Wow, I haven't used this in a while. Some of the characters up top might be outdated by now.


[hider=Calen Smallwood, from Dervish's The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep]

[center][color=89cff0][h3]Calen Smallwood[/h3]
[sub]Male Nord | 23 | The Lover | Solitude, Skyrim

[url=https://open.spotify.com/user/1231214188/playlist/6PzFTHMNsRezeC3M0bI1DN](Listen to some bardly music to accompany you on this journey!)[/url][/sub][/color]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/236x/d6/cb/7d/d6cb7d7fc62fe76dbbd3b6761f10aa86.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=89cff0][u][b] Appearance                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent]Would you get a load of this guy? Look at him. He's such a cheeky young man, with his perpetual boyish smirk and gleaming white teeth. What's this boy doing in a place like this? This blonde-haired, big foreheaded, milk-drinker lookin' ass. Freckled rosy cheeks like a schoolboy-lookin' ass - sure, okay, he's got a little bit of height to him at 5'10", not much, but it's there. Sure, he's got some shoulders on him from a life of farm work, that's fair, I'll give you that; but even all that taken into consideration, and despite whatever his physical [i]capability[/i] may be, he doesn't look like the type of person who belongs here. In the center of a war, I mean, or out on the open road like some two-bit adventurer. You see the child-like glee on his face, and you expect a man like him to be in the comfort of a city or partying his days away in a tavern. He has the weight on him, 165 lbs, but not the muscle tone, and he doesn't come across as the hero type. Simply put, he just looks too [i]pretty[/i]. He's a conventionally handsome fellow, but he doesn't look like a tough or battle hardened Nord like a true Nord ought to be.

He has short blonde hair which he keeps brushed back and fair skin like many a nord, and he has gleaming coffee-colored brown eyes, which gets brought out by thick eyelashes. His lips, a dark rosy color, and when he smiles, stretch wide from giant ear to giant ear and forming dimples on either sides of his cheeks, and that smile appears perfectly symmetrical with his jawline. There is nary a scar on his face, tattoo, or sign of hardship that can be seen on his person, save for maybe the callouses on his hands - the hands of a working man, who knows what it's like to pitch hay bales over his head and work some rope, but the callouses are thickest around his finger with which he uses to play his lute and drum and fiddle. His hands are in fact the exception and not the norm, as even the modulation and inflection of his sing-songy voice is smooth.

He wears simple clothes, though they are quite obviously nordic in style and design. He most often wears a white, short-sleeved undershirt with light blue trimming, which is covered in some variation of the usual work shirt that he wears. A tough, warm linen shirt with long sleeves that are usually rolled up to Calen's elbows, with strings around its v-neck in order to open or close the neckline as needed. Nordic runes trim the shoulders and collar with little bone beads decorating the shoulders. He also wears cotton jodhpurs - riding pants - that are darker brown in color. Though Calen prefers the comfort of moccasins on his feet, he finds that it's better to be wearing his riding boots since Tamriel has a habit of falling into the privy on a regular basis. He also wears a fur-lined leather broad belt, which is probably the best he has for means of protection, and even then, it's probably better used as a belly warmer.

Her also wears an amulet of Dibella with him at all times. It's his good luck charm, and he is never seen without it.[/indent]

[color=89cff0][u][b] Equipment                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent][url=https://img1.etsystatic.com/117/1/11886902/il_570xN.920866273_s3su.jpg]A wooden cudgel[/url] that is carved with traditional Nordic decorations, and is only slightly stained with a little bit of blood. It hangs at his side by a loop from his belt.

An enchanted Amulet of Dibella that fortifies his Speechcraft, making him even more likable than before!

A simple set of durable and warm clothes that actually don't look too shabby on him. A fur-lined leather broad belt is the best he has for means of protection, and even then, it's probably better used as a belly warmer.

A gut hooked skinning knife is sheathed right where his tail-bone is at, where his back meets his ass, but he's more likely to use it as his primary eating utensil than anything else that's practical beyond that.[/indent]

[color=89cff0][u][b] Misc. Possessions                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent]A pouch of 75 septims.

A key to the trunk in his wagon.

While not on his person, per se, he [i]is[/i] in possession of a reasonable carriage wagon and a driving pony to pull it along the road. It contains most of his belongings that he can't afford to hold onto his person, and while neither the wagon nor pony is large enough to carry an entire party, it fulfills its purpose in carrying just himself and a few other people. What it can do is at least lift some of the burden off of a traveling company. Within the wagon lies a trunk where most his belongings reside:

[indent]A weathered-looking lute that has seen its fair share of use, but still has plenty of songs left in its lifespan.

A small drum that one could easily carry under their arm without getting tired.

A violin that's nearly as aged as the lute, adorned with decorations similar to what's on his cudgel, and a bow to play it with. 

A personal, leather-bound scrapbook recounting of almost all the people he has come across in his travels. Just pages and pages devoted to their sketched faces, their names, and what kind of impact they've left of him. Of course he couldn't get all of them - but he certainly got all of his customers. Most importantly though, what this journal [i]does[/i] manage to get all of are each and every single one of his lovers and love interests throughout his life. Their faces are drawn with meticulous detail and are accompanied by passages which recounts their finest qualities and the experiences he's shared with them.

Two tall bottles of spiced wine, home-brewed back in Solitude. One of them is already halfway finished.

A sack of preserved or readily available foods, such as stag jerky, cheese, snowberries, and edible roots.

A small brown medicine bottle that is filled with delightfully pungent herbal oils with a hint of sweetness to its aroma. It is labeled as "Khenarthi's Breath".

A small tent that is simple in it's construction. Calen typically just pitches it to all four corners of his wagon and sleeps where he works. It comes with a thick, woolen blanket that keeps him warm at night.

Soap made from flowers and horker fat.

Spare clothes that are similar to one another in their style and design.

A pouch of 225 Septims.

A collection of books, many of which are related to history in one way or another, about art and poetry, foreign culture, and what looks to be a religious tome that tells you everything you'd like to know about Dibella's doctrines.[/indent][/indent]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img][/center]

[color=89cff0][u][b] Family and Associations                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent]Gungir Smallwood, Father; Alive

Mira Smallwood, Mother; Alive

Murtagh Smallwood, Elder Brother; Alive

Bard's College, Organization; Member in good standing.

Temple of Dibella, Organization; Patron[/indent]

[color=89cff0][u][b] Favored Skills                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent][u]Highly Proficient: Speechcraft[/u] – [i](He's a picker. He's a grinner. He's a lover and he's a sinner. You thought you had it going on back in school? Well, Calen went to the Bard's College in Solitude and that place taught him everything he knows from history and languages to singing and performing. Ladies, don't let his age fool you - what he makes up for experience? Raw talent and endless energy. Bastard could charm the loincloth off of a giant with his silver tongue... because... well, you know... he's good at Speechcraft.)[/i]

[u]Moderately Proficient: Mercantile[/u] – [i](There's not much difference between making love and the art of the deal besides the fact you're trying to make money while you're at it, so there's only a little bit more lying than normal. But you know what? Calen got pretty good at it. He has a pretty good gig going on with his carriage business, so he had to get good at it.)[/i]

[u]Moderately Proficient: Acrobatics[/u] – [i](Working with horses for most of his life has made him a rather able-bodied equestrian. See, it's all about keeping your balance, and if you fall then you try to fall as painlessly as possible. Pain (or the threat of pain) is a great motivator, just take it from Calen.)[/i]

[u]Moderately Proficient: Athletics[/u] – [i](For bolting in the opposite direction when everything has gotten abso-fucking-lutely haywire. Years of hard farm labor, being on the road, and running from dangerous fathers (and a variety of other folk) has made Calen one hell of a speedy son-of-a-bitch. His cardio was worked out enough that he can run quickly across distances without being winded, which has done wonders for helping him to keep his asthma under control despite the issues it has caused for him to get to that point.)[/i]

[u]Somewhat Proficient: One-Handed (Blunt)[/u] - [i](Calen carries a cudgel with him everywhere just in case his next customer is the kind that gets a little too handsy (like an orc trying to wrap their hands around his throat), or if his wagon comes across some vagabonds along the way to his destination. With a girly yelp and a shriek for help, he takes it and smacks it right across his assailant's kisser. And I'll tell you what: he's become quite accustomed to that entire routine. He's gotten pretty good at it.)[/i]

[u]Somewhat Proficient: Restoration[/u] – [i](A priestess of Dibella showed Calen additional generosity on top of her usual services by teaching him a bit of restoration magic that can help him deal with his asthma. His hands start glowing with a radiant light, he cups them around his face, and he takes a huge breath in. One can even see the light running through his neck. Coincidentally, that was only one of the two lessons he received that night.)[/i]

[u]Somewhat Proficient: Illusion[/u] – [i](He learned a bit of magic from some other bards at the college, as every bard needs to know how to escape a particularly tough crowd. For those occasions when he quickly needs to be somewhere, like, yesterday.)[/i] [/indent]

[color=89cff0][b][u] Spells                    [/u][/b][/color]

[u]Somewhat Proficient: Restoraton[/u]
[indent][b]Healing:[/b] He can heal himself at a steady rate as long as he concentrates - good for asthma too. Fond memories come to mind every time.

[b]Healing Hands:[/b] As it happens, the healing that Calen uses for his asthma can be used to help others too, as long as he concentrates. Whether or not people want his healing hands after they learn where he got 'em from is up to them.

[b]Fortify Luck:[/b] After a fool's prayer and a kiss on his necklace, Calen jumps into action with the highest of hopes that he doesn't freaking [i]die[/i]. His prayer as it goes: "Under her skirt and into the bum, watch out Nirn, here I come."[/indent]

[u]Somewhat Proficient: Illusion[/u]
[indent][b]Clairvoyance:[/b] For as long as Calen concentrates on his destination, he has intuitive sense of direction and cannot lose his way. What? You think he ran his carriage business on his [i]survival skills?[/i] Oh honey, bless your heart.

[b]Muffle:[/b] For as long as Calen concentrates, he doesn't make any noise. Which is something a lot of people probably wished he did more often, but he'd rather use it to get his ass out of danger.

[b]Calm:[/b] Calen can touch somebody and reduce their aggression for a short period of 30 seconds. Of course he knows this spell. Why wouldn't he? With the number of angry fathers he's had running after him, this spell has probably saved his life more times than he can count.

[b]Courage:[/b] Calen can touch somebody and make them braver and steel their resolve for a short period of 30 seconds. Read again: somebody else. Not him, heavens no. He's going the other way.[/indent]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img][/center]

[color=89cff0][u][b] History                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent]Are you looking for a sob story, my friend? A grand ole tale o' tragedy, a misty-eyed epic of redemption and a hero hurling themselves at impossible obstacles? An Iliad recounting the moral quandary of man?

You poor son of a bitch.

Year 4E185 - a beautiful baby boy was born in Skyrim. The boy didn't know of the great things in store for him as he was still at his mother's breast, but his humble beginnings would serve him well in the future. Born and raised to two ranchers who worked and lived at a stable house just south of Solitude, raising and selling horses. His mother was indisputably much better at it, since Mira was a tried and tested rancher like her father before her. His dad, Gungir, was a farmer. He was better at making potatoes and onions grow than he was breaking in and taking care of a horse (but guess what makes more money). He also had a brother five years older than he by the name of Murtagh, and was already hard at work on the ranch pitching piles of hay over his head.

Now, Smallwood is one hell of a name to be stuck with, so it's natural that after some teasing, they're gonna wonder why they were stuck with it. Gungir was well familiar with this story, and it basically traces their family origin down to a group of fletchers who'd grow trees and chop them down when they're young for wood that was flexible enough for bows and whatnot. So they became known for what was basically a wide-spanning grove of baby trees. In time, Calen would learn that this knowledge that Gungir has passed onto him was ultimately useless. "It means fletcher!" isn't a very useful comeback when one of the people picking on you was a dunmer. Calen still doesn't know what "fetcher" means, and he still hates being called one. In time, however, Calen would learn to laugh at himself and use that sense of humor to his advantage.

Calen would also learn how to help his family complete their chores and fulfill their responsibilities, whether it was shoveling shit or breaking in the horses for the next buyer that was too much of a pansy ass to do the work themselves. Then he also had to deal with all manner of nasty critters going bump in the night that liked to prey on the foals, likes wolves and coyotes. Though usually that fell under the purview of his older brother Murtagh, he showed him the ropes and reveal that waving a torch around was usually enough to scare 'em off, but if that didn't work, a good old club to the snout always got the message across (the language of violence was ideal for inter-species communication). Digression aside, the two brothers got along swimmingly! They didn't share any sibling rivalries like you hear and read in tales, rather they complemented each other instead. Murtagh was more than happy to watch over his little rascal of a brother and always seemed to find himself inspired by his sense of curiosity and appreciation of the little things in life. Likewise, Calen naturally adored his older brother and saw him as a strong, adventurous type who he could always rely on. It was nothing less than pure.

