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Character Bio's

Bandraoi de na Iolair Dearg
Izzy
Bandraoi de na Iolair Dearg
  • GW2: Izzy.7624
  • ESO: @Izmina
Posted On: 03/28/2014 at 10:46 PM
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I know people wanted a place to display and share bios , so I thought I'd make a sticky post! Share away!

 

Name

First-, middle-, lastname
Despite the many races such as the beastfolk that live with a single name to define themselves, so does long, proud names exist among men and mer. Who is your character and what bloodline's legacy do they carry with them? Furthermore, what is your name among friends and foes alike?

Titles
What honors and responsibilities do you claim for yourself? Titles serve as a sign of fear and respect, from the most highborn nobles of High Rock to the most notorious thieves in the streets of the cities of Elsweyr. Has your character earned a name for themselves or do they crown themselves of their own titles in determination of their goals?

General Information

Race

Gender

Age and birthsign
Whether old and wise, or young and bold, the calendar of Tamriel has defined when you entered the world, giving you a certain right. Were you born on the same day as the many legends of Tamriel? The stars aligned on the time you were born also speaks of what person you are, it is your birthsign and grants you a certain strength. Impatient and in a hurry like The Steed or kind and tolerant like the Lady, or the lone, shady Serpent? You decide.

> 'At first glimpse...'
As your character walks the continent of Tamriel, they display an aura of whom they are, whether it is felt as a radiance or a reek and stench. The motion of the body language, the way your character speaks to those around them, the very first item that the crowd notices on yourself.

History

Background
Every legend has a beginning. Tell the tale of how your character rose to what they are today. Maybe they are battleworn and experienced, and the coming days are but another challenge to overcome in their life, while others and fresh and green, thrown into a world of chaos. Where were you born, who were your parents, what did they do and how did they introduce you into the world? Did you study in universities and academies or did you live hand-to-mouth in the slums in your younger years. Did you make wrong or right decisions, where did you go to forge your legend. How did you reach the stand that you make now? What is your legacy?

Factions and loyalties
Depending on how your character was raised and what threats and problems they were confronted with, they will have a side to stand by, or perhaps none at all? What banner would you raise, or what organisation would you kill for, if not your own person? Where do you find your friends and loved ones and where is the hearth located that you call home?

Legacy
What priviledges and rights do you claim as a result of your past and your bloodline? Do you have an ancient task to carry on your shoulders, or a vendetta to regain the honor of yourself or those that you loved and lost?

Prejudice and judgement
Determined by what loyalties you have, your people has an enemy that must be dealt with. But is it all black and white? Do you utterly hate the khajiit for their contribution of crime and corruption, do you hate the orsimer for their barbaric nature, or do you encourage the fierce tension between men and mer? You judge the world from your own eyes, deciding whom deserves to live and whom deserves to die.

Appearance and physique

Aesthetics
Cosmetic choices, colors of fur, skin or scales as well as mane and hair, with everything that goes in between

Build
Thick or thin, strong and stout or petty and weak in physical aspects, every individual takes their own shape, and only have themselves to thank for it. There are so many details about a character that it is hard to describe, so what makes -you- special?

Trinkets and jewelry
Ancient, invaluable amulets or pendants, given to you from your parents, heir of a mythic artifact crafted by your ancestors. Perhaps you wear cheap metals to fool those around you or perhaps prison is the only thing that have kept you from claiming any valuables and wear them with masqueraded pride.

In their bag:
What does your character carry in their bag(s) and on their person when travelling?

Other details
It is hard to come by everything, as stated, but is there anything that is important about your character, a very symbol of their existance?

Strengths

Personality
Attitude and behaviour makes up for a big part of how your character fits into the world of Tamriel that is full of tension and hot temper. Are you rough, dignified or simply persuading and charming of nature, completing your goals through big words and violence, rightful deeds and fulfilled promises or cunning, decieving and seduction? Are you soially awkward and an out-right loser or is your self-esteem high, great allies by your side? What emotions are kept within you and which do others see on you. Are you dominated by anger, humility or a passion for certain things?

Talents and weaknesses
It is a common saying that everyone has a strength somewhere. Are you the village's best blacksmith, spreading the word of your work throughout the land or are you a newcomer, ready to use your skills? How do you fight, what do you use to defend yourself in every situation? And likewise, how do you cope for your weaknesses? Are they physical, psychic or moral? Everything weighs down on your character just as it lifts you. How do you strike a balance for the performance of him or her?

Motivations
Finally, why are you even here? What is your purpose and what is your call? Do you want to make as much gold as possible and live to spend it or do your allegiances and loyalties give you a sense of duty, to carry out the will of your lord or leader? Why do you breathe, what do you raise weapon for, what name will you raise a cheer to in the tavern or on the battlefield?

