Current
Remember, nobody actually enjoys roleplaying if there isn't at least five shameful fetishes uncovered by the 2nd page.
5
likes
5 yrs ago
Somebody stole my mood ring. I don't know how to feel about it.
14
likes
5 yrs ago
Let's be honest, it's far more satisfying and challenging to actually imagine what a character looks like than paste a hundred gifs of a celebrity and call it good.
4
likes
5 yrs ago
So, a team of players who are good at playing as a team in a team-based game are individually bad players. Seems kind of silly when you put it like that, no?
8
likes
5 yrs ago
My goal these days is to have an RP that can actually finish, or the very least, last a few years. I see way too many die on page one to take chances
That's probably important for me to answer, actually, given that her superstition is a big flaw for her!
A Draugr or a zombie, assuming they're NOT in Hammerfell, is something she's willing to fight if she absolutely must but might very well run away from or the like. She's definitely spooke by them, and doesn't enjoy the idea of fighting them, because fighting them means destroying the body of someone's ancestor, and that's just wrong.
On the other hand, fighting a spirit is, in her eyes, simply banishing it. She's a lot calmer (see: not freaking out) when fighting incorporeal undead. Those are fine.
Hammerfell zombies or the like, however? Yeah, uh-uh, she ain't fighting that. At all. You can't make her.
That's a fair distinction, let's hope she's wrong about it just being banishing the undead in the ghost's case. ;D
I have to say, well done! You did a great job making Adaeze's personality shine through the interview questions, and the additional information definitely covered any lingering questions we might have had otherwise; you definitely covered your bases. The equipment and skills all look great, and you obviously put great care into the cultural aspects of the character related to her following the customs and culture of her homeland verses her racial heritage. The fact that she's very conflicted about that is going to be great character development going forward. I also liked the small bit about her sword having some silver in it for combating spirits; I am somewhat curious how she distinguishes between say a Dragur or zombie and a ghost, given her ancestral spirit beliefs.
I honestly didn't see anything that I thought needed addressing, one shot, one kill my friend. Dervs approved!
Do’Karth was a man of a strong but lithe frame, renown for his skill with a quarterstaff and for his deep rooted oath against killing, and his feline features gave him a rounded head with erect triangular ears and a powerful squared jaw under ovaloid whiskered lips and a broad dark nose of rough skin. His fur was striped over a rusty colouring, lightening under his jaw trailing down his abdomen and under his arms. His eyes belaid a sense of serenity and compassion, despite the predatory slits native to his feline heritage that would give the impression of cunning viciousness to those unacquainted with his amber-orange corneas. He lacked a mane like many other Khajiit, and his head was covered with a well-worn water-blue bandana, and upon his chin was perched a dark and intricately braided beard that hung several inches below his chin. He walked digitigrade, that is on the balls of his feet like most cats, and his feet were bare, except for the wraps that were tight about them, leaving his toes and heel exposed. He also carried across him a number of scars; one predominantly up the left side of his face from his left cheek to ear, where the tip had been clipped, along with a number of others that resided beneath his clothing. He has been a man who had experienced quite his share of injury and battle.
The Khajiit’s attire was traditional Anequinan garb, a simple grey thigh-length robe called a budi that was fastened about his waist by a sash that matched his bandana and a utility belt that carried much of his belongings in boiled leather pouches. The robe was fashioned so it criss-crossed from one hip to the other on both sides, over his shoulders, and securing on opposite ends from where they began, giving triangular depressions on his chest and at the nape of his neck, and providing tidy folds when they crossed over one another. His only other article of clothing of note were a pair of black cotton trousers that ended loosely around his ankles and a thick grey traveling cloak that was lined with white fox fur that he had purchased and amended by a tailor when he first arrived in Skyrim in Riften.
§ Personality
Good-natured, introspective, and resourceful, Do'Karth seems to have a love of life that can be infectious, proving to be an optimistic and oftentimes talkative personality that belies a surprising amount of insight and wisdom for someone of his age and race. Loving to tell and hear of good stories, Do'Karth strives to make his life as colourful and lively as possible, indulging in all manners of pleasures, especially cuisine, that comes his way. He sometimes, intentionally or not, uses his homeland's culture to bumble his way into or out of situations, doing things like taking needed or wanted things no one would likely miss, walking through unlocked doors without knocking, taking unattended food, and so on.