Moments like scaring off wildlife, however, also seemed to present a huge problem with Calen's health. Aside from not being the bravest fellow you've ever layed your eyes on (read: he's pretty cowardly), and a lot of that was due to throwing Murtagh at all of life's scary problems, it presented an issue with his asthma. Now his parents were good-natured folk, if a bit rustic in their ways, especially Gungir. They believed that what didn't kill you made you stronger, so when the first asthma attack came around and didn't knock him out of the ball park right from the get-go, that looked to them like a sure sign that Calen was gonna survive the ones that came after, too. Despite their philosophy, the boy was awfully fond of being able to [i]breathe.[/i] They only found a solution to the problem after a khajiit caravan passed through and one of the merchants was able to recognize the symptoms. He presented Calen with a traditional medicine to alleviate his symptoms, made of a moon sugar solution that was heavily diluted with lavender and blue mountain flower oils. Dabbing the solution just inside his nostrils and taking a deep breath allowed the fumes to work inside his windpipe and lungs and relaxed the muscles, clearing his airways.

His parents always tried to steer those two boys right. You work and live honest, and things would typically treat you in kind. As long as you weren't ashamed of hard and dirty labor, there was very little keeping you from getting what you wanted. It usually held true for other people as well. Their father would tell them, "As long as you do no wrong by your neighbor, your neighbor will have no reason to do wrong by you," while their mama always told them, "Don't you go around treating women like trash. Treat 'em with respect. Treat a lady like a queen and you ain't ever gonna lose her."

Though Gungir was the quieter of the two and mama Mira typically called all the shots, he was ultimately seen as the final authority. This was actually [i]because[/i] of his quiet and laid back nature. If you goofed up enough to earn yourself a stern talking-to from Gungir, you know you goofed up hard. Otherwise, he was easy to get along with and was always eager to learn or teach someone else about a thing or how to do something. If you wanted to find him, look no further than the garden.

It's easy to see how both of the boys were able to become capable equestrians, as they not only had to learn how to ride, but how to teach horses how to be ridden. They were basically giant dumb dogs who had to learn what the cues were, except dogs didn't weigh nearly a ton or have deadly clubs attached to the ends of their feet. Calen's favorite of them all must have been their working horse, a massive draught named Edna, if for no other reason than her sweet temperament and the fact that she didn't get spooked [i]by a thrice-damned LEAF[/i] rolling across the cobblestone (we're looking at you, Danish). Danish was a prime example of why ponies are the [i]worst[/i] of animals: spooked by everything, dumb as bricks, and was only good as a towing beast of burden or carrying children on his back - and that was if you didn't care if the kid got bucked off.

By the time Murtagh came of age at sixteen years old, he marched his way up to Solitude to enlist in the Imperial Legion where he'd become a soldier of the Empire with the hope of protecting his home. There were lots of suffering after the Great War and he wanted to be sure he could protect his family should another one arise. Though his parents disapproved of the Empire for their lack of backbone in handling the White-Gold Concordant, they did approve of Murtagh's sense of honor. The Legion would see a strapping young man already fit by years of farm labor and take him in with open arms. This also happened to leave many of his responsibilities at home upon Calen's shoulders. Of his new responsibilities to his family's stable, he'd much preferred having to walk up the hill to Solitude and carry back heavy sacks of grain. As much of a pain in the ass the labor was, it meant that Calen got to see the city and its sights, listen to the hustle and bustle of the market, smell and try the delicious fruits, visit his brother at the barracks, and listen to a bard make sweet, sweet music. Music was a wonderful thing it was heaven against his ears! He'd toss a coin into the bard's hat laying on the ground before him, thank him for the tunes, and get on with carrying heavy sacks of grain to the wagon just outside the gate. If he was lucky, Danish wouldn't spook at the sound of the gates opening and closing and run all the way back to the stable and make [i]him[/i] carry the grain back.

To be fair, it was only a matter of time that Calen decided that he was getting tired of shoveling shit and hard labor, and training horses was like herding cats. After a couple of years working the ranch, he made a heartfelt plea to his family to help him go to Solitude and learn at the Bard's College. At first they laughed. A child running off to become a bard was almost [i]stereotypical[/i], as if strumming a lute, beating a drum, or singing songs was ever going to get him anywhere in life - why not join his brother in the Legion? Why, just a year ago, Murt finished his two years of training in the barracks and was now out patrolling Skyrim's countryside. Then they realized that Calen was dead serious and they fixed their tone right up. So they scrounged up what they could, setting some money aside when they could, and on Calen's sweet sixteen, they surprised him by sending him on his way to learn the bard's craft.

When he arrived, he was greeted by a motley crew of bards and students from all walks of life, a variety of pungent smells where not all were good, and a cascade of music - where some of the chords being played were shrill and agonizing to the ears. It was at that point he realized:[i] oh yeah.[/i] People come here to [i]learn[/i]. Still, he'd suffer through these few and minor grievances if it meant following his heart and getting to live in the lovely city of Solitude every day, which was only a short jog away from visiting home! That was the same year when Ulfric Stormcloak came to Solitude, killed the High King of Skyrim, and dragons returned to the world. Honestly, shit started looking pretty bleak straight from the beginning.

As the Civil War progressed, he anxiously waited for word from his brother. When the injured would be carried into the city, he had waking nightmares about seeing Murtagh among them. The paranoia within the city was suffocating, and between seeing the damage done by the Stormcloaks on the soldiers and the Imperial bias within the city of Solitude, the fear of the people, Jarl Elisif's incompetence, Calen nearly found himself swept up in the confusion and anger had it not been for the Headmaster of the Bard's College, Viarmo. He reminded everyone to keep a level head. He said, [i]"It is times like these where we are most needed. When the world appears to be on a sinking ship, we're there to remind them that we are close to shore. Though the waters are cold, the sand is warm and the timber is strong. We build a new ship and we keep on sailing with the wind at our backs... because that is what we do. That is what we have always done, and that won't end tomorrow."[/i]

Viarmo has proven his ability to lead, and he made sure to remind others to not involve themselves in politics too much. He often says, almost as if it was scripted, that "good tales deal with the issues of the day, but a wise bard remains a neutral observer." It was a lesson that Calen took to heart, and he had begun to learn that being a bard meant much more than just singing and playing instruments. By joining the College, he learned that it meant he was also a chronicler and a scholar. It turned people into leaders and historians without them even realizing it by presenting these subjects within a whimsical framework, which was really quite ingenious, and Calen found himself loving the College even more.

Activities within the College has done much and brought him to more places than he could ever imagine. Whether it was traveling between holds or raising morale among the wounded and amputated Imperial troops being held in the barracks. He helped to lift their spirits when they were in the deepest and darkest throes of their depression. He kept corresponding with his family, sharing what new things he learned every week, and whenever he had some available time, he'd run down the hill outside the gates and visit them in person. Apparently they had fallen on hard times ever since the war, since the Imperial war machine demanded horses and with the Smallwoods being the only horse breeders in the area, they were legally allowed to take what they needed, effectively robbing them of what they had to rely on for income. Suddenly, the Imperials didn't look like they were such good guys after all. 

One thing that Calen was able to share with them is how some of the other bards knew a little bit of magic, mostly in the school of Illusion as it brought a bit of flare to their performances; but it was also because everyone knew that there's always that one heckler that proved to be too much. Calen learned about that part of a bard's life after a rough night in the local tavern. So on top of the vocal lessons, learning the lute, drum, violin, art, and history, he decided that learning a little bit of Illusion magic wasn't such a bad idea if he wanted to avoid his next black eye.

During his time in the College has also made him rather cheeky and self-assured, and after he got a taste of popularity, he developed the habit of falling in love at first sight with most of the women he met. This acquired panache curried favor with many of local girls his age, and some women even older, but less so with the favor of these ladies' fathers who just as frequently chased him down the streets with every intention of wringing the boy's neck. Despite his newfound reputation as a shameless womanizer, he always stuck by his mother's advice. Every lady that has come his way, he has treated with the utmost respect, dignity, and (for the most part) honesty. Well, emotional honesty shall we say - he wasn't above spinning a few tall tales to try impressing a girl that he had his eye on, but every lover and paramour on his life he has treated as though he had found a pile of treasure and nothing less. As long as he remained emotionally honest and upfront with his interests, he didn't take any shame in his polyamory. If a love interest didn't reciprocate or wasn't comfortable with it (it being sex, romance, or the idea of an open relationship), he backed off and didn't press the matter - valuing their friendship just as much as he would have their love. He made sure to never forget their names.

It wasn't long after the war had ended when Calen received a visit at the college from Murtagh, much to his joy and relief. Calen's peers had heard stories of his brother, but never realized how alike the two were. Spitting images their personalities virtually reflected one another, even if Murtagh came across a bit more boisterous and weathered. Murtagh didn't seem disappointed at all by Calen's choice in profession, and even seemed to admire it - almost to the point of envy. Calen, on the other hand, was interested to hear about where Murtagh has been all this time! It was then that his brother revealed that he had actually left the Legion just a week after Ulfric killed High King Torygg and figured that it would be safer that he didn't return in case his former superiors saw that as a sign of mutiny - leaving to join the Stormcloaks.

Murtagh never did, in fact, despite his similar belief that Skyrim should be independent. What set him apart was that he didn't want to be associated with the Stormcloaks by waving their flag; he saw them as representing more than just independence. So instead of being just another of Skyrim's sons shedding his brothers' blood, he took a step back from the conflict and looked for what he [i]could[/i] do. He helped towns and villages organize small militias to defend themselves from brigands and bandits while their soldiers were stretched thin during the war. He also helped them set up defenses and safety measures in case of dragon attacks. While Murtagh never killed a dragon, he did help to lead an evacuation in Riverwood into the Embershard Mine after a dragon sighting - and occasionally, he'd do a bit of mercenary work for the jarls of a few different holds who couldn't divide manpower from the civil war.

Murtagh's stories had utterly captivated Calen. As far as the young bard was concerned, his brother was more of a bard than he was! Sure, Calen had the talent, the education, the singing voice - [i]the looks[/i] - but Murtagh was out there [i]living[/i] those stories. He experienced them first hand while Calen was sitting in this chapter-house reciting the same old stories that everyone has already heard a hundred times. Here he was, seeing his brother in the same skin as he did so many years ago: strong, courageous, adventurous - the stuff stories were made of. Just like him, Murtagh was also captivated by Calen's own skill in oration, musical talent, and intelligence. The two brothers found themselves inspired by one another to pursue something more than just the lives they've been living.

Over the course of five years studying the bard's art with the College, Calen finally left their company at the age of 21. Like a revolving door, Murtagh had just made his decision to maybe spend a year or two at the college to see what it was like, arriving just as Calen was leaving. Countless songs had been sung, tales have been spun, and epic poems were told about the Dragonborn who had stopped the coming of dragons and ended the Civil War. Despite the legendary tales of yesterday and their extraordinary accomplishments, they were already recorded and Calen had already learned them all. Though his years of study and practice had taught him not just the history of Skyrim, but the history of most of Tamriel, Murtagh taught him that history was being made out there [i]right now.[/i] He knew he belonged out there, witnessing history and enjoying life along the way. He also knew that if he wanted to survive out there, he wasn't going to just walk on the roads by foot and rely on the charity of strangers. He was no warrior, no, but he had a different idea in mind.

Calen returned home to proud and happy parents, pleased at how grown up and handsome their son has become, who loved to listen to him play and sing. He wanted to ask them for one more favor: he wanted to borrow Edna. Explaining why, he said that he wanted to start a carriage business so that he could see more of Skyrim and Tamriel, more of its people, and still make enough money in the process to support himself. While they normally would've been more than happy to oblige, the only problem was that Edna was their only work horse left, and they couldn't afford to spare her.

"Well then, any of the riding horses would do." Calen said.

"We have our own business to run." His mom said. "You're an adult now conducting adult business, right? if I just give you a horse for free, that would put your father and I thousands of septims in the hole between the time and resources it takes to raise and train them."

Calen knew that he couldn't afford any of the horses his parents worked with, even at discount. He sighed in frustration and said, "Fine, fine, I get it. What [i]can[/i] you spare, then?"

Both his mother and his father, wordlessly, turned and stared toward one small corner in the stable. Calen followed their stare right into the stupid little eyes of the daedra spawn himself - [i]Danish.[/i]

"No." Calen immediately refused. "No, you can't be serious. [i]That[/i] stupid pony?"

"You asked." His mother replied. 

"Danish has gotten older too, but he's still plenty strong enough to pull a wagon full of wheat and hay bales." His father pitched in. "Fourteen hands, decent weight - you could still sit on his back if you wanted. Still a little spooky, though not nearly as much a handful as he once was."

Calen looked into Danish's eyes and Danish stared right back. There was no skeever's chance in Oblivion that this was gonna end in anything other than a total disaster.

But because Danish is a pony determined to make an embarrassment of everything that Calen believed in, the young bard ended up eating his words as this line of work seemed to be quite compatible with him. They ended up building a short four-person wagon that was low to the ground and had great, large wheels so that the wagon wasn't too heavy and it had a lot of traction on the ground. The front of the wagon had a tall, flat-topped chest that Calen could keep his belongings and use as his seat where he can drive Danish, while along sides had benches that were basically rectangular logs bolted to the bottom and connected to the framework of the wagon. 

For the next two years following that moment, the young bard hit the open road and familiarized himself with the sights and sounds of Skyrim's landscape, picking up travelers along the way for a bit of coin. There was an additional, minute fee upon request if anyone wanted him to sing or perform during their travels. The number of interesting people he has come across in this time were countless, and almost every one of them he had found time to chit-chat and converse with as they traveled across the far-reaching landscapes. He learned their stories, what these people did, who they were related to; and the longer he ran this business, the more he seemed to understand how connected everyone was. Granted, not everyone he came across were the polite sort. The number of times he was forced to whip Danish into high gear or to resort to a good old fashioned [i]surprise bludgeoning[/i] was enough to make him rather cautious, but on the other hand, now he knows which routes to avoid. Some valleys are practically [i]begging[/i] you to get yourself killed.

