Family Origins: Jehanna, High Rock
Birth Sign: The Tower
A powerful and physically imposing figure, Raznog stands at a commanding 6’03” (183cm) and weighing in around 250 pounds (113.4kg) with an endomorphic build, the Orsimer is heavily muscled with enough body fat to give him a somewhat soft appearance, not unlike a bear. While Raznog will never be accused of being small or weak, he often doesn’t carry himself with the best posture since he subconsciously shrinks himself to make himself approachable to those smaller than him and he often hunches over for the multitude of small, delicate tasks he seems to take an affinity for.
Raznog is a well-groomed individual, having a short chocolate brown quiff-style haircut to go with a neatly trimmed beard. Eschewing the more wild facial piercings and tattoos of many other orcs, save for a couple of bridge ring piercings. A small, modest pair of spectacles round out his appearance, only being put away when hard work or a fight is imminent in a small, wooden case. His green eyes are gentle and friendly, and he has an almost fatherly bearing towards others. His complexion is a mossy green with a slight brown tint.
Dressing in fine travel wear with flair from Orcish, Breton, and Nord sensibilities, Raznog travels with an oil-impregnated travel cloak to keep the elements off of his tunics, surcoats, vests, and trousers, and much of his gear is kept in an almost comically large rucksack or on his guar’s saddlebags, including a mail coat, platemail, a full helm, greaves, gauntlets, and sabatons made of finely crafted orchalcum.
-Orchalcum warhammer with a pick on the reverse face
-Full set of orchalcum heavy armour
-Frost enchanted gauntlets with a reinforced knuckle and finger plate for striking.
-A pack guar named Stomper
-Travel-sized painting set and parchments
-A small assortment of tea bags and kettle along with cups
-A tent, bed rolls, blankets
-Change of clothing
-Journal and reading tomes
-Wood cutter’s axe and pickaxe
-Assorted spell scrolls in a waterproof carry case
-An amulet of a Malach, an axe
Family and Associates:
Shazali, travel companion and friend
Malak gro-Malzog, father
Nula gra-Lulgra, biological mother (deceased)
Faye LePetite, adoptive mother
Torug gro-Malak, brother
Cynthia LePetite, step-sister
Born into one of the oldest lines of Orsimer residing in Jehanna, Raznog gro-Malak grew up in the bitterly cold North of High Rock in a region with such a mixed cultural identity that it was effectively its own unique ecosystem; a kingdom under Breton rule founded by Orcs and settled and governed by Nords, Raznog entered the world in a land that couldn’t have been further from the strongholds to the East or the great city of Orsinium. The family business was working the shipyards and outfitting expeditions, so Raznog grew up with a hammer in hand patching up vessels from across Tamriel and running the modest supply shop in equal measure.
When he was only a few years old, his biological mother passed away from illness, and it wasn’t for a few more that Raznog’s father remarried a Breton woman named Faye who never tried to replace his mother, Nula, but she had no shortage of love for her two new adoptive sons and biological daughter from outside of wedlock. It was a happy family and Faye exposed her children to the art of mastering colours and Raznog took to it with glee, taking up a paintbrush and painting the ships and landscapes that dominated his home life. In particular, Raznog is proud of his contribution to the mural the town put together, bringing colour to the stone carvings of the Orc craftsman, the wooden totems and pillars that frame the homes of the Nords, and the paintings of the Bretons. Life in Jehanna was quiet and perfect, being so far removed from the troubles of the outside world. Raznog had a perfect family, a mix of blood and found additions he loved all the same, and from his father’s hand he learned strength and to uphold his Orcish heritage, and from his mother, a softer and more thoughtful approach to the world.
And so it came as something of a shock when Raznog and his siblings came of age and were adults in their 20s when their parents announced that they were going to be moving to Daggerfall to tend to Faye’s aging parents. The family business was to go to the children, should they want it, or it would be sold to help finance their future endeavors. On one hand, it was the opportunity for a clean break to pursue other passions and to see where all of these colourful travellers came from by sea, but it was also a hugely disruptive thing where what had seemed as unchanging as the Druadach Mountains was now eroding suddenly. 27 years old and the eldest of the siblings, the three sat down to discuss their future. In the end, Torug would go with their parents to meet with family he had yet to meet, Cynthia would travel to Imperial City to study and follow her ambitions to serve the Empire as a political figure, and this left Raznog with somewhat of an empty feeling; he simply did not know what he wished to do with his life. In the end, the eldest brother decided to sell the business with his siblings and he would simply take time to travel until Zenithar or Malach gave him some ideas of where he should go.
And so for the first time in his life, Raznog gro-Malak boarded one of the ships that came to Jehanna and left the only home he’d known for his entire life.
Because of his multicultural upbringing, Raznog found it easy to assimilate into whatever culture he came across and found differences between races more endearing than alienating. Knowing his coin wouldn’t last forever, the Orc often paid his way through his services as a woodworker and smith, and eventually a caravan guard given his size and strength; the Imperial who had watched Raznog lift up the side of a wagon with one hand and place a repaired wheel with the other had insisted the Orc use his strength to protect the caravan. Instead of paying a fee for travel, Raznog was now being paid to guard caravans, giving him free food and a chance to keep his body and mind sharp.