Brushing off the discrimination and racism he often experiences outside of Anequina, Do'Karth does his best to appear aloof or disinterested, although inside he is preparing for the worst. Inversely, he is very protective and concerned for those he grows fond of; although a part of him knows that he may be on the road again at a moment's notice, he knows that good companions and friendships are invaluable and will stay by those he cares for through impossible situations. It is for this reason that Do'Karth is somewhat concerned about growing too attached to strangers; his very nature keeps him from staying in one place for too long, and he feels a pressing need to be in a perpetual state of wandering, lest he lose himself in one place and forget himself.
In private, he does not enjoy too much time to reflect, instead losing himself in sketching the world around him with charcoal and other drawing instruments that he can obtain or quiet prayer to S’rendarr and Mara, of which he wears two small amulets around his neck. Fond of food and drink, and no stranger to moon sugar, Do’Karth has an insatiable curiosity and delight of the culinary tastes of other cultures and the customs of these people, often partaking in rituals he is permitted to.
Something of an egalitarian, Do’Karth sees all people as one, and because of that, he refuses to kill another man even if he must fight him to submission, claiming that many who make poor choices in life deserve a chance at redemption. This, along with his other eccentric quirks, have often put him at odds with his traveling companions and has sometimes even lead to his departure from their company.
However, no one could accuse him of being a coward or a poor fighter, especially after witnessing Do’Karth's willingness to step in and take on tasks that others would balk at. He feels the need to prove himself in the eyes of his companions, and it is his responsibility to do what must be done if he is able.
§ Background
For Do’Karth, who was born Dar’Turga to a pair of parents who changed aliases so often he never knew what their names truly were. Such was the life of the members of the Renrijra Krin, a leaderless and loosely organized organization of just about every kind of scum imaginable across Elsweyr; if one were to fall on the wrong side of the law or ethics that khajiit hold sacrosanct, you could reasonably expect them to be finding their way into the ranks of Renrijra Krin. Not afforded a proper education, Dar’Turga instead learned the arts of deception and combat, unwittingly being groomed for the day he would prove his worth to the Orcrest clan he was born into.
Into his teens, Dar’Turga would discover that his parents, who were distant at best, were arrested trying to cross the Cyrodiil border to get to Leyawiin to stoke the fires of an uprising there. When pressed for how he felt about their captivity, Dar’Turga was surprised to find he was emotionally indifferent in their fate. He did not even know if he had siblings, and other members of the clan had taken a far more active role in his upbringing. He would later on refer to his parents as “strangers with the same blood”, as if that explained everything, and for many, it often did.
Being trained in the art of combat and hiding in plain sight, it became clear to Dar’Turga that he was being groomed for something outside of the thieving, clandestine murders, and other such specialties of the Renrijra Krin. When he was 17 (to the best of his knowledge, he was never told his birth date other than he was born in Autumn at some time), he was approached by his clan leader along with two other young adults; he was to become a sleeper agent, infiltrating the Mane’s palace and personal guard until he was given the order to strike. Accepting this heavy responsibility with a heavy but proud heart, Dar’Turga spent the next year training with his brothers for the awesome responsibility to come before making the long journey from the familiar deserts surrounding Orcrest and to the much more tropical climate of Torval.
Before long, Dar’Turga, now using the moniker of Do’Karth, and the other two agents had found their way into the city guard. The impressive palace, made of Valenwood timber, and the sprawling moon sugarcane plantations became familiar sights to Do’Karth as he became a regular sight near the palace, doing his patrols. For the next two years, he had become very much a fabric of the city, familiar with the people and acquainting himself with members of the populace. Until the order to act came, Do’Karth had to act the part of a citizen, which was much more credible of one had friends.
One such acquaintance turned friend was a scribe named S’Razza, an Ohmes of fair complexion and a lattice of dark tattoos across his face to accent his more feline features. The two had met when a particularly gusty day tore pages of script from S’Razza’s hands and Do’Karth rushed to his aid, helping collect the wayward pieces of parchment. Finding one another to have amicable personalities, they arranged to meet once a week for lunch, and S’Razza became an invaluable source of information of the inner workings of the palace and court gossip. Through his new friend, Do’Karth had even been given leave to attend one of the days of the Mane’s summons, an awe-inspiring event that the to-be assassin was ill prepared for, as the pomp and pageantry of court and the almost divine bearing of the Mane’s appearance were awe inspiring. Would he be able to kill this man, if he could be killed at all? The question troubled Do’Karth for some time, and without anyone to speak to of the matter, as his fellow sleeper agents had kept separate lives as to not attract suspicion, Do’Karth was left to stew in his doubts for many months.