Some people were rarities: those who came through once and were never heard from again, and those people usually had the most interesting stories. On the rarest of occasions, he would meet people or witness events that he'd make sure to write down and immortalize their deeds in song. One such example was a dunmer who Calen was taking from Riften to Windhelm after Morrowind was taken by the Argonians. The dunmer only said that he was going there so that he can protect what was left of his friends and family. The passenger turned out to be a former Ordinator, a fact that was only revealed after they were ambushed by group of bandits who all must've thought the wagon would be an easy target, and the passenger expertly dispatched the entire raiding party with minimal effort - and then tipped Calen some extra septims for the inconvenience.

To the bard's credit, he did manage to get a lick in with his cudgel. Right on the old dome piece, which got to dazing the bandit long enough for the Ordinator to finish the job.

But one of his most memorable patrons was one of his earliest. He took a ravishing Priestess of Dibella - Illia was her name - from Dragon Bridge and returned her home to Markarth. With this being his first time to Markarth, he decided to shift his pony into park and walk in through the front gates with his customer and had her show him her temple. If any of you know of what Dibella is the goddess of and what her priestesses do, then you know he was in for a [i]very[/i] important lesson. And... well... it was quite easy to tell that he [i]enjoyed[/i] the lesson, because then his asthma started acting up. [i]Badly.[/i] Really badly. Right in the middle of their  [i]session,[/i] and he was in a bit of a pickle because his dumb ass left his medicine in the trunk of his carriage back by the stables outside the gates. In that brief moment of panic, Illia cupped her hands around his face as they began to glow and calmly told him to take a deep breath. Calen followed her directions to the letter, and within moments, he felt his airways opening up again. The light from her hands began to dim, and Calen, wanting to show the fullest extent of his gratitude, eagerly jumped back into his lesson.

When dawn broke the next day, Calen lingered a little longer than he normally would've. He didn't want to cheapen the priestess' favor with only a night of pleasantries and wished to show his gratitude by asking one more favor: to teach him just a little bit of Restoration magic. It wasn't only so that he can take better care of himself in the future, but also so that there was something from Illia that he could carry with him and remember her by. The priestess just smiled sweetly and kissed him on the cheek. She said to him, "Restoration magic is something that I believe everyone should know anyway. If you want a memento, I can think of something much better."

He didn't know what she meant, but anyways, she obliged to his request and spent the remainder of that day showing him the fundamentals of basic Restoration magic. She proved to be an exceptional teacher in more ways than one, as her knowledge of this particular school of magic was such that she could explain it in the simplest of terms that made it easily digestible for Calen. It was nearly midnight, a full day of what felt like non-stop practice, but by the end of it he was able to summon the same warm glow around his hands as Illia. Well, maybe not the same - hers was much brighter, but that was to be expected. 

Before Calen left, the priestess presented to him a parting gift: a beaded amulet of Dibella with leaf-like accessories along the necklace until they met at the flowery centerpiece of Dibella's symbol.

"[i]This[/i] is something that you can remember me by." She said before sharing a farewell kiss with the bard, then pushing him out the door. The cold Skyrim air did little to disturb his awed trance as he kept staring at the amulet. Never before has any of his previous flings had affected him with such magnitude - just like that, Illia was able to turn Calen into a holy man overnight. After a few moments of mere silence, his expression broke into a boyish smile. He kissed the amulet in his hand and said with glee, "Under her skirt and into the bum, watch out Nirn, here I come."

From that point onward, he was never seen without his amulet. He wore it for the largest majority of his time running his carriage. He read the books, learned the texts, her verses and commandments, and what it meant to follow the Blessed Lady to find that her teachings on beauty and love fell in line with his own beliefs. Perhaps Illia was able to see that. He also got a lot of mileage out of the Restoration magic that she taught him, because after all, on top of all the bandits and highwaymen just looking for easy pickings on the open road, Skyrim's dangerous wilderness can just be downright [i]frightening[/i] sometimes.

Things recently hasn't changed much from how they were before. Calen is more experienced than he was, and now he's been running this gig for about two years now, so he's gotten pretty familiar with his country. He has something of a cult following when compared to other carriages, even if his cart is a little small, not covered, and was only pulled by a pony 14 hands high... but he's got a very recognizable face and has a unique business gimmick in also being a bard that makes otherwise long, boring trips a lot more pleasurable. He also makes a point in getting to know each of his passengers on a personal level, so he's a lot more likable than most - but even so, his wanderlust was starting to get the better of him as he looked beyond the Jerall Mountains.

There was still an entire continent left for him to explore.

So Calen headed to Falkreath, got in contact with a courier to send a letter back home to Solitude, and began heading south through the Pale Pass. Though the Lost Valley and Serpent's Trail was treacherous and challenged his nerves and his ability to handle the spooky Danish, he managed to break through into Cyrodiil, finding himself overlooking the distant Colovian city of Bruma. He eagerly followed the road down to its gates for some much needed rest and resupplying of his provisions - and he had become somewhat popular that evening as someone who was home-grown in Skyrim. Whether it was sharing news with people who had once lived there about certain events or people, or telling stories with the Colovian nords who had not yet been to the motherland, his presence there had become something of a sensation. It wasn't every day that an immigrant from across the rocks was a bard with a penchant for storytelling. 

His latest passenger was a lady looking for a ride from Bruma to visit family in the Imperial City, and Calen was smitten by her. Long, wavy brown hair, piercing green eyes, a soft and sweet expression - and she was making it [i]difficult[/i] for him! Toying and teasing with him, even! Sure, he didn't know the way to the Imperial City just yet, but the Empire took good care of the roads in Cyrodiil and if you threw a rock, there was a likely-hood that you would hit a road-sign - he didn't even [i]need[/i] his clairvoyance spell. What's more, she wouldn't even tell him [i]her name[/i]. As the White Gold Tower began creeping ever closer, Calen decided that he had to kick it up a notch.

"There [i]I[/i] was, between the biggest all-Nordic, Talos-loving bastard you've never seen and this Thalmor inquisitor, trying my best to calm the situation. Big guy is losing it, but I'm holding it steady as she goes. I face the Thalmor and I speak to him in perfect Altmeri about how the other guy is my brother Murtagh, and how he survived a cannonball to the head and was never the same since. Thalmor guy is so impressed by my Altmeri that he just left without any further trouble, and everyone in carriage gave me a standing ovation."

"[i]Wow...[/i]" Bemused the girl, trying to process what Calen just told her. She decided to roll with it, "I didn't know you could speak [i]perfect[/i] Altmeri."

"Yeah, well, you know..." Calen started, trying to play it off like nothing. "Like any other elven language, it's practically derivative of Ayleidoon."

[i]Was it Ayleid? Or was it Aldmeri?[/i]

"Oh? Ayleid?"

"Oh [i]yeah.[/i] It especially came in handy when I went delving into this deep dwemer ruin and had to decipher the ancient texts to procure a centurion... [i]dynamic[/i] core."

"You don't say?" She replied. "You wouldn't happen to have it with you, would you?"

"Oh Gods, no. Something [i]that[/i] valuable is safe and sound back home!" Calen proclaimed.

"Well, if you happen to go back and decide to bring it with you, you know where to find me in case you'd like to prove it. The name's Freya."

Calen dipped his head toward her and gave her his most charming smile. A sound like steady thunder echoed in the distance. A curious noise, one that Calen asked was common here in Cyrodiil, but Freya seemed just as confounded as he was. The noise grew louder and louder, echoing from all around, until suddenly, a shadow like thick cloud cover quickly loomed over the carriage, prompting an alarmed glance from the driver and his passenger. Massive ships of gold and brass blocked out the sun as they rose above the Jerall Mountains, sailing through the air and dropping Calen's jaw in awe and bewilderment. The speed of them were astonishing, covering more ground in mere minutes than what Calen could cover all day with his little wagon at a slow pace. The ships ignored the wagon on the road, and instead barreled through the air towards the Imperial City. Freya was able to break out of her stunned state and was able to mutter a single word, "Mother..."

That was all it took to break Calen from his own trance, and although he had no idea of what was happening or what any of it meant, the sense of urgency overcame him. "Hya!" He yelled, whipping Danish into full gear with the reins. It wasn't exceptionally fast, Calen suspected that not even an Imperial warhorse could've carried them fast enough before smoke and fire began rising from inside the city. It was an excruciatingly long twenty minutes before they were even in front of the Imperial City bridge, at which point they had met with a small group of evacuating citizens herded by only one soldier.

[i]"Mom!"[/i] Freya blindly cried out into the crowd of dirty, bloodied people.

"Freya?! Honey?!" Called out one voice from the crowd, hands waving. Calen's passenger jumped from the back of the carriage and cut through the crowd to reunite with her mother. Someone from the crowd abruptly grabbed Calen by the arm, and the bard turned to face a man clad in the steel of the Imperial City's guard. His face was half covered in blood, and he was gritting his teeth digging his eyes into Calen's with anger and urgency. "You! Help me evacuate these citizens to Skingrad! The city is under attack by dwemer!"

While Calen had no intention of abandoning anyone, the intensity of the man's face and the volume of his demands would've intimidated the bard into complying anyways. Though he nodded, the bewilderment in his eyes were only exaggerated as he repeated what the guard said to him: [i]"Dwemer?"[/i]

"Come on, come on! Get on! [i]GO![/i]" The imperial guardsman shouted, gesturing to the evacuees as the climbed aboard the wagon. Though the wagon could only fit four comfortably, six or seven people could likely fit if they squeezed in - even then, Danish wouldn't be able to move at full speed. But when the wounded were taken into account, only five could be on board at a time while they gave the most critically injured man the space he needed on the floorboards.  Calendar still didn't entirely feel he knew what was happening - the situation had shaken him to his core and now he truly knew what it meant to have fear gripping his heart. He climbed off from his seat and faced the guardsman, saying to him, "You drive the pony for now, I can walk! We need you rested!"

"We'll take shifts." The guard agreed. "I appreciate your help, sir. [i]HEY![/i] All able-bodied men and women will walk alongside the cart! Trade spots only when necessary!"

Most of the people were in agreement. The worst off of the bunch were already in the cart, which meant there were only two people who could rest at a time. Freya helped her mother onto the cart and helped to apply a bandage to her head before hopping off the cart and finding Calen in the chaos as the cart started to move. Danish whinnied in irritation, not liking the fact that he was being driven to haul so much weight.

"You're a dwemer expert, right?" Freya asked. Apparently she felt so scared by the current circumstances that she made herself believe in the stories Calen was telling her.

"Nope, I lied!" Calen cried out matter-of-factly to her, obviously panic-stricken. "That was [i]just[/i] a story! And I am neither qualified nor brave enough to try talking sense to thousand year old flying groundhogs!"

The next day was filled with non-stop travel, and Calen was fortunate that he was athletic enough to go for a while before tiring, but some of the other civilians were having trouble organizing themselves to get proper rest. He and the guardsman swapped posts, giving Calen a rest and allowing him to drive Danish the rest of the way while the guard stripped some of his armor down to its chainmail and helped by using his strength to carry one civilian at a time. When they finally reached Skingrad, they found the gates closed and a camp of refugees was already littering the outside of the city in a large campsite. By the order of the Count, no refugees were allowed inside the gate, and apparently they seemed to think that included Calen. He was so far from home and had no idea of where to go or what to do, so he just did what could with what he knew: he entertained the refugees. He helped hand out food made by people who actually knew how to cook and he tried his best to raise everyone's spirits. He couldn't just run away from them.

Was this what it meant to live through history?

[/indent]

[color=89cff0][u][b] Personality                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent]Had it not been apparent by this point, Calen is a creature of impulse, whimsy, and ardor, and is the bitterest pessimist's worst and most vexacious enemy. His casual, optimistic, cheerful disposition and lust for life is typically the first thing people notice about him if it isn't his lust for other people. He embodies the bardic spirit, wishing to experience what life has to offer him and to explore the world, to witness history first-hand, and somehow find a silver lining in every nook and cranny that he can. He truly believes that the world is a good place, or at least it [i]can[/i] be, just as long as everyone puts an effort into making it so... and the first step in fulfilling that pipe dream is to stop and observe the beauty that already exists. How the pearl-like clouds migrate across the ocean-blue skies, the trees and flowers bathing in the sunlight and their elaborate network of roots sinking into the soil, or even the awesome stampede of storm clouds and how their rumbling and roaring thunder cracks as lightning whips Nirn in a divine flash of primal energy. How beauty is present even in the mundane, such as a wagon wheel, where mathematics and art can come together to create a tool which is as wondrous as it is taken for granted.

Perhaps it's easy to look past Calen's wonder and conviviality once people realize that that he's a shameless hedonist who's not afraid to admit it (he's more likely to correct you that hedonism encompasses [i]all[/i] earthly pleasures, not just sex), and he's not the type to try to change other people's minds once they're explicitly set on something anyways. After all, his womanizing could easily be the most defining trait of his reputation and his impulsiveness only cements the image of him in others' minds as a fool who falls in and out of love as easily as a fish drinks water. It's just as easy to forget to give him credit where credit is due, for as far as he's concerned, monogamy and faithfulness are not mutually exclusive. Each and every lover or love-interest he treats and thinks back on with only the fondest and sweetest form of respect, and one relationship with one person doesn't necessarily means it overrides a relationship with another. The mere idea of putting a limit on [i]love[/i] of all things seems to him to be one of the most oppressive forces on Nirn, which also happens to be a reflection of his Dibellan faith. In short, it's sacrilegious.

