[hider=Mazrah gra-Durash][center][h3][B]Mazrah “Maz” gra-Durash[/B][/h3]

[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/5436539c-e5ad-4d04-90ed-44f9cc9141ef.png[/img]


[B]Race[/B]: Orsimer.
[B]Sex[/B]: Female.
[B]Age[/B]: 32.
[B]Family Origins[/B]: Orsinium.
[B]Birth Sign[/B]: The Steed.[/center]

[B]Appearance[/B]: Tall, strong and fierce, Mazrah is a perfect example of the wild spirit of the Orsimer people. She stands 6’2” at her full height, towering over all of the races of Tamriel except the Nords, and clocks in at 190 pounds of dense muscle. Her gray-green skin, black hair and proud tusks immediately identify her as an Orc at first glance, and the intricate tattoos and ritual scars confirm that she is not only biologically Orsimer but culturally as well, and those who can tell the difference would quickly recognize that she hails from Orsinium specifically. Either way, there is no way that anyone will mistake her for the city-dwelling Orsimer of the Empire -- she doesn’t allow it.

While most of the features of her face are typically Orcish, Mazrah’s expressive, piercing eyes, shimmering like liquid gold, set her apart from the rest of her race and almost never fail to grab the attention of anyone that looks at her. Quite a feat, since her eyes are competing with a complex, geometric tribal tattoo of white ink that covers her entire face, a number of ritual scars on her forehead, beneath her eyes and on her chin (and a real scar over her right eye), a septum piercing, snake bite piercings in her lower lips, rings and studs by her eyebrows [i]and[/i] a whole series of rings and helix piercings in her long, knife-shaped elvish ears. The effect is both busy and fearsome, reminiscent of mythic cannibals of ages past, and the further exacerbated by her hair; she wears it in a messy mohawk (making her look even taller) with a series of small braids hanging down her neck. The sides of her head are partially shaved, leaving carefully arranged patches of hair that are also braided, and the bare skin in-between reveals that her facial tattoo extends across her entire cranium. That said, there is nothing scary or unkind about her pleasant, raucous laughter that brings out a crease by her nose that can only be described as endearing, or the way her whole face lights up when confronted with something that interests her, or the twinkle she gets in her eyes when she’s feeling mischievous. Unbeknownst to her, a drop of Breton blood in her lineage is responsible for giving her a slightly more human appearance than most of her kin.

Mazrah’s body is both voluptuous and muscular in the way only an [url=https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/869/871/large/bayard-wu-0622-04.jpg?1466664153]Orcish woman[/url] can be; her rich feminine curves have been enhanced by vigorous physical activity and a healthy diet, and her limbs, abdomen and back are dominated by powerful, corded muscle. There’s not of shred of fat where it shouldn’t be. Much like her face, the rest of her skin is also covered in white, geometric tattoos and scar tissue in similar designs and patterns. Several scars that [i]weren’t[/i] inflicted by the Wise Women of Orsinium are also present, marring her otherwise flawless, toned skin -- fighting unarmored does have its disadvantages -- but not excessively so. 

She moves like a predator might; every movement is deliberate and controlled, preserving energy and allowing her to walk silently and with grace over any type of terrain and past obstacles without disturbing them. But when danger calls, Mazrah moves with explosive speed and agility, vaulting over opponents, dodging attacks and striking like a coiled snake with what looks like minimal effort. Mazrah keeps tabs on her surroundings at all times and an observant eye will be able to tell that she doesn’t completely unwind when inside city walls the same way most people do. Her lifestyle as a wanderer, hunter and warrior doesn’t allow much room for getting too comfortable. 

Her outfit is [url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/003/952/848/large/ni-yipeng-.jpg?1478857596]simple and primitive[/url], not dissimilar from the furs and leathers of the Forsworn of the Reach: a cropped top that leaves her abdomen and arms bare and loincloth that leaves her legs bare, both made of simple, strong fabric dyed to fade into the backdrop of the mountain forests, a leather belt lined with pouches, a marksman’s glove and sturdy boots made from animal hide, and a strap slung across her torso that supports her quiver and features a metal clasp to hold her spear. She likes flaunting what she’s got and proudly displays her tattoos at all times, even when there’s a nip in the air. Mazrah would rather be cold than modestly dressed. 