One day, the word came via a dagger left beside his bedroll with a ribbon tied to the grip. It was time.
The assassination attempt took several days of planning, and when the night came to act, Do’Karth said his prayers to Khenarthi for swiftness and to grant the Mane a peaceful transition from his body to the Sands Beyond the Stars. Slipping the dagger into his belt, and grabbing a quiver of djerids (a type of throwing spears) and a saber, Do’Karth slipped into the night and into the palace’s sugarcane fields, waiting and observing for the time the Mane would no longer be holding audience. When his palanquin was labourlessly being transported to his quarters would be the time to strike. The only hard part would be to avoid the Warrior Guard, a caste of bodyguards for whom obtaining membership still remained elusive to Do’Karth.
Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to act. Having evaded the guards and members of the court by scaling the roof and following the Mane via series of windows, Do’Karth sensed his opportunity when he heard the now familiar voice of S’Razza calling to the Mane, begging for a moment of his time. The palanquin was set down by the massive Senche-raht that carried it and the Mane disembarked with the assistance of a guard to speak with S’Razza. Do’Karth, heart racing, leapt down from the rafters with a roll and with djerid in hand, hurled it at the Mane, the assassin willing his aim to be true.
To his horror, it was S’Razza who took the spear, seeing the assassin from the shadows and the movement of the guards, moved to put himself between the Mane and harm’s way. The djerid pierced his chest, ending his life after a brief struggle. The moment had stunned Do’Karth; everything had happened so fast, and despite all of his training, this was the first time he killed a man. He had not expected it to be his friend.
His hesitation cost him time to escape, however, and the guards were soon upon him. Between blows and cuts, the last thing Do’Karth remembered was a sword being driven into his gut and the world went black.
Awakening against all odds and expectation among the dead in a communal grave outside of the city, Do’Karth’s agony nearly drove him to madness as he screamed with the weight of his failure and unfathomable pain. A clear voice broke through his scattered and pained consciousness, ordering him to press on, to live. Pushing his body to its limits, he escaped the pit and slowly regaining control over his thoughts, put what limited alchemical and medical knowledge he had learned to use, saving own life and fighting off life-threatening infections with poultices and hastily mixed potions made of local ingredients, as well as bandaging himself with whatever could double as a bandage in a pinch. Having dragged himself deeper into the woods and away from the roads, Do’Karth would frequently pass out and regain consciousness enough to move a bit further before finding shelter under the raised roots of one of the jungle’s towering trees. Days went by, and slowly but surely, Do’Karth began to recover and regain control of his thoughts. Unable to shake the events that had led to his near-death and current agony, and the fact it was his actions that had murdered a friend, Do’Karth felt a deep shame unlike anything he had ever experienced. He decided that there would be no more killing, but he would fight every day to survive if he had to. He had to live long enough to find peace, if not redemption. Having healed enough to travel, Do’Karth headed back to the roads to await a traveling merchant, where he would exchange his services for a new set of clothes and to share the road for a time. Five years later, Do’Karth still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.
A number of things have been used to describe Do’Karth, a khajiit nomad whose travels have taken him across Tamriel and with numerous stories to accompany him. Usually well mannered, but sometimes forgetting cultural differences, he has remained something of an enigma to those who had not immediately dismissed him as a “filthy cat”.
The best anyone has readily gotten out of Do’Karth is that he hails from Elsweyr, and he has been traveling years, having grown bored of the tastes and scents of the deserts and jungles of his homelands on a personal quest to experience all Tamriel has to offer. Always traveling light and rarely taking more than what he needs (unless he really wants it), the khajiit has proven to be a colourful sight on often dreary roads and in the company of numerous caravans and travelers, often exchanging his services in exchange for food and supplies. The stories surrounding him paint him in an interesting light; a man who fights readily, but refuses to kill, a talented artist who is unable to read or write, a man who is unable to stay in one place for long but had on a few occasions chosen to simply build a raft and float on a lake for weeks at a time. Those who encounter him sometimes have wildly differing stories of who it was they had met, but one thing was always constant; a pleasant disposition with a willingness to help.