Who are YOU and why is it YOUR will that must be carried out. The world is in your hands, so justify your right to live in it.

>Critiques?
Are you interested in receiving constructive criticism on your character profile? Please indicate yes or no, so that those reading know whether you're open to hearing their opinions, positive or negative, on your character!

_______________________________

just a suggested template from the eso rp forums to get you started. :)

Last Edited on: 03/29/2014 at 03:00 AM
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Response:

Ban Finsceal de na Iolair
Morigana
Ban Finsceal de na Iolair
  • GW2: imagetaker.6807
  • ESO: @Morigana99
Replied On: 03/29/2014 at 06:00 PM PDT

I was born as Mindra Forestwind but this all changed during a ritual my parents were performing where I had fasted for several days and then began dancing uncontrollably until I passed out from exhaustion.  As I lay in a coma like state with many fearing that I had actually died, I was visited by an ancient spirit who laid out for me where my life was to go - where I was needed if Tamriel was ever to know peace. 

I was no longer a daughter of the Forestwind's but a true daughter of The Green Pact and need to follow their ancient wisdom if our forests were to survive.  When I awoke I explained to my parents that I was now called Morigana Ghoststorm as the name given to me by the spirit.   It was just before I left our home that my mother took me aside and gave me her blessing stating,

"While you were dancing during the ritual I swear I saw numerous spirits dancing by your side then there was this dark, unearthly storm cloud that descended and covered the entire group. There was a bitter cold and lightning so I feared when it was all over that they had come to take you.  I mentioned this to the other family members but none saw what I saw.  Although your name is no longer part of our traditions - I understand that the spirits of the forest have need of you.  Go now and do what you must.  You may no longer be a part of our family, but I will always be a part of you."

Little did she or I know that some of the things I must do would never be sanctioned by our Bosmer laws or maybe, just maybe she did know this.

I have now reached 50 years of age and was born under the sign of The Ritual which makes perfect sense as I am tasked with speaking with the dead.  I follow Y'ffre as I truly worship the here and now as well as all the plants, trees, shrubs and other various vegetation that thrive in Tamriel.    When I changed my name I lost all the titles I had earned and those of my family.  It is best now that I am mostly known as Morigana Ghoststorm - the Unseen.  There are things I do that would bring shame to my family and my race and if these ever came to the surface as deeds I had done, I would fear for my life as well as my mother and father's.  My shame would be their shame.

I attempt to remain unnoticed as I pass from town to town in lands that are quite foreign to most of my race and although I have formed many friendships I need to stay at the back of the group - let others take the accolades for what we do.  Praise would bring notice and a Bosmer being noticed amongst those that aid the Ebonheart Pact would not fair so well.

 

It was the first summer after I had left my homeland that I sat perched upon a hill overlooking a trail through a valley.  A spirit, whether good or malevolent I do not know yet, my gut told me to follow it's directions so I ended up here waiting, watching, and hoping I wasn't being made for a fool which had happened on more than one occasion since some spirits have a very mischievous side. 

Then I see a band of Khajits approaching from one end of the trail and then a group of Argonians from the other.  The Argonians were being lead by a giant of a Nord who wielded a huge hammer while at the very back there was one Argonian with a hood concealing most of her face and without a keen eye one might not know this person was even a female.  It was obvious that the two groups would soon meet at a spot in the trail that was wide open with neither having an advantage in terrain which should prove quite interesting.  Witnessing such a confrontation would be considered most epic so whether the spirit was playing a trick or not it would prove a sight to behold.  Up here, perched high on this hill, I would be totally safe while I watch.

Yet something unexpected occurred.  The Khajits began hiding at their side of the clearing.  I scoured the adjacent countryside for a scout or some other possibility that gave away the approaching Nord and Argonians.  The wind was almost still and coming slightly from behind the Khajits - so it was not by scent.  The distance between me and the Ebonhearts was actually slightly less than that between the Kajits and them and I heard no sound from them as they walked - so noise was not the give-a-way.   I moved as silently as possible along the brush line of the hill to maneuver closer to the Khajits and saw the hand signals that their leader was giving.  It was a trap,  but the "how they knew" I could not discover.  The outcome of this skirmish was far less in doubt to me at this moment.  But I had not one reason to help one side over the other.

The Khajits sprung form 3 sides at the appropriate time and a preliminary volley of arrows took several Argonians down before the initial charge.  It was then that the Argonian female at the rear rasied a bow and quickly dispatched two Khajit and I fully admired her use of the bow which rivaled my own.  I would never admit that she was better and although she might be - I wouldn't admit that.  The Nord charged through the middle of the Kahjits and amazingly did little damage with his big hammer.  Maybe they were so scared of his size and massive weapon they parted the ranks in an effort to avoid him.