This somewhat nomadic lifestyle inevitably put him into contact with the Khajiiti Baandari caravans on a few occasions, and Raznog found a curious kinship with the catfolk of Elsweyr, finding their hospitality to be warming and he had spent many nights by their campfires, listening to the stories told by the clan fathers and mothers and enjoying the uniquely sweet meats and stews they served. It was one of these chance meetings near the border with Black Marsh where Raznog was confronted by a tiny Alfiq who dropped a bottle of Colovian whiskey beside Raznog as he rested against a tree trunk reading a book.
The tiny cat stared up at him defiantly. “Shazali bets she can outdrink you, dull-claws.” She challenged.
And so, on one of the more memorable and strange nights of Raznog’s life; the Alfiq had clearly already been drinking and had this desperate, dishevelled look to her. Instead of turning the challenge down, Raznog poured two equal glasses out of his tea set and under the guise of challenging the cat, he learned her story and how she was the youngest daughter and elder sister, yet being an Alfiq meant that she was often overlooked or shoved aside compared to her more noticeable family, despite her accomplishments as a mage, or how outsiders confused her as a housecat or treated her like a child despite being an adult. Her distressed reason for confronting the Orc was that her younger brother, a Cathay-raht who towered over everyone in camp, and her had gotten into a rather heated argument and he used his size to push her around, so in her drunken wisdom decided to challenge the next biggest person she could find. She wasn’t three drinks in before she had fallen asleep against Raznog’s leg, where he covered her with a blanket and fell asleep with the small Khajiit snoring gently against him.
Five years later, the duo had been constant travel companions, equals in many ways and discovering the world apart from their respective families. Although unlikely friends and companions, there is an air of comfort and familiarity with the two of them that makes it hard to imagine a time they weren’t with each other as they go from destination to destination to live life on their own terms, at least until they figure out what they’re looking for.
Race: Khajiit, Alfiq
Family Origins: Dune, Anequina
Birth Sign: The Atronach
A cinnamon and white short-coated Alfiq, Shazali would be easily mistaken by outsiders at a glance as a common housecat if not for the curious clothing she wears, namely metal torc bracelets about her front ankles, a fetching embroidered blue scarf, an azurite pendant, and a prominent black leather eye patch covering her right eye. Her remaining eye is a pleasant and sharp amber hue with feline irises, which compliment her golden canine tooth on the right side of her face, which has long healed from whatever incident claimed her eye and tooth.
Lithe and agile, Shazali remains quite in good physical condition, able to climb people, trees, and other such obstacles with grace and ease. She usually has a mischievous, or at least curious, gleam to her eye, and considering her physiology manages to have quite an expressive face.
Enchanted channeling pendant and torcs
- Spell books
Portable enchantment table
Grooming bowl and bathing items
Family and Associates:
Raznog gro-Malak, friend and companion
Dra’Zarri, clan mother (Cathay)
Chalsini, biological mother (Suthay)
J’Tashir, younger brother (Cathay-raht)
Hisrido, younger brother (Suthay-raht) (never met)
La’Purani, older sister (Ohmes-raht)
Ko’Kulira, older sister (Suthay-raht)
Detect Dead/ Life
Summon Frost Atronach
Shazali was born the middle child of 5 siblings without a father figure in the city of Dune, an ancient metropolis in Northern Elsweyr, one of the few permanent cities the nomadic tribes had bothered to establish. Much like the desert sands, Shazali’s life was constantly shifting and nothing was ever a sure thing for long; her mother took many paramours, resulting in 5 children from 3 different suitors over her life, and working long hours as a dancer that kept her from home for long. Shazali was raised largely by her older sisters rather than her mother, who seemed to bounce from one crisis to the next with unexpected efficiency, and the siblings had to find ways to help make ends meet. What resulted was a triad of teenagers and a child matured far beyond their years and grappling with the throes of poverty and an absentee mother.
It became apparent early on that Shazali had some form of magical acuity, probably a gift from her own unknown father, although being a small Alfiq limited her options considerably. Often being sent out to beg for donations given her small size and young age and a fairly compassionate community, one day Shazali stopped by a market stall operated by a mystic. Being young and ignorant, she hopped on the stool across from the merchant and demanded he tell her how she can escape her unfair life. The merchant smiled, twirled his finger, and a line of clairvoyance appeared, pointing to an old beginner’s tome for enchantment. “Magnus never lies, my child. A gift to your good fortunes!” the merchant said with a smile, helping her shove the tome in her pack and sending her on her way.
At the time, Shazali found the encounter strange and unproductive; she couldn’t eat a book or use it to pay her way out of the city, but in time she learned that the old mystic might have been onto something.