[B]History[/B]: Orsinium was rebuilt in the Fourth Era between Skyrim and Hammerfell, nestled snugly in the mountain range that separated the two provinces. It is there that Mazrah was born, daughter of Urgak gro-Shurkol, the Hand of Mauloch, and Durash gra-Shadbak, one of his wives. Where the king focuses on ruling and governing, the task of defending the city against outside threats was mostly delegated to a fearless champion given the aforementioned title, and Urgak had no time to look after a daughter -- that task was left entirely to Durash. Urgak had other plans. While the position of the Hand wasn't hereditary, Urgak was determined for one of his sons to succeed him... and for that to happen, they had to be skilled enough to kill him. Much like Orc chieftains, the successor of the Hand of Mauloch was chosen via a trial by combat. The most likely candidate appeared to be one of Mazrah’s older brothers, Maulakanth, a specimen that was already the size of a bull when he was still a whelp, and Mazrah was quietly raised by her mother in Maulakanth’s ever-increasing shadow. 

That suited her just fine. Urgak’s parenting style was harsh, demanding and unforgiving, and the trials he put Maulakanth and Mazrah’s other brothers through were grueling. Durash, on the other hand, was one of Orsinium’s finest hunters and knew the value of patience. She took it upon herself to not only teach her daughter how to hunt, but also how to fight, as she was an unsung master with the most versatile weapon of all: the spear. Durash never raised her voice against Mazrah while she did so, not even when the girl faltered, did something stupid or simply complained, nor did she ever beat her, tie her to a pole overnight or deprive her water. Mazrah observed from the shadows as Maulakanth did suffer all of the aforementioned abuse, and was both impressed and saddened by the fact that her brother never protested, cried or even whimpered. Durash didn’t say it, but Mazrah could tell by the look on her mother’s face that she also disapproved of the treatment. One night, when Mazrah was around ten years old, she and her mother returned from a successful hunt and Durash quietly confided in her daughter that she hadn’t always lived among the ‘true’ Orsimer of the strongholds and Orsinium. She had seen how people treated their children elsewhere in Tamriel and learned much from it. Mazrah was surprised -- she had always been told that the only honorable way for an Orc to live was according to the Old Ways of Malacath, and that there was nothing to learn from the other, ‘soft’ races. She asked her mother why she had returned to Orsinium and become one of Urgak’s wives, and Durash shrugged. She had felt it had, after all, been her place. 

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Durash said with a sigh.

But what’s done was done and as a mother to some of the Hand of Mauloch’s children, Durash could not leave anymore. The best she could do was raise Mazrah well and clean Maulakanth’s wounds when he stumbled into their longhouse after yet another beating at his father’s hands. Maulakanth would always dismissively wave away Mazrah’s concerned looks, confidently saying that it was nothing and that he would face worse when he became the Hand, so he would do well to be prepared now, and a million other excuses that Mazrah never believed. The two got along well; Maulakanth channelled some of his father’s cruelty at his brothers, but he always treated Mazrah with a certain tenderness that she was amazed he was still capable of. 

Maulakanth grew up to be enormous, standing well over seven feet tall, and his skill at arms was so prodigious that Mazrah was sure he would defeat their father during their inevitable duel. Emboldened by Mazrah’s opinion, Maulakanth challenged Urgak when he was only twenty-two years old. Urgak fought in full plate armor, carrying a tower shield and a morning star – Maulakanth had shown up bare-chested, brandishing two brand new orichalcum swords that one of his father’s clanwives had forged just for this occasion. The duel was intense and lasted for longer than ten minutes (which is generally considered a protracted affair in Orc culture). The blows of Urgak's morning star were either deflected and turned aside by Maulakanth's swords or evaded entirely, but Urgak caught all of Maulakanth's slices and thrusts on his shield. Both warriors became more reckless as the duel went on and the climax came when Urgak managed to land a satisfying hit on Maulakanth's flank, the spikes of his morning star driving into Maulakanth's flesh. Doing his best to ignore the pain, Maulakanth stepped in behind Urgak's shield before his father had a chance to pull the morning star free from his side and Maulakanth drove his swords through Urgak's cuirass with two powerful thrusts, impaling his heart and his lungs. The Hand of Mauloch died almost instantly. 

Mazrah cheered. She would not mourn her father’s death. 

While Maulakanth had endured his trials and emerged victorious, Mazrah underwent her own rite of passage over time. As the young woman mastered her mother’s skills and proved her worth in the occasional skirmish with Nord or Redguard bandits that roamed too close for comfort, be it with the spear, the bow or the shadow, she was rewarded periodically by her mother instructing the Wise Women of Orsinium to replicate another piece of the complex and beautiful full-body tattoo that covered Durash’s skin from head to toe. She told Mazrah that her own mother had sported the same markings, and her mother before her, and so on and so forth for as long as memory served, and each part, each design, each line and each shape, represented their lineage’s mastery with the traditional weapons of the hunt. And for every new species of game that she bagged, she was given a ritual scar: “Blood begets blood,” Durash had said as she wielded the sacrificial knife. Mazrah had made sure not to flinch. This was not abuse. This was an honor. 

