came to Whiterun, on leave from the army. And much like Tolik, he treated her with a rare kindness and respect. But the true surprise came with how well Mila took to him, and he to her. From the stories he told to the games they played to his own Nordic ways of teaching bravery and strength, the gruff soldier seemed more a father to her child than any man since Tolik himself. Once again, Carlotta found herself falling in love.

That brief time with him made up some of the happiest weeks of Carlotta's life, but Carlotta fearfully realized how familiar it all was. Like her Tolik, Boldir was a soldier, through-and-through, she could not bear to suffer that loss again. When Boldir proposed to her, it took all of her will to turn him down. Soon after, Boldir left Whiterun to rejoin the war effort.

Carlotta wanted to believe that she made the right choice. That she could not allow another man to come into their lives and leave them, and that Mila was not going to have to suffer loss again. But when her daughter came to her two days later, and asked where Boldir was, she knew that she'd made the wrong choice.

She remained strong for Mila, but deep down, Carlotta grew sadder and sadder as the days, weeks, and months went by. Her hope was that Boldir had not given up on them, and that one day, he'd return and give her another chance.

Over half a year later, she would have that chance. When Boldir returned from a brutal defensive campaign fought at the border in the hold of Falkreath, Carlotta didn't wait to see whether or not he would seek her out. She went to him, and this time, it was a definite "yes".

After the wedding, Carlotta and Mila both took on the Iron-Brow name, making Boldir the head of a new family clan. They remained in her house, and Boldir told her that he was retiring from the soldier life. Thanks to his pull with the Jarl's family, he became the new Captain of the Whiterun's city guard. 

In recent months, Carlotta has expressed a desire to take Mila to Riften and visit her family, a plan that Boldir, for some reason, staunchly opposes. He claims that they can come here if they want to meet. She has been adamant though, and believes that she can convince him with just a little more push.

Motives: Protecting her daughter, Mila, from any and all harm is Carlotta's first and foremost concern. Doing this means to avoid loss, which she she sees as worse than any normal harm. Therefore, she protects everything she and Mila need or love That includes their home, her stand, and more recently, Boldir.

Skills: As a merchant, Carlotta is skilled in the arts of mercantile and persuasion, but in recent years she has also dabbled in restoration magic. She is still a novice, but it is a developing skill.

Mila Iron-Brow


Name: Mila Iron-Brow (alias: Matilda)
Gender: Female
Age: 13 (at the start)
Race: Imperial (half Nord)

Standing Stone: Atronach

Appearance: She is around average height for an Imperial of her age, which tends to be an issue when she poses as a Nord. Even so, her skin is fair like a Nord's, which does lend the guise some credence. Otherwise, she has a light build, long and often mussed up brown hair that she has taken to tying back since arriving in Cyrodiil, and dark eyes that once were full of life but now often seem tired and suspicious.

Equipment: Boldir crafted Mila a lunar forged Nordic dagger using quicksilver and ebony. When exposed to the moonlight, it emits a pale white glow and burns anything it cuts. Otherwise, Mila does not personally own much of note. She can often be found wearing plain or cheap clothes that keep her from standing out, along with a plain brown traveler's cloak.

Personality: Mila takes a lot after her mother, but has also been quite influenced by Boldir in that brief year he spent in their lives. She is quick to poke fun at others, and tends to portray herself to strangers as hard and tough, though Mila's thoughts betray that she is and probably always will be a compassionate person. With that said, once someone has managed to earn her hatred (which is no small feat), it is very unlikely that they will ever be forgiven.

Background/History: A daughter of Whiterun, born and raised, Mila was brought up a true Nordic peasant in almost every way save for blood. Though even that is only partly true, for her father Tolik was indeed a Nord himself, though he died when Mila was only three, and her memories of him are all but nonexistent. Her mother Carlotta worked hard to ensure that Mila had a good childhood despite growing up without a father, and even taught her to read and write while running the family fruit stall in the marketplace. When Mila was not helping her mother sell fruits and vegetables, she was out on pretend adventures with her friends, getting into all sorts of mischief. The most troublesome of instance of these (and Mila's personal proudest achievement) was the time that she and Lars Battle-Born climbed Dragonsreach at the age of nine. It had taken the Jarl's own brother to finally get the two of them down.

Mila was ten years old when Skyrim's Civil War found its way to Whiterun. She and her mother had hidden at home throughout the siege, and counted themselves among the blessed few who suffered no major losses. Two years later, rumors coming north of a victory in the south were soon followed by one of the Stormcloaks who had been involved. The big man's name was Boldir Iron-Brow, and Mila noticed right away that her mother did not treat him the way she did other men, and indeed, Boldir did not treat Mila the way most other grown-ups did. He told her stories of Nord heroes battling dragons and demon elves, he played the flute for her to sing and dance to, and he even promised that he could teach her how to use an axe as soon as her mother would let him. Suffice it to say, Mila was heartbroken when Boldir left one day without a word. More rumors came after that, of war in Falkreath and great battles in Pale Pass. Following the rumors again, Boldir reappeared months later ready to retire from war so that he could stay with them for good. It was not long after that he married Mila's mother.

The next year was one of the happiest in both Mila and her mother's lives, at least until towards the end. Boldir worked hard enough to afford them an easier living, and he even forged Mila a magical dagger for her thirteenth birthday. However, after an exciting trip to Riften turned into an all-out war between Boldir and the family in charge, the Black-Briars, Mila's life, and indeed the lives of everyone in both families, turned on its head. She spent the better part of a year in captivity, held hostage by the Black-Briars. And when the conflict finally escalated to the point where Riften was aflame, her mother was killed while she was whisked away to Cyrodiil by Sibbi Black-Briar. 

Motives: Mila's motives at this point are unclear, even to her. Before being captured by the Black-Briars, she enjoyed tales of heroes and adventure, and like any child, dreamt of living them. Afterwards, however, Mila's only true desire was to be home with her mother and Boldir alongside her again. Since then, her home, her mother, and Boldir have all been lost to her, and so Mila ekes out an existence in the Imperial City as a thief, her only real goal being to avoid recapture. Maybe she would like to return home some day. Rumor has it that her aunt and uncle are now the rulers of Skyrim. But Mila's memories of them are short and distant, and they fade a little more every day.

Skills: Mila is a fast learner and very impressionable. Today, she is good at climbing and sneaking. Who knows what she'll be good at tomorrow?

Endar Drenim


Name: Endar Drenim
Gender: Male
Age: 489
Race: Dunmer

Birthsign: The Mage

Faction: House Telvanni
Rank: Master Wizard

Appearance: He's average height with a thin build. His hair is long, black, and often poorly kept, with a beard to match. Endar wears no paint, has no obvious scars or tattoos. As with most of his kin, his skin is ashy gray and his eyes fiery red.

Equipment:  He favors his old hooded Telvanni wizard robes, which are tattered and stained from constant travel. He carries the Apotheosis Staff, which he obtained through an auction in Cyrodil. He has four enchanted rings to help protect him from various poisons and magics. When traveling, he wears an enchanted backpack filled with various mage toys like soul gems, some Dwemer tools, potions, notes, and scrolls.

Personality: Endar is often regarded as pompous, but he himself prefers to call it honesty. He does not pretend to be anything less than brilliant, and most agree. However, despite his intelligence, he has a very hard time understanding or comprehending the lesser motives of others. That is, unless they are aligned with his own. Endar does have some capacity for liking others, however, and while he rarely shows it through words, he will occasionally display respect for the very few mortals whose presence he considers tolerable.

Background:  Endar was born in the Telvanni District of Vivec, in an unremarkable home to unremarkable parents, his father an offshoot cousin to offshoot cousins of the greats who bore the Drenim name. They were mere Kinsmen of the Great House, who lived under the mage lords' protection as servants with little motivation to rise. But where his parents were content with this life, Endar was not.

From a young age, Endar displayed a natural affinity for magic and a burning desire to understand it. This got him into trouble on more than one occasion (the worst involving an unbound summoning within a city market), until eventually one of those great cousins-of-cousins happened to take note. On a winter day as Endar slept in a cell, the wizard Galas Drenim approached the bars and offered him the opportunity to leave the city and his parents behind to serve as her apprentice in Tel Naga. He agreed at once, and departed at her side without so much as a goodbye.

In the following years, Endar came to see far more of himself in Galas than he ever had in his immediate kin. Like him, she was committed to the pursuit of knowledge and a greater understanding of her own limits. Like many Telvanni, she could be callous and harsh, even abusive. But Endar served dutifully, taking every opportunity to study and learn her ways, to challenge himself against her abuse and use it to grow stronger. Where other servants might mindlessly carry out the tasks before them, he paid attention, learned what he could about the need for those tasks, how they contributed to his master's greater works, and how he might one day surpass those works himself.

One way that Endar and Galas differed was their view on the value of worldly influence. Of all the Great House's wizards, Galas was one of the more active in the affairs of Morrowind, something that consumed much of her time. But while his master traveled Vvardenfell balancing her studies with the game of politics, Endar dedicated everything he had to the former alone. It did not take many decades for him to become recognized for his growing power and, nor for him to leave the life of servitude in favor of how own pursuits.

Over the following decades and eventually centuries, Endar went on to distinguish himself even among the higher ranks of the Telvanni. He raised his own towers, conducted breakthrough experiments, and challenged established magical theory time and again. He became known to the Parliament of Bugs, and by all rights was on a fast track to be recognized among the Master Wizards at an uncommonly young age.

Endar's most notorious achievements were during the Oblivion Crisis. He closed two of the invaders' gates single-handedly outside Tel Mora, and recruited a number of outsiders so he could teach them to do the same. This was not necessarily done for the good of the House, or even Morrowind. It is widely believed that Endar did this so that his band of Hirelings could keep the daedra from distracting him from his own research. The result benefitted everyone, however, as these spellcasters proved valuable in the defense of Tel Mora. In the aftermath of the crisis and the death of Tel Mora's Mistress Dratha, Endar claimed the title of Master. Nobody challenged his claim.

It should be no surprise that the Master wizards of House Telvanni would be nothing if they were not competitive. And after joining their exclusive numbers, Endar found himself dealing with even more challenges and annoyances than before. Every discovery needed to be guarded, lest a rival try to steal it. Every 'friend' needed to be spied on, lest they plotted to stab him in the back. The conflicts were constant, be they verbal, physical, magical, or metaphorical, and while Endar was more than capable of holding his own with the best of them, he found the entire game to be even more distracting than the Oblivion Crisis had been. And so, when the Red Year struck and the House fell into chaos and disarray, Endar decided it was time to pack his interdimensional bags and relocate to a tower in the more secluded Sheogorad region.

Endar would go on to spend much of following two centuries on the road as he dedicated his time fully to exploration and study. He would travel the realms of Nirn and beyond, treat with scholars, kings, wizards, and daedra. He would pursue secrets that few others had known, and in doing so, come to doubt many things that the world would call 'facts'.

In the later decades of these travels, Endar found himself in Valenwood with the goal of recording his experiences for a hypothesis regarding the Nirnian-Voidish dichotomy and the impossibility of the Aldmeri-inspired interpretations of the Arubis. This particular experiment involved convening with multiple powerful daedra, possibly a Prince or two, an illegal act according to the ridiculous 'laws' of Dominion bureaucrats, and it ultimately led to his arrest.

Endar has written of his time behind Dominion bars. According to him, the imprisonment lasted several days until he decided to leave upon being served bread with an over-crisp crust. Endar departed Valenwood after that, his research incomplete. Despite his general dismissal of the conditions he lived in, he has harbored a noticeable resentment of the Aldmeri Dominion ever since.

In the years that followed, Endar's studies have continued and his understanding of magicka, both esoteric and conventional, has continued to grow. Mortal understanding of daedric plagues, the nature of the gods and spirits, the limen, and the near-extinct creatia magicks of the Dawn has reached new levels in part thanks to his work.

Motives: He is always seeking to advance his knowledge. Particularly in matters relating to the nature of divinity, infinity, and Oblivion. He holds a grudge against the Thalmor, who he sees as unnecessarily, indisputably cruel, and "far too egocentric". He sees them as a rival, and gladly opposes them when doing so is an option.

Skills: Magic of many sorts. Endar has spent centuries studying the arcane, and does not like to view his craft through the lens of Galerion's traditional schools, which he considers "narrow in scope and imagination".

The Tyne siblings, Asgen "Raven-Son" and Faida


Names: Asgen "Raven-Son" and Faida Tyne
Genders: Asgen is male, Faida is female
Ages: 36 (twins)
Race: Nords

Birthsign: The Ritual

Appearance: Both are of the average Nordic height. Asgen is bearded, with medium length hair and with a lean warrior's build. Faida is light but healthy, with long hair that she usually keeps tied back. Both siblings have naturally fair skin, dark hair, icy blue eyes, and sharp facial features that are similar enough to make their relationship as twins rather obvious.

Images of the twins

Equipment: Asgen wears light armor under a thick bear fur cloak, and carries a nasty Skyforge Steel dagger that he has trained to fight with or throw. Asgen does not have a primary weapon of choice, due to his tendency to lose them, but he often can be found wielding either war-axes or longswords. His current weapon is a longsword made of Breton steel. Asgen's prized possession is a ruby ashen shield, painted with the deer coat-of-arms that belongs to Lord Traven of Northpoint.
Faida travels lighter than her brother, and so only carries a simple Orcish dagger for protection, and wears simple fur or hide clothing beneath a hooded brown traveler's cloak. Beneath it all, she wears a charm amulet, carved from a hagraven's hip bone and supposedly blessed by the old gods of the Reachmen to help Faida in communing with the realms they inhabit. In the satchel worn at her side, she also carries a few alchemical odds and ends, along with some soul gems and ritual tools.
The siblings also own a pair of High Rock-bred coursers, gifted to them by King Adrard himself. Asgen's horse is a strong and obedient male named Ulf (short for King Ulfric). Faida's is a wild and stubborn mare named Rose (for the Bretonic name, Rosilla). 