That doesn't mean he parted with every one of his previous partners on the best of terms though, even if Calen refuses to speak ill of them. He has a few cardinal rules, and one of them is to not take advantage of anyone's affection or trust. While he tries to be as upfront with his intentions as possible, occasionally even going as far as relenting the pursuit of a particular partner should they not feel comfortable with polyamory, they either don't always get across in translation or be made clear enough. This miscommunication has caused one or two heartbreaks in his time, much to the breaking of Calen's own heart, who never wished to make anyone feel hurt or as though they've been betrayed. Those individuals are more than just people who are near and dear to his heart, they're also reminders that he is still a foolish young man who is still lacking in wisdom and is too quick to get caught up in the heat of the moment. They're reminders that he needs to slow down.

Though often a forgetful person, there are certain areas of his mind that are like iron-clad traps. Despite the stupidity of yesteryear, all of his past relationships are precious memories of his and that is where the appraisal of his critics fall short. He remembers their names and their faces vividly because each one of them has contributed something special to his life, so he will continue to love them and their memory long into the future. Neither were all of his relationships romantic or sexual in nature; he treats his friendships with the same amount of ginger and intimate care as he does his romantic entanglements. One of Dibella's doctrines is that love knows no boundaries. He sees love in two friends sharing a bottle of mead just as much as he sees it in sex, so the medium to him doesn't matter. The form in which love takes - whether it's platonic or otherwise - has no bearing on that love's value. It follows that Calen might be a little bi-curious.

This left-field perspective might make Calen appear as either a sanctimonious dog attempting to rationalize his lecherous behavior (which could be just as likely) or make him out to be wise beyond his years, and make no mistake, he's [i]not[/i]. He's a bona fide [i]fool.[/i] He went to school and studied a lot, so sure, he's intelligent and can be a diligent study - but he's a fool. He doesn't [i]think[/i] before he [i]acts[/i], and he's not considered cunning because the answers don't always come to him very quickly. He's [i]lucky to be alive,[/i] if anything. He hasn't survived the wilderness because of his resourcefulness or because of his martial and magical skill, so the only answer left is that the Divines apparently favor fools. Maybe it's because it's amusing to watch the bewilderment of all the [i]capable[/i] adventurers who were the skin of their fingertips away from certain death.

Which goes to say that the bard isn't without his flaws. One that might've been driven home by now is that he's short-sighted and doesn't always think through his decisions, possibly leaving him in embarrassing or life-threatening situations. He also isn't much of a fighter for two reasons: firstly, he isn't necessarily pacifistic, but he would [i]reaaaally[/i] rather avoid hurting others if he can help it. Ugly beasties? Sure, easily. A bandit that just tried to slit his throat? He'd bonk him on the head with his cudgel and ask if he was alright afterwards. Secondly, he's as cowardly as they come and is prone to panic whenever things go wrong. He'll do what he can to avoid a conflict in favor of carefully worded diplomacy, or if that doesn't work, delivering a witty jab or snide comeback since he has zero confidence in his ability to hold his own in a scrap (which officially makes him the worst nord in Skyrim). 

The only possible exception to this rule is if a loved one of his is in imminent danger, which puts his impulsive nature front and center in the position to have him do something incredibly reckless and stupid to try protecting them. He'll do so even if everyone would be better off if he doesn't butt in, because apparently his brain is hard-wired to his asshole, and he can't seem to stop trying to impress women even if he's digging a deeper hole for himself. His honesty seems to end with his emotions, since he seems to have no problem with spinning tall tales, exaggerating his skills and talents, or fabricating cockamamie farces for the very purpose of impressing love interests; though that could just as likely be derived from his inherent bardic desire to captivate and entertain, less so than to manipulate. Whether or not he realizes that's what it looks like he's doing is anybody's guess!

On the other hand, he can be quite easy to fool or manipulate himself, given his penchant to believe in the best of people.

Despite many of his shortcomings (and there are many), he still remains an incredibly friendly and kindhearted individual whose intentions are in the best of places even if they fall short in execution. He's as sharp as a tack, cultured, silver tongued, has a practiced singing voice, and is learned in history and in the practice of many different musical instruments and art forms, making him a creative force of nature. If you need someone to do the talking for you or to make friends in high places, Calen is the guy for the job. As a man who has lived with a foot in both worlds, he is capable of talking down nobles and peasantry alike and he has an inexplicable way with being a neutral voice in any sort of disagreement whether its in politics or religion.
[/indent]
[/hider]


[hider=Aries Machella, from Dervish's The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep]

[center][color=ed145b][h3]Aries Machella[/h3]
[sub]Female Breton/Imperial | 29 | The Lord | Daggerfall, High Rock

[url=https://open.spotify.com/user/1231214188/playlist/1Y4FvN7tuwNxplJJsbBXRa?si=SDpRCe6LTZiiQu4vwznvlw]Playlist[/url][/sub][/color]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/345x/9e/42/c6/9e42c6f0f218a5ee5d29a26d31104270.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=ed145b][u][b] Appearance                    [/b][/u][/color]
[indent]It's like someone put a dragon and shoved it inside a woman's body, the way her disposition conflicts with how she presents herself. Take a woman of fair skin and lithe frame, dabbed with bits of makeup and adorned in jewelry, and give her a resting bitch face. The natural blush on her face doesn't take away from her studious and razor sharp green eyes, only given contrast by the black eyeliner she typically wears and a few restless nights. Her body, lithe, still shows examples of a relatively fit lifestyle, however the ratio of body-to-muscle only really tones her body given how the total amount of muscle she has forces her to rely on her grace instead of her strength. Standing at 5'7", this would put her weight around around 135 lbs. While her face is definitely Breton, her jaw and her nose comes from her Imperial father with the angular shape of their appearances, which seems to call attention to her pink lips.

Depending on who you ask, she has been blessed with good genetics given the shape of her body with a narrow waist and endowed chest. While how she grew and developed was certainly out of her control, she wears and walks around in her body as if she was deserving of it. She wears her auburn hair in a variety of different ways. Sometimes it's braided, in a bun, in a braided bun, curled, straightened, wavy, let down after it's been braided so it looks loosely curled -- it depends on the occasion. It frames her face and falls down to her shoulders, with its longest strands falling just below. It looks carefully pampered along with her eyebrows. Her fair skin is practically porcelain; not in color, no, her skin is often flushed pink while under the sun, but it's smooth. Nary a blemish or freckle in sight and devoid of scars. The softness of her hands betrays a history of easy living, as does the tidiness of her fingernails.

It would be obvious at this point that she comes from a place of high living, and as would be expected, wears some form of makeup or another on a semi-regular basis. Winged black eyeliner, and only the faintest touch of blush which mostly serves to hide the natural blush that glows even brighter. She also uses a peach colored gloss on her lips, and a red polish on her fingernails which looks to have some kind of protective enamel over them. While obviously not practical, she has entertained the idea of putting scorpion venom on her nails in the case of some Redguard pirates or bandits during her stay in Hammerfell. Honestly, she doesn't need it, but it would make one hell of a statement.

Her preferred style of dress would be if she was back in the Imperial City. Her iconic look was a silky, very low-cut red dress which separated into straps around her naval, while slowly tapering as it approached her shoulders. It was wide enough at the breast to preserve her dignity while flaunting some cleavage -- but it was less about flaunting and more about comfort while under the heat of the sun and feeling the coolness of the breeze coming from the Niben; it was simply the fashion of Imperial patricians. The dress is secured around the waist by a golden colored cinch. A yellow-gold toga-like garment drapes over her left shoulder and on top of her dress before coming back around. To complete the regal appearance are bits of jewelry, such as ornate, golden bracelets which coil up her wrists, leafy golden armband like wreaths, and an elaborate golden necklace with chains dangling the Imperial emblem in the center of her chest. Golden colored clasps are secured to both shoulder straps of her chest, and a golden colored circlet like a wreath decorates her head and helps to keep her hair in place, as well as showing off her station. Though not quite as fanciful, she liked the comfortable, airy feeling of sandals that is popular in Imperial fashion.

But now? Her attire changes almost regularly, portraying the appearance of Hammerfell merchants while trying to maintain a certain standard of comfortable living.
[/indent]

[color=ed145b][u][b] Equipment                    [/b][/u][/color]
[indent]Aside from her clothes and bits of jewelry, Aries typically carries very little with her since all of her means of defense is magical. While masquerading around as a merchant, she does carry with her a pretty bulky bag full of little trinkets and trade items of moderate value. She does have one item that helps her deal with the heat of Hammerfell, as well as the side effects of her own magic: a ring of Fire Resist.

[/indent]

[color=ed145b][u][b] Misc. Possessions                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent]A coin purse of 250 septims.

A bag from her merchant persona filled with all manner of stuff.
[indent]Rings and amulets of moderate value.
Uncommon alchemical ingredients such as frost salts.
Semi-precious gems and stones.
Some expensive-ish foods such as cured meats and artisan bread.
Crafting materials like spools of cotton, flax, and silk. Small chunks of ivory.
A small glass bottle of wine wrapped in cloth lined with frost salts.
[/indent][/indent]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img][/center]

[color=ed145b][u][b] Family and Associations                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent] Aries Vindicari | Paternal Grandmother | Deceased via childbirth
Lulius Vindicari | Paternal Grandfather | Deceased via war
Lawrence Machella | Maternal Grandfather | Deceased via mariticide 
Eileen Machella | Maternal Grandmother | Deceased via age 
Janelle Machella | Maternal Aunt | Alive, 62
Belle Machella | Maternal Aunt | Alive, 58
Catherine Machella | Maternal Aunt | Status unknown, 52
Esther Machella | Mother | Alive, 56
Florentius Machella | Father | Deceased via assassination
Gabriel Machella | Eldest Brother | Alive, 33
Stefan Machella | Elder Brother | Alive, 32

[/indent]

[color=ed145b][u][b] Favored Skills                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent][u]Highly Proficient: Speechcraft[/u] – [i](Aries has spent her entire life in the public eye and dealing in politics -- not Imperial politics, but High Rock politics. The really complicated and cutthroat type of politics. She played the game and came out on top, so tell me, do you really want to play the game of thrones with her?)[/i]

[u]Highly Proficient: Destruction[/u] – [i](She didn't just study politics, she also studied magic, and the School of Julianos in Daggerfall is the premier school for training battlemages. Being Breton and having a natural affinity for magic, and deciding that there was no better way to defend herself then reducing her enemies to ashes within seconds, she was able to learn Destruction magic at a high level given due diligence. She displays finely tuned control for someone with the capability to utterly obliterate somebody.)[/i]

[u]Moderately Proficient: One-handed[/u] – [i](She spent many years practicing with her father before he died, then continued her practice in respect of her memory of him. Dueling and fanciful swordplay was a staple sport in High Rock, so it was fitting for her to learn how to wield a rapier and a saber, especially in the event where someone challenged her to a duel of honorable combat. Her skill lies in her careful footwork, graceful maneuvering, and precision. )[/i]

[u]Moderately Proficient: Illusion[/u] – [i](Illusion magic is practically a necessity for any magically able noble in the Breton homeland. What Aries makes up for in the raw power of her spells is the careful, precise control of her magicka. While she can cast one of her spells to full effect, she finds that it is just as useful when creating a sort of aura while interacting with others. A general feeling of calm, fear, or anger slowly rising or itching at the back of the minds of her target can occasionally be the little push she needs to get what she wants out of them without them even realizing she's using magic.)[/i]

[u]Somewhat Proficient: Conjuration[/u] – [i](Carrying a weapon weighs a lot, so why bother? Sure, it might act as a deterrent, but that's rarely the case for a woman of Aries' size and figure. Besides, the look of surprise on their face when you've suddenly brandished a magical weapon and they're suddenly without a hand is too priceless to give up. Plus, the weapon is virtually weightless! What's not to like?)[/i] [/indent]

[color=ed145b][b][u] Spells                    [/u][/b][/color]

[u]Highly Proficient: Destruction[/u]
[indent][b]Wall of Flames[/b]
[b]Incinerate[/b] 
[b]Chain Lightning[/b][/indent]

[u]Moderately Proficient: Illusion[/u]
[indent][b]Fear[/b]
[b]Calm[/b]
[b]Frenzy[/b][/indent]

[u]Somewhat Proficient:[/u]
[indent][b]Bound Sword[/b]
[/indent]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img][/center]

[color=ed145b][u][b] History                    [/b][/u][/color]
[hider=The Rise to Power]Aries’ story begins along the far western coast of High Rock in the affluent city-state of Daggerfall. This begins her saga on a rather bleak note, though it is not clear on the surface, because indeed – the city’s luster and splendor knows no bounds. Fabulously wealthy and ripe with trade, even the impact of the Corsair Republic’s takeover of Wayrest, the seat of the Breton’s High King should such a day ever come again, is but an inconvenience to the economics of Daggerfall Castle. The comings and goings of grand merchant ships have stopped at the edge of the Iliac Bay and has perhaps even cemented this grand city’s monopoly on sea trade. One of the city’s major competitors were knocked off the global stage for a short time.
 
It's a peculiar and rather convenient consequence, one which many noble families tried to take advantage of.
 