Then several more Argonians fell although I noticed a slight blur, a momentary movement of shrubs and brush, at the rear of the Khajits as several of them fell but my eyes were drawn back as the Argonian archer at the rear let out a slight scream.  She had been hit with an arrow and several Kahjits were attempting to surround her.  It wasn't as if they wished her dead, but a prisoner.  She quickly threw back the hood covering her head and planted the end of her bow into the skull of a Khajit and then drew her daggers.  It was at this moment I fully understood my purpose.  I had seen her before but not in my waking moments. 

I let loose two arrows which went though the eye socket of one cat and pinned the arm of another to his side as the Argonian sunk one of her daggers into his throat.  Another cat coming form behind was rooted by my spell, which none would notice, so she was able to back step a few paces and then threw her dagger landing it deeply into his chest.  My arrows found two more unwilling victims this time at the rear of the the Kahjits' group which as a tactic I sometimes used since comrades falling at your rear tend to turn heads.  It worked once again as several of the cats turned towards the screams of agony and they were dispatched with arrows to the middle of their backs.  The Argonian had now retrieved her bow and was flinging arrows down field as fast I as I and the Khajits began to retreat.

The big Nord now came lumbering back toward us bashing a few heads as he came and I motioned for what was left of the group to follow me.  We made our way back to a cave which I had been using for the last several days as a crude but necessarily reclusive abode.  

"We should be safe here for at least a few hours but we will need to move soon - they will be looking for you", I stated as I cut the leather sleeve form the jerkin on the Argonian's arm to expose her wound which still had the arrow tip in it.

She stared at me intently and then slowly pulled the hood off of my head.

The big Nord who had already commenced drinking fell backwards as he exclaimed, "You.... you're a .... a bloody Wood Elf.  My heavens, he chuckled abruptly with ale spewing from his lips, "You going to eat us, aren't you."

I didn't even bother to look at him as I spoke.  "I only eat formidable opponents and worthy warriors."  I had already assessed him and he was neither. I continued to dress the Argonian's wound.

The Argonian began to speak, " I am 'She-who...." and I finished her declaration.  "...-leads-by-Following".  Her look turned to amazement.

I then recalled a short story of how I came to be at this place, how she was shown and even named to me by the spirits in my dreams.  How an Argonian, one who leads by following, could possibly be responsible for saving all of Tamriel from the Daedric invasion which would be far more valuable than any one alliance gaining power.  That this was my first step in helping my ancestors.

A small Dummer over in the corner of the cave smirked and only whispered "Trust no one."  It was he whom I had seen at the rear of the Khajits.  He was probably a better thief than me but again I wouild never admit it.

I finished the dressing and could only mumble, "You need your rest, so I will keep watch and we'll move once it gets dark." 

The Nord had already passed out which was more likely due to the ale than from an exhaustive fight.  Soon the cave was quiet and the life of the forest outside filled my ears and I was at peace  for a moment until once more the mists covered my eyes so that I might clearly see.

After just a tad more than two hours the sun had began to set and I awoke all as I said I would but the big Nord refused to move so the little Dummer went to shake him.  He was dead.  An arrow penetrated from one temple through the other and Turien as he was called came directly to me and began to speak...

"It is your arrow through his skull." He grabbed my arm as if to restrain me and a shock went though him, he turned a pale white which was quite amusing to my eyes for such a dark skinned one, and fell to the cave floor as if suffering from seizure.  He glared at me upon gaining his senses and stuttered, "You know magic, not.... possible."  

The Argoinan I had saved was staring down the shaft of an arrow tipped by a gleaming broadhead apparently aimed at my heart. Turrien managed to limp to her side still rather dazed from our encounter. 

She-who-leads-by-Following slowly hissed, "Explanation".

From the look in her reptilian eyes I dared not flinch so I remained perfectly motionless, unblinking, and my tight lips barely moved as I now gave a much greater detailed and lengthy explanation of how I came to be here including the ghosts, the dreams, the Argonian my ancestors asked me to save and the Nord they bequeathed me to assassinate just hours earlier while they slept.  The longer I spoke the less disdtrust for me shown in her eyes and the tip of the arrow moved from my heart, to the cave floor, and was eventually put to rest among the others in her quiver.

Turrien then chortled, and while rubbing the arm that had touched me slowly as if trying to regain some feeling, turned to She-Who-Leads-By-Following, and whispered. "I told you not to trust that drunk  - damn Nord traitor!"

I was never questioned about my decision further.  The two of them seemed to accept the tale that I had just narrated and the remainder of the small group that had survived followed their lead.  As I would discover in the future all would not be so understanding.  I followed them at a distance, since the other three Argonians in the group still expressed great distrust for me,  as we made our way back to a small Argonian village where they could rest and get proper treatment for the wounds. 

For now I was linked to the Ebonheart Pact - blessed Y'ffre, this may not sit well with my family and friends back home.