Personalities: The twins share a certain fondness for getting under people's toes, and humor in general. Though Faida is more restrained and generally better at knowing when it is the right time to quit. Both of them are intelligent in their own ways. Asgen with his wit and skill in quickly reading situations to find the best way to deal with them, and Faida with more grounded practical thoughtfulness, as well as an uncommon understanding of the arcane, or more specifically, darker arts involving calling upon worlds outside the plane of Mundus. As is the case with most sellswords, they do tend to lean on the side of greedy, if not occasionally act downright selfish. Compassion shines through on occasion, especially from Faida, but the twins in generally can be expected to act in their own interest.

Background: The twins were born in the Nordic village of Karthwasten, in the year 169 of the 4th Era to a Breton father and Nord mother, both of whom loved the twins and wanted them to follow in their footsteps. Unfortunately for the twins, they were split up from their parents at the tender age of seven winters, and went on to conclude their developing years under the care of a nomadic tribe that picked them up in the wilds of the Reach.

Having been born less than a decade before the Forsworn became a threat to the Reach, and having grown up amidst war and chaos in Skyrim, the Tyne twins never got to know what peacetime was like, and indeed took to selling their swords at a young age. Asgen even joined the Companions for a brief, if lucrative, period, and Faida once spent an entire year trading her services to the College of Winterhold for knowledge and training. Their travels took them all over Skyrim and beyond, and taught them to appreciate aspects of both their Reachman past and their Nordic heritage. However, when civil war threatened their homeland, they decided to stay out of it rather than commit to one side or the other. Instead, they took to working in Breton country.

The twins found much adventure in High Rock, but unfortunately little in the way of coin. They struggled for many years, moving in and out of poverty. That changed when the Bretons launched into a civil war of its own. Suddenly, every man or woman with a castle was all too happy to hire capable mercenaries.

To their misfortune, the twins eventually took up arms for the losing side, but earned their redemption by turning cloak and fighting for King Theodore in the fields of Evermor. The chaos that immediately followed the war was good for business, and one job in particular, one simple bounty, would end up changing the twins' lives when the collector turned out to be none other than King Theodore Adrard, himself. And, as luck would have it, King Theo found himself in further need of their services....

Motives:  It is rare that the twins ever are in pursuit of something that isn't shiny and valuable. They share a mutual desire to one day see themselves become very wealthy, though their reasons for this differ. Asgen's are base and material. He wants lavish comforts and the freedom to do whatever he pleases. He wants fame, to be respected and feared, and to never live in poverty again. Naturally, he would have his sister by his side. Faida's ambitions are less clear, even to herself. She seeks resources and power, but not fo their own sake. Through vague dreams and ritual divination, she has come to believe herself destined to do something important. What that is, she has no idea, but Faida wants to be ready when the time comes. In the meantime, her brother's pursuit of the finer things of life benefits them both.

Besides money and the things they would buy with it, the Tyne siblings are very much motivated by their love for one another. Both see themselves as the other's protector against an otherwise harsh and unloving world. And while neither would like to admit it, they both fear the prospect of one day attaining their goals and going their separate ways.

Skills:  Asgen is an experienced and talented melee fighter, who prefers to fight with a shield along with a one-handed sword or axe. Perhaps even more noteworthy is his skill with throwing weapons, something he has grown quite good at with his dagger. Faida's talents rest more in the world of the mythic. She was not brought up on the arts of scholarly magic, but rather the sorts of witchcraft and alchemy known only to the wild clans of the Reach. As a result, typical spells are more draining for her. Both twins are decent hagglers, learned from their years of mercenary work. Though both will admit that if either of them is truly gifted in this area, it is Asgen.


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The spoiler tags had been messed up, but still somewhat work.




Name: Inwold Dalomax.

Gender: Male.

Age: 39.

Race: Breton.

Birthsign: The Tower.

Faction: Kingdom of High Rock, Knights of the Dragon (Formally), Fief of Dresan.

Rank: Earl of Dresan, Honorary tittle of Knight of the Dragon (For previous service).

Position: Vassal to Baron Gabryel Lafont, member of the martially bound lesser nobility, Bound to the Lordship of the Gaerharts.

Appearance: An averaged sized Breton man, physically in shape from following the treatises on training in armor. A round face with a weak chin, albeit has his curly blond beard to cover it. Greenish grey eyed.

Equipment: While the wealth required to purchase and maintain full plate is beyond Inwold's grasp, neither is he poorly equipped. Owning full maille (with hourglass gauntlets) hauberk, chausses, coif and aventail. Alongside plate breastplate, Schynbalds and sabatons. All atop an aketon. Wearing a local fashion that covers most of the maille, Bascinet and visor.

Primarily equipped with a halberd, arming sword on his person as a sidearm. As his kit isn't full plate Inwold carries an archaic heraldic shield on his person.

Owns a warhorse with maille barding.


Coat of Arms: Yellow mountain lion atop three perpendicular mage lights with the Tower constellation nestled at the bottom.

Retinue: Currently none, yet has sent for his old retainers once being reinstated.

Personality: Isn't much for the classic scheming of the Bretons, too fearful of losing his recently regained position his forefathers earned. One of his greatest pleasures is having servants equip him in his kit, Inwold feels like a king in those moments. 

Patron Divine: Zenithar.

Background/History: The Dalomaxes are a young family in the Breton nobility, while historically serving as knights for lesser nobles or as Imperial Knights. After the collapse of the Septim Dynasty the Dalomaxes saw a sinking ship and made the transition from serving as Imperial Knights to solely household guards in High Rock.

They found service for the wealthy Mon merchant family. The position of household guards for the Mons was lucrative enough that bribery was difficult at best. While never achieving any heroic deeds or displaying great chivalry the Dalomaxes were, after the Mons established a Barony around 4E 60, rewarded with the Fief of Dresan, where they continued serving loyally.

Dresan had little in the way of industrial potential yet made up for it with it's grazing lands and agrarian society. Wealth flowed to the Dalomaxes who were not prevalent in Breton schemes. For they it was better to jealously hold onto what they have then attempt to expand. Prior to Duke Jhared Mon's scheming against King Adrard the vassalage of the Dalomaxes were never put into question.

Needing extra wealth for his imminent scheme against King Adrard, Duke Mon heavily increased his taxation of the vassals under him. The current Earl of Dresan, Inwold Dalomax, couldn't pay the demanded increase in tariffs without dipping into his own treasury. He wrote of his complaints to Duke Mon stating at the current rate Mon's increased tariffs would have Inwold in debt within months. 

Duke Mon took the complaint as insubordination and ordered Inwold to be exiled and all assets seized. Without gold, arms or even horse Inwold had to walk outside of Mon's holdings. 

Inwold ended up in Daggerfall, given one of his siblings had married a lesser noble within the city. His desperation outweighed the shame and he sought for her help. Borrowing gold from the two and an sponsorship from his sister's husband landed him in the Knights of the Dragon.

Inwold toiled with mundane duties believing this would be his life now. He had been shoved from grace and replaced with a harder taxmaster. It was all the more surprising out of the blue Sir Emeric Bridwell, head of the Knights of the Dragon, summoned him and announced his reinstatement as Earl by the authority of Baron Gabryel Lafont. The loyalty of Inwold's replacement had been called into question and was deposed of, as he was associated with the now imprisoned Duke Mon.

A lifetime of exile lasted only a couple months.

Motives: Content to keep his regained Fief, understands what will be demanded of him in the war to come but isn't looking forward to it. Quite genuinely thankful for the generosity of his lord Lafont for returning his assets.

Skills: Trained all his adult life in Breton martial arts, understands all the treatises involving arming swords and polearms, trained extensively within his full kit. Is slightly less of a milk drinker.




Name: Magalos dyn Neitorix.

Moniker: of the Hundred Tongues.

Gender: Male.

Age: 48.

Race: Western Roscrean.

Birthsign: The Lover.

Faction: The Neitos, Druidic Occultism.

Position: Elective leader of the Neitos, Drwdae Cingetoi/Druidic trained Wizard Warrior.

Appearance: mustached rosco-nord :P


Equipment: Among the finest of Western Roscrean metallurgy is available to the Great Champion of the Neitos, as a whole the eastern Roscreans have a higher distribution of more advanced if not archaic equipment their western counterparts craft vastly superior works of armor for their elite.

With the advent of Steel Smithing gifted to the natives by Skyrim the Roscrean elite have forgone the old bronze and iron for the superior metal, Magalos included bears one of the finer examples of maille mastery the western islanders have to offer.

Maille interwoven with scales and lamellar, adorned with native motifs and medallions enchanted accordingly. A kit to rival the greatest of High Chieftains own.

Personality: Magalos dyn humbled by his time under the Druids follows the old worship of Mara, the love of freedom and one's kinsmen. Very thankful for the life he's had, being able to learn what he has. Ambition tempered by humility, a warrior shown the clever path. There are times he's struggled to find the balance between seeking knowledge and hunger for it, time and careful teaching kept him on the right hand path instead of treading close to the Woodland Man.

Background/History: Born into a Rosco-Nordic community during the late period of Imperial rule over Roscrea, having intermarried long ago brought Nordic martial traditions into the Roscrean sphere. In select Rosco-Nordic communities and sub-communities created a mixture of Nordic and Roscrean prowess, giving birth to the Gallowglass.

Magalos along with twenty four of his peers were being groomed for life as a Gallowglass, it was a martial upbringing with bare minimum of literary pursuits only for the sake of avoiding illiteracy. Yet in the provincial capital in the east began what would become a upon revolt, Magalos was years away from manhood at the start of this conflict, the various Rosco-Nordic communities were dis unified with oaths being sworn for both the Empire and of native rebelling chieftains. His own clan swore for Roscrea and so he and his twenty four peers, some of which became life long companions participated as well.

Traditionally the boys groomed for a life as Gallowglass followed their lords into battle as javelin bearers, Magalos at the rear of his elders were in conflicts across the island. Against the minority of Imperial supporters and the Legions, with the weakened Empire it wasn't enough to completely subdue the natives and the natives without their armies of old couldn't completely achieve their goal. While claiming no lives himself Magalos experienced conflict secondhand, however it had ended before achieving manhood and so was unbound as of yet. The Rosco-Nords loyal to their more pure blooded kinsmen retained their status while the unfortunate clans who gave oaths to the Empire were at best exiled and their clans integrated.

Now only loosely allied to the Empire the dismantled Neitos was reinstated with Druidic blessings, the old hill forts were rebuilt and all the Chiefdoms with all their confederations once again recognized and supported the concept of a new standing army, allied to all Oppida but bound to no chieftain as in ages past.

Many of the remaining Rosco-Nordic clans were quick to pledge themselves, with the age of professional mercenaries transitioning into professional warriors it was perfect for the often politically powerless Rosco-Nords. Magalos eventually becoming a man and earning the suffix 'dyn' were among those that pledged themselves, at this point in time years after it's resurgence the Neitos reached it's old power. As the Neitos rose in power so too did it's need for Drwdae Cincetoi which under the Empire was banned and hunted alongside the Druids, Magalos dyn was eager to be among the warriors taught under the Druids, which unlike the learned wise men increasing their own was much less rigorous and strict.

For the Druids in training of wizard-warriors martial prowess was sought after in greater degree then magical, although both must be inert to some degree. For Magalos dyn and even some of his old fellow javelin bearers were accepted after the Druids gauged both their magicka and martial ability, with the time of peace and a need for wizard warriors the whole process was more forgiving. Though there was another reason younger folk were given more slack, the sheer amount of time to be spent under the Druids.

For an older warrior was scrutinized more, he would need a greater understanding then his youngers. An absolute minimum of twenty years would need to be spent under the Druids before ever being recognized as Drwdae Cingetoi. The time was daunting for Magalos dyn, in the early years he was subjected to a Druidic education whom take this extremely seriously, it was with the iron fist of the Druids that teachings would be learned at heart by Magalos dyn before they ever taught the most basic of magics.

In time such things as theosophy and seeing things their way was taken in, when Magalos dyn could uphold a proper conversation on basic philosophy with the Druids only then was he opened up to the more occult. Drwdae Cingetoi were not taught how to throw about destruction magic or illusions and other nonsense, first his teachers began showing the secrets of ancient alchemy utterly unorthodox by Tamrielic standards. As he ever so slowly advanced in the field of alchemy it became clear how alchemical transmutation could be used against another, doors opened to Magalos dyn into a wider realm of Druidic Occultism.

Suddenly the Druids he once saw only as wise men were far more clever and dangerous then once thought, over a decade after being accepted by the Druids to be trained; his teachers reached the point where it was decided Magalos dyn would be taught the epitome of their magics, the Hermetic Magics. Encompassing all that he had learned from theosophy, alchemy and a wider study of the occult his final years under the Druids taught him terrible magics. Of which could and would come back to destroy him if used improperly, he learned much of Jhunal and Herma Mora, their symbolism and conflict. How this trusted magic was forever kept from the knowledge demon and how it must always be.

Throughout it all Magalos dyn had yet to kill a single man and while it ashamed him somewhat, he knew the gods would not allow him this knowledge without using it in their name. After twenty years of isolation among the Druids he returned to the Neitos with great pride, even unblooded Magalos dyn was after four hundred years among the first generation of Drwdae Cingetoi in this era. 

One thing still was lacking, the Neitos could not uphold the totem-banners while still untested as a whole. The gods were symbolically not with them, the current Great Champion; leader of all the Neitos elected by a Thing was uncertain of a right hand path. It was of little surprise when a Thing was assembled and a new Great Champion elected due to his predecessor's lack of balls. The Neitos had learned from the Empire, they learned that the furious charges of old wasn't enough and while it could not be perfectly implemented the Legion tactic of staying power was imitated.

The isles of the padomaic ocean, longstanding targets of Roscrean raids prior to the Empire was once again sized up. With the Great War causing the Empire to effectively lose nominal control over the eastern islands, the Neitos had no fears of retribution from them.

Yet another Thing decided that one of the Cathnoquey archipelagos having once housed an ancient Atmoran colony would be used as de jure claim, the somewhat recently crowned King of Kings in eastern Roscrea was staunchly opposed to conflict but he was largely ignored and was none too happy about his kingdom's navy to be used.