Do’Karth, from all accounts, is a nimble-fingered medical practitioner whose knowledge of anatomy and first aid had saved numerous lives on the road, and he had also been quite capable with brewing a potion in haste. While some of the people he saved claimed he spiked said potions with moon sugar, Do’Karth always denied the allegations/ praise, saying “Had Do’Karth used moon sugar to cure their ailments, it would mean less for him, no?”
If anyone had noticed his use of moon sugar, it would be the most observant and those who Do’Karth lets his relaxed-seeming but vigilant guard down around. Using it to sweeten rations and to prepare for spiritual rituals, the moon sugar is a vital and guarded resource that the khajiit knows is hard to come by, as well as the stigma around it by non-khajiit. For him, it’s a way to help commune with his gods, for others, it’s a sign of a well-hidden addiction. Confrontations with those who discovered the moon sugar use have not always gone smoothly, which have made it fortunate the goodwill Do’Karth had earned through his services and personality have carried him far. Failing that, the khajiit is a nimble and skilled fighter with a quarter staff, fearing neither beast nor knight even though he carries no blade and wears no armour.
Do’Karth, from all accounts, has not kept any group of companions long enough to form a coherent enough image of his history and exploits, which are numerous and colourful. From claiming to have briefly served as a juggler for the Count of Skingrad, an esteemed Yokudan Charger racer, and only survived becoming a bosmer’s next meal by besting him in an acrobatic race, it’s impossible to tell where truth and fiction reign, if any of what Do’Karth claims is true. What is known is he has spent a considerable amount of time in Cyrodiil, from all accounts enjoying the temperate countryside and finding refuge among the smaller hamlets that dotted the province, and he has a reasonable fear of ever stepping foot into Black Marsh. Those he encounter claim he seems too preoccupied with the now and where he’s going to worry about where he came from, and he’s surprisingly quiet about his past. While he often deflects such inquiries with humour or another tall tale, those who are observant may notice a very sober and serious look in the normally affable khajiit’s eyes. Clearly, there’s more to the khajiit than a personal philosophy of enjoying life in the moment.
Currently traveling North into Skyrim with a small group of merchants, Do’Karth is making his way to Windhelm, curious about the North’s own rebellion that reflects that of his homeland, and to experience true cold and snow. Having been aimless for so long, Do’Karth seems to be moving with a renewed purpose, and a chance encounter with a mercenary company staging out of the city might be exactly what the khajiit needs to find purpose.
That is, until the next big tale comes along and steals his heart away on a whim. But his newfound companions need not know of that which has not yet come to pass, no?
Do'Karth joined the company in Windhelm as a simple Khajiit planning on ditching the mercenaries when he grew bored or conflicted at what would have been a paid adventure and chance to see Skyrim's wonders in as safe a manner as possible, as well as affording opportunities that him as a Khajiit would have not had under typical auspices. Quickly befriending a great bearded giant of a Nord named Jorwen, Do'Karth had unwittingly begun to form the first personal attachments he'd have since leaving Anequina as a reformed man. However, his plan of touring Skyrim in a relatively tame manner quickly came undone as he had enlisted just in time to witness the opening acts of the Akaviiri invasion, something that he and many others had never expected they'd witness in their lifetimes.
Proving himself to be a brave if foolish fighter with seemingly unnatural luck at avoiding grievous wounds, as well as a much-needed medical practitioner that had long ago learned out of desperation to fix his own wounds to avoid dying, Do'Karth earned his place among the mercenaries, proving himself to be resourceful and a skilled fighter, even if his own moral code prevented him from exercising his athletic and nimble manner of combat to lethal effect. It was his medical talents that brought Sevine into his path, and the two quickly formed a quick friendship based on mutual curiosity and admiration. Before long, to the surprise of both, they learned the dark secrets of each others' pasts and quickly discovered a kindred soul that accepted them for who they were without judgement. It was only a matter of time before this affection turned to attraction, and both struggled with the prospect of a romance neither were expecting nor planned for; difficulties of being separate species notwithstanding, along with the over-bearing and jealous Leif who had his sights on Sevine since they served together in the Stormcloak Rebellion.
After Windhelm fell, Do'Karth and his new friends, a word he'd long forgotten the meaning of since the "death" of Dar'Turga in Torval, made their way to Dawnstar and quickly discovered this place was not the refuge they had thought it would be. An ill-fated rescue attempt at the College of Winterhold, a battle at