I now wonder keeping to the shadows where few wish to dwell.  But the shadows work for me and not against me.  I have no home except for the tops of trees, an occasional cave, or abandoned hut, nor do I wish one as I am far more comfortable living with the trees and shrubs while bathing in tall grass to find peace.  I am small, even for a Wood Elf, and carry the bones of my ancestors in my pack to remind me of from whence I came and wear those of my enemies, if they were honorable, on my leathers to remind me of where I might end up myself one day.

The spirits still guide me and it isn't always on a path of what most would call "righteous" but if it results in Tamriel being free of the Daedric - then I do what I need to do - what I must do.

edit: For how I actually chose my class and name after day 1.



» Edited on: 2014-03-31 16:07:20



» Edited on: 2014-03-31 16:33:21

Awards & Achievements
Devotion Rank 20Fellowship Rank 20Explorer Rank 1Scholar Rank 7
Ban Finsceal de na Iolair
Morigana
Ban Finsceal de na Iolair
  • GW2: imagetaker.6807
  • ESO: @Morigana99
Replied On: 03/31/2014 at 04:11 PM PDT

Dang people - I know others out there have Bios - please post them... the game is live - your character should be, too :)



» Edited on: 2014-03-31 16:12:50

Awards & Achievements
Devotion Rank 20Fellowship Rank 20Explorer Rank 1Scholar Rank 7
Caomhnoir de na Ulchabhan Buí
LordMelchom
Caomhnoir de na Ulchabhan Buí
Replied On: 04/01/2014 at 09:19 PM PDT
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I am working on my profile as we speak. Should be up in a few days.

The people who influence you are the people who believe in you. Henry Drummond
Awards & Achievements
Devotion Rank 18Valor Rank 10Fellowship Rank 12Scholar Rank 5Artisan Rank 10Social Rank 5
Saighdiuir de na Faolchu
Orsan
Saighdiuir de na Faolchu
Replied On: 04/01/2014 at 09:39 PM PDT

I will post mine tomorrow. :)

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Devotion Rank 20Valor Rank 4Fellowship Rank 9Scholar Rank 3
Ridire de na Iomproidh Oráiste
Rainingblood
Ridire de na Iomproidh Oráiste
  • ESO: @Rainingblood
Replied On: 04/02/2014 at 07:08 AM PDT
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I had to re-make mine, but here's the WIP to get an inkling about her. PLEASE give feedback.  I'm new at this and need some help... :)

Aelfgrim Frostborn

Priestess of Arkay

The Nordic chamber was silent and lit with an ambient glow of candle light. The air feels heavy and damp on the skin and is filled with aromas of burning candles, incense, and choking soot from the torches beyond the far door; further into the crypt. The stone walls are moist, but clean and lined with at least twelve bookcases full of neatly stacked books of various topics. A deep breath slightly burns the lungs, but reveals the underlying smell of decay meant to be disguised by the burning wax. This place is not one that is meant for the living.

Across the room stands a tall, slender figure facing a desk lit by more candles whose wax was hardened onto the table resembling a star burst. Even though wearing a hooded robe, the flickering candlelight reveals a surprisingly feminine face which appears to be wrought with concern. Her brow is furrowed, accentuating the scar across her right brow, and both eyes are clasped shut as if enduring a sharp pain. Her lips, while generally full, are tightly pursed and there is a slight whistling noise as she breathes deeply through her petite nostrils. She suddenly moves about the room with a poise that is surprising for a woman of her stature and begins collecting various items and placing them into a large satchel. One of the items, a small wooden carving of a howling wolf, holds her attention for a moment before placing it into the bag. With the bag packed, she releases a clasp at her neck and the unassuming robe drops to the floor exposing her naked body and her blueish white hair that is conservatively drawn into a bun. She shivers slightly, but is grown accustomed to the cold over the years. The dim light reveals several large scars on her legs and torso, and accentuates her athletic muscle tone. The tint of her skin was unmistakable, as were the large elven ears.

On the desk where she had just been standing was an opened scroll that was legible under the flickering candle next to it. It read, “CALL TO ARMS. All able-bodied soldiers of Skyrim are hereby re-instated in service to King Jorunn. Report immediately to your local officer for further orders.”

Small Beginnings

In the year 2E 555 in northwestern Skyrim during a harsh blizzard, a Nord hunter was tracking a blood trail from the bear he had shot with his bow. The arrow had pierced straight through its heart, so it wouldn't get too far running off of pure adrenaline. He was battling time though; the snow was coming down hard and beginning to cover the tracks. Soon enough the slain bear would be covered too. He was counting on this kill to feed his wife and son through much of this long winter.