The idea of sending a formal declaration of war was a foreign one to the Western Roscreans, Cathnoquey only knew of war when Eastern Roscrean Lad'ya; cross between a Longboat and Cog, brought scores of Neitos to the archipelagos. As Roscrea had no transport ships at this time the majority of the Neitos would be sent in scores. Magalos dyn was along the first waves of Neitos, who had it in his mind this war would last for years. 

In reality Cathnoquey was already warring with the Imperialized natives of Esroniet, what was meant to be a great war with the sacking of each archipelago was a fourteen week war of a few hundred skirmishes, before the Cathnoquey natives payed a lump sum to the Neitos and declared them victors. While there was no sacking or great battles and the city states went unlooted, it was overall lackluster but the Great Champion was satisfied with the gold and claimed the gods were surely appeased.

But for the champions within the Neitos this war made names for themselves, within the skirmishes these Roscrean champions took on the bravest of native tribal warriors in duels. Magalos dyn by circumstance created a name for himself as a so called Drwdaeic champion by claiming over a hundred tongues from his duels, it was not world shattering heroism but certainly of note by the Skalds who marked his deeds. Magalos dyn never kept the tongues, he always discarded them eventually.

As every Neitos hill fort committed men, the Druids deemed that indeed the Great Champion was correct and now tested in what barely could be called a war now has the right to Totem-Bearers. The bearer of Shor was most prestigious of them all, thankfully Magalos dyn was among the army bestowed by it. While the other armies each had their own totem representing the gods.

At the end of it all the Great Champion having been made considerably wealthier by his claim of the gold resigned from his position to pursue his own political goals of which the Great Champion is forbidden from, he would go on to become a Great Chieftain, lording over the Oppidum of Ecoriobriga.

With the need of another Great Champion bringing about a Thing, Magalos dyn decided then to proclaim himself for the position. The Druids enjoyed greatly the idea of a Drwdae Cingetoi in the position of Great Champion and while Magalos dyn had opposition with their own claims of heroic deeds it was Magalos dyn's claiming of over a hundred tongues in duels that won him the Thing's support.

It was a position without terms, only death or another Thing with the support of Druids could depose of him. Magalos dyn had no intention for further conflicts in the east, his being a Rosco-Nord and beyond that a former Gallowglass barred him from a wider degree of ambition outside the Neitos. As the Neitos settled back down they were immediately set for conflict when just south rebellion broke out in Skyrim. If the Empire called upon Roscrea to take up against this rebellion Magalos dyn would do no such thing, in secret with the Archdruids they gave their support to Magalos dyn and their blessings for a possible conflict with the Empire.

Thankfully though the rebellion disrupted the forced trade and tribute between Roscrea and the Empire, by the end of things it looked like the Nords had won the conflict and just a few odd years later the Archdruids come to him, asking of contribution to his kinsmen. He could not refuse, he was of Roscrea but still had blood ties to the Old Kingdom. Magalos dyn pledged the totem of Shor, himself and his army to the cause. With the transport fleet now built, all that needs now are arrangements in Skyrim and the Nords will have their support.

Motives: Living the early life of a Gallowglass taught him a great importance in the old worship of Mara and old loyalty, never to abandon one's lord or one's kin. His twenty years under the Druids taught him the mystery schools and opened up a new world for him, yet also opened up new dangers to fear. His time in active war bloodied him and now as the Great Champion he has achieved the highest could ever hope for. There is nothing higher to climb for Magalos dyn, but there are greater things out of reach.

Skills: Greatly trained in the dangerous Hermetic Magics, with the mindset of war and battle as different then a Druid's.

Experienced in use of old Nordic polearms and axes though absolutely prefers the Western Roscrean antenna swords and a shield, greater flexibility for a wizard-warrior.

Warps space and time to have more realistic armor physics.(Joke)




Edited by TheCzarsHussar
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Name: Krojun Draconus

Gender: Male

Age: Unknown (before recorded history)

Race: Nord (Nede)

Faction: Varies

Rank: Varies

Appearance: Shoulder long black hair, grey eyes, medium thick beard, scar on the right cheek, tall and heavy built. 



Practically this but with a bit more beard on the cheeks, longer hair and the scar

Usually wears Imperial royal clothes, with the base color black and the decorations mostly in silver and some in blood red, when not wearing his normal equipment. 

Equipment: A stalhrim longsword made for him by the ancient dragon priests, enchanted to never break and with a special bond that allows him to channel his magic through the sword, with the inherent properties of the stalhirm boosting his ice spells slightly. It also prevents anyone else from wielding the sword by inflicting frostbite on anyone that touches it. 

Personality: Often quiet and reserved. Rarely shows emotion and preferably not in public, believing that in doing so could be a sign of weakness. Also has a very little regard for human life and tend to view people more like tools than actual persons. Has no regard for elven life and would prefer to kill any he sees on sight. And while he would never admit it, he has a very perverted mind. 

Background/History: Born in the northern parts of Skyrim in an era long forgotten as a woodcutter's son. As a child his village was slaughtered by elven raiders and he became the only survivor. Wandering the woods he was found near death by some witches that nursed him back to health. 

The witches came from a coven that hid in an old castle out in the forest to avoid the prying eyes of the Dragon Priests. Yornar grew up there, learnt magic and fell in love with a girl named Minna. The coven however became more tyrannical as the three matrons, the leaders of the coven, became more corrupt as they learnt dark and powerful secrets from a book they had found, eventually becoming hagravens. Yornar and Minna decided to leave but Minna was framed by a group of exiled elves that had tried to steal the book. She was killed and Yornar decided to steal the book himself. From it he learnt the spell of devouring souls to increase his own power. 

He left the coven and went in search of souls, slaughtering bandits, elven raiders and an elven town in his quest for power. Eventually he returned and killed the hagravens. After which he found himself in charge of the coven. Through a lot of events he carved a bloody path to becoming High King of Skyrim. During that time he also tied close bonds with the Dragon Priests to ensure political support as well gaining access to great magical knowledge. He also gained the nickname Witch-king due to his background and clashed with the elves on numerous occasions. 

After further incidents that left him weary he decided to leave by sealing himself and part of citadel away from the world while he entered a dreamless sleep. That sleep was disturbed by the Oblivion Crisis and he awoke to an unfamiliar world. His old kingdom was gone and his citadel and surrounding city and lands had turned to frozen wastes. 

He lost his sword to some adventurers, was picked up by an Imperial scholar that taught him the common tongue and then went on a long quest to get back his treasured sword. After that he wandered Tamriel for hundreds of years till the Thalmor started the Great War. Seeing an old enemy arise again he picked up his old quest for genocide and fought the elves. When the Empire in essence surrendered to the Dominion he had to hide. When Ulfric Stormcloak arose in Skyrim Yornar lent his support in order to hunt the Thalmor that infected his land. 

After the Civil War he found himself able to capture and magically enslave the Imperial princess Dales Motierre. Through her he managed to set things in motion where the Thalmor would be thrown out of the Empire and he would later ascend to the throne as Emperor through marriage. 

Motives: As he hates elves, especially the Dominion, and wants to exterminate all elves from existence. But also seeks peace of mind from the horros of his past that still haunts him.

Skills: A mastery of most forms of magic that almost matches his age. Also good with heavy armor and swords due this heritage and background as a Nord who have fought many battles. 




Name: Karsh

Gender: Male

Race: Raven




Personality: Rude, mean and selfish, likes to laugh at other people's misfortune, is a kleptomaniac as well.

Background: Was caught by Witchie at camp Rommulas when he was eating on a corpse after the battle. His body and mind was then altered with sophisticated magic over the course of several months that made stronger, more agile and smarter. He is able to understand what people say and was also given the ability to speak, though his speech feels more like a whisper. He mostly used as a messenger but also work as a spy for his master.

Motives: He is loyal to his master and likes good food and shiny trinkets.




Name: Stalks-Deed-Waters

Race: Argonian

Gender: Male

Age: 27

Profession: Mercenary

Appearance: Dark green, almost black scales along with a row of horns going from his "brows" to the back of his head and each horn is bigger the further back it sits on his head. He's also one of the bit more beast-like argonians and thus have quite sharp claws on the hands and feet, not as sharp as a khajiits but still quite sharp, along with razor sharp teeth meant for tearing flesh from bone. It's because he's related to the Nagas tribe. 

Equipment: Scaled armor that he's modified to not impede his swimming capabilities, a dagger made from the bone of one of the hardiest beast in Black-Marsh, a spear with two teeth from the same beast who's bone was used for his dagger sits at both ends of the sturdy wooden stick. A fine hunting bow he purchased from a traveling merchant near Anvil when his old bow from Black-Marsh broke. Also carries a small leather pouch filled with Hist sap as a keepsake from home. 

Personality: A bit bitter and cynical because of all the racism he has to put up with outside Black-Marsh but maintains a neutral stance when he can bother. He's quite greedy and mostly values gold over ideals and virtues, or the life and well being of others. 

Background: He was born into fishing family, or village, they were practically one and the same, somewhere between the border to Cyrodiil and Helstrom that lies at the center of Black-Marsh. The fishing village hunted fish with spears, similar to that he uses now, underwater. The fishes they caught could range from one foot long to roughly the size of a human. At a young age he got bored from the life of fishing, even though the bigger fishes gave quite an exciting challenge. It still wasn't enough for him to stay so one day at the age of 20 he set out to become a mercenary so he could get a bit more excitement, but it was mostly so he could come get out and see the world outside his fishing village. 

Motives: Gold, wants to see new places and the excitement the mercenary work sometimes bring. 

Skills: He's very skilled at using his spear and is a quite decent shot with the bow. Adept at sneaking and quite good at using the dagger if he can get the jump on his prey, otherwise he is only decent with the knife in open combat and relies more on his spear for such situations. Also a bit of an alchemist and his very strong resistance to poison allows him to taste the poison he's brewing to help him get an idea on how good it will be. He practically sees brewing poisons as no different from cooking food. 


Titus Scipio


Name: Titus Scipio

Age: 20

Race: Imperial

Appearance: Short, dark brown hair and clean shave. Brown eyes. Decent, but also rather plain looking. A bit above average height. Sturdy body like a soldier.

Equipment: A steel and leather armor. The steel parts consists of a simple cuirass for his torso, a helmet with with a Y shaped hole for mouth and eyes, a couple of steel gauntlets and boots. The rest like upper arms and thighs are protected by leather. A very plain looking armor but sturdy enough to withstand direct blows at the steel. He got a steel short sword and a small knight's shield with no paint.

Personality: Humble and idealistic. Always wants to do the right thing and punish those he thinks are wrongdoers. Often becomes :unsure: when there's no clear right or wrong. 

Background: Born as the fifth child of the small noble family of Scipio in the southern part of the County of Cheydinhal, he has often been rather neglected in favor of his older siblings. Being last in line of inheritance has forced him to try and find his own way in the world. So he trained to be a knight and hope to become a great adventurer. 

Motives: Wants to smite those he considers evil and purge them from the world, as well as to do good and help people in need. Also wants to find a place where he belongs and have family because of the neglect of his blood family.

Skills: Having the fortune of being born into a noble family he could train in swords, shields and heavy armor from a young age, thus gaining a rather good skills in those areas.


Xenxiakk and Zjaeenqz


Names: Xenxiakk and Zjaeenqz

Gender: Both male

Age: 37 (twins)

Rank: Xenxiakk is King of Black Marsh and Zjaeenqz serve as his advisor 

Appearances: Both of them has clear emerald green scales, streamlined heads with rather pointy tips of the front, double knees with double bent legs. Xenxiakk got several horns sticking straight out at the back of his head, all of which are linked together with a gold chain going through tiny holes in each horn. Xenxiakk also got rather large horns along his jaw line, each with a gold ring fastened around it.
Zjaeenqz only got a couple of medium sized horns at the upper corners of the back of his head, each with an ebony ring fastened around it. He got a lot smaller but more numerous horns along his jawline than his brother. 
Xenxiakk is a bit taller than Zjaeenqz and got slightly down turned corners of his mouth, whereas Zjaeenqz has slightly upturned corners of the mouth. Xenxiakk got narrower eyes and to a human would almost always look like he's suspiciously inspecting whatever he's looking at. Zjaeenqz however got a bit wider eyes and would appear constantly curious about his surroundings. 

Equipment: Xenxiakk carry a ebony dagger with very detailed gold and ivory decoration depicting a Hist tree on both sides of the crossguard, with a hatching egg beneath the tree on one side and an Argonian skull beneath the tree on the other side; representing the birth by the Hist and eventual death and return to the Hist. The dagger is blessed by Hist sap and is immensely strong and sharp and can cut through steel like butter. Mostly only a ceremonial dagger to be worn by the King but is still very handy in self defence. 

Zjaeenqz carry two daggers made from two sea serpent teeth, decorated with minuscule and highly detailed carvings of sea serpents. 

Both also got a personal set of armor. Xenxiakk got a medium armor made from Wamasu leather along with thin ebony scales. It covers the entire body and head, leaving only small holes for breathing and looking. It still has surprisingly large amount of mobility, even under water.
Zjaeenqz got a lighter armor made from the scales of the same sea serpent his daggers come from. It covers only his torso, upper arms and his legs.

Background: Born from the same egg that was named the Crown Egg by the council of Treeminders, Xenxiakk was the first to crawl out of the egg and dubbed the future king. Zjaeenqz soon however crawled out of the egg, making the hatching ceremony a little awkward. Nonetheless the two brothers grew up alongside each other without much rivalry.

As they grew up they also witnessed how the Shadowscales slowly destroyed themselves in crazed infighting that no one could really explain. The current King tried but couldn't quite reign them in. With the Shadowscales deteriorating, fewer and fewer newborn Shadowscales were turned in for recruitment and the organization soon dissolved. Seeking someone to blame for the Shadowscales fall, the current King blamed the foreign Dark Brotherhoods for having polluted the Shadowscales and ultimately causing their downfall. Xenxiakk followed in this direction of politics and began to distrust the outside world. 