As the years went by and Mazrah developed into a balanced, confident adult who demanded respect with her skills, her patience and her willful personality, it became apparent that Maulakanth was in over his head as the Hand of Mauloch. He demanded a reform of the soldiers' combat tactics, demoted four war-chiefs for speaking against him and challenged two others to a duel to the death. As the abuses of power piled up, the king was eventually forced to reign Maulakanth in and the proud Hand of Mauloch only relented grudgingly. This started a feud between Maulakanth and the king that would last for years. Mazrah tried to whisper cautious and wise council into her brother’s ear, but his decisive victory over Urgak had ballooned his ego beyond reason and logic, and the solid bond between them started to show some cracks after all as his tenderness was replaced by dismissiveness and irritation. Durash watched with leaden-eyed dismay how her proud and powerful son turned into the same kind of monster his father had been. 

As a daughter of the former Hand of Mauloch it was expected of Mazrah to marry one of the other prominent Orsimer of Orsinium, but she realized that she wasn’t attracted to any of them -- or any of the other male Orcs. No man of any race, in fact, had ever caught her eye. Instead, Mazrah found herself looking sideways at some of the other female hunters that she ranged out into the wilds with, her gaze lingering on their bare thighs or the nape of their neck before she caught herself and looked away. She felt ashamed: there was no place for women to love other women in Orc society, and certainly not in the ultimate patriarchy that Orsinium was. It wasn’t something that ever happened. Mazrah didn’t even know if any other women ever felt this way -- maybe she was alone in her dysfunctional feelings. But she couldn’t help herself, and her heart quickened when she noticed that one of the hunters returned her covert glances with the same look in her eyes. Her name was Akkra and one night while they were high up the mountainside and huddled together for warmth, she became Mazrah’s first lover. 

Afterwards it felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders and she discovered she had a spring in her step as they returned to Orsinium the next day, trying and failing to wipe the grins off their faces. Mazrah and Akkra did not speak about what happened, but the furtive and sultry glances they continued to give each other made it obvious that the appreciation Mazrah felt was mutual. However, the fact that they could not openly desire each other sparked the flame of simmering resentment in the pit of Mazrah’s stomach and she began to ask her mother not-so-subtle questions about the outside world. Durash smiled the sad, proud smile only mothers can smile -- she had always known that Mazrah would eventually want to leave. She had raised her that way, after all. 

Meanwhile, Maulakanth had finally found the limits of the king’s patience with him after it had been discovered that Maulakanth had tried to instigate a border conflict between Orsinium and High Rock. The king had him stripped of his title and exiled for insubordination. Maulakanth was furious upon hearing the news and strode into the king's longhouse, shoving past the guards, to rage at the king in person, who merely confirmed the news and told him to get out. Beyond himself with fury, Maulakanth drew his blades and was immediately beset on all sides by the king's bodyguard. Maulakanth fought savagely and roared at his king, calling him a traitor and a coward, demanding an honest one-on-one duel. The king wouldn't have any of it, however, and Maulakanth was forced out of the longhouse and eventually out of the city. Five Orcs fell beneath his blades that day but that merely served to reinforce the king's point and Maulakanth found no support from his erstwhile allies in the armed forces. 


Mazrah, however, saw an opportunity here. Maulakanth’s fall from grace and power reflected badly on their entire family and she suddenly found herself having become a much less desirable wife. While the social obligation to get married existed it would have been a very bad look for Mazrah to leave and she hadn’t managed to gather up the courage to do so (for fear of doing something irreversible), but now that there was essentially nothing left that tied her to Orsinium it would not be frowned upon as much for her to go on a walkabout. Feigning some excuse to her friends and family that she was leaving out of solidarity with Maulakanth, Mazrah gathered her meager belongings and departed. As a parting gift, Durash gave Mazrah her prized spear, a family heirloom that has been passed down through the generations, saying that her daughter needed it more now than she did. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she hugged her mother tight one last time, and then she was off. She didn’t follow her brother; in fact, she never saw him again. Mazrah wanted to meet [i]new[/i] people.