He breached a mound of snow and saw something unnatural protruding from the powder under a tree just ahead. As he neared, he was saddened to realize it was a frozen hand. He ran over and began digging, finding a frozen Altmer man and woman who had apparently tried to take shelter here before they met their demise. While searching through their gear to find out why these elves were so far from home, he came across a thoroughly bundled-up baby girl who had somehow survived the unrelenting cold. He drew a blade from a sheath across his chest in order to end its suffering, but noticed in disbelief that some sort of spell had kept her alive though the harsh weather. He bundled her back up and fashioned a carrier strapped to his chest, so he could bring her back to his camp. The little one had made it this far for a reason and he planned on making sure she survived.

There was a scroll next to her that appeared to be the journals of her deceased guardians. Maybe it could provide some answers. He packed up as much of the gear as he could carry, then made the trek back to his camp. The hunt would have to wait...

Nordic Soul

The hunter who saved that baby’s life was named Norulf, and he and his wife, Brynhildr, raised and loved her as their own child along with their son, Ulfrick, in their home outside Solitude. The mother had once given birth to a baby girl who had died during child-birth which left her unable to bear any more children, so they viewed Aelfgrim as a gift from Kyne. Brunhildr was a Priestess of Kyne and a healer who spent much of her time in the temple of Solitude, while Norulf and Ulfrick hunted for the family’s food and then used the hides to make clothing and armor to sell in the city. Aelfgrim would spend most days with her mother praying to the gods, learning to read, and developing her intrinsic magical abilities toward restoration. “You cannot defeat your enemy if you are dead,” her mother would tell her.

Being an Altmer raised as a Nord was not an especially easy childhood. Though she knew she was different, she always felt like she was destined to be with her Nord family. Early on in her childhood, she was faced with the ingrained dislike that many Nords felt toward Elves, due to the tumultuous history of war. Additionally, Aelfgrim’s cool and methodical personality seemed a sharp contrast to the Nord culture whose people are generally animated and gregarious, and she often had difficulty recognizing emotions and feelings of others. It was challenging for her to discern when someone was being truthful or not, though she was always inclined to trust people until being proven otherwise. This has resulted in betrayal on several occasions and had contributed to her becoming more reclusive as she grew up. Alternately, if you gain her trust, she will remain loyal until death.

Growth and Loss

As Aelfgrim grew older, she would accompany her father and brother on hunting trips more and more, and they taught her everything they knew about hunting, tracking, and gathering. Aelfgrim became adept with a bow and killed her first Ice Wraith at the age of thirteen. One dark night while on a week-long hunting trip, Norulf spoke up at the campfire. “Aelfgrim, you are quickly becoming a woman and I am proud of you for all you’ve been through. You have the heart and soul of a Nord, but someday you may wish to seek out answers of your past.” He looked away for a moment, as if listening to the sound of the night. “When I found you so many years ago, there were some items with you, which I collected and will gift to you when we-“ But her was cut short by the unexpected sound of snapping branch, then trudging footsteps approaching through the frost-covered forest.

Norulf grabbed his bow. Aelfgrim picked up an axe as she looked at Ulfrick who already had his sword drawn. As they each looked toward the direction of the sound, a smell of decay became overpowering. Aelfgrim saw movement and motioned to the others where it was. A man, or something that looked like a man, lumbered around a large beech tree. It was partially clothed and looked emaciated with pale, ashen skin and eyes as red as rubies. It looked at them with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as the three looked on in disbelief- Aelfgrim had heard tales of different undead creatures in Tamriel, but had never seen one. Just as Norulf started to draw his bow, the fiend lurched at him in a way that seemed impossible for something in that physical state. Before the siblings could react, it had knocked their father to the ground and was biting and tearing at his neck like an enraged animal. “Nooooooo!” Ulfrick screamed as he charged in, eyes wide with shock and terror. His heavy broadsword came down hard onto the creature’s back and made a sickening sound of crushing bone and splattering flesh. The hit would have cut most men in half, but this perversion somehow survived and turned around to face them after Ulfrick withdrew his sword. Their father’s screams abruptly silenced as Aelfgrim pierced the bloodfiend’s head with one of her arrows; right through its right ear. The thing didn’t stop and was moving toward Ulfrick as he brought his sword over his head for another attack. Aelfgrim, somehow recalling some of the old stories, picked up a sturdy, burning tree limb from the fire and with all her strength, drove the flaming branch into the fiend as it burst into flames. Her brother’s sword connected and cut it in half. The undead attacker had been stopped, but their father lay on the ground lifeless.

The two were not sorrowful as they prepared their father for the trip back to Solitude; they were angry. Life and death are the will of Arkay, but this came about from a perversion of the cycle. At least they had comfort in the knowledge that their father was now in Sovngarde. Their mother was distraught, but she, as with Aelfgrim and Ulfrick, was more upset about the undead that committed the act. Abominations such as that should not be allowed to walk unhindered on Nirn.