One such noble family was that of the Machellas. The family tree bore the fruits of two faithful sons following in their father’s footsteps as soldiers, ready to take up the sword and live and die by the Empire, and a daughter, who was instead urged towards politics. Indeed, though, womanhood in the knightly orders were no rarity, a noblewoman’s preservation was of the utmost importance in the name of marriage alliances and keeping an heir who was [i]not[/i] eager to die upon another’s blade. The mother and father, Esther Machella and her husband Florentius, was one such marriage.

Esther of the Machella family was nobility. Her family possessed a disgusting amount of wealth and has been cozy in Castle Daggerfall’s court for as long as she could remember. Florentius Machella, originally a Vindicari, wasn’t born as nobility, but he was a high-ranking member of the Imperial Army and had friends and connections that led all the way to the advisors of Imperial government. The Machellas have been a family loyal to the Empire for a long time, using its influence and favor to its advantage, so it was no surprise that one of them eventually married an Imperial captain.

The family itself has produced a notably high number of daughters over the years, Esther herself had three sisters, one of which, Janelle, wedded into the Lariats of Shornhelm, and there was Belle who had a gay marriage with a Bridwell. Catherine was out making her own living through trade in Camlorn. Yet most of the Machellan women remained the determinators of their own lineage, and often led to the men being forced to change their names. As influential as they were, they rarely met with disagreement as simply wearing the name Machella guaranteed a successful and lazy future. At least, this [i]used[/i] to be the case until Esther’s father gambled half of their fortune away through a bad deal with the noble Motierre family. Half of what was left was spent on alcohol in his attempt to forget his failures before his wife, Esther’s senile mother, stabbed him to death. This meant that Esther had to step up to the plate and take control of the Machella family’s future. Even in her capable hands, they didn't have the same power and influence they once held.
 
When the time came for children of her own, first came the first-born son, Gabriel. An oddity to be certain, breaking the long-standing trend of first-born daughter. He was often the one most level headed and had the tendency to think ahead with remarkable insight and empathy for others, even if he could sometimes get carried away and become laxadacious in nature. That trait would not last long however, as a year later, Esther became pregnant again, and gave birth to her second-born son, Stefan. Now it was certain that whatever genes that Florentius had, it had provided the Machella family with sons that they had not seen in years. Stefan was much more serious than Gabriel, though more gullible. He didn’t have the same kind of critical thinking and skepticism that was prevalent in most Machellas, taking after his father in this regard. It was a foreboding trait, given the fate of his maternal grandfather. Last, but not least, came a daughter three years later. Florentius never knew his own mother, who perished in childbirth. He wanted to give their daughter an Imperial name after her grandmother: Aries.

Though she bore an Imperial name after her paternal grandmother, she was a Machella and was as much a Breton as any girl came. That is what Esther systematically drilled into her daughter’s head for years.

However, as the years passed and her daughter grew into her personality, it became clear that she was a little more spirited than she let on as a toddler. Entitled? Of course, like any child is and then some, considering her pampered upbringing. Aries found it suffocating. Familiarity bred resentment, and the lack of privacy and freedom afforded to her made her lash out in ways not before seen in her brothers, Gabriel and Stefan. Though truthfully, it was mostly directed at the maids and servants, for the busy political lives of her parents often kept them away from their homes until the end of the day -- busy playing and maneuvering through the game. When they arrived home, they would typically coddle the young girl and give her everything she asked for except for the freedom she wanted. However, the attitude she directed toward the servants and towards them was unbecoming of a lady and would not be tolerated for long.

The School of Julianos usually only took in those who were worth the investment. Distinguished mages or promising students were provided with an unrestricted learning experience unlike anything the rest of Tamriel could offer outside of the Crystal Tower in Summerset Isles or the Arcane University in Skyrim. However, you did not simply refuse a Machella when one arrived at your doorstep. It is difficult to say how swollen the coin purse may have been, but it was certainly enough to cinch an early and comprehensive education for the young Aries. It was a way to discipline the young lady and to keep her babysat, but here she wasn’t being coddled like at home, she was going to be taught. They couldn’t possibly start with magic, oh no, they’d have to start with arithmetic, language, and the sciences; the “general education requirements” so to speak, before they could even touch upon the subject of magic. However, the colorful, dramatic, and arcane displays of their magicka was enough to captivate the young noblewoman and the promises of how “one day, you could do it too” was enough to keep her rapt attention during her lessons.

Every now and then, her own parents made the time to attend her lessons and teach her what [i]they[/i] knew as well. Florentius shared what he could, mostly strategies and tactics, and taking Aries out for a few training sessions in dueling with a blade like he did with her brothers. He valued the ability to defend oneself, especially in the snake pit of Daggerfall, though this concern was lost on Aries who only saw this as a fun recreational time that she got to spend with her father. She spent countless hours with rapiers and sabers; swords that used her grace to her advantage instead of the brute strength she lacked. What her mother had to offer on the other hand was something she couldn't easily teach to her martial-minded sons: she was a master of speechcraft and a shrewd politician. She could aptly manipulate other people by using their ideas, preconceptions, and emotions to direct them down a path as she saw fit, while also remaining mindful of cultural influences and her own sex (and how that would impact others' perception of her). The subtleties, nuances, ironies, and paradoxes of some of her lessons were mind-boggling and well above her level at the time, but repetitive lessons eventually drove them home whether she liked it or not. One of her first lessons was that every lady must have her own secrets to keep.

By the time she began understanding the political intricacies at the tender age of fourteen, the school was already prepared to teach her magic. It was an incredible accomplishment to be certain, but it was born out of opportunity, and it was hardly an opportunity she deserved. Being bought the finest education at a young age and receiving such careful attention and special treatment, this process of streaming and differentiated experience eventually made her a legitimate prodigy. So, when they first began teaching her the fundamentals of magicka, she absorbed it like a sponge. This is what she had been waiting years for! This would be worth suffering through all her mother’s boring lectures! The Daggerfall sect of the School of Julianos was the premier branch for battlemages, so the best type of learning they could provide the young Aries was in Destruction. The other schools they could teach to a lesser degree; illusion, they thought, would be a reliable defense that would also come in handy in the political minefield that awaited her.

Unfortunately, her father wouldn’t live long enough to witness Aries cast her first spell.

On Sun’s Dusk 23 4E 193, returning home to the family estate, Aries was met with her mother sobbing over a draped coffin. No word was sent to her, so she was completely blindsided by the discovery of who exactly it was resting peacefully inside. The soldiers adorned in Imperial armor held their salute and stood as still as statues, patiently allowing the family as much time as they needed to grieve before the ceremonial preparations could be made. Esther was of little comfort to Aries, seemingly too swept up in her own grief to properly console her daughter. It was a night of seemingly endless weeping until the tears ran dry.

Aries did not have a proper way of coping with these feelings. This was the first time she ever had to deal with any kind of loss, and her first experience being one that was so overwhelming, she cut herself off. After a sleepless night of ceaseless crying until her eyes were dry and couldn’t cry anymore, she cut herself off in some form of forced dissociation so that she could do better to process and face her father’s death as logically as she could. She turned to her mother for answers. Why did this happen?

Her answers were brushed off for now, urging only that now was the time to study and to study [i]hard[/i]. Aries, now angered, refused. How was she to focus on her studies now, immediately after her father’s unexplained death? Her intense line of questioning aimed at her mother caused Esther to give in. She said it was the fault of the Motierre clan. Florentius was not careful enough in navigating through the politics in High Rock and this is what it got him. This was why she wanted Aries to study more, to study harder. Aries thought this meant that her mother wanted her to be safe and sound, protected from the cutthroat politics of the city, but all she could think about was revenge.
 
So, the young noblewoman hit the books with a fervor not before seen. Her education, Aries felt, was now more a tool of survival and self-defense than anything else. If she were to compete on the same level, on the same political stage as the Motierres and the other nobles. She had to think ahead of them, outmaneuver them, do whatever she could to have an edge over her opponents. Her mother constantly reminded her that with the Montierre clan’s decisive power looming over the other castes in Daggerfall, literally anybody could have been paid to eliminate competing houses or find ways to reduce their power and influence, and if the time ever comes that Aries just so happened to slip up, she had to be prepared to defend herself. So, they both looked to her instructors to teach her all they could of the Destruction school and then some.

She was not a self-made prodigy; perhaps money had done much of the legwork for her, but there was no doubt that it was her own drive that made the most of all the opportunities before her and made her a prodigy nonetheless. She became a capable mage in record time; fire and lightning could flow interchangeably between her fingertips Illusion spells also became a part of her repertoire thanks to the defensive utility they provided, and a few lessons in the school of Conjuration promised her a worthy defense if she suddenly needed a weapon, which she supplemented with further swordsmanship training through her brothers. They were difficult to use at first, but quickly learned that the weightlessness of a bound sword complemented her swift and precise style. In addition, the multiple lessons from her mother meant that her education was finally sufficient enough at this point that she could begin gaining practical experience in Daggerfall politics at the meager age of seventeen.

There was one more important lesson she received in politics before she entered the fray as Esther dolled her up in a beautiful dress and laced up her bodice: “politics is as much about making the peasantry happy as it is about maintaining your power among the other nobles.” Peasants are ubiquitous; if you ignore the peasantry, you’ll be worrying about them more than the other nobles. If you have them on your side, then you don’t have to worry about them being used as a weapon against you. A people-first campaign was the best way to ensure your own safety and undermine your opponents who had no problem with taking advantage of them. The lesson wasn’t about being nice to those who were less fortunate, but about taking advantage of the different social structures in place and using socioeconomic status as a leveraging tool. It was the synthesis of two fundamentally differing ideologies.

One of Aries’ first experiences in the public eye as a full-fledged lady occured when she attended court with her mother. There she saw the lords and ladies of the other houses, including the Motierres. She watched her mother meander through the court, setting an example to Aries as she approached the other nobles to engage in conversation. As she did so, Esther told Aries to find out everyone’s names and remember their faces. They certainly wouldn’t forget her’s.
 
Lorelei Motierre. Eleanor Julliard. Marquis Tariat. Bellamy Bridwell. Mirabelle Tarys. Laurent Bellamont. Gale Wickerman -- these lords and ladies and plenty more were scattered across the court, and by day’s end, she seared their names and faces into her mind. She personally met King Guilliot in a brief introduction and was quickly drowned out by the sea of sycophants, but it was a productive day. She got her foot in the door, and now she just had to make her entrance. The following year was spent essentially shadowing her mother. It was one thing to learn what it was like to be a lady and another thing entirely to be practicing it and watching all the other masters at work, but she was able to pick up on it quickly. More disturbingly, she was perturbed by the number of gross old men who couldn’t keep their lecherous eyes off of her, but her mother convinced her to tolerate them for now. Being born a woman by coincidence meant she had the opportunity to use it to her advantage. So she would pretend to be at least slightly interested in these men, give them what they want; the idea that a future with her could even be remotely possible. It wasn’t.

Within the next year, the Hawkfords, an aristocratic family, invited the noble families of Daggerfall to a ball being hosted at their own estate. They themselves weren't nobles and it was for that reason that Aries could see through the charade -- it was a ploy to cozy up to the people who [i]had[/i] power, but Esther was able to convince her to attend anyway. It was as much an opportunity for her as much as it was for the Hawkfords, and her argument was supported by the number of rumors of who would be attending the ball. Among them was the young lord, Fontaine Motierre. Aries then realized that this ball would be her ticket into undermining the Motierres.
 
Arriving at the ball in an elaborate gown, it was clear that she wasn't the only one with her sights set on Fontaine. Aries was of the mind that it was her family’s tumultuous history with the Motierres that would lure him in to her over the others. It would be a great success for the Motierres if they could quell the bad blood between the two houses and take the Machellas off of their list of enemies. It would be one less angle from which to expect a stab in the back. It was perhaps for this reason that Fontaine was receptive to Aries’ approach and blew off the young Hawkford girl.

“A father’s wealth doth not a lady make,” she remembered him saying. So instead he danced with Aries. Though Fontaine led the dance, Aries led the conversation by leading it away from her personal life. She didn’t share much of it, only enough of her personal feelings to allude that there was perhaps little to glean from the Machella family or that she knew too little of her own family’s affairs to take advantage of. She played her deception well, but Fontaine on the other hand seemed quite proud of his heritage and had little to no problem bragging about how far the influence of his family’s name reached, how significant the power they held truly was. He was trying to impress her, of course, but he also clued her in on the ripples she could make if she played her hand right. He told her that a Motierre was on the Elder Council. Their family also acted out of Chorral in Cyrodiil. How else could their family wield so much power?

She left the ball that night with Fontained wrapped around her finger. He asked for her hand in marriage, to unite their houses and to invite Aries into the most powerful family in High Rock, perhaps in all of Tamriel. She made no promises, though she entertained him with the idea of an Aries Motierre, the first ever Machella woman to change her name. Fontaine thanked her for the dance, and she thanked him too, and they went their separate ways for the night. The young Motierre thought he had her hook, line, and sinker, but Aries didn’t tell him that she really thanked him for the inspiration. It was thanks to Fontaine that she now had a new plan: she wasn’t just going to undermine and destroy their house, she planned on [i]ascending. [/i] To meet them on the same level if not utterly surpass them. If a scumbag Motierre could reach the Elder Council, then why not her?

That’s what she prepared herself for in the following four years.