Her travels since then have taken her through High Rock, where she discovered that her mother’s stories about the Bretons’ obsession with decorum and etiquette was not an exaggeration and found herself unwelcome except in the most cosmopolitan (and subsequently accepting) of places, and then south towards Hammerfell. The land of the Redguard was more to Mazrah’s liking; aside from the favorable climate and the beautiful scenery, she admired the warrior pride of the native people and found that more Redguards than Bretons were willing to look past her skin to appreciate her skill at arms and hunting. She felt more at home than she ever had before, even if she still found herself on the receiving end of racism and discrimination often enough. It took a lot of willpower, but she decided that she didn’t care and wouldn’t let it get to her, and that was that. She sustained herself with her hunting prowess and the odd mercenary job here and there, slowly learning how to integrate herself a little better into ‘civilization’, but her unwillingness to shed her old habits (and clothes) meant that she was destined to remain at the periphery of society. Other outcasts and hunters became her friends, especially those that frequented the markets and watering holes that Mazrah attended whenever she entered the cities of Hammerfell.

The arrival of the Dwemer in Hammerfell on the 19th of Rain’s Hand, 4E208 was a rough and utterly unexpected disruption of Mazrah’s otherwise sunny and comfortable existence. Their swift occupation of the Redguard cities was followed by Dwemer patrols out on the roads and it wasn’t long before Mazrah found herself having to justify to the alien invaders who she was and what she was doing as she was returning from a successful hunt along the edge of the Alik’r desert. She complied with their demands, ignoring her pride yelling at her to stand up to them as her instincts told her that these were creatures she did not want to mess with right then, and retreated back to the [i]Scintillant Scarab[/i] outside of Sentinel to figure out what the hell was going on. One of the barmaids, a young Redguard woman called Marien, was a friend of Mazrah’s and she filled her in on the details, but Mazrah could tell that Marien was distraught over something else. The girl tearfully admitted that she had been molested by a patron called Nuzir that had been hanging around the [i]Scarab[/i] for a while. Mazrah remembered the name and the accompanying face, and after convincing Marien to tell her where Nuzir lived -- Gilane, a city on the south coast -- she set off to find the rotten bastard and give him a piece of her mind. Dwemer or no Dwemer, ordinary life continued. 

[B]Family and Associates:[/B]
Durash, her mother and mentor, who still lives in Orsinium as far as Mazrah knows. The two parted on good terms and Mazrah knows she will one day see her again.

Maulakanth, her older brother and the former Hand of Mauloch of Orsinium. While she was once fond of him he has become a rotten bastard and she doesn’t mind that she hasn’t seen him since he was exiled.

Akkra, a hunter from Orsinium and Mazrah’s first lover. If it weren’t for the intolerant society of Orsinium, they might have started a proper relationship. Mazrah still thinks of her often.

Marien, a Redguard bar-maid who works at an inn outside of Sentinel that Mazrah frequents. They flirt, and while Mazrah can tell that Marien is still a little uncomfortable with the idea of an Orc, she’s confident she’ll get Marien to come around. 

[B]Personality[/B]: Strong-willed, fiercely independent, tactless and lively are all accurate phrases to describe Mazrah with. She is confident in her skills, her self-worth and her bone-headed charm, doesn’t let other people tell her what to do or how to do something and expresses herself exactly how she sees fit -- which is by blurting out whatever she thinks and dressing however she damn well pleases. Mazrah used to be more reserved and calculated about her words and actions, but since leaving Orsinium and forging a place for herself at the edge of Redguard society Mazrah has felt truly comfortable with herself, and it shows. She’s curious about new people and new places and won’t hesitate to ask prying questions or to interrupt conversations if she doesn’t understand what people are talking about. All of this serves to make her [i]seem[/i] rude or even disrespectful, but Mazrah means well. The considerate, inspiring and empowering way her mother raised her has instilled Mazrah with a heart of gold, even if it can be obscured by her assertive and powerful personality. 

She reacts poorly to being reprimanded or judged if she feels that it is unfair -- and sometimes even when it is fair -- and has a very powerful dislike for people that try to overstep their authority. Mazrah believes that everyone should get a chance to prove themselves and has only begrudgingly accepted that she can’t dismantle the prejudice against the Orsimer people by herself in a few years. For all the faults of Orsinium’s society, she still takes pride in being an Orc and thinks that the other races could learn a lot from their emphasis on self-reliance, strength and merit. She doesn’t make the slightest effort to hide her background or her nature and staunchly refuses to abandon her principles and her way of life to fit in with other civilizations. She’ll take the friends that she can get and everyone else can kiss her big, gray-green ass. 