[More to come…]

Additional Particulars

Race: Altmer

Gender: Female

Age and birth sign: Exact birth date is unknown, but estimated to be sometime in Frost Fall in 2E 550

Alignment: Lawful Good-ish; Trope- Knight in Sour Armor

Aliases: Drifa, Aldrif

Known affiliations: Order of Arkay

Previously held titles: Lieutenant

Factions and loyalties:

Loyalty to the people of Skyrim and to the Pact, but most of all devoted to Arkay and the demise of all involved in the perversion of the dead.

Prejudice and judgment:

Fiercely despises the undead and necromancers and devoted to vanquishing any of the Four Abominations on sight.

In her bag:

She whittles as a hobby and as a way to focus and relieve stress, so carries a satchel with a small blade and interesting pieces of wood she collects as she travels.

In her chambers:

Selections from her bookcases.

In her nightstand.

On her dresser.

Personality:

She is generally even-tempered, unless she’s been drinking. Aelfgrim can be brash, and her confidence sometimes misconstrued as arrogance. She is driven, honorable, and passionate in her duties and through willpower and commitment will do whatever is necessary to complete her task at hand. Initially more of a "paladin" mentality where the ends justify the means, she has become more cynical and morally questioning some past decisions (see above trope). This commitment does have its dark side though; she battles emotional distress when confronted with situations where innocent people are hurt. Characters with similar emotional profiles would be Jack Bauer from 24 or The Dark Knight's Jim Gordon.

Weaknesses:

Very quick to trust people, which has lead to betrayal.

OOC Comments:

Working on "rumors" section and completing her history



» Edited on: 2014-04-02 07:18:01



» Edited on: 2014-04-02 07:19:02

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Devotion Rank 16Valor Rank 8Fellowship Rank 10Scholar Rank 3Artisan Rank 1Social Rank 5
Ban Finsceal de na Iolair
Morigana
Ban Finsceal de na Iolair
  • GW2: imagetaker.6807
  • ESO: @Morigana99
Replied On: 04/02/2014 at 02:32 PM PDT

I really did enjoy it Rain - I love reading these when they incorporate lore with the stories since they are somehow much more enjoyable than just reading "lore" history written for the game. 

Thanks for sharing!

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Devotion Rank 20Fellowship Rank 20Explorer Rank 1Scholar Rank 7
Fine
Whitestone
Fine
Replied On: 04/02/2014 at 03:12 PM PDT
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Nice job rain!

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Devotion Rank 16Fellowship Rank 2
Ridire de na Iomproidh Oráiste
Rainingblood
Ridire de na Iomproidh Oráiste
  • ESO: @Rainingblood
Replied On: 04/03/2014 at 12:49 PM PDT
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Thanks! Sometimes I feel like I need to generalize it a bit more because I get overly detailed and end up with way too much story, while in other areas I'm more general...  lol

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Devotion Rank 16Valor Rank 8Fellowship Rank 10Scholar Rank 3Artisan Rank 1Social Rank 5
Saighdiuir de na Faolchu
Mickey
Saighdiuir de na Faolchu
Replied On: 04/15/2014 at 11:56 PM PDT

Name

Michaelus Halvdane

 

 

Titles

The Bastard, Veteran of Stonehalls, Former Legionnaire, Brother of the Fighters' Guild, The Hunter, The Mercenary.

 

Race

Imperial (Bastard child to a Nord mother) Gender Male Age and birthsign 36, born under the sign of the Tower

 

'At first glimpse...'

Rough around the edges, just another mercenary so common in these hard times of warfare...

 

Background

Born the bastard son of an Imperial Legate and a subjugated renegade Nord Jarl's daughter. Hated by his stepmother, the child was a favourite of his father as the only child for his first decade. He was given fine tutoring in the ways of war, commerce, history, philosophy and politics. When a younger, legitimate, brother was born; Michaelus' life was suddenly imperiled. His father sent the boy off to join the Legion with a trusted retainer, a short note and a handful of coin. Life in the military was rough for the half blood boy. Discrimination and his step mother's intrigues dogged his steps for years. Despite competence he could never rise through the ranks due to political pressures. His legion served time on the north east. By the time of the Akaviri invasion, the boy had grown into a man and acquitted himself well at the battle of Stonehalls, where the Ebonheart Pact came together and saved the Empire from the Akaviri. Michaelus came to love the lands and people of these brothers in arms, the blood of a side of his life thought inferior by his Imperial brethren. When the Soulburst took place and the Emperor disappeared, Michaelus left the Legion, taking up arms in the Fighters' Guild. Now he roams the lands of the Ebonheart Pact, defending the people of the Empire from the monstrous denizens of beyond even as the armies of Tamriel do their best to tear the Empire apart in their mad scramble for power.