Zjaeenqz however wondered if the downfall could have been caused by Sithis and remained uncertain and curious on what had caused the downfall of Shadowscales. He spent some time travelling to various locations and cities both within and outside Black Marsh seeking answers, but however found nothing apart from some dead ruins of the Dark Brotherhood in Cyrodiil. With no real answers he returned home, having made several connections in the various places he had visited. 

When Xenxiakk became the next King, he continued the isolationist politics of the last King in the spirit of the more orthodox An-Xileel. Zjaeenqz however had met a lot sailors, trader and craftsmen that longed for a more open relation with the outside world so they could import and export more goods so they could thrive more in their work. Thus Zjaeenqz instead wanted to break Black Marsh isolationism to allow for trade and some (but still strongly independent) diplomatic relations with the outside world. 

The two brothers are now at odds with each other. Xenxiakk only seeks to keep any foreign taint from his lands while also strengthening their current holdings in the land that they reclaimed in the northern Black Marsh. As well as to make the Dunmer realize that Argonians will not be slaves. The King is now also worried what kind of problems the new Orc population moving into the Valus Mountains will cause. 

Zjaeenqz shares his brother's distaste for the Dunmer but think that the lack of trade and lack of diplomatic relations will leave Black Marsh weak and blind to what may come for them. Thus has so far unsuccessfully tried to convince his brother to open up to a more friendly approach to the outside world.

Skills: Both are rather talented with daggers and unarmed combat. They're also good with throwing weapons and at sneaking due sometimes going on big game hunts. As to be expected they're somewhat adept mages in Alteration, Illusion and Restoration. Xenxiakk however excels more than his brother in the areas of magic and unarmed combat while Zjaeenqz is better at armed combat and sneaking than his brother. 
They are both well spoken, but Zjaeenqz is the only one of the two that knows the common tongue.

Edited by Witchking of Angmar
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Power corrupts, absolute power... is a whole lot of fun!

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Gracchus Ceno


Name: Gracchus Quintus Ceno

Gender: Male

Race: Imperial

Age: 56

Born: 4E 148

Height: 6'1"

Rank: Lord General

Appearance: Gruff looking, with a salt and pepper colored goatee, short white and gray hair in a military style cut, piercing green eyes, medium muscularity, and several small scars on his hands. His face is old and grizzled, with wrinkles that are at their most prominent on his forehead. He commonly wears a frown, more out of habit than out of always being unhappy. He doesn't have a tall forehead, not a short one, but meets in the middle. His eyes are set fairly even on his face, with his nose slightly pointy, with a round end.

Personality: A no nonsense soldier, who takes orders and follows them. Rule follower to the letter, he executes his orders with extreme precision. He despises failure and is an extreme perfectionist. Extremely proud of his service, and is very patriotic. Secretly thinks he is a coward for abandoning his mother, and hates himself for it. Seeks to redeem himself. After the events in Skyrim, he no longer feels like a coward, and takes pride in what he's done. Kind, though, and friendly, even to his recent former enemies the Stormcloaks. Amiable and likable.

Skills: Gracchus has knowledge of most of the destruction school, and limited restoration and alteration skill. He also used a steel imperial sword with skill, and chooses heavy armor to protect himself. He is an expert equestrian.

Armor/Clothes: Imperial General's cuirass, with a closed Imperial helm, a red cape, knee length boots, and the officer's skirt.

Weapons: A saber and his magic.

History: Born to a pair of poor farmers near the Imperial City, Gracchus' father was rude to his mother, and beat her. Unable to bring himself to help her, or do anything to stop him, Gracchus ran away and joined the legion at 18. Gracchus was always skilled in destruction magic, ever since he was little and learned his first spell from a book that fell off of a passing caravan cart, so he joined a Battlemage unit. Unfortunately for him, the Great War broke out soon after he joined, and was whisked away to fight the invading Aldmeri forces. He fought hard and brave in his unit, and by the time the Battle of Red Ring ended, he had established himself as a premier Battlemage. He continued to serve in the Legion for years, before being deployed to fight the Stormcloaks in Skyrim. After defeating the Thalmor along with the Stormcloaks in Skyrim, Gracchus returned to the Imperial City to live until he was called upon to serve again. He has recently been promoted to the rank of Lord General for his hand in the Falkreath Incident, granting him his choice of land and a large sum of money. He was promoted again to High General of the Legion. Recently married to Catia Lerus, and takes care of his elderly mother.

Pilus Rato


Name: Pilus Rato

Gender: Male

Race: Imperial

Age: 39 Height: 6'0"

Rank: Quaestor

Appearance: Looks young, but his laugh lines are visible around his mouth, and the onset of wrinkles is a tale-tell sign of his aging. Has medium length brown hair, brown eyes, and is overall a handsome man. Pilus has a clean-shaven face, and prefers to keep it that way.

Personality: All smiles is the best way to describe Pilus. Even when the situation is dire, and most have lost hope, Pilus continues to keep on smiling, usually joking, to try and keep spirits up. Very friendly, and loves to joke around with his fellow battlemages.

Skills: Destruction, restoration, alteration, one-handed, sneak

Armor/Clothes: Studded Imperial leather armor

Weapons: Steel shortsword

History: Born to well off parents, they sent him early to train and hone in his magical ability. He joined the legion early, and fit in well with his fellow battlemages. He operates differently than most of his fellow battlemages, sacrificing protection for maneuverability. He is skilled at staying hidden, and prefers attacking from the shadows. He is great friends with Legate Gracchus, with whom he had shared many adventures. Gracchus has sent him to oversee the guerrilla effort in Falkreath hold, hoping to drive the Nords back. He died in the final battle in Falkreath.

Theodore Adrard


Name: Theodore Adrard

Gender: Male

Race: Breton

Age: 48

Born: 4E 156

Height: 5'10"

Rank: King of High Rock, Lord of Camlorn

Appearance: Theodore has a head devoid of hair, but instead sports a large chocolate colored handlebar mustache. He is a thick set man, almost to the point of being fat. His belly and expertise at holding alcohol, along with his constant carrying of his flask, make sure that he is always fiery and maybe a little drunk. He has misty grey eyes, and a pale complexion.

Personality: A calm and cautious man who places family and power above all else. He never takes any undue chances, always calculating every risk, in both battle and in politics. Believes that only he can rule his people the right way, so in that aspect he is slightly like a tyrant. He has a knack for political maneuvering as well, learned from the high octane political life in his native High Rock. 

Skills: He is a skilled politician. His noble birth has allowed him to train with arms and in the finer points of life, as he is well learned as well. In battle he prefers heavy armor and a greatsword.

Armor/Clothes: He wears steel chain mail, and his extra large sized steel plated armor with a brown cape, bearing his family's sigil, a bull.

Weapons: Two handed greatsword, uses a short sword and shield with skill also

History: Theodore is the child of Lord and Lady Adrard, of Camlorn, who were among the upper echelons of Breton Nobility. His father used his political maneuvering to gain the favor of those in charge, and passed these skills along to his oldest son, Theodore. Theodore was not the only child, as he had a sister who his parents married off to some lord or duke or other noble. Theodore began his lordly grooming at a young age, and his parents hired the best tutors in swordplay, tactics, politics, among other things. When he came of age, he was given a section of his fathers land, and ruled it until his father passed, and the land passed with him to Theodore. He gained the title of lord, and, at his mother's insistence, married the youngest daughter of the King of Daggerfall, Elayne. Theodore and his wife gave birth to son, Roland, not long after, and set him on the same path his parents set him on. Unfortunately, pirate wars and bandits kept Theodore away from home. It mattered little however as his military exploits on both land and sea granted him the title of Lord General, and Theodore was ordered to command his majesty's army to fight the Thalmor, alongside the Imperials, Nords, and Redguards. After the King of Daggerfall died, Theo incited a war in order to claim the throne, and he united the Bretons and is King of High Rock, having seceded from the Empire as well. 

Tacitus Meridius 


Name: Tacitus Silus Meridius

Gender: Male

Race: Imperial Age: 38

Born: 4E 156

Height: 6'1"

Rank: High Admiral

Appearance: Big, beefy, arms like tree trunks. His body is built and muscular, but has enough fat on him to not look like a hunk of rigid muscle. He has a shaved head. His eyes are plain brown, very common looking. His rough, aged beyond his years face is marred by several scars. His nose, broken and crooked, lumps slightly in the middle. His eyebrows are unkempt and untrimmed, bushy, but not connecting in the middle. His bronze skin speaks of life under the sun, and his calloused hands are gentle but worn from work. Shaggy beard and now missing his left hand.

Personality: Tacitus is impatient. He would rather act than wait, and is known to be a heavy-handed leader. When it comes to personal conversations he is very gruff and blunt. Hates the Thalmor with a passion

Skills: Tacitus is a skilled in ship maneuvering, and excels at planning battles out. Does not lack for conviction or action but can be too quick to act. Fighting on ships mostly falls down to one-handed weapons, which he wields with relative skill. The art of dual-wielding is not lost on him, although he is much better at using a singular blade, usually a saber.

Armor/Clothes: White, baggy pants. Officer's light leather armor vest, stained blue with red trim. Belt and scabbard for a small hand axe and his curved naval officer's sword. In more formal situations, he wears a 3/4 length cloak along with a blue dress vest and silken white pants, but always with his belt and scabbard.

Weapons: His sword has a blade about 25 inches long (648 mm), doubled edged for the last 1/3. The grip is black Minotaur horn, with a half basket guard profusely ornate, engraved with his initials in a flowing cursive script. His axe is simple, wooden handle with leather grip and a steel blade, used for cutting ropes and occasional parrying. He also has a 6 inch dagger strapped to his left leg. http://users.skynet....al1837focus.htm . His left hand is now replaced by a dwarven metal fist, which he can unscrew from the base and attach an axe or hook as well.  

History: Born in Bravil, where his family continues to live, he grew up near the water. His father worked on a shipping vessel, and when he was home he taught him the in and outs of ships by drawing diagrams of them. At the beginning of his teenage years he became a cabin boy, and finally enlisted in the Imperial Navy at 18. By this time his father owned his own small time shipping company, and being a frugal man, he was able to pay for his son to start out at a master-at-arms position on a small skiff. Working his way through quartermaster, second-mate, first-mate, he finally became captain of the ship at the age of 28, youngest captain in the entire fleet. He married a lovely girl who he met in Bravil, Adrianne, but she died in childbirth a year later, causing him to never mention her. Once the war in Skyrim broke out, he was moved there along with most other fleet members. The casualties forced rapid promotions, and Tacitus was soon promoted to captain of a much larger ship. It was this ship that sunk the Harpy, a task that almost cost him his own ship in the process. Since then he was promoted again to High Admiral, due mostly to the lack of better options rather than his own personal exploits. Most of his superiors were either killed or aged beyond being useful, and he was the best option available. His flagship is the newest Imperial ship, christened the Tempest. The Tempest was sunk by a sea serpent, though, and he washed ashore in Elsweyr, where he was captured by the Thalmor and tortured. Afterwards, they let him go, hoping his torture would adversely affect his skills and he would be an asset, while he told the Empire he escaped, and hopes to get his revenge on the Thalmor Lord General for cutting off his hand.

Albecias Plebo


Name: Albecias Plebo

Gender: Male

Race: Imperial

Age: 31

Height: 5'8"

Appearance: While not an imposing man, as Plebo is around medium height, with no facial hair, medium length brown hair, and an average to handsome face. Well groomed.

Personality: Pompous and arrogant. Thinks highly of himself, especially of his skills as a writer. Isn't afraid of murder nor blood, although not one to kill himself. Weasel like in that he digs for a good story, and will step on toes in the process.

Skills: Writing, Speech

Armor/Clothes: Fancy clothing. Nothing too specific.

Weapons: NA

History: Born to a family of lower nobles, he grew up quite different than most people in similar circumstances. He never aspired to a higher station, but to higher renown. He knack for writing made itself clear early on, and ever since he's been doing just that. Combined with a desire to travel, he began investigating murders in foreign lands. Originally they were used only as inspiration for his novels, but soon he began to report the findings for the Black Horse. He was led to believe he uncovered a conspiracy by High General Ceno to overthrew the Emperor and Empress, but was misled, and the Emperor and High General poisoned him to make him appear insane to as to keep the secrets Albecias uncovered.

Morane Lynielle


Name: Morane Lynielle

Gender: Female

Race: Breton

Age: 30

Height: 5’5”

Birthsign: Mage

Appearance: Morane has black, curled hair that stops just below the shoulders with hazel colored, gold-flecked eyes. She has prominent cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, and a small nose. Her skin is a shade above fair, but not quite tanned. She’s slim, and has a build far more suited to a mage than a warrior.

Personality: Morane is a somber person, usually considered cold and disagreeable. She’s very private, and doesn’t discuss her past much. She isn’t quick to trust others and generally keeps to herself. She’s intelligent and crafty, and has an unfortunate fondness for danger. She enjoys challenges, and relishes opportunities to test herself.

Skills: Morane is skilled in alteration and illusion, though more so the former than the latter. She usually makes use of paralysis, armor spells, weight spells, and telekinesis in battle, though will use blindness, silence, and noise spells to distract her opponents. Given her skill with both, she hasn’t had time to train in any other magic or skill, though she is naturally inclined to sneaking, which she uses night eye to augment.

Armor/Clothes: Rather than the robes preferred by most mages (which Morane considers too billowy, easily set aflame, and impractical), Morane wears a brown cotton jerkin, with gloves, pants, and a hood made from the same material, though she doesn’t have a sash, instead replacing it with a regular belt that has two pouches attached. Her boots are brown leather, tall, reaching nearly to her knees. She wears a single plain silver ring of alteration on her right hand.

Weapons: She doesn’t carry any weapons.

History: Morane was born in a small village on the edge of the Gauvadon Forest, in the lordship of Farrun. Her family was fairly well to do owners of a lumber company. They were also close relations of the marquise that ruled over the village. Morane showed magical aptitude at a young age, and though her tutors attempted to teach her restraint, she mostly used her power to scare the other children with illusions of snakes and spiders. Her parents were too distant to care much what their daughter did, and her dislike of them only grew when she separately caught them cheating on each other.

