[b]Name:[/b] Lord Cyrus Vensor IV, but god forbid anyone uses his first name.
[b]Age:[/b] 46
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Race:[/b] Nibenese Imperial, born and raised in the Jerall Mountains
[b]Appearance:[/b] In most groups of adventurers, the most obvious thing people note when they see Lord Vensor is that he is old. His stereotypically short hair has slowly began to turn grey from the black it has been for his entire life. He sports a boxed beard with a careful clean cut if he can maintain it, but he doesn't really grow much more beard than that anyhow so all that happens with extended breaks in shaving is the appearance of unkemptness and the longer length of it. He has a tall head, though no single part shines out as unusually big. It's just the way his head is. His nose shows signs of having been broken once in the past, and a scar has formed between it and the eye socket on the left. Both from the same incident actually.

As for his general build, the man has seen days when his muscles were more defined and he had more mass to himself, but as he has aged both his muscle and fat reserves have began shrivelling away. The situation is still quite manageable, with him being well more toned than the usual specimen of his age, he isn't quite in his prime any longer. Of specific interest are his arms, the bones of which have strengthened from using a heavy draw longbow on his journey. As for scars, he has very few, but bruises and such are not uncommon sights.

[b]Personality:[/b] At his core, Lord Vensor is a stubborn man whose opinions are correct. While those who have earned his ire will find that the veteran of many battles is not an easy man to sway back to liking you, he does remarkably well in not succumbing to believing in stereotypes. Even if most of the Altmer have something to do with the Thalmor, they are not sympathisers of said cause until proven to be so. He gives everyone a chance, but unfortunately it is quite easy to ruin your first impression with him. After all, he does not enjoy people talking back to him.

Having buried two of his bodyguards already has also had an impact on him, so he will do his best to stop anyone he has allied himself with from dying in combat, whether he personally likes them or not. Digging graves for someone whose death you could have prevented and who did not actively try to murder you... it is heavy work. All lives have value to them and anyone but the undead, blatant unrepentant daedra worshippers and Thalmor he has been involved in slaying or just found dead in the wild usually receive a single blue mountain flower from him as a sign of respect.

[b]History:[/b] Cyrus was born to the noble house Vensor in Cyrodiil back in the Frostfall of 4E156 as the first child who would inherit the family business. However, fate had other plans. While he technically did inherit the mining business of his family, he had only been in charge of the operation for half a year before the Great War broke out. Mining absolutely boomed for the duration of the war, but he was still relieved to hear of the end of it all... until he heard at which price.

There were some things he could not accept and the resignation of Tiber Septim's status as a god went too far. The first emperor had been more than legendary enough to earn said status and now they were just saying "No, we do not want them to be a god because he was a human." Beyond absurd. Had not all the elven gods also been elves back in the day? And unlike many other nobles who decided the peace was worth the sacrifice, he decided to begin the fight anew.

Naturally, the empire did not really appreciate him openly inciting riot against the Thalmor and, by extension, them. With all his siblings having perished one way or the other, some in the war, some at birth and parents of old age and the stress of war, the last remaining Vensor was quietly hauled over the Northern border for execution. He lost his title, wealth and the adoration of the public he had once carried, but he did not lose his life. Other more silent revolutionaries broke him out of the transport and he vanished to Skyrim, to join forces with Ulfric Stormcloak for quite the while.

In the ranks of the Stromcloaks, the imperial didn't really win the trust of the other warriors due to originating from the very empire whose legion was now enforcing the ban on Talos worship. However, once word of the Lord that had escaped reached their ears, they could believe that he was just as bent on the cause as them. The empire needed to fall. And when they could not even provide assistance to the capital of the Reach when it was needed, Stromcloaks marched. Vensor was present in the ranks around Ulfric themselves from the Markarth Incident onwards, but was eventually transferred to less important duty due to his age starting to show. He was stationed at their Riften outpost, but that deployment was cut short by a third party intervening with their business: Vampires.

It was still in the early days of the vampire menace and none was really taking the threat seriously, or in the case of these Stromcloaks, had heard of it in the first place. The attack took place at a night much like any other, and the whole camp would have been slaughtered had a group of Vigilants of Stendarr with more experience in combating these creatures not come by. With the orders of the leader of the group of the vigil and the ferocious might of the Stromcloak warriors, the vampires were driven back, few of them even slain. The living could not avoid all casualties though, and with as many of his former allies driven to the ground, Lord Vensor swore to avenge them. And soon he would meet up with a Dawnguard recruiter and leave the civil war behind for the time being. He did tell them to contact him if his bow was needed, but what he could not have known was that message would arrive all too late.

Nonetheless, he spent the next year or so aiding the Dawnguard in their battle, both by patrolling the countryside and occasionally meeting with his old friends as well as standing guard at Fort Dawnguard, to make sure the one place the hunters could call their safe haven would remain so. On one of these patrols he was out with some old Vigilants now recruited to vampire hunting and they requested to check up on the Hall of the Vigilant, something he found no reason to disagree to.

He should have.

By the time they arrived, the hall was up in flames and final few blows were being exchanged in the yard. The vampires had attacked the hall and were just wrapping things up when the Dawnguard arrived. His allies ran into the fight to help their old friends, but Vensor? A shameful thing to admit, but he ducked to cover and only returned after no sounds but the crackling of fire had made itself apparent for a good while. The vampires had had the numbers at least five times over... yet when he found his former allies among the slaughtered, he couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. The choice had been hard, but he lived. Was that not the most important thing? He wanted to agree with himself. But something kept saying no.