 

Factions and loyalties

Michaelus roams the land alone. A child of disparate nations and values. He forges his own place in the world but still feels a debt toward the people of the Ebonheart Pact and the memory of the Empire that once was. The Fighters' Guild and the the coins he earns are the mercenary's only outward loyalties.

 

Appearance and physique

Dressed in a mishmash of Imperial garb and whatever he can scrounge from his fallen enemies, Michaelus is rough around the edges. Powerfully built for an Imperial, the local Nords still tower above him. He keeps his dark blonde hair cropped short and surprisingly vibrant blue eyes per from under thick brows. He's generally unshaven and often days between bathing from a hard life on the road. He bears a variety of weapons all around his person, daggers in his boots, a crossbow at his hip, a pair of mismatched swords on his back and a shield slung over one shoulder. His imperial steed is a constant companion on the road and about the only possession he has that appears to be truly well cared for.

 

Personality

Taciturn, laconic, mercenary and violent, to the outsider, these are the traits that define Michaelus. Loyal, steadfast, sardonic and even a little mischievous are the words used by his few friends. Nord pragmatism meets Imperial noblesse oblige with a healthy dose of a fugitive mercenary's black humour to form the man behind the armour. In private he can be quite loquacious and eloquent, revealing the education he received in his childhood.

 

Critiques?

Go ahead. It's just a skeleton for the real meat that comes in play. The details are left out to be discovered in game. :)

Awards & Achievements
Devotion Rank 19Fellowship Rank 9Scholar Rank 1
Saighdiuir de na Capall
Volkoth
Saighdiuir de na Capall
Replied On: 04/22/2014 at 07:10 AM PDT
  • PSN

Alekelfriel Zu'Alishier

King of Guardinia, Hero of Alacar, Lord of Storms

“History is a funny thing. I sit here and think about all the ‘good’ I have done. The scholars say I slew the embodiment of ultimate evil with one swing from my enchanted sword. If only they knew the beating I took before my sword exploded against his. Sightbringer never even touched the Witchlord. History gets everything wrong.” –Alekelfriel Zu’Alishier

 

The Dream

 

“My Lord, MY LORD”, the harsh voice and the banging on the door to the study startled me awake. It was cool in my private study., much like the Underdark where I was born, it was easy for me to drift away. Since my son, Khayle had been born I took advantage of any moment I could get pouring over old tomes and learning of what made the world tick. The battles were over; peace was strong in the land. For once all the kingdoms of Alacar were content to remain at peace. I got up from my chair and straightened my robes. “Come in Mae, come in. You of all people don’t need a royal summons.” The mahogany door swung open and a beautiful blond face with elven features stood in the torch light, then Mae stepped into the room and her full form was visible. Not an elf, but a Centaur, her massive hooves clip clopping on the stone floor. “Your majesty, SHE has made her formal grab for power, your instincts were right. The lady, Arianna has started from her tower and is heading for Hillscar. Do you want me to send word to the Storm Knights?” Mae’s blue eyes shone in the light. She was my most trusted knight-captain. When I accepted centaurs into my kingdom, my friends laughed. What use would an island nation have with a clan of centaurs. My logic was simple, I may rule an island nation, but the Guardinian cavalry is unmatched in the land. And, who better to train cavalry soldiers than centaurs. My thoughts snapped out of my daze, which had been happening a lot lately. “ No, leave the Storm Knights be, out of respect for Arianna’s husband, I’ll handle this personally, now help me with my armor.’ I lifted my hand and the large oaken closet in the corner opened. My armor was an ostentatious show of my lineage, training and power. It was made from enchanted adamantium and the plates were colored black with silver outlines. There were words of power etched around all the edges. The chainmail underneath was a purple shade so dark it almost looked black and the cloak was always my favorite. Long and black, with silver threading bearing the crest of Guardinia in the center in a royal purple and silver. There would be no question on the battlefield, that was the King of Guardinia leading the battle. My comrades always chuckled at my flare for the dramatic. “My lord, you never need help with your armor you always use magic to tighten the straps and seal the clasps.” “I know, but today is different.” You see, I had been dreaming and sometimes, when a wizard dreams he sees things. Of course I wasn’t going to tell Mae I was marching to my death. She would insist on sending the entire army and fleet and I wasn’t about the leave the country I had fought so hard for defenseless. And then there’s my son. He would insist on coming and he wasn’t even sure of his own feet yet let alone how to wield the power inside of him. No, I’d be going alone.

Then I awoke, truly awoke. You know, it’s a startling thing when you realize you were dreaming inside of a dream. I looked around and all was as it should have been. I was laying in the Elysian Fields of the afterlife, propped up against a tree. There was one thing to be said about death and the afterlife. It sure was peaceful, but even that gets old after a few centuries.

 

The End…Is The Beginning?