It wasn’t enough to be conversant in the politics of Daggerfall and High Rock. She had to immerse herself in Imperial politics as well, study Imperial history and Imperial law, as well as the relationship between the Empire and the Bretons of High Rock spanning as far back as the First Era when St. Alessia became known as the Slave Queen. The politics between the Empire and the other provinces; becoming conversant in the politics of all the major power was crucial. It was also in the time that she became a frequent visitor of the Motierre estate. Her relationship with Fontaine looked to be a budding one, but she was careful to play it slow, being ever mindful of her endgame.

Speaking of her mother, all that Aries had done in the four years following the Hawkford ball did not just comprise of study and warming up to the Motierres. She was not wed to Fontaine and therefore did not owe them her allegiance, but their acquaintanceship seemed to have created a sort of tentative bond between the houses that promised a shaky political alliance. Not wanting to jeopardize the potential rewards it would yield, it allowed the Machellas to become more active without the threat of the Motierres quashing their efforts looming over them. Esther and Aries were able to cash in on their family’s investments and Aries’ brothers, Gabriel and Stefan, acted as a sort of muscle or enforcement for the family. 

They were trained soldiers, which provided them connections to the Daggerfall army and the authorization to oversee safe transport of trading goods within their family’s interest. They didn’t study politics like Aries did, but Gabriel was at least savvy enough to spread some influence among their ranks. With this connection, Aries suggested that they leaned into their supportive stance for the throne, its military, and the Empire as a path back to power. Whatever skepticism her mother might’ve had for her daughter’s plan was quelled when she brought up the Motierres again. Any action they made against them at that point was unlikely; they already arranged a sort of cease-fire, and any action in undermining them may very well be acting against the interest of the Empire and of Daggerfall, provided the Machellas got far enough.


Her strategy came in the form of redirecting investments into mines, quarries, blacksmiths, and lumber mills. Not only did this support the local businesses in the region, but also given the Empire’s fragile state after the Great War with the Dominion, the best way to make quick friends with a weak Empire is to support the recovery efforts of their infrastructure. Investing in stocks and reselling them to the Empire at a discount price only turned out a marginal profit, so the other half would be sold to kingdom of Daggerfall itself. Eventually however, their support for the local business allowed those businesses to grow and increase production. With increased production meant a greater share for the Machellas, and with a greater share to sell to the Empire, the Imperials began sending their own ships to retrieve the building materials in bulk, which took the cost of shipping off her family’s shoulders. Later in the third year, the Empire wished to renegotiate their trade deal with the Machellas.

The deal entailed less gold in exchange for the resources, but they offered shipments of Skingrad wine in exchange with the bonus of being sold at a slightly lower cost in hopes of her family’s continued support and lasting relationship with the Empire. Aries, knowing that her mother detested gambling, knew she would never accept the offer. So she accepted the offerwithout informing Esther and, through a few of the family’s retainers, sold the wine to Castle Daggerfall and to taverns throughout the city and even to neighboring cities. Although it was a gamble, the family’s income had never been higher, prompting Esther to question her daughter after the numbers in her ledger weren’t adding up which ended up in a massive, heated argument. Still, since Aries’ actions had reaped their intended benefits, there was never any real resolution to their argument.

The year Aries turned twenty-two years old, Skyrim’s High King Torygg was killed by Ulfric Stormcloak, breathing new life into their civil war. This barely affected Daggerfall in a significant way, but Aries knew that it wouldn’t be long before the city would feel the strain of a weakening Empire. They’d have to divide their resources to handle the situation in the North, meaning that their current trade agreement could be strained. The tension between her and her mother had been slowly but steadily rising ever since their first argument as Aries had been making decisions of her own accord, so with that still fresh on her mind, she took a moment to swallow her pride and confront her mother with her new idea. She knew that there might be repercussions of significant enough impact to warrant discussing them with the matriarch.

In order to anticipate the Empire’s strain, Aries pitched the idea of preemptively modifying their trade agreement with the Imperials and organizing support within Daggerfall for the Imperial army in Skyrim, campaigning on behalf of the Empire. Especially with news of a cave-in blocking one of their only routes to Skyrim, auxiliary forces from the West would be a boon that they couldn’t refuse, and hopefully, the payoff would mean less long-term profit loss from their trade agreement and the increased support of a grateful Empire. Earning a little less now was better than losing the entire deal later or being undercut by a much more significant margin. Though Esther was hesitant, she was grateful for her daughter’s disclosure, and tentatively agreed to her suggestion.

Only, Aries didn’t disclose everything. She didn’t disclose the fact that she had been talking with the Motierres about them taking a similar course of action. She hid just enough of her family’s finances from them that she put them under the impression that the Machellas couldn’t perform this maneuver on their own, and if they did so anyways, a less powerful family was doing more to aid the Empire than the most powerful noble family in Daggerfall who also had an Elder Council member among them. What would that look like? And why on earth would Aries want to marry into a family that didn’t support their own? Not only did she preemptively negotiate a better deal with the Empire and began organizing support for Imperial troops, she manipulated the Motierres into funding her campaign efforts. Most of the Daggerfall public didn’t seem to care much for the conflict or felt like they had a stake in the war to the East, but some loyalists or those desperate for a wage signed up and slowly, troops were being sent eastward towards Solitude.

Barely even a year later, while Aries was attending a banquet at the Motierre estate and buttering up the lords, ladies, and their sons, one of their personal couriers had delivered a newspaper. Its headline was emblazoned across the front: “EMPEROR TITUS MEDE II, MURDERED!”

Amidst a room of startled gasps and crocodile tears (for she thought she knew that none of them cared for anything outside of themselves), she excused herself from the Motierres’ table, returned home, and began organizing movements to be made to send gifts of condolences to the Mede family.

It wouldn’t be long after the death of the Emperor when the civil war in Skyrim reached its end. General Tullius brought the fight to the gates of Windhelm with the aid of the Dragonborn, but it left an Empire in a fragile state with a weakened province and depleted resources at their disposal. The war had left the land in dismay, infrastructure destroyed, and lives shattered and displaced. After a brief affair of correspondence between herself and some Imperial financers deep in Cyrodiil, Aries sought out her mother to discuss one of her biggest gambles yet: she planned on visiting Skyrim personally, stationing herself in Solitude, and using her own personal funds to aid in the reconstruction of a bridge and a roadway to reconnect Skyrim to High Rock and Skyrim to Cyrodiil. Her mother immediately refused.

If Aries didn’t keep a presence in Daggerfall, Esther argued, her influence would weaken, and her name would mean nothing. On the other hand, Aries argued that a Machella personally had to be there to serve as emissary and to discuss and sign a deal. Showing investment was the best way to catch the attention of the Empire. Her mother was exasperated with her and didn’t understand why she had such a fixation on a weak Empire that barely did anything for them in return. Only then it was revealed to her why Aries was trying so hard to appease them – the Motierres. Aries admitted that she knew Amaund Motierre was an Elder Council member and hoped to show that a Machella could reach the same level as well, but to do that, she felt like she had to take advantage of the Motierres and play the game better than they could just to get there. Only then did Esther finally understand what was driving her, and she admired her daughter’s ambition.

She gave her daughter some crucial advice: stay home. True, it would be helpful to be there personally, but it would be harder to manipulate the Motierres if she was gone for as long as it took to oversee the reparations of Skyrim’s infrastructure. Furthermore, if she spent all that time trying to fix another country, her status back home in Daggerfall would plummet. She should visit, yes, but only for as long as it took to sign her name on a deal. As soon as that was done, Aries’ brothers could move in to represent their presence. There was plenty of dirt to be found on the Motierres, Aries just had to dig deeper to find it. Simple dinner parties weren’t going to cut it.

So that is what happened: Aries organized a trip to visit Solitude in a horse drawn carriage and a small caravan of horses. She was being escorted personally by Gabriel and Stefan, the two who would be the most reliable means of defense. Along the journey was filled with awkward chit-chats which eventually broke down into humored and long-winded conversations. It had been some time since she had been able to talk to her brothers on a personal level. The few times they were actually home, Aries had so often been either studying or in the middle of her own work, playing the stuffy political game, that it had probably been years since they interacted like real siblings. For a while, her brothers had thought their baby sister had gone all stuffy on them, but after a day or two of travelling on the road, they had managed to find each other once again and all her plots and worries had temporarily ceased to be. Though admittedly there wasn’t much talk about the good old days since they were far and few between, but some of the attending retainers were caught quite off guard by the laughter and laid-back display Aries was openly displaying in her brothers’ company. It was quite nice to have her first vacation in a very long time; she didn’t have to hide herself here.

They were also caught off guard by a sudden bandit ambush a few miles past Camlorn, and perhaps equally as much when Aries proved herself capable of defending herself by setting fire to the trees in which their archers were hiding. A sudden, eruptive display of blinding flame was enough to breed fear in those remaining who weren’t immediately charred to a crisp and cause them to flee. It was the first time she had used her magic for self-defense, and for some reason, she always thought that her first time would’ve left her jarred and shocked. It didn’t. Yes, the adrenaline pumping through her comprised the fine tuning of her control, she used a bit more fire than she needed, but she didn’t feel remorseful about what she did. She didn’t feel haunted, she just did what was necessary. The amount of foliage burning hid the smell of burning flesh, and as she assessed the aftermath with a curious passiveness, her brothers looked at her as though a dragon had just swooped down. Partially, they felt useless, but mostly they felt a little intimidated and even a little disturbed. They knew she had studied magic, but not to such a degree. Neither did they know that their baby sister could be so ruthless.

Aries seemed eager to return to business as usual, but her brothers seemed to step more carefully around her from that point onward. It wouldn’t last, however, as eventually her caravan passed through the rest of High Rock and crossed the Skyrim border, rested her horses at the local Smallwood Stables, and met with Imperial officials at Castle Dour. The deal was quickly agreed upon, as it was weighed heavily in the Imperials favor, but organizing the logistics of the deal took hours and Aries wanted to make sure that every step of the plan was precisely calculated before she signed her name on any parchment. Once they figured out approximately how many stone bricks would be needed by number per few meters of road, where the road was going to be laid, it’s approximated mileage, and the schematics of the bridge, Aries didn’t have any qualms with signing her name on the dotted line. After spending a day or two to rest, she embarked on her return journey to High Rock with her brothers. After a long and tiring journey, her brothers would stay for a short while to rest before taking the journey once more, and that time they would stay until the project was complete.

In the meantime, however, Aries would be hard at work in her infiltration of House Motierre. If she wanted dirt, then she’d have to go deeper. Become more involved. She attended all the dances with Fontaine, slimy a man though he may be, spoke publicly in favor of their House, and for years, do whatever else she could do to get in their good graces. She found that Amaund had joined the Elder Council almost thirteen years ago, but beyond that, very little. They were a careful sort. They were so good at keeping secrets that there was no wonder they’ve reached the heights they have. She must’ve spent a couple years of fraternizing with the Motierres, for her brothers had finally returned home following the completion of the rebuilt road and bridge in Skyrim, with an official written recognition of House Machella by the Elder Council. In addition, her brothers Gabriel and Stefan were formally inducted into the Knights of the Dragon by King Guilliot in acknowledgement of their faithful service and ability – though it had more to do with their status, than anything. Regardless, it was a momentous occasion and the ceremony was wonderful, but the Council’s recognition meant little if she couldn’t achieve her objective in Daggerfall.

 The only thing that Aries could do to punch a hole through the Motierres’ defense was to reopen the discussion of marriage. The Motierres weren’t in the same position as many other families though, the groom this time would have no need to change his name. So, when Aries broke tradition by suggesting the possibility of changing her own surname, that was something of an achievement that the Motierres didn’t want to pass up. Petty and relatively insignificant it may be, but House Machella was one of the long-time contesters to their power and having one of their daughters – one who was intelligent and powerful – join their family, it cemented their position in Daggerfall society. It [i]would[/i] cement their position.

It left them open is what it did. Made them soft. [i]Complacent.[/i] They were overconfident in thinking that they had her in the bag already, were planning the largest and most extravagant wedding that Daggerfall had never seen, and for some reason that made them think that it was time to treat her like she was family. Honestly, who thought it was okay to let their fiancée in on their family’s financial affairs? To help in their budgeting and financial planning? To be fair to them, she was quite good at it, and for a couple months, Aries helped them streamline their process and provided insight on big financial gambles… but it also gave her direct access to their ledgers. There were a few nights where she felt she could comfortably slip out of bed and wander through their lengthy, empty hallways and find the Motierre ledger in their office. Some nights she spent staying up studying the ledger. Where did they get their money? What did they spend it on?

She noted the additions and subtractions, the totals – and then she double-checked her work. Triple checked. Something wasn’t adding up. There weren’t nearly enough deposits to meet their total sum. Invisible money was being added from somewhere, they were laundering money from [i]somewhere[/i] and it wasn’t being listed in this ledger. With a spare parchment from the desk, she grabbed a quill and began working backwards to find the value of the missing variables. It was like she was back in school practicing arithmetic all over again. She found that the first value was at least eight hundred septims, but then the next missing value was different. She found that the missing values weren’t consistent, the invisible numbers were constantly changing. She figured it was probably in the event of being found, someone couldn’t just plug one number in and multiply it by the number of invisible deposits. The only question now was where the gold is coming from. She went as far back in the dates as she could to see if she could find when they first started receiving this gold; 4E192 – almost thirteen years ago, around the same time Amaund joined the Elder Council.