Though life in the village was mundane and lonely, as she grew into her teenage years she found a friend, a girl named Darya from a village not far away. Their parents soon hired the same tutors, so they went through their lessons together. But Darya was not the mage Morane was, no matter how hard she tried. And no matter what Morane did, she couldn’t seem to master the effortlessness Darya displayed in talking with other people. In particular, Morane couldn’t attract the attention of a boy named Gailen. Darya could, and soon she was courting Gailen. Their parents approved of the match, and though Darya only started the courtship to provoke, she soon found she really did love Gailen. But Morane couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see that, and so she eventually seduced Gailen, and then used his guilt to force him to tell Darya.  With that, she had severed her last real tie to her home, and to remove her from the villages that despised her as much as she despised them, her marquise relative paid her way to Farrun, and for her enrollment in the Institute for Thaumaturgic Enlightenment at age 19.

A lenient and unconventional institute where magic was taught conceptually and not based upon the established magical schools, what Morane thought would be an refreshingly free grew boring once she realized she enjoyed illusion and alteration magic specifically and had little time for magical theory or anything besides her favored schools. The school was too flexible, the scope too wide for her narrowed interests. So she left at age 27, taking the last payment that was supposed to go toward the schools, along with two books on illusion and alteration, and the ring she wears.

Seeking adventure, danger, something rather than her safe and boring life, she headed west, to Shornhelm, where she joined Lord Estermont’s army to fight Orcs in the Wrothgarians. She found she liked battle, liked to fight, especially the thrill of doing so without destruction and with no armor. When Lord Estermont’s forces joined Theodore’s fight against Lielle two years later, Morane thought the sea born forces of the King presented a new challenge and far more interesting endeavor. So she stormed the beaches at Wayrest and the city of Evermor later, distinguishing herself among the mages. She was granted a promotion she didn’t care for, but with the Great War looming, decided that sticking with the King’s army was the best option.

Now, though, before they could march an inch into Thalmor lands, a new prospect is presented. Royal Court Wizard Winvale, Sir Maric, and Sir Virelande sort through the ranks of knights, wizards, spellswords, and battlemages, looking for the best recruits for their shadowmage training. Morane is selected. She eagerly awaits the challenge it will present, as well as the prospect of becoming the premier shadowmage among those selected.

Edited by BTCollins
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Rebec Red Snow


Gender: Female

Age: 35

Race: Nord

Birthsign: Thief

Faction: Stormcloak

Rank: High Admiral

Appearance: Brown hair, medium height, warrior build, ruddy skin, blue eyes (visual reference)

Equipment:  Wears a Stormcloak naval officer's uniform; a whalebone magic-resist amulet inscribed with the Atmoran hawk totem, her wedding ring set with blue stones for the eyes, and a redguard ring with Serpent lesser power (gift from Jodun). Wields an ebony axe and a Skyforge steel axe named Kyne's Talon, the latter crafted for her by Boldir and enchanted with stamina drain; also a crossbow. She carries a spyglass enchanted for night-eye, and a rope for scaling rigging or in combat uses- just a plain rope, but the best damn rope in Skyrim. In cold weather wears a grey-blue seacloak, embroidered with Ulfric's bear insignia and trimmed in snowy-sabrecat fur.

Personality: mostly cheerful, rough-shod, opportunistic, skeptical of authority, superstitious

Her namesake may be the famed Boat-Thane of Ysgramor and she achieved the title of High Admiral of Skyrim's navy, but Rebec still feels she is living down early failures that doomed her first ship and disappointed her family, who have been sailors and independent traders as long as anyone can remember.

War made her a loyal Stormcloak, gave her a new husband, and a new name. Her ship is new as well, since the Harpy was sunk by imperial battlemages during the naval war. Her warship is the Black Wisp, Skyrim's flagship, now mostly captained by her former first mate Mazoga Thorn-Orc and a loyal crew. After the Battle of Falkreath, she and Baldur traveled to Markarth where they uncovered the body of her first husband Toki and the conspiracy that led to his death, and learned the truth about Baldur's parents.  On the way home, Rebec revealed to Baldur that she and Toki had had a baby named Jala who died shortly after birth. Together they laid Toki's body to rest at her family's home near Dawnstar. Along with Baldur's mother Ysana and Rebec's father Vigge, they helped crown Skyrim's new queen, then traveled to Hammerfell to shore up the alliance. The Red-Snows then helped establish a new home and naval base called Kyne's Watch, located at the former Thalmor hideout of Northwatch. It was in Kyne's Watch that they welcomed their first child, Ragna Red Snow. During the Thalmor attack on Windhelm, Kyne's Watch was also attacked as a diversion, and Rebec's father died in the naval battle. She now prepares for war along with all Skyrim, and vows to protect her daughter.

Motives: love for Baldur, protection of their baby, building up Skyrim's navy
Skills: one-handed, speech (barter), block, archery (crossbow)




Suri Falani


Nord moniker: Snake Blade

Gender: Female

Age: 24
Birthsign: Serpent

Race: Redguard with Nord father

Faction: Hammerfell

Rank: Ansei Adept

Appearance:  slim, medium height, light brown skin, long dark brown hair with a reddish cast, blue eyes

Equipment (Weapons, armor, etc) : Lamellar armor in Hammerfell style with a bronzed (steel + corundum) helmet covered by a jeweled cowl, a gold amulet in the shape of a snake, enchanted for health and luck.; wields a cutlass and round shield of bronzed steel with ornate markings (example).  At home in Sentinel she wears mostly simple sleeveless tunics, loose silk trousers and sandals.

Backstory/History:  Suri's mother was a prosperous gem merchant of the Crowns who wed the Nord sea captain Vilnur Salt-Beard- marrying far beneath her, as her family saw it.  They disowned her for it, but have come to accept Suri as true redguard.  She grew up in Sentinel and has never known a Hammerfell that was not independent.  The idea that Cyrods should think themselves fit to rule Ra Gada is inconceivable to her.  No family was untouched by the terrible war with the Thalmor, and the scars of the war are still evident everywhere, which has left a deep impression.
She is a serious, solemn young woman.  Her highest goal is to train in the ancient arts of redguard swordsmanship, using wits and precision more than brute force.  Even though she is proud, her desire to learn makes her willing to accept the authority of proven warriors.  She is studious and reads often.  Her interest in poisons is an eccentricity, but she can make basic potions as well.
When her aunt Rebec came asking Suri's father to join Skyrim's resistance and to recruit others, the young redguard saw an opportunity.  She wanted to travel and to test her skills in battle against the hated Thalmor.  The realities of Skyrim life and of war were far harsher than she anticipated, but fighting alongside Nords gave her an appreciation for her father's culture that she hadn't had before.  This, paradoxically, makes it more difficult for her to go home.  Suri hadn't realized how much her Crown family's disdain of Nords had seeped into her own thoughts.  The Crowns have begun to agitate against Hammerfell's alliance with Skyrim, and for Suri the conflict is personal.
While traveling with the Red Snows to shore up the alliance, Suri fell to an attack by a "mantakya-kaur." The manticore's poison drained her life. While sheltering at a monastery devoted to the Way of the Sword, Suri was restored to life, albeit with a greatly weakened heart. She took this as an opportunity to study the ancient arts as she had always wanted, and decided to stay behind.

Motives: learning, hatred of the Thalmor, figuring out her place in a bi-cultural family, the ancient principles of redguard swordsmanship

Skills: one handed, block, alchemy


Magdela Bathory



Race: Imperial (Colovian)
Faction: The Order

Age: Appearance mid twenties

Birthsign: Lover

Rank: Countess of Skingrad, novelist, owner of Reunion Publishing House

Physical appearance: 5'8", curvy figure, pale skin; wheat blonde hair cut medium length with large curls; amber eyes
Clothing: Typically the elegant, tailored clothing of Colovian country nobility, but in society she also wears more exotic, revealing cuts from tailors mimicking Nibenese and southern designs
The Hassildor family in Skingrad weathered the chaos after the Oblivion Crisis remarkably well, but as the Mede star began to rise, Janus Hassildor voluntarily gave up his seat to an obscure nephew from the Estates. The Bathory family has reigned in County Skingrad every since. Count Darius Bathory took over shortly after the signing of the White Gold Concordat. He had a son, his heir, and a daughter Sofia who married a wealthy financier in the Imperial City. It was his youngest daughter Magdela, however, who really took the Imperial City by storm, with the rapid success of her tawdry and controversial novels full of intrigue, romance and danger. Many in imperial society imagined themselves a character in a Bathory novel, for good or ill.
The notoriety did not impress old Darius. Magdela was shipped off, rumored to be living in the south. Some came back to Cyrodiil claiming she had led them on adventure tours of the wilds of Orcrest, Rimmen and Falinesti, and that she was among those courted by the Thalmor for special supervised visits to Alinor. The occasional novel still appeared, sometimes under pseudonyms, and the obscure whereabouts of the author only increased their popularity.
The murder of Titus Mede II presented a crisis for the Bathory family. The Medes were slow to trust and the family had worked very hard to penetrate their inner circle. With alliances shifting, the prodigal daughter's Dominion connections suddenly became more important. Magdela was summoned back to Cyrodiil and re-entered imperial society. Soon it became an open secret that she was the favored mistress of Emperor Motierre himself. Always, the public clamored for more novels, and imagined that the Colovian beauty's gaze on them meant that they could have her themselves, that she was studying them for write-up, or both. If that gaze was also unsettling for reasons no one could explain, so much the better for her book sales. When another prodigal daughter, Dales Motierre, returned to murder her father, Maggie made the quick decision to aid her in the deed. She then cemented an alliance with the new empress and her Nord court mage Yornar, publicly known as Skjari. It was not the first time she and Yornar had met. In due course they became lovers, and she remained in the palace as courtesan.
As her father's grip on her tightened and the erratic behavior of her twin brother threatened all of them, Maggie found herself plotting against both. It would be her mother who finished Darius with Maggie's help, then Maggie laid a trap for her brother, which left her free as Countess of Skingrad, tied by political marriage to the Bathory family surrogate, Rufus Imbrex. She set up her own publishing house, then helped her mother to be healed of vampirism and die peacefully in Castle Volkihar.
Personality:  Aloof and more intelligent than she lets on; to others she appears affectionate, empathetic, sensual, mysterious
Motivations:  Loyalty to her extended family and their political network, the game of politics, power through alliance and seduction
Skills:  Master in illusion and alteration, expert in conjuration and destruction, adept in blade and restoration


Veleda Stormcloak


Moniker: Fire Hand

Gender: Female

Race: Nord

Age: 36

Birthsign: Ritual

Faction: Stormcloaks

Rank: none

Appearance:  Tall, statuesque figure with broad shoulders; long dark hair; strong features; dark green eyes (visual reference); she has a Stormcloak bear branded into the top of her left hand

Equipment:  Chainmail-enforced black battlemage robe, Skyforge steel sword with fire enchantment, Nordic carved shield, amulet of Julianos

Personality: Fiery, charismatic, serious, educated

Skills: Destruction, Restoration, Alteration, One-Handed, Block, Enchanting



In the basement of an Arcane University dormitory, a collection of students and imperial battlemages gathered in secret to oppose the empire's increasing affiliation with the Aldmeri Dominion.  They all had their own reasons, but for Veleda Broken-Hammer- a woman known as much for her fiery speeches as for her fire spells-  pride in being a Nord was the main motive.  Her family was part of the wealthy middle class who had made good in the empire, but like all Nords, suffered special scrutiny under the White Gold Concordat. Veleda had joined the legion as a battlemage, training in weapons as well as destruction and restoration magic, but became increasingly disillusioned with not being able to fight their real enemy. A post as liaison to the Arcane University gave her pretext for putting her skills to use at something other than training apprentices.

At first the group printed pamphlets and devoted itself to preparing for a future Great War, but some became impatient with only planning and talking. They led raids on Thalmor outposts and began assassinating known Thalmor collaborators in the Imperial City. The victims of these assassinations were left with a brand of the imperial dragon on their foreheads. Irregular lines suggested that the brands were not done by metal, but written by hand using a precise fire spell. The violence was controversial in the little group, which had taken to calling itself The Night Watchmen. The group was also fractured by suspicions of treachery.  Members began disappearing.  Veleda's superiors in the legion were asking questions about her activities. Feeling the net close around her, the Nord gave one last speech to her fellow mages, urging them to flee north to Skyrim with her, where Ulfric Stormcloak had killed the High King rather than submit to the Thalmor.  'We do not leave the empire,' she declared. 'They have left us.'  Eight others joined her, one of whom died in the brutal journey from Cheydinhal north through the Valus Mountains into Eastmarch.

They then faced another grueling trial, as Galmar Stone-Fist insisted they first fight the ice wraiths before being accepted into the Stormcloak ranks. Only five chose to do so. Using fire and water walking spells as aids, they made it back quickly and with no loss of life, though one of them, a Bosmer, lost a finger and toes to frostbite. When Galmar questioned whether they had actually traveled to the Serpent Stone as ordered, Veleda angrily replied that she had carved her name into the stone and he was welcome to go look for himself. All five were accepted into the Stormcloak army.

Veleda earned her name Fire-Hand not only for the fire spells she used in battle, but for an incident in her unit when someone accused her of not being loyal because she had grown up in the Imperial City and was a legion deserter. With any other Nord, a brawl might have resulted. Instead, Veleda calmly stood, removed her gauntlets, and burned the Stormcloak bear onto the top of her left hand with one glowing fingertip.  'You wear the bear on your shield. I wear it in my flesh. Who's the real Stormcloak here?' This was not the only brand she made during the war. Those convicted of spying were found to have a T branded into their forehead on the night before they were sent to the block.  The bear was burned into corpses of Thalmor patrols, their bodies staked along the roads leading into imperial holds.