Spending all day and night when she could get away with it trying to understand the book and running through some basic exercise to teach herself magic, she had enchanted her first object two months later when a small wooden horse toy she was practicing on suddenly took on the lightning enchantment, briefly sending electrical bolts in all directions. The wood was scorched in beautiful burn marks and the house wasn’t destroyed; it was a breakthrough that was a clear turning point for Shazali; she was going to become a mage. The young Alfiq, almost reaching maturity, hurried back to the market where she had found the mystic, and she presented him with the toy horse. He took it with a proud smile. “Not the strangest form of payment I’ve received, but well done, rhook.” He said, sharing some of his lunch with the girl before sending her on her way.
The next few years were a bit easier on Shazali and her sisters, and now her baby brother, as Shazali honed her craft and used some of the family earnings to purchase enchantment supplies and before long, they had opened their own merchant stall in the same market as Shazali’s mystic patron. Her eldest sister, Kulira, was studying medicine and had taken up alchemy, selling all sort of tinctures alongside her sister’s enchanted goods, and their other sister, Purani, had an abundance of charisma and was a shrewd negotiator, and she was the one that often ran the stall. While it was strange for a trio of young girls to be running their own business, the locals were supportive; their situation at home was well known to the neighbours and it was something of a project to support the trio. For once, the three of them were mostly happy and able to make ends meet.
Trouble found them again before too long when their brother Tashir was beginning to grow and grow, given he was a Cathay-raht; not only was his hunger making their meager food supplies stretch to their limits, but without strong parental guidance, Tashir used his size and strength to push his sisters around; one time, he actually picked Shazira up and threw her against a wall in a fit of rage, an event that broke a rib and put her out of work for a month until the healers and potions could mend her. Their brother’s reign of terror eventually led to Purani to run away from home to locations unknown and Kulira to join a monastery. Shazira felt abandoned and irritable at being stuck with their mother and younger brother, but she tried to keep the merchant stall running, which was failing, and eventually did when thieves ransacked it and ran off with what goods she had left.
Just when things seemed like they couldn’t get any worse, the town guards came with sobering news; their mother had been found unresponsive in a skooma den and was being looked after by healers, but it was unclear if she would ever wake up again. It was too much for Shazali, not quite an adult yet, but she knew that nothing remained in Dune for her, or her brother, who had taken their mother’s condition especially hard. Shazali, desperate for answers, returned to her mystic patron, pleading with him for answers.
“Please, Shazali doesn’t know what to do.” She begged.
It wasn’t a clairvoyance spell that guided his hand next, but instead he picked up Shazali to hold like his own daughter and he took the hand of Tashir and led them to the outskirts of the city where a field of tents and colourful fabrics were set up. Finding the most elaborate tent of them all, the mystic presented Shazali and Tashir to Clan Mother Dra’Zarri, who looked upon them with kindness and love. The two siblings were brought into the arms of the Baandari. Shazali looked at the mystic as he left, and their eyes met for the final time, and she could have sworn a teardrop fell down the man’s face as he turned, pulling up his hood as he disappeared into the city gates once more.
The following years were full of wonder for the siblings and no shortage of hard, but fair, work. The Banndari was like a large family where everyone contributed and faced the same hardships; neither felt unwanted or out of place. Tashir finally found proper role models and learned to temper his anger much better while putting his strength to good use, and Shazali finally had teachers to help her hone her magical crafts. Unfortunately for Shazali, she overestimated her capabilities and one of her enchanting sessions went awry, causing a fire rune she was casting on a boulder to explode violently, striking her in the face; the incident cost her a tooth and blinded her in one eye, teaching her a humiliating and humbling lesson in hubris.
With more diligence and respect, Shazali became quite an impressive enchanter and she took lessons in Conjuration to help summon Atronachs to protect the caravan and she found Alteration a school that suited her well as it had some similar parallels to enchanting; at first it was to detect hostile presence from the living and dead alike, casting spells to protect herself (being hurled against a wall by Tashir certainly stayed in her psyche), and being able to help lift and move things with telekinesis made the gap between her size and other Khajiiti furstocks a lot smaller.
For the next 8 years, Shazali had seen much of Tamriel, been exposed to many different cultures and people and life constantly on the road suited her; she had nothing but contempt for her memories of an absentee mother she could no longer remember the face of and her two sisters who abandoned her and Tashir, even if they had their reasons. Her brother was now known as J’Tashir, and he was one of the tallest and strongest in the caravan, wielding a sword so large for most that it looked modest in size to him, and a spear that was as long as he was tall, which is to say the only thing getting past him was an arrow. It was hard not to be jealous that her baby brother was physically imposing and seemed to have everything he wanted, whereas Shazali was treated like a child still given her high voice and small-size. She was infuriated at being treated like a house pet by non-Khajiit.
And so, it was a fateful night after perhaps a bit too much drinking after another row with J’Tashir that Shazali found herself angrily taking her frustrations out on an Orsimer from another caravan and unknowingly finding the next stage in her life. She decided that she could no longer live under the metaphorical and literal shadow of her brother any longer, and despite the tearful and hard goodbye with the Baandari, she parted ways with fond memories of her found family that had given her a chance to grow into so much more than she ever dreamed. Now with Raznog gro-Malak she was free to discover herself outside of the lens of looking after community and family, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel small or lesser with a partner who had always treated her as an equal. Five years on and she hasn’t found a reason to doubt her decision.