The Motierres have been siphoning money from the Empire for over a dozen years now, no wonder they were so well off. She finally found the dirt she was looking for! It was so strange, she thought as she took a moment to reflect, that the Motierres found their fortune around the same time the Machellas fell into their rut. Not long before her dad…

Her dad! [i]He[/i] was the reason why she set out on this crusade in the first place. How did [i]he[/i] factor into everything? She was told for the first time so many years ago that the Motierres were responsible for his death, reminded so often since then, yet she still ended up losing sight of her purpose in the shadow of her ambitions. She looked through the ledger again, scanning for the day her father died a year later. The date itself didn’t have any transactions listed on it, but the surrounding dates did see the handling of large sums of gold with generic descriptions of the transactions like “human resources”, which seemed out of place amidst the specificity of the other records within the ledger.

Guided by candlelight, she scoured the office looking for where they kept their history of correspondence until she found a wooden cabinet with stacks upon stacks of folded letters. They were organized by date. She looked as far back as she could – it was about midnight by this point – found old letters, likely kept as proof of business and transactions between parties, but all the letters she could find on or surrounding the date of her father’s death had nothing to do with her family. Curiously, there was few to no correspondence at all from Amaund Motierre. She looked back even further, her eyes glazing over the dozens of tax papers, only mildly intrigued by the personal communications between the Motierres and other parties, until finally she found mention of a Machella in one letter sent by a Bellemont.

[indent][i]“Frostfall 29, 4E 193
Dearest Roswell,

You will be pleased to know that you are found in likeminded company. You have my most gracious sympathies upon my learning of the dishonor visited upon you and your prestigious family. The loss of Wayrest is a very real and mutual tragedy, and it would be utterly abhorrent – unthinkable, immoral even – to take advantage of such grief to gain the upper hand in a shallow political game.

I, too, have unfortunately come to conclusion of finding the conduct of Florentius Machella in poor taste, but an Imperial is as an Imperial does; following the orders barked at them by those above their stations, his intrusions are most assuredly directed by the machinations of Lady Esther Machella; his wife. I tried to advise against her dealings, but you know how Machella women are.

As Florentius is an Imperial captain of the Emperor’s army, I know him as a matter of fact to be of the honorable sort and a newcomer to Daggerfall’s political arena and that perhaps he was not made aware of the rippling effects of the path his wife had set him on, but speaking of facts, one still remains that a diplomatic confrontation is not advisable in your unique situation and neither is allowing him to continue his current trajectory.

We will remain in contact and I lend you my best wishes in hopes of a satisfying closure to your predicament.

Sincerely,
L. Bellemont”[/i][/indent]

Looking back through time and seeing the mention of her parents was a haunting feeling. Yet she knew that wasn’t likely to find the evidence she needed here; any correspondence implicating them of wrongdoing would’ve been burned. It was still a promising sign, and even through the early hours, she continued skimming through pointless mail received through the surrounding dates, no longer looking for mention of her family’s names. At this point, she was just looking for anything that could give her a hint. It must’ve been another hour of searching until she came across an odd letter will very little written on it and with very plain, stylized handwriting.

[indent][i]“Mr. R,

The highest offer the noblewoman’s man would give us was 1,500. Congratulations sir, you have yourself a new business partner.

Now it would seem that our mutual headache is overreaching – I might just accept their offer for the free pocket change and mail off the diamond a week after you drop off your promised 5,000.

I have to admit I feel a little bad*, but let this be a lesson to them about being cheap with their money. You get what you pay for.

*Just kidding. I don’t.

– K ♥ ”[/i][/indent]

The letter wasn’t dated, but it was located between letters written on Sun’s Dusk 6, 4E 193 and Sun’s Dusk and Sun’s Dusk 10, 4E 193. It would’ve been written somewhere between those times, from the seventh to the ninth. It was a long shot, but the mention of “a noblewoman’s man” raised red flags in her mind… and there was no way anyone would spend five thousand septims on a diamond unless the diamond mentioned was a codeword for something. She cross referenced the ledger – Sun’s Dusk 13, 4E 193, 5,000 septims were withdrawn. Three days later, there was another invisible deposit equal to 5,000. A week later would’ve been Sun’s Dusk 20, 4E 193. Her father died three days later that year.

On hand, she felt like she was so close to the truth, but on the other hand, it could’ve been coincidence. It wasn’t like it was mailed the same day or anything. She sighed and returned to the pile of letters. Perhaps she could skim through and look for more letters from whoever this “K” person was. Flipping through a few more, she found another barren letter.

[indent][i]“Mr. R,

Everything is stable in Wayrest.

– K”[/i][/indent]

Wayrest? But Wayrest was under control of the Corsairs at the time and three days away—

Oh Gods.

It took everything from Aries to keep herself from burning down the Motierre manor. For second, she had a fireball in her hand that was ready to bring the building down, but she controlled herself. She extinguished the flame and instead gathered the letters together and took with her the entire Motierre ledger. She was racing against time now, as it was a matter of when they would notice its and her disappearance. She dashed through the streets of Daggerfall barefoot and in a silken nightgown, tightly clutching a large book and several papers to her chest towards the Machella home. There was something she needed to check on before informing her mother. Much like the Motierres, her mother also kept a long stack of correspondence in her private office. She’s been in the room many times, and she studied her family’s history, but she never thought to investigate it. From the sounds of that “K” person, they were also in correspondence with her mother at the time. So was an L. Bellamont. She had to make sure.

It was easy enough to find. Her family didn’t receive nearly as much correspondence, and she already knew what date range to look for.

[indent][i] “Ms. E,

Your husband’s generous 1,500 offer is greatly appreciated.

You should receive a present very shortly.
– K”

“Frostwall 25, 4E 193
Dearest Esther,

Your strategy is ambitious, and I can appreciate what you are trying to do, but I feel that I must advise you that the Corsair Republic cannot be trusted. Just because they call themselves a Republic and pretend to suppose the mantle of governor does not make them a sovereign country; Wayrest is a nation held hostage by pirates. Indeed, though that may make them willing to do the work you would hire them to do, that does not make them willing to behold themselves to their word. Their only loyalty is to money. They will stab you in the back.

That said, if you insist on this venture, then perhaps you would think against sending Florentius in your stead. He may be capable and Imperial, but he is not Breton – he does not know how to dance the political ballad like we do. I fear you may be risking too much for what you will be getting in return.

As always, with love,
L. Bellamont”[/i][/indent]

It only took a minute for Aries, with her arms full of papers and books, to march towards her mother’s bed chamber, toss the ledger and letters at the foot of her bed, and abruptly light a wall sconce with the fire of her destruction magic. She confronted her and demanded to know the full truth of her father’s death, and it wasn’t long before the footsteps of her brothers came rampaging through the house, only to arrive in the room brandishing their swords with confounded expressions on their faces as they saw Aries fuming at their mother. She demanded again, in front of her brothers, the full truth of their father’s death… so they got it.

 Esther had a plan to use the Corsairs to raid rivaling trade vessels – namely, the Motierres. If she could take them out of the picture, the Machella family would practically be second to only the King of Daggerfall himself. She felt responsible for staying home in Daggerfall to manage business as usual and behooved Aries’ father to go in her stead. She supposed that he didn’t know how to properly manipulate the situation, but the Corsairs backstabbed her metaphorically and Florentius literally, as well as stealing the money they originally offered them.

Aries revealed that Esther wasn’t just backstabbed, but outmaneuvered, and revealed to her the evidence she found in the Motierres’ estate. This didn’t mean she forgave her mother, though. Aries was furious, but she found herself in a rather unique predicament. She had the power in her hands to send her mother to the dungeon for a very long time, and the only reason why the Motierres didn’t do it themselves is because they were hopelessly tied to the situation and would’ve incriminated themselves in the process as well. However, she also had proof in her hands that the Motierres’ were not only responsible for the murder of her father as well as captain of the Imperial army, they paid for it using the money that they were stealing from the Empire. She didn’t even need her mother’s letters to incriminate them. They were just bonuses.

So Aries gave her mother an ultimatum: step down as matriarch of House Machella and make her the inheritor of the title, passing down all deeds and right to her, or to be imprisoned in the Daggerfall dungeon, making Aries the matriarch anyways. This was her punishment for being partially responsible for the death of her father and being stupid enough to leave a paper trail of evidence behind her. Though there was a hint of disappointment in Esther’s eyes, and a lifetime of guilt, she looked upon her daughter with a proud smile. Though she wished to have been succeeded in a more dignified way, her daughter outplayed her, and she wouldn’t have any reason to worry about her career as a politician in her retirement. She agreed to Aries’ demands.

The room went quiet for a few moments and the air was still. Esther looked at the old Motierre letters and looked at Aries expectantly, who nodded in understanding and then told her brothers to find Laurent Bellemont and kill him. The snake knew far too much about House Machella’s dirty laundry. Though there was hesitation from her brothers, everyone eventually concluded that their family would be torn apart again if they didn’t do what they could to preserve it.

In the meantime, Aries knew exactly where she was going next. Though she had a long night of little to no sleep, it was nearly sunrise when she personally marched into Castle Daggerfall and demanded one of the palace guard to see the captain immediately, as well as alerting the steward, on grounds of conspiracy. Upon their summoning, they were directed to a private room, and though they were sleepy, they were quickly awakened by the news Aries shared. Cross referencing the history of written correspondence with the ledger and the date of Captain Florentius Machella’s death strongly suggested a link to the Motierres. Also, with the help of the captain and the steward, tearing pages out of the ledger and dividing up thirteen years of money laundering since the induction of Amaund Motierre into the Elder Council, the total average of money estimated to have been stolen from the Empire was 127,660 septims, five thousand of which was spent to kill one of the Empire’s own high-ranking officials. If the steward was drinking coffee, he would’ve spit it back out.

Though it would be challenging to pin the murder on the Motierres thanks to their ability to play the system, it would be incriminating enough to get the public to turn on them and there was no possible way they could weasel their way out of the laundering and corruption charges. Perhaps on another day they could’ve bought their innocence through bribery, but the conspiracy was far too big to risk their own heads when the Elder Council launches their own investigation into the issue. When the patriarch of House Motierre, Roswell Motierre, was summoned to the court of Castle Daggerfall by King Guilliot, he was accompanied by his son, Fontaine, and his wife. Though the proceedings resulted in no one being tossed in a dungeon cell and their noble status remained (likely through what remaining influence they had), the fines were exorbitant and steep, and many of their titles and holdings were seized as punishment. Though there was not enough evidence available to hold them accountable for the murder of Imperial Captain Florentius Machella without Esther’s own correspondence, the heavy implication of their involvement was enough to damage their public perception. They couldn’t drag Esther down with them without damning themselves, either.

Aries and Esther Machella both demanded for them to seek out and interview Laurent Bellemont as a witness and confirm their involvement in Florentius’ death. Laurent was found dead in his home. Too little evidence was left behind in the wee hours of the morning to trace who had done the deed, and though there was no evidence that the Motierres did it, they seemed to conveniently benefit the most out of his death. There was one murder implication stacked upon another. The Motierres cried out for justice, accusing House Machella of foul play and conspiracy, but they had no ground to stand on and no evidence to prosecute them with. Then Fontaine Motierre came forward, hurt and betrayed. In his rage, he invoked his right to a duel in the defense of his and his family’s honor, and challenged his ex-fiancee: Aries. Under the eyes of the Divines themselves, it would be in the hands of fate who would be deemed innocent.

Gabriel and Stefan both jumped to offer themselves as her champion, but she turned them down. Though warned that the Motierres may have likely poisoned their blades, she insisted. She knew Fontaine well, so she knew that he did not have very many hours of practice with a blade. In addition, she also knew that his mind would be clouded by revenge while her’s was steel cold. After finally putting her years of swordsmanship practice to practical use, her duel was over in seconds. She publicly embarrassed Fontaine in front of King Guilliot himself and the Motierres were found guilty on counts of fraud.

Many of the trade agreements the Motierres had were revoked by their business partners to severe their association with the family. The king seized some of their holdings and their trading vessels. This left open many opportunities for not just the Machellas to take advantage of, but other houses too, inadvertently rebalancing the power of the noble houses in the kingdom. Claiming their property, the city-state itself would find itself prospering a little more. The invisible money income dried up, ending the siphoning of gold from the Empire, which over time, will be reimbursed what was stolen. Only a few days later, a newspaper spread around Daggerfall; Elder Counsel member Amaund Motierre was forced to denounce the actions of his own family and issued a public expression of gratitude to House Machella for their faithful loyalty to the Empire and their pursuit of justice.

It was an enormous victory for House Machella after a long twelve years, but now it was more important than ever to remain diligent. The Motierres were backstabbed and lost an immense amount because of Aries, so they were going to be gunning for them in the future. They gave a lot of money to Castle Daggerfall to buy their protection and between the money, the influence that her brothers have been spreading among the ranks, their status as Knights of the Dragon, and the years of support that House Machella has shown the guard, they were assuredly all but in their pockets.

They could afford such an expense because the trade and holdings the Motierres once had were up for grabs, and the money being returned to the Empire meant that they were able to afford fairer trade agreements and the rebuilt roads through Skyrim gave them better access to their resources. House Machella was seeing an economic surge.

Though protected, Aries’ mind seemed to fall back on the Motierres quite frequently as the months passed. They were without a doubt trying to plan something and they had to stay ahead of the curve. The reason the Motierres lost everything is because they became complacent. The Machellas had to work to keep them from trying to regain too much power. On that same note, the other houses were steadily gaining power too. What Aries would probably do, if she was in their situation, is to recover their reputation and try to use the surrounding houses to quickly elevate themselves by association. If she did that first, it would rob the Motierres of that opportunity, as well as giving her own house enough influence to be virtually untouchable… and she had two dashing older brothers to do it with.