By the time the Stormcloaks gained victory, Veleda Fire Hand had the rank of captain, but asked leave to go to the College of Winterhold to set up a training program for battlemages, along with two others of the original Watchmen who survived the war.  She toured the holds, an outspoken recruiter and advocate for using magic to bolster Skyrim's war readiness. Due to her reputation, she came to the attention of Galmar Stone-Fist when he was looking for a woman to replace Elisif the Fair as Skyrim's queen. Reluctantly Veleda agreed to the plan, continuing to train apprentices from the palace and the nearby fortress of Morvunskar. She and Uflric adopted the war orphan Sofie as their heir.

Veleda was traveling when the Thalmor attacked Windhelm and returned to find her husband dead and his place usurped by Baldur Red Snow. She accompanied the body of the king to High Hrothgar for interment, where Arngeir put an unsettling idea into her mind that the death had not been at the hands of the Thalmor, but due to the thu'um. There was only one other at the battle who could have killed Ulfric with his thu'um: Baldur Red Snow.

At the Moot, Veleda was compelled to relinquish any claim she had to the throne, and publicly support the man who killed her husband, for the good of Sofie and her unborn child, while privately vowing vengeance between their clans.





Menel Rivas


Race: Bosmer
Faction: Stormcloak
Rank: Battlemage Captain
Age: 72 (appearance late 30’s)
Birthsign: The Shadow

Physical appearance: 5’3”, stout; green eyes; dark greasy hair that sticks up in whatever direction he slept on it the night before; generally wears fur armor or fur-lined chainmail, no robes (“Have you ever felt a Skyrim draft up your skirt?”) and black war paint; wears the finger bones of a powerful ancestor around his neck; missing a toe and two fingers on his right hand and has numerous frostbite and battle scars

Equipment: Fryse hag staff, dragonbone dagger, orcish war axe with Fear enchantment

Skills: Illusion (master), Destruction, Restoration and Alteration (expert), Conjuration and One Handed (journeyman)

Motivations: pursuit of pleasure, loyalty to Veleda, grudging wish for Bosmer independence

Hedonist sorcerer turned assassin turned Stormcloak battlemage trainer, Menel Rivas fled to Skyrim in the company of Veleda Fire Hand with the Thalmor on their heels.

Born in Leyawiin, Menel had family on both sides of the border with Valenwood. The family moved to the Imperial City during his youth, but after his apprenticeship at the Arcane University, his parents returned to Valenwood to care for their aging parents. The elder Rivas’ had left the College of Whispers to stay out of its politics, and sought to stay neutral in imperial politics as well. They were secretly and cautiously hopeful that the Aldmeri Dominion would be an improvement over imperial rule. Menel mostly shared this opinion until he heard about Valenwood battlemages being used as cannon fodder in the Great War. The only chance Bosmer had of any kind of dignity, he realized, was if both the Cyrodiilic empire and Alinor threw themselves at each other with no clear winner.

It was Thalmor repression in the Imperial City after the White Gold Concordat that forced Menel to spend less time fondling apprentices and more on expressing his annoyance. During the Great War, he had lost contact with his parents and they were presumed dead. With little to lose, the illusionist helped to form the underground resistance group The Night Watchmen. Some wanted to resist peacefully, but Menel and Veleda Fire Hand were among those who chose a bloodier path. These were responsible for the murders of dozens of Thalmor collaborators in the city before treachery forced them to flee. During the brutal crossing of the Valus Mountains, he suffered frostbite and Veleda was forced to remove a toe and two of his fingers with her fire-enchanted dagger.

These experiences forged a close friendship between the two. Since he was always under suspicion as an elf mage anyway, Menel was content to let his fierce Nord friend take a leadership role in the Stormcloaks. All the better to pursue his love of drink, smoked meats, magical gadgetry and spell writing. As Veleda’s Second, Menel toured Skyrim helping to select and train battlemage apprentices, and accompanied her to Windhelm when she became the new Queen of Skyrim, and to the Moot where she relinquished the same.




Edited by Celan
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"If you know me you know I don't keep up with the times. I just go with the flow." - Woody Copeland, life coach

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Ubbe the Savage


Name: Ubbe the Savage
Gender: Male
Race: Nord

Birthsign: The Warrior

Faction: Stormcloaks-Grim One
Rank: Grim One

Appearance: Ubbe is 6’2 and around 225 lbs. He is extremely fit. He has his hair in a top knot with a long braid in the back and has a short patchy beard. He has old nordic runes tattooed on both sides of his head. The runes on his left side says “Kiss at the End” and those on the right say “Sovngarde”

Equipment (Weapons, armor, etc) : He wears typical Nord clothes and wears a long black cloak made from bear fur. He carries two steel war axes for protection and has a hunting bow for when he goes hunting. He has an iron torc on his right wrist adorned with fox iconography.

Personality: Ubbe is reserved for a Nord. He likes to fight, drink, and boast about his actions like other Nords, but he prefers to do those things with people he deems trustworthy.

Background/History: Ubbe was raised in the south of Eastmarch at the base of the Velothi Mountains. His mother was a traditionalist Nord and made sure he knew the gods by their proper Nordic names and stories. His father was imperialized like many of the Nords in Skyrim, but he knew how to fight and taught Ubbe how to use an axe and a shield.

Ubbe had only seen 14 winters when Ulfric used the thu’um to kill the puppet-king Torygg and start Skyrim on the hard road to freedom. Not long after, his father left him and his mother without so much as word. They left the cabin weeks later when his mother found the letter he had stashed in a cabinet. His Father had left them to join the Legion. At the time Ubbe didn’t know why his mother had him gather his things, he didn’t know why she had set their home ablaze, and he didn’t know why she told him over and over to never use their clan name again. All that was revealed to him later when the arrived at his grandfather's longhouse his in the Velothi Mountains near the Dunmeth Pass.

For years Ubbe has worked hard to prepare himself for his future. He was too young to help free Skyrim, too young to fight the Imperials in Falkreath, and was held back by his mother and grandfather when he wanted to fight the Reachmen. But he’ll be damned if he misses out on the opportunity to ensure Skyrim future and kill some elves while he’s at it.

Motives: Ubbe wants to first and foremost, regain his family's honor and earn a new moniker to become his clan-name. He also wants to follow in the footsteps of Ysgramor and kick the elves in the nethers, even if that means going all the way to Valenwood to do so.

Skills: One handed, block, light armor, archery




Aetius Aquilarios


Name: Aetius Aquilarios
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: The Warrior

Faction: Imperial Legion
Rank: Legionary

Appearance: Aetius was born with his mother’s blue eyes and his father’s, whoever that was, dark brown hair. He keeps his hair cropped like most in the Legion and has no facial hair.

Equipment (Weapons, armor, etc) : Aetius wears a full suit of Legion Heavy Armor along with a heavy legion shield and he carries an Imperial Gladius as his main weapon. He also carries a short Imperial dagger, that his mother said belonged to his father.

Personality: Aetius is generally considered outgoing and relaxed, but stern when he needs to be.
Background/History: Aetius never knew his father and his mother never talked about him. Aetius inherited his mother’s last name of Aquilarios, but that’s all he got from her. Aetius was born and raised at his maternal grandfather’s estate in the Colovian Highlands near Chorrol, where he learned the history of the Aquilarios family, how to fight, and how to make the right friends. When Aetius turned 18, his grandfather made it clear that he needed to make his own way in the world. He was born out of wedlock and there was already an heir to the Aquilarios fortunes. With the next Great War looming on the horizon, Aetius decided he would join the Imperial Legion.

Motives: Aetius wants to help restore the Empire to its former glory. He also wants to make a name for himself so that when the war is won and gone he doesn’t become some beggar on the streets.
Skills: Heavy armor, One handed, block



Edited by Centurion
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Baldur Red-Snow


Name: Baldur Red-Snow

Gender: Male
Age: 39
Race: Nord

Birthsign: Lord
Faction: Stormcloaks and Necro Nords or "Grim Ones".
Rank: High General


Theme songs:

Appearance: I have dark dirty blonde long hair, blue eyes and blue war paint on my right cheek. It's a swirl like in the game. I got a scar from a dual with one of the wolf men of the imperial army over my eye and cheek on my left. My beard is trimmed. Thick, but not that long. I have an armband tattoo I received from Hammerfell to go along with my wife, since she has one, and she got a 'T' to match the brand I received from the Thalmor on my lower right back. The armband looks like this, except with a cobra head and snake tail. I have whip scars on my back as well from Thalmor torture along with the brand mark. I'm 6 feet 5 inches tall, and have a warrior's muscle build.








Equipment: I use Nordic carved armor and use two nordic carved axes enchanted with lightning and a nordic carved shield on my back. I also wear a black cape attached over my shoulder pauldrons under my armor's fur collar connected with a silver medallion with the stormcloak bear insignia on it. It has a silver lined bear head, looks like the Windhelm bear symbol. Enchanted with fire resistance. I wear a bear helmet in battle. Loving wife got me a new shield with our family crest on it to replace my old one.




I call it Red-Snow's Rampart. It is resistant to magic. Made by Eorlund and enchanted by Ulfric's court wizard Wuunferth the Unliving.


And new wedding ring:


Snake, representing Shor, to match Rebec's hawk ring of Kyne. Blue diamond eyes to go with my own.


Other outfits:


Green long tunic- https://31.media.tumblr.com/8909229fbc34d66d756b22a9f7607f23/tumblr_n8itcpgp401s6jkuco1_500.jpg

Grim One Officer Uniform- http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/291/b/d/big_bear__little_bear_by_aliothgrenwahl-d5i8p7j.png


Also has a refurbished Ancient Nordic Armor set, as well as his Stormcloak officer uniform.


Personality: To friends, I am a big kid, a silly man who is the life of the party, often taking the opportunity to sing, as I am a battle bard. Around my men, I'm more self aware, and thus I put on the role of a military leader, but I am still friendly to my men during times of respite.

To my enemies, I am cruel, brutal, and eerily calm in battle. That changes when someone in my family is in danger. Then, I'm not calm at all, and "cruel and brutal" ceases to be accurate descriptions for the cruelty my hatred brings. When it comes to my wife, I get a bit crazy, and my anger towards those who interfere with her and I soars. Basically, don't fuck with my family, and I promise your death will be quick.

To everyone, I am cunningg, very intelligent, and of course, stubborn. Comes with being a Nord.


My father Ulrin Red-Snow was a Legionnaire, my mother Ysana Home-Wrecker is a Dibella priestess…yea. And pa was her....student, so to speak in one of their lessons. Ysana did not want to leave for the life of a wife, so we left her and moved to Bruma. My father stayed in the Legion, and I joined the Stormcloaks, feeling betrayed by the Legion, and not understanding my father’s explanation of why he stayed loyal, especially since my father taught me about Talos and said he would rather die than forsake Talos. My father says loyalty to the Legion is loyalty to Talos. I made the mistake of letting this be known about myself, so I didn’t get the chance to fight often with the Stormcloaks due to my loyalty being questioned. Not until I proved myself by agreeing to infiltrate an Imperial fort and kill their Captain. Little did I know the Captain was my father. My Stormcloak Captain knew.

I dressed up as a legion recruit and said I had urgent news for the Captain of the fort. My father, wearing his full legion heavy armor with his helmet spotted me immediately and signaled with his hands to come in the fort, not wanting to give away who he was with his voice. When we were alone in the fort tower, my father removed his helmet and let me know who he was, and I, while taken aback did not hesitate to strike at him. Most of my attacks were brushed off easily, my father's armor being made of Skyforge steel, as was his axe and shield. I was using standard recruit gear, and the sword was one recovered from a skirmish my squad was in, and was battle damaged. My father taunted me during the fight, calling me names, making jokes, trying to get me angry and screw up. The last thing my father said to me was it was fitting that I be a traitor since I was the son of a bitch.

That angered me and almost led to my downfall. My father sidestepped my charge and in one movement swiped at my back. I pivoted to block the blow, and the skyforge axe shattered my battle damaged sword, and sliced across my sword arm. Desperate and angered by the fresh wound and the sting of blood in my eye that splattered in my face from it, I tackled him and beat him to death with the pommel of the sword. I dressed up in my father's outfit, took his axe and shield, and used a rope and a great sword my father had in his office to scale down the fort walls from my father's window, by sticking the sword through his desk, and using the desk as an anchor for the base of the rope, and tying the rope to the sword's hilt.. There were many Imperial patrols nearby, so the outfit came in handy.

I was made Captain for assisting Ulfric in his escape at Helgen. I was about to be roasted alive by Alduin while being attacked by legionaries and I pushed Ulfric out the way and used two dead legion soldiers for cover. Ulfric had to pull their seared flesh off of me to get me free. For this reason, my nickname is The Unkindled.


Since being made captain, I lead my men against Legate Lorgar Grim-Maw's elite legion force, the wolf pack, and eventually completely wiped them all out, except the leader. I was promoted surprisingly to General for this, and then made the leader of the Necro Nords, or Grim Ones, who I joined a bit before the battle of Camp Romulus after almost being killed by Lorgar's arrow and surviving.

During the War of the Sundered Dragon, I was married to High Admiral Rebec Red-Eye, now High Admiral Rebec Red-Snow, after escaping Thalmor torture with help. After circumstances during the war lead to an alliance with a legion lead by Gracchus Ceno against the Thalmor that would lead to an alliance with all Cyrodiil after the new Emperor's assassination by his daughter, Rebec and I traveled to Markarth. Regretfully leaving my best friend Boldir and his family behind to meet my mother, and to find Rebec's last husband's bones, who we later avenged. On the way to her father, I found out about her first child that died shortly after birth, then we buried her husbands bones with the child.

After that, we left to Solitude, then Windhelm to help Ulfric put a new Queen on the throne named Veleda before we went to Hammerfell for our honeymoon, as well as kicking Ra Gada ass physically and diplomatically for the alliance against the Thalmor. Now Rebec is pregnant with my child, and we're headed home to start up our new town, Kyne's Watch.