After that, he became more and more reluctant to ever leave the Fort guard duty, only leaving once the task came to an end. The Dragonborn had defeated the leader of the vampires, another Lord something-or-other. Durkon? Harkon? Something like that. The news of their death sent Dawnguard on a slow path of dissolving and Lord Vensor was one of the first to go. If the vampires were dealt with, it was time to return serving the true High King of Skyrim. A war had been won, now it was time to march to the next victory. But as we all know, fate had other plans for the disgraced Imperial.

The day the Legion marched to Windhelm, Lord Vensor had been aiding the captain of the Winterhold Stormcloak camp in their plan to establish a forward camp in the Pale in an effort to liberate the Old Hold from the Empire's grasp. Said plan would never come to fruition as the message of the Legion's sudden arrival to the capital reached the soldiers and nearly all of them, including Lord Vensor rushed to Ulfric's defence. Needless to say, they were all much too late. All they saw was the vague silhouette of a dragon flying away from the city and the soldiers of the empire marching away.

The year that followed was difficult time for Lord Vensor. He dug out his old Dawnguard gear to avoid being found and executed by the Legion for his participation in the war against them, though Dawnguard held no real significance any longer. With fellow Stromcloaks scattering across the province just as well in an attempt to hide, the fallen lord no longer had anything they could call home or an ally. But a man had to make a living somehow. And since there was nowhere to put up a mining business, Lord Vensor chose to grasp his war bow firmly and head out there. There were always people who needed a capable mercenary out there.

[b]Skills:[/b]
[u]Major:[/u][list]
[*] Archery - Longbow is Lord Vensor's weapon of choice when he can spare the time to draw and fire said weapon. Which is to say, not very often. While he has been training in the art for as long as he can remember (and it shows), it does not make drawing the bow a fast task. After all, his bows of choice are those whose draw weight far exceeds the usual hunting bow. His weapons are for shooting at people and monsters, not game.
[*] Block - When not in organised battle and army formations, he has learnt that after a strong opener with his bow, he usually needs to get to preserving his own life. And what better way to do that than hide oneself behind a shield and turn potentially lethal blows aside? His considerable arm strength lends itself well for holding against assault, but does not really have the explosive strength to bash people about. His common strategy is to let his opponent tire striking at an immovable obstacle before striking back out.[/list]
[u]Minor:[/u][list]
[*] Restoration - While he can heal wounds with his magic, he much prefers utilising this school for harming. It has never been his main tool of fighting the undead he despises so, leaving his skills wanting, but his knowledge in Sun magic has saved his behind when vampires have got just a bit too close and personal in the past.
[*] Axe - Vensor trained with swords in his youth, but those skills died away as he moved more and more into archery. But when he joined the Dawnguard in the fight against the vampire menace, he received the standard dawnguard axe to protect himself with and decided to go through a quick training with a few other soldiers. He didn't ever really grasp just how the weapon was supposed to be used against shields differently from swords, so he isn't really getting everything out of it. But wounds that follow a successful hit still bleed, and that's good enough for him.
[*] Heavy Armour - As funny as it would sound like, with how much focus Lord Vensor has placed on his shield he has been ignoring learning to get the best out of his next line of defence. He has no trouble wearing it or moving around in it out of combat, but when it comes to close quarters he does not quite take advantage of everything he could. Most of it is plain ignorance too. Having spent so long believing that he could not do something in his armour, he has built mental barriers against doing everything he could.[/list]
[b]Equipment:[/b] Lord Vensor's equipment is more or less standard Dawnguard equipment of the heavy side. This suit of armour has yet to see much action and witness stories of legend unfold, but Vensor did deem a change in attire necessary post civil war. The most glaring difference has to be the absence of the crossbow, being replaced by the war bow he was more familiar with. As time went on and encounters with vampires became less and less frequent, he has replaced the dawnguard axe with a dwarven one to preserve the undead slaying tool.

And since it has now been a good while since the war came to an end, he has added a personal touch to his armour. He has dyed some parts blue and while that didn't exactly last long, traces of it are still visible. He has also begun wearing a bear pelt cloak he procured from some bandit who had obtained it one way or the other. But the cloak was the mark of a stormcloak commander and the veteran would not allow it to be worn by some brigand.

In addition to his armaments, he carries a quiver of arrows for his bow, a whetstone for emergencies with his axes, rations, a one person leather tent, some firewood, a cooking pot and rations. Or, well, those camping supplies are mostly carried by his horse, but he is able to lug them around just as well if need be. IT will just slow him down. Oh, and he carries a bunch of blue mountain flowers around on the side of his backpack, just in case he needs to distribute them.

[b]Birthsign:[/b] The Tower

[b]Miscellaneous:[/b] Lord Vensor refuses to drop the title, even though it no longer technically holds any ground. He blames a Thalmor conspiracy for losing it, and since they are not authorities in the empire their will should hold no sway. But in truth, it was the very empire that took his noble title away. You will be very unlikely to convince him of that though, not in the name of Marne.
He also looked up to Ulfric Stormcloak's ability to shout and would love to learn the art himself. No success so far, though he is sure he will get the hang of the word "[i]Fo[/i]" soon enough.