It took as little as a couple weeks to organize a proper dinner with the Julliards and the Wickermans. She had already spoken to her brothers about the importance of being wed – their duties and responsibilities has already stolen away so much time from them, they deserved a bit of happiness, yes? From women of Houses deserving of them, of course, not from some common tart. She was forthcoming with her brothers that yes, her intentions are politically motivated, but her reasoning for them to be personally invested wasn’t flawed. She personally knew the daughters of the other houses, and she guaranteed that they would be happy. She wouldn’t dare give her brothers anything less.

So they had their dinner and her brothers met the families and talked to their daughters. Gabriel hit it off with Chey Julliard and Stefan with Matilda Wickerman. Aries talked to their fathers – she expressed her wish to support them and, in turn, be supported by them. Their daughters will lead happy and fulfilling lives with her brothers as their husbands. At first, they laughed at the idea of a sister arranging her own brothers’ marriages, as it was usually done by their parents, but there wasn’t any humor in the offer itself. Though the Machellas had been working hard for years to get where they were now, to the other houses, it looked as though they had cut down House Motierre in one fell swoop and suddenly became one of the richest houses in Daggerfall. Having the Machellas on their side would be highly beneficial. So, they agreed to her offer.

In as quick as a month, and in the span of a week, twice could wedding bells be heard from the chapel. Through marriage, Houses Julliard and Wickerman allied themselves with House Machella.

Aries was only the matriarch of her house for a year when, during her time in the court of Castle Daggerfall, an Imperial arrived with the accompaniment of an armored guard. The nature of their armor resembled the armor her father used to wear, but it was brighter and adorned with golden filigree and red paint. Horse hair was sticking out like a mohawk from the top of their helmet, and their discipline was absolute as they walked robotically alongside the man they were escorting. The Imperial introduced himself as a diplomat of the Empire, and pulling out a parchment, he read aloud an official invitation on behalf of the Elder Council to Aries Machella to become an ambassador of the Empire in recognition of her dutiful and steadfast service, political and diplomatic ability, and history of working for the betterment of the Empire.

She was allowed as much time as she desired to mull over her decision and the diplomat will remain in Daggerfall until she has given her answer. In truth, her decision was made right away. The few days she spent before accepting the offer was in preparation of her absence, discussing trading plans, plots, and other topics of intrigue. She talked with her mother about all these things to make sure that they would be well suited in her absence, and later renamed her the matriarch of House Machella in a public announcement during the same speech she made it known that she accepted the Empire’s offer to become an Imperial Ambassador. She took the ship to Cyrodiil where she would begin the next leg of her journey.

The seafaring journey was long and tiring, and Aries didn’t have her sea legs yet, but the sight of Anvil lighthouse on the Gold Coast of the Abecean Sea was a beacon that heralded promise beyond it. The rested in Anvil and took a carriage up the Gold Road, and from miles away, The White-Gold Tower came into view. She crossed the Talos Bridge, entered the Imperial City – she was met with a detachment of Imperial Watchmen who escorted her through the Talos Plaza District and directly to the Imperial Palace. She stood before the Elder Council, taking in each and one of their faces, looking for Amaund Motierre among them. They didn’t hesitate in getting to the point and beginning the process right away, at least by Breton standards. The process was expected to last a few hours for what was essentially just an interview and personal assessment, but if it was easy, then everybody would be an ambassador.

They began with introductions, and the High Chancellor personally discussed the history of observation of her actions and how they have benefited the Empire, hence the cause for this proceeding. Other Chief Councilors have given additional context, lacing their segments with humor as they mentioned that they may have extended the invitation sooner had Chief Councilor Motierre sooner agreed to have her here. He apparently had changed his vote to invite Aries not long after denouncing his own house. One of them mentioned that it was refreshing to see the objective good of the Empire being prioritized over politics.

Moving on, Aries anticipated that although the answers to their questions mattered, it mattered just as much as how she responded to them. They were critically reading her every movement and gesture. A passing comment was made on the impeccably clean streak she has had over her career, and when Aries so much as breathed, another councilor would pounce.

One thing Aries noticed during the proceeding is that they seemed to be focused on Chief Councilor Amaund as much as they were on her. Surely, he had some burning questions of his own, but he made no mention and asked no questions of her involvement with House Motierre. When he was finished with his segment, a Nord councilmember asked why he did not address the mammoth in the room, Amaund said dismissively that the matter of the Motierre house in Daggerfall has already been concluded. 

By the end of the proceeding, Aries had answered every question tactfully and directly. She was sure not to dodge any of their questions in any way, knowing that they would catch it and call her out on it immediately. They asked what felt like a hundred questions about the history of the Empire and its current relationships with the neighboring sovereign powers. When it seemed clear that she had a clean record, had a working knowledge of the world, and was totally devoted to the betterment of the Empire, they held her ceremony where she recited an oath of loyalty.

The next couple of months was spent learning about the job from other diplomats and ambassadors inside the Imperial Palace and spending a disgusting amount of time on study and research of current events and the history of Imperial relationships with the other powers. It introduced her to an entirely different world by exposing her to information that wasn’t otherwise shared with the public. If she had enough free time in the week, she would spend a day to walk around the Imperial City with the escort of a city guard, hoping to familiarize herself with the beautiful city and its people, because she knew it wouldn’t be long before her real job would begin and take her away from it all.

The next two years of her career had her hard at work. In some ways, it was a transformative experience. It had been far too long since she was in a position of servitude. It took some time to transition from being at the top of the pecking order to serving the Elder Council, but she kept reminding herself of perspective. No matter who she was before, or who she [i]thought[/i] she was before, she was less than she is now; an ambassador was far more important than the leader of a noble house. Aries was sent off from place to place, namely where there were still Imperial interests, such as Skyrim, to see how the reunification process was going. 

However, the real focus over the course of her career is the relationship between the Empire and Hammerfell. The Great War and the White-Gold Concordant placed a massive wedge between the two powers, and the fact that Hammerfell defeated the Thalmor invaders had likely only reinforced their decision. Her efforts over the past two years have mostly been working towards attempting to negotiate an alliance with Hammerfell – not as a province of the Empire, but as its own sovereign power, with hopes that it would [i]one day[/i] lead to Hammerfell once again becoming an Imperial province (of course, though, she left that part out.)

In some ways, she had made great strides. She broke the ice with the locals through displays of humility and a willingness to understand their culture and history on a personal level. She wasn’t too enraptured in the hubris seen in past diplomats -- as a woman who’s political experience was outside of Empire, she had that advantage, and was better at hiding her shortcomings. She made headway through trade deals and a willingness to support parts of Hammerfell that weren’t exactly lucrative, but in hopes that a divide and conquer strategy would help raise support for the Empire among the majority of people if not the rulers themselves. She wore their clothing, ate their food, and followed their customs, showing that merely the respect for their traditions goes a long way to developing a meaningful relationship between people.

However, all of it seemed to have come crashing down with the arrival of the dwemer. She couldn’t believe her eyes as massive ships sailed through the sky and occupied the once noble and proud Redguard of the Alik’r under the threat of massacre, still too weak from the aftermath of the Great War. The initial invasion force was sudden and ruthless, characterized by a display of power, superior resources, and callous tactics. They cut down the defense force of Sentinel with little difficulty, and like the palace, the Imperial embassy also found itself besieged. It’s soldiers and Aries’ own guards were being overwhelmed, and their resistance would’ve been meaningless if Aries stood idly behind them and allowed her forced to be routed.

A controlled arc of lightning bounced between the dwemer’s armored foot soldiers, that electricity contracting their muscles long enough for Aries to summon an ethereal sword through her conjuration magic and personally leading her men in the charge against the squad of dwemer. With her men at her back, Aries showcased her years of swordplay practice. Her footwork was measured and meticulous, her precision with the blade was unprecedented given her status as an ambassador. To the redguards who had witnessed the scene as her and her bodyguards cut a bloody swathe towards the palace, who valued strength and swordsmanship so highly in their society, her prowess, though not on an expert level, was a demonstration worthy of respect. 

Unfortunately, their plan to hole themselves in the palace proved fruitless when they discovered multiple centurions upon their arrival. With few other options left, Aries decided to retreat from Sentinal. With the help of her bodyguards, they found some camels and began riding south with the dwemer following close behind. One by one, they picked her guards off from afar with their rifles until she was accompanied by only one. By that point, they were too far into the desert for the dwemer to follow.

They had since traveled from village to village, spreading the word of danger. It would seem that not long after their arrival, the dwemer would soon follow. When they could finally reach the next major city, they found it already occupied by the dwemer. After spending some time undercover in the new city, Aries was able to ascertain some of the current events over west. The Empire had fallen and the White-Gold Tower was under Dwemer control. News of the Dominion moving in to take advantage of the chaos had also spread. Now stranded in enemy-occupied Hammerfell, without her vast wealth and influence, Aries vowed vengeance against the Dwemer. She now operates out of the shadows, covertly attempting to sabotage the dwemer and the Dominion, and trying find a way to defeat them and recover the Empire. She hopes to stoke the flames of rebellion in Hammerfell and rekindle their faith in the Empire through joining forces against their mutual enemies. Under the guise of a merchant woman, she made her way southbound to meet her contact in Gilane.[/hider]
[indent][/indent]

[color=ed145b][u][b] Personality                    [/b][/u][/color]

[indent] In some ways, Aries reflects her heritage. The ferocity and regality she exudes matches the intensity of the dragons on Imperial and Daggerfall banners, giving the impression that when push came to shove, she might actually stare down a real, live dragon -- unflinchingly; and the aforementioned "intensity" might actually be the best word to describe her. Aries is [i]intense.[/i] She has a powerful and assertive personality that commands space and screams a demand for respect, and it's present in the way she talks, walks, and carries herself. She knows what she wants. When it's nothing but her and an obstacle or pest obstructing her way, you can see her in her rawest state: not mincing her words, speaking the truth as she sees it, and the cold calculation of her eyes creating steam with the heat of her passion. By all means, a lot of her motivations are driven by her emotions, but they're logically processed and acted upon. Her emotions are tempered by an almost sociopathic measure of emotionally-dissociated calculation. When you cut deep down into the core of who Aries is, she is a woman with an ax to grind, and if you get in her way, she has no problem using your bones to do it.

But she is so much more complicated than her drive and passion. Odds are that you will [i]never[/i] see her fired up. Like many people, she wears a mask, but hers is so much more decorated than the average person. Smoke and mirrors are her weapons of choice. She doesn't mince words when you've lathered her temper, but the rest of the time? It's like everything she says has two meanings, both clearly communicated with her precision of vocabulary. She is deliberate and carefully weighs her words every time she speaks, taking communication to an art form as she conveys her intended meaning every time. She can expertly weave her words together to persuade, bargain, seduce, and even intimidate. She knows the political game inside and out, so if she knows that you have a secret you want hidden, you can guarantee that she'll eventually find a way to lure it out of you if she cares enough to -- which leads into her ability to read people. As someone who has made a career out of talking and listening, she can has a sharp insight for deception and diversions, which is reflective of a keen mind and laser-like focus. If you tell a lie, it must be flawless. One stray thread in your story, and Aries will tug at that thread until the entire fabric unravels. Exposing someone bare brings a particular kind of joy to Aries, tearing someone down who might deserve it and simultaneously proving herself as someone to not take lightly by feeding her a load of bullshit.

She isn't infallible, though. Hard to deceive, yes, but she often defaults to not trusting anybody across the board. If her focus is currently on someone who might not deserve it, it creates an opening for her real enemies. She is also headstrong, preferring to have it her way even if there might be a better option, and although she's not a fool, she's also a gambler. She'd rather have a large victory than a small one. She is also arrogant, rarely ever viewing others below her station as deserving of the same respect. It would seem that it's because of her station that she believes she's wiser, smarter, or deserving of obedience to her authority. It sounds like your typical noble, right? But she isn't quite so outward with her disposition, showing at least some self-awareness. In her neutral state, she'll talk respectfully, but there might always be that feeling of alienation from her due to the power difference index. What's more, she is rather... desperate. Her high ambitions were suddenly whisked away with the collapse of an Empire, making instant enemies with the Dwemer. Mistaking her as fragile would be your undoing, but she's definitely desperate to regain what she's lost, so the clarity of her vision might be shaky at times -- especially during moments of high stress.

Intense, calculating, headstrong, and ambitious; the four cornerstones of her personality makes way for someone with the potential to become a great leader, provided that they learn an ounce of humility and sense of camaraderie. She is passionate, uncompromising, and loyal to the Empire. She rides a fine line between remaining faithful to the rule of law and the philosophy of "by any means necessary." Peeling past the layers of deception and social niceties is difficult, but even if you do and find that Aries seems to be in the political game only to seize power for herself, she ultimately wants what is best for the world. Her time serving the Empire has taught her a lot about the world, and now she genuinely believes that a Tamriel united under a single Empire would be to the benefit of everyone. She hopes to step into a rather large pair of boots in the absence of any Imperial leaders and defeat the Dwemer, so that she may rekindle the Empire. While there is no surefire way to her heart, the best way to earn any modicum of trust is by demonstrating loyalty and capability. If you show that you have no intention of undermining her and that you are competent, that's enough to earn a begrudging respect; and if your goals align, you might even find an ally in her. All that she asks is that you have faith in her vision.


[/indent]
[/hider]