Motives: Love and total devotion to my wife, Rebec Red-Snow, and now to make the world a better place for my coming child. I am still loyal to Ulfric, the Stormcloaks, and Skyrim. However, my true duty is being a father to my child, and a loving husband to my wife. Dying for a cause is noble and heroic, but it amounts to piss and shit when you're not there for your family. I will be. And there isn't a force in Aurbis that will stop me from being with them till the end of my days and beyond. Not the Thalmor, not the Dominion... not even Ulfric Stormcloak.

Skills: I'm a warrior, so obviously I'm skilled in melee combat, as well as using my hands to fight. Among other things, heh. Mostly skilled with axes, and I can fight effectively in light or heavy armor. Or no armor at all. Very skilled in blocking, parrying and evading. I'm also rather fast for such a big man, even in heavy armor. Besides combat, I'm also a bard, so I can write stories, poems and songs, as well as sing. And pretty damn well if I do say so myself. I studied some old Nordic and a little Ehlnofix as well. Picked up a smidge of Yoku, but not much. I intend on learning more in the future.

Received Companion training after the Battle of Camp Romulus.

Jodun Hunding


Gender: Male 

Race: Redguard

Sign: Serpent
Faction: Hammerfell Soldiers
Rank: Commander
Age: 45

Appearance: Brown light skin, almost Imperial looking. His grandma was a Nord, and his grandpa was a Redguard. His father because of this was light in appearance, and looked more Nord than Redguard. Jodun's mom however was full Redguard. This is why Jodun looks so light for a Redguard. Hair is low cut, very short. Has green eyes, and a goatee. Has a long horizontal scar across his face on his nose and under his eyes. From a scimitar strike. 6 foot 2 inches tall. Very athletic and muscular.

Equipment: Leather armor like the thieves guild. Arms showing.
Two ebony scimitars sheathed on his back. Ebony dagger strapped to his boot.

Personality: Polite always, level headed, cunning and calculating.

Motives: Doesn't hate the Legion, but he does dislike them for abandoning Hammerfell. He sees the Nords as the enemy of his enemy, and that's it. He will die helping them fight only because them being around keeps the legion out of Hammerfell for now. And the Thalmor.

History: Father was an Alik'r mercenary. Mother was a stay at home mom. Jodun's father taught him the way of the sword the way the Redguard knew it, and taught him a little magic as well in alteration. Jodun then joined the Hammerfell resistance at 19 years of age and fought against the Thalmor for the whole five years until they left. His brother at the age of 17 was killed during that time. Jodun blames himself for allowing it to happen. He was captured by the Thalmor and forced to give up information, but he had nothing of value, so they killed him. Jodun never saw him after his capture, but he assumes his brother is dead, which he is. His father is now retired and living peacefully with his mother in Stros M'Kai.

Skills: Expert swordsman, decent in alteration magic, enough to know advanced armor spells and telekinesis. Only able to lift small objects like his swords.

Brutus Lanaeus Meridius III



Race: Imperial

Age: 42

Rank: Count of Kvatch

Nicknamed the Trickster


Appearance: Brown hair of short length. Silvery intelligent eyes, pale skin, ordinary body build of a man who never did a day of work in his life.



Equipment: Wears black boots, black leather trousers, and a black quilted vest with a black long sleeve shirt under it with the v-cut exposing his chest hair. His weapon is a black staff with a silver spiral going all the way from the top to the bottom with a crystal orb at the tip. It's effect is an area of effect charm spell enchanted by a sigil stone he inherited from his father. The effect on normal individuals causes them to be very merry and happy.


Personality: Enjoys talking, almost too much. Most would take him for a fool as he seems too trusting, but that is a facade. He is deceptively trusting, but he lets people near him that he trusts the least to know more about them. He enjoys finding out what it is they seek and want from him. It is a game he enjoys. To find their true motives. To find what makes them tick. Welcomes everyone as to gain influence over them. Takes the "Keep your enemies closer" to heart. Polite and kind outwardly. Humorous. And curious.


Motives: Craves power and knowledge of all kinds. Worships Lord Sanguine and Sheogorath. Loves to party and have orgies in his lord's name. Eats only things that are believed to be an aphrodisiac. Favorite school of magic is illusion. The local people like him enough for his charm, and under his short rule, so far things are going well enough, slowly improving. Would go by faster if he'd work with the Thalmor. Dislikes Thalmor only because they are quite often too serious and their motives boring and obvious. Numerous conflicts with them over his unwillingness to cooperate with them, but not enough for them or the Empire to take any action. It's underhanded. Things like clothing seemingly disappearing while in his court (a favorite prank of his) but they can never prove it's him. Often times people do it themselves (His charm spell in the staff).


History: Always an odd child as a boy. Showed an early talent for illusion when he caused his brother to suffer night terrors from a fear spell accidentally at five. It took them a few years to realize that he was behind it. Afterwards his father, a breton taught him everything he knows, seeing the potential it had for when he would rule. He was the younger sibling but clearly more intelligent. His mother worried that he was too eccentric but his father recognized his potential. Spent most of his life simply partying joking reading and training his skill in illusion magic. Also loves riddles and painting.


Magic school: illusion. rather efficient with it. Doesn't have to fight for the most part because of it.









General Brund Hammer-Fang



Name: Brund Hammer-Fang


Race: Nord


Age: 52


Birthsign: Atronach


Faction: Stormcloak, Necro Nord


Appearance: Dark brown mohawk, brutish looking face, silvery eyes and a scar diagonally across my neck from a sword strike.



Equipment: Nordic carved Hammer and armor. My hammer looks different from your typical Nordic carved hammer:


Thats what the head looks like. My hilt ain't wooden. I have a general's cape as well with a silver Windhelm bear, but mine is more tattered.


Got a new beaut called Alfr Vega. Absorbs stamina. It's an ancient Nord pendulum from one of their traps.


Personality: Brute, stubborn, relentless. What I lack in intelligence I make up in experience and an almost suicidal drive to achieve a goal. I'm not stupid, just smart in a different way. If I want something, I take it. Not above humiliating people I fight.


History: My history ain't none of your damned business but Colonel's pulling the strings so **** it. My parents are alive and well. Pa was a legion soldier, as was his pa and his pa before that. My ma was a stay at home mom. Took care of all my brothers and sisters and that was her only job. I didn't make it easy on her. I was a warrior from the day I was born. A real warrior. Fought my siblings every chance I could get, took what I wanted and gave no apologies for it. My parents were perfectly loving. No sob stories for me unlike Red-Snow *spit*. Ulfric's favorite pet, hehe. Anyway, my pa knew a lot of higher ups in the legion which is how I got to be a Praefect at 20, and Legate at the age of 22. Yea, I was young. And had a lot of opposition within the Legion. Said I was too inexperienced despite being in the Legion since I was 17. Know what I did? Bathed in elf blood. That shut them up. I led my men honorably in Hammerfell against the Thalmor, and gladly stayed when we were dropped as "invalids". And when I got back, I was a hero.


Until I opened my mouth about the Empire's betrayal. I fully understand why the Empire fulled back and I dont regret the necessity of having us leave to stay and fight. But when the WGC went up and they moved to unmake my work, that was the final straw. They wouldn't reinstate me after that. Luckily the Hammerfell men capitalized on the time we gave them and united against the Thalmor when they were released from the Empire. Anyway, that's why I left. I joined the Stormcloaks when they started popping up and was part of the invasion of whiterun. I'm not a pretty boy or a damn minstrel like Red-Snow, so women don't just melt under my touch. So instead I do what I always do. I take what I want. And that's exactly what I did in Whiterun. Some Imperial woman. You could say I got caught up in the frenzy of things. I didn't get caught though obviously. I ain't proud but I ain't sorry either. It's my nature to take what I want. Red-Snow may have given me my position, but I earned it. I beat him. He came up and striked me from behind like a damn coward! I won that damn duel! Anyway, that's me. Violent scum. Just the way I like it. But don't worry your pretty little heads about Baldur's decision to make a man like me General ya snow berries. I never took a woman unwillingly before and don't much plan to again. Whores suit me just fine. Nothin else to spend my money on. War just changes some people. Lucky for me it just made me wanna hurt more. And no one knows what I did but me. And I was a good legate. Lead my men with an iron fist as a legate and I'll do the same as a General. He made a good choice.


Motivation: Hurting people and taking what I want. Yea I'm easy to please. I do want to show up that Red-Snow and prove I'm better than he is. Almost impossible now that he secured a damn alliance. Probably sang them a ******* love song. Maybe in the next great war. Or maybe I can do something while he's maken kissy faces with his wife. I resent the fact that he gave me this position likely so he could go runnin off into the sunset, but I'll take full advantage of this opportunity and distinguish myself to the men from him. Maybe I can get in charge of the Necro Nords over him. We'll see.


Oh and I hate elves. All of them. But I again keep this to myself so yer precious Red-Cheeks doesn't know about this either. I can't stand them. I don't like the way they walk, I don't like the way they talk. I don't like the way they think and I HATE their stink! I only tolerate dunmer because they serve under us, just the way I like it. All of 'em can burn. We been fighting elves since Kyne breathed us into the world and thats how its gonna be til we kill them all. As far as I'm concerned the Altmer are the first to go. Then the rest. Just like the snow elves. You could say I'm the epiphany of Imperial propaganda against the stormcloaks. What you thought Galmar's brother was the only one? ******* idiots.


Skills: Two handed, heavy armor, block


Corio Adorin



Name: Corio Adorin


Rank: General


Race: Altmer, very pure lineage.


Birthsign: The Ritual


Faction: Thalmor


Age: 225


Appearance: Long wispy white hair, golden skin, slight wrinkles from age, neat thin trimmed beard hair and thick eyebrows. Handsome, even among other races, not that he'd care about them. Big ugly scar on his left shoulder from Baldur's thrown steel axe. Pronounced Altmer features highborn Altmer are known for. High cheekbones, narrow long chin, strong pronounced brow, etc. Six foot five. Lean, but strong body for a mage. Voice sounds like Magneto's from the X-Men movies.




In case the first doesn't work.




Equipment: Modified Thalmor robes. Gauntlets removed and replaced with leather upper arm guard. Leather shoulder pauldrons. Leather knee covers over shins. Like a cross between thieves guild armor and Thalmor armor. Elven sword with gold trimmings, enchanted to absorb magicka. Golden earring which once was his wife's wedding ring.


Personality: Serious. Not as zealous as his countrymen in behavior. No nonsense, except to be sarcastic. Appreciates dark humor. Gloomy at times due to regrets.


Skills: Decent in most magic schools besides Restoration and Enchanting. Trained in Mysticism, a school he still considers real, as shown in Baldur's background when he uses Recall. Especially proficient in Destruction and Alteration, since alteration somewhat merged with mysticism.


Motivation: Redeeming his failures as First Emissary in Skyrim, both letting the human Esbern fool him and failing to kill the wood elf Maori and his human friend Baldur Red-Snow. Wishes to be over with the war as quickly as possible to go home and study the arcane until his death, whenever his pure blood and magic skill would permit it.




Born in 3E 409, Corio lived to see the destruction of the Crystal-Like-Law and see his dreams come crashing down before they ever truly got a chance to succeed. He wanted to become proficient in magic enough to be allowed to study the many secrets in the tower until he discovered them all. Maybe even gain access to the Psijics, who were rumored to watch out for exceptionally talented and bright individuals and approach them in secret to join them, but only very rarely. Not only did the Daedric invasion keep that from happening, but it also took his wife from him, who despite was picked for him since he was a boy, he truly loved. He took her wedding ring and melted it to be made into a ring he'd wear in his left ear. A reminder of her love and his cowardice that lead to her death in his eyes.


When the tower fell, Corio ran like most of the citizens, including his wife. But when she was hit with a powerful paralysis spell, one strong enough to affect an Altmer, he had only the choice to keep running or be hit with the same wave of spells that was freezing people around him, then be brutally murdered. His body made his decision for him. His first failure. When the Thalmor revealed themselves as the true heroes of the war against Dagon, he knew where is true path in life lead to. Upon entering, his first assignment was to track down and kill a treasonous Altmer he remembered seeing back when the towers fell, one Lathenil of Sunhold. It was given to him by his parents, who had told even him nothing of their organization until recently. The work opened his eyes to who the Thalmor really were, and left him a bit disillusioned, which made him perfect for higher positions, since they don't like brainwashed fools in charge in their organization.


He knew the lies about the Oblivion Crisis, he knew that Talos was real. And he knew about the Thalmor's real ultimate goal. One he hadn't cared for at first until he decided he never wanted anyone to feel the pain he did upon his wife's death, and blamed Lorkhan and his slaves for it personally, having locked them in this prison where the Daedra could prey on them in the first place. Before Skyrim, Corio was involved in the war in Valenwood which got them the province and along with Elsweyr created the Aldmeri Dominion anew.


He was in charge of the Altmer who organized the coup with the Bosmer and brought down the Bosmer government who was loyal to the Empire. After that, he was taken from traditional military duties and assigned as the First Emissary in Skyrim. However, after his failures he was sent back to Alinor where he stayed to be reeducated and was put through rigorous advanced Altmer magical training, instead of complete banishment or honorable discharge, due to his success in Valenwood. Not everyone survived this reeducation, but he did and performed with top scores, gaining him position as General, after beating the last one in a magical duel and earning his title. Now he continues his training while he overlooks Alinor's defense, getting their armies ready to defend or attack in the next Great War.





Daric Red-Snow



Age: 17

Race: Breton

Birthsign: Serpent

Faction: Stormcloak

Rank: Scout

Appearance: long hair, partially braided, brown.

Lean muscular build, tall for his race.


younger less buff version of this.


Equipment: Basic Stormcloak attire, Skyforge Nordic carved blades gifted to him be his surrogate father, High King Baldur. One missing in Blackreach.

Two spell books, one for fire magic from his real father Maric, the other on alteration obtained from the Druid Theudofrid.

Skills: Trained by Baldur Red-Snow in swordplay, skilled but not an expert. Picked up a few things from the Grim Trials where he lost two toes to frostbite. Athletic. His real strength is how quick on his feet he is. 

Amateur spellcaster. Knows two spells, fire bolt and an iron skin spell.