Her sexuality formed a pivotal moment in her perception of the patriarchal society of Orsinium, and subsequently the rest of Tamriel. Mazrah’s love for her fellow woman also expresses itself in a desire to see women everywhere take matters into their own hands, and she’s particularly attracted to women who make the most out of their situations and refuse to bend to the whims of other people. She tolerates men, of course, and plenty of her friends are men, but she feels like they have enough power and privilege in this world. Being a warrior she admires other women with significant martial prowess, but she also has a soft spot for dainty ladies and proper housewives alike: they’re simply cute. Still, she would like to see them achieve more. 

Mazrah is slow to anger but the berserker blood of the Orsimer still courses through her veins; once incensed, Mazrah’s incandescent rage is a thing to behold (and fear). She is protective of her friends and capable of very powerful vengeful emotions when they are hurt or betrayed. However, she’ll also be the first to tell one of her comrades that they’re being an idiot, because allowing your friends to set themselves up for failure isn’t being a good friend at all. Some people appreciate this more than others.

Durash taught Mazrah the ancient, tribal songs and dances of the Orsimer people and Mazrah likes to perform them for interested audiences whenever possible -- it’s another piece of her heritage that she’s proud of and wishes to share. 

[B]Equipment[/B]: 
[indent][u]Orichalcum spear:[/u] Passed down from mother to daughter for many generations, this master-crafted spear that’s as long as Mazrah is tall is perfectly balanced and a fantastic fit for her fighting style: not surprising, since it’s the style she learned from her mother. The shaft is made of treated wood, leaving only the blade and a spike at the bottom of the shaft as being actual orichalcum. That means it’s light enough for fast, mobile strikes, including spins, twirls and leaps, but strong enough to punch through almost anything and even withstand the stress of polevaulting over enemies. 

[u]Hunting bow:[/u] Her secondary weapon and primary hunting tool. It’s easier to shoot an elk from a distance than it is to ambush with a spear, after all. It’s a simple bow made from wood that’s been enforced with iron, but it’s big and has a huge draw weight; Mazrah’s prodigious strength makes it a deadly weapon in her hands. 

[u]Quiver and arrows:[/u] A simple leather quiver filled with 20 orichalcum-tipped arrows. She’s careful to retrieve them after every kill; they don’t come cheap.[/indent] 

[B]Misc. Possessions[/B]:
[indent][u]Leather utility belt and pouches:[/u] All the storage space that Mazrah needs. She has precious little belongings and is perfectly comfortable living out in the wilderness and off the land, so a few pouches go a long way towards keeping everything she needs on her person.

[u]Gold:[/u] Never one for hoarding wealth, Mazrah lives from day to day and only keeps enough gold on her for a few emergency meals and a warm bed if so desired. She currently has 45 septims.

[u]Alchemy supplies:[/u] She has a few ingredients with her that are suitable for either poisons or healing potions. Mazrah has separated them into two different pouches so she won’t mix them up.[/indent]

[B]Favoured Skills[/B]: 
[indent]
[u]Highly Proficient: Spear:[/u] To Mazrah, the spear has become an extension of her powerful body, giving her almost unparalleled reach and versatility. Thrusts, slashes, jabs, swipes, whacks and armor-piercing, leaping strikes are all part of her repertoire, using the spear as a combination between a very long sword and a quarterstaff, which is further enhanced by her integration of acrobatics into her fighting style. She can wield it effectively against practically any type of enemy, even mounted units and giant bears, and one would do well to seek to disarm her first when faced with her in combat. 

[u]Highly Proficient: Acrobatics:[/u] Good luck doing that when Mazrah is dancing circles around you, however. She’s faster, more agile and more mobile than almost anyone, and her signature move is a powerful polevault over enemies’ heads that never fails to leave them stunned and ready to be slaughtered. Years of ranging across the wilderness have also made her a skilled mountaineer and climber in general -- trees, houses, boulders, you name it, Mazrah can climb it. 

[u]Moderately Proficient: Archery:[/u] Mazrah is an accomplished hunter and that’s where her skills with the bow and arrow shine. She’s not particularly experienced in using it in combat, however, where she prefers to stick to her spear -- unless that would be extremely unwise. Sometimes nothing beats a ranged surprise attack.

[u]Moderately Proficient: Sneak:[/u] Years of sneaking through the underbrush to stalk deer, sabercats and other wildlife have turned Mazrah into a capable stalker. She can move remarkably quietly for a woman her size. Still, she’s not a trained assassin or an experienced thief, so there are people much better at this than she is.

[u]Somewhat Proficient: Provisioning:[/u] She has, quite literally, sustained herself with her hunting prowess ever since she left Orsinium. She's no chef by any stretch of the word but she knows how to skin, cut and prepare the meat of her prey in a tasty, nutritious and rustic way.[/indent]

[B]Spell List:[/b] None.[/hider]