 

It’s hard to sum up one’s life when given the opportunity. You spend so much time living it that when it comes time to put it on paper you’re at a loss for words. I have don’t so much, yet it feels the centuries have gone by in the blink of an eye so let me do something different and start…at the end. I had lived my life and I served the god Ramuh well. I saved cities and villiages from evil ogres and giants. I saved the kingdom of Guardinia from the rule of a bloodthirsty demon and was lifted up by it’s people to be king. I started a revolution amongst a whole people and even saved the world from destruction. Oh, and did I mention I started my own enclave of war wizards. I think after living that life, I deserved a little rest and relaxation. A new evil was rising up and as was fitting, I died in a blaze of flaming, sulfury death fighting a sorceress. A sorceress with power beyond what she should have been able to wield. In any event I died, and the torch of hero was passed to my son Khayle. When I awoke I was in the Elysium Fields of the afterlife. I was eventually joined by my lifelong friends and fellow adventurers, Aaron Starmore, Julien Ebonlight and Thalos Salovasason. We watched as the powers of the world shifted. We longed for times past and the adventure we had. When you’ve done it all…and died…and went to Elysium, well, what else is there.

Then one evening as I was walking through the forrest I felt a shooting pain in my head. Then the pain traveled to my chest, and then I lost consciousness. I was dead, a spirit, what in the name of Ramuh could possibly do that to me? My last thought before my head hit the ground was, ‘What now?’ When I awoke, I was some sort of prison made of obsidian, clad in rags. Of course I did the first thing any self respecting War Wizard would do, I attempted to summon the biggest ball of soulfire the world has seen so I could level the prison and walk out…except my power was gone. So I stood there and pondered the situation. Where were my friends, where were the celestials that guarded the plane of Elysium. I hears some rustling near the cell door, and through the bars I saw what looked to be a lizard standing on two legs. This wasn’t the of the variety we found on Alacar. This one was more slender and stood more like a human or elf. Then it hit me, something was different. I wasn’t in Elysium, or the world of Alacar where I originally hailed from. Finally…an adventure!

Additional Particulars

Race: Dark Elf

Gender: Male

Age: Unknown, appears middle aged

Build:Alek is taller than most of his racial descent, standing at 6'1", he has long white hair, usually pulled back and is medium build. His eyes are lavender and his skin is the normal shade of dark gray/black as typical for dark elves.

Style: Alek's favorite colors are royal purple, silver and black. Usually if at all possible his armor or robes reflect that.

 

Alignment: Lawful Good

Aliases: Alek, The Storm Lord

Known affiliations: The Storm Knights, Kingdom of Guardinia

Previously held titles: Hero of Hillscar, Slayer of the Witchlord, Wielder of Sightbringer

Factions and loyalties: Alek became loyal to the Ebonheart Pact after being dropped off in Bleakrock and befriending the townsfolk there. He has a good heart and will stop at nothing to help a person in need, no matter what banner flies in his home.

Skills: In his homeland, magic worked by a different set of rules. The only skills he has retained from is planar travel and soul-sucking of Molag-Bal is his skill with a blade, and his innate magic skill. When not on the Battlefield, Alek loves to read. He also has an interest in enchanting and spellcraft. Many late nights and charred walls in the castle were attributed to just needing to tweak the Fireball spell.

Personality: Alek has lived a middle aged life in elven standards, yet possesses a wisdom of one much more aged. He is kind hearted and compassionate underneath his larger than life exterior. Alek has a dry sense of humor. Once before the battle of Alacar, The dark lord Ka’ahn told the heroes he would accept their surrender and would return in the morning to hear the heroes descision. Alek told this sum of all evil, “Well I’ll be sure to put on a chicken”. Needless to say, there was no surrender and the heroes were victorious.

Weaknesses: Alek’s biggest weakness is also his greatest strength, his love of his country and his family. He also is fond of alcohol, no matter what plane he is on. Oh, and he is ever so slightly egotistical. But what some call egotism, others calll confidence ;)

Please feel free to leave feedback, I haven't done this since 2001 and I'm a bit rusty, Also this character is based solely on my RP campaign character from highschool. I played him for about four years so there is A LOT of back story lol. 

 



» Edited on: 2014-04-22 07:15:36

Awards & Achievements
Devotion Rank 18Valor Rank 3Fellowship Rank 9Scholar Rank 3
Muintir de na Capall
Bluenotebacker
Muintir de na Capall
  • ESO: @Bluenotebacker
Replied On: 10/20/2014 at 11:31 AM PDT
  • Twitter

You can see the beginnings of my character bios at my newly minted blog for just that purpose.

http://heavyartilleryeso.wordpress.com/2014/10/28/iriali-docalidar/

» Edited on: 2014-10-21 14:49:13



» Edited on: 2014-10-28 13:12:25

Awards & Achievements
Devotion Rank 15Fellowship Rank 5Scholar Rank 3Artisan Rank 4