Personality: Smart mouth, moody, doesn’t like taking orders but reluctantly will. Loyal. Bit of a dick. Evidently didn’t pick up on his surrogate father’s social skills yet. But he did pick up on his love for battle eventually. Slow process. He also picked up his sadism and barbarism.

Sharp of mind, picks up concepts quickly.


Born in Falkreath to a Breton mother and raised by an abusive Nord father before seeing General Baldur Red-Snow and being temporarily drafted into the Stormcloaks. Used the opportunity to get away from Falkreath and live a life as a soldier.

In Solitude, Baldur picked him to win a wager against Brund Hammer-Fang. In just a few days Daric managed to learn enough from the would be High General to beat a larger more skilled Stormcloak recruit in a duel. The two were thick as thieves ever since, eventually becoming a son to him.

He met his father, his real father in Kyne’s Watch and after killing his step father almost left Skyrim with him completely, frustrated with Baldur’s reluctant acceptance of the boy into his family. He eventually decided regardless of this that Skyrim was his home and the Stormcloaks were his family.

Motives: Becoming a great warrior in the Nordic way. Coming to grips with his race and his role in Skyrim and Baldur’s family. Killing elves. Accepting what Baldur did for him and his family, and understanding it. And seeing that whatever his plans are, that they are successful.


Ragna Red-Snow

(Part 1)


"Waaah! Waaah!"


That was the chorus to Baldur's dreams for days, as little Ragna just couldn't go a full night without waking up for whatever reason. Rebec was still sore and in some pain, so unless the baby needed food, Baldur didn't wake her. He was tempted to this time though, as his eyes were starting to resemble a khajiit's who hadn't gotten his fix.


He looked at the lump under the furs next to him, his wife using the furs to block out the sound, no doubt. She wouldn't be waking even for the advancement of a Daedric Siege weapon.


Speaking of, Underking was standing at attention from his lack of attention yet again; the warmth of his wife beside him, as well as her mostly returned figure inspiring visions of the indignant raunchy sort.


"Waaah!" Called Ragna again, and again, and again. At least now, he wouldn't have to think too long on his other predicament.


Lumbering over with the finesse of a drunken troll, Baldur tried rocking the longboat crib as always to see if it would lull the child back to sleep. It didn't work. It never did, but he had to try.


Tilting his head back, he sighed as the familiar feeling of fatigue greeted him along with the despair of realizing he was now wide awake again. "Please child, go to sleep!" Ragna's voice carried on.


"Aaaahhh!" This was Baldur crying out now. What have I gotten myself into?


"Oh, Greybeards, let me hear thine voice from the mountains, pray!

Deafen my ears so that I can't hear and take this sound away!"


Peculiarly, at that instant, the sound did go away. Baldur opened his eyes to the ceiling, as if he were wondering how his hearing could leave him without hearing the Greybeard's deafening roars. His hearing hadn't left him, however, as the baby's whimpering shortly after Baldur ceased singing was clearly audible to him.


"Oh you like that do you? Hmm, lets see." Baldur lifted the child from her bundle of furs and into his arms. He paced around, trying to keep the child calm as he thought of something to sing. The child's curious eyes settled on his warrior arm band as her hand scratched at his cobra.


In a low tone, he said, "One elf, two elf, three elf, see? Watch them prancing through the trees. Four elf, five, one more makes six, casting spells and launching sticks. ***** things, weird things, now there's more. I now count ten, that's half a score."


Ragna seemed to be enjoying the little ditty, but she appeared tense, kicking her little foot back and forth. "Don't worry, we'll take care of 'em."


"Ten elf, nine elf, eight now, see? Watch them falling to their knees. Seven elf, six elf, now there's five. Half of them remain alive. Strange things gone, things I abhor. And now they're none, all thanks to Shor. And now they live in days of yore. And now they live in days of yore."


Baldur watched Ragna's little toothless mouth work as if she were trying to smile, but hadn't figured it out yet. Baldur gave her a hand by smiling himself at the little bundle in his hands, and her mouth opened as if to yawn. Eventually her attention span gave out, and Baldur held her close again, where she used her new talent to drool on her father some more.


"Well, at least you're not crying anymore. Don't repeat that one to uncle Menel. Wouldn't want to scare him away with our Nord tradition now, would we? Hehe."


Baldur wasn't sleepy anymore, and Ragna seemed perfectly fine with burning the midnight oil, so he took the little infant with him to the table to write. Thinking of what Menel would have to say about Nordic bigot baby songs reminded him that Menel had asked him to answer some questions about the child. To 'determine her credentials as his possible apprentice'.


That wasn't going to happen, no matter what they saw in her, if Rebec had anything to say about it. But Baldur was curious to see if she might have the aptitude to be a twinkle fingered fire slinger.


He took a quill and helped her little inept baby hands grasp it, then sat her up against him on the table. "Never too early to learn, I always say." Ragna had no idea what was going on, but she watched her father's fingers wrapped around hers as they made little lines, and that was enough to keep her occupied.


"First question."

Ragna Red-Snow CS:




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(Part 1)


"Waaah! Waaah!"


That was the chorus to Baldur's dreams for days, as little Ragna just couldn't go a full night without waking up for whatever reason. Rebec was still sore and in some pain, so unless the baby needed food, Baldur didn't wake her. He was tempted to this time though, as his eyes were starting to resemble a khajiit's who hadn't gotten his fix.


He looked at the lump under the furs next to him, his wife using the furs to block out the sound, no doubt. She wouldn't be waking even for the advancement of a Daedric Siege weapon.


Speaking of, Underking was standing at attention from his lack of attention yet again; the warmth of his wife beside him, as well as her mostly returned figure inspiring visions of the indignant raunchy sort.


"Waaah!" Called Ragna again, and again, and again. At least now, he wouldn't have to think too long on his other predicament.


Lumbering over with the finesse of a drunken troll, Baldur tried rocking the longboat crib as always to see if it would lull the child back to sleep. It didn't work. It never did, but he had to try.


Tilting his head back, he sighed as the familiar feeling of fatigue greeted him along with the despair of realizing he was now wide awake again. "Please child, go to sleep!" Ragna's voice carried on.


"Aaaahhh!" This was Baldur crying out now. What have I gotten myself into?


"Oh, Greybeards, let me hear thine voice from the mountains, pray!

Deafen my ears so that I can't hear and take this sound away!"


Peculiarly, at that instant, the sound did go away. Baldur opened his eyes to the ceiling, as if he were wondering how his hearing could leave him without hearing the Greybeard's deafening roars. His hearing hadn't left him, however, as the baby's whimpering shortly after Baldur ceased singing was clearly audible to him.


"Oh you like that do you? Hmm, lets see." Baldur lifted the child from her bundle of furs and into his arms. He paced around, trying to keep the child calm as he thought of something to sing. The child's curious eyes settled on his warrior arm band as her hand scratched at his cobra.


In a low tone, he said, "One elf, two elf, three elf, see? Watch them prancing through the trees. Four elf, five, one more makes six, casting spells and launching sticks. ***** things, weird things, now there's more. I now count ten, that's half a score."


Ragna seemed to be enjoying the little ditty, but she appeared tense, kicking her little foot back and forth. "Don't worry, we'll take care of 'em."


"Ten elf, nine elf, eight now, see? Watch them falling to their knees. Seven elf, six elf, now there's five. Half of them remain alive. Strange things gone, things I abhor. And now they're none, all thanks to Shor. And now they live in days of yore. And now they live in days of yore."


Baldur watched Ragna's little toothless mouth work as if she were trying to smile, but hadn't figured it out yet. Baldur gave her a hand by smiling himself at the little bundle in his hands, and her mouth opened as if to yawn. Eventually her attention span gave out, and Baldur held her close again, where she used her new talent to drool on her father some more.


"Well, at least you're not crying anymore. Don't repeat that one to uncle Menel. Wouldn't want to scare him away with our Nord tradition now, would we? Hehe."


Baldur wasn't sleepy anymore, and Ragna seemed perfectly fine with burning the midnight oil, so he took the little infant with him to the table to write. Thinking of what Menel would have to say about Nordic bigot baby songs reminded him that Menel had asked him to answer some questions about the child. To 'determine her credentials as his possible apprentice'.


That wasn't going to happen, no matter what they saw in her, if Rebec had anything to say about it. But Baldur was curious to see if she might have the aptitude to be a twinkle fingered fire slinger.


He took a quill and helped her little inept baby hands grasp it, then sat her up against him on the table. "Never too early to learn, I always say." Ragna had no idea what was going on, but she watched her father's fingers wrapped around hers as they made little lines, and that was enough to keep her occupied.


"First question."



(Part 2, CS page)



Name: Ragna Red-Snow

Gender: Female, gods help me.

Age: Two weeks old

Race: Nord

Birthsign: The Atronach, in the dead of Winter. Rebec will be happy to know that means she's resistant to magic. Mages 0, Warriors 1.


Faction? She's a baby, Menel. No faction. But for the sake of the analysis:


Faction: Stormcloak


Appearance: She has nice plump chubby cheeks, and lovely mead colored hair, like the break of Azura's Dawn, which was when she was born. She's the cutest baby in the world, and I'll thu'um anyone that says otherwise.


Favored equipment: I don't think you bothered to tailor these questions to infants... her equipment is the little fur bear cap and cloak grandma Ysana made her, and her white bear fur and leather tunic, with baby bear paws at the end of the sleeves to cover the top of her hands from the cold. Also her grandmama made her little bear fur booties as well for her cute chubby feeties.


Personality: ...


"What do you think, Ragna? Would you say conflict just isn't in your nature?" Ragna looked up at him from the pretty candlelight, curious of the sounds directed at her from the big man with the soothing voice she liked. She made a noise that sounded something like "Ouh," before Baldur continued on.




"Conflict just ain't in my nature." Strongly Disagree. She seemed pretty combative when Rebec took a little too long to give her the teet. Girl needs her milk.


"I ain't given to relying on others for support." She's a baby, Menel. Strongly disagree.


"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention." Oh yea, Strongly agree.


"I'm slow to embrace new ideas." Not if I have anything to say about it. Strongly disagree.


"I charge in to deal with my problems head-on." No opinion.


Background: She was born not too long ago, and already she's driving her father mad with sleep deprivation. I must admit, it's a great tactic to get what you want. Maybe if I cry loud enough, Rebec will help papabear get some sleep.


Motives: Milk, sleep, and developing material straight from Namira's realm smelly enough to repel the Thalmor.


Skills: She can drink a lot. Got that from her mother. And she can scream really loudly. Got that from me. She's able to charm anyone with a look. Also got that from me. Too bad she wasn't around in my younger days. Would have come in handy at the tavern.


(Part 3, end)


Finished now, Baldur grinned at the parchment detailing his daughter's 'credentials' like some sort of dossier. "You know what this means now, right hon? You're a bonafide Stormcloak now! We've gotta get uncle Boldy Iwon-Bwow to forge you a little teeny baby axe..." Boldir...


Baldur reached over the table towards his best friend's last letter:



First off brother, forgive this most recent long silence. I know it has been over a month since the last time I wrote, but I have been somewhat distracted. I mentioned that Carlotta felt bad when last I wrote, and since then, it has escalated to a full illness. She's felt awful, and was "bedridden" for over a week. Or at least she was supposed to be. She was stubborn about refusing to stay down no matter how bad she felt. Still, we may be in the city for a while still, as despite what she may say, she is not strong enough to travel yet. Also the bandits persist to make the road a little less safe than I feel comfortable traveling with them. Do not worry. The Jarl claims to have her best men on the case. The troubles they cause on the roads won't last more than a few weeks at the most.

Anyway, it seems that things are getting close up in Kyne's Watch! Hopefully this reaches you before little Red-Snow comes into this world, but letters tend to travel slow, so please, write as quickly as you can with an update. I hope you believe me brother, when I say that there is truly no place I'd rather my family be right now than Kyne's Watch with you and Rebec during this. I promise you, when Carlotta is stronger, and the road safer, we will make our way to Windhelm, and on to Kyne's Watch from there.


The ending of the words is REBBABO.


Baldur's grip tightened on the letter as he read along. 'The ending of the words is REBBABO'... that phrase. He was beginning to feel like it applied to them less and less. It had been so long since the three of them were together, that it felt like a lifetime ago. Baldur thought about writing him back, asking him if he'd want him to send a carriage and guards to carry his family to Kyne's Watch, but he'd thought better of it a week ago and simply just sent them on his own.


Ragna was making low noises like rumbling thunder, but softer. The telltale signs of approaching slumber. Baldur was starting to become drowsy himself and brought Ragna back to her crib. She started to stir and whimper when she sensed her papa leaving her. He stood with her a while longer until sleep fully settled over her like a baby turtle waiting for waves to help carry them to sea. Eventually sleep got the best of both of them, and Ragna got what she wanted, slumbering soundly at her papa's side, tucked away safely between his arms.



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  • 5 months later...

Aenar Fleet-Foot


Name: Aenar Fleet-Foot

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Race: Nord

Birthsign: Shadow


Appearance: Sun kissed skin, middle brown hair (shaved around, long on top, tied in a ponytail), deep hazel eyes, average build for most nords


Equipment: Steel sword, steel dagger, leather armor. Backpack, writing supplies, basic travelling kit (sleeping bag, cooking stuff etc),


Personality: Cheerful, optimistic, inquisitive


Background/History: Aenar’s parents were wandering merchants. They did okay, even well at times, and so saved that money to send him to the Bard’s College of Solitude as a lad. Ten years pass and Kyne’s Watch attracts the width and bredth of Skyrim, so why not him? There’s history to be made!


Motives: Knowledge is power.


Skills: Jack of all Trades
One-handed, light armor: Basic combat training. He’s decent, but nowhere near great.

Illusion, alteration: Who wouldn’t want to know a bit of magic?

Lockpicking, sneak: No one behaves all the time growing up, right?

Alchemy: You want to know a thing or two about plants when the food runs out. Or when the rash returns...

Other: Writing, history, passable singing voice, encyclopedic knowledge of kings, queens, imperial dynasties and other (useless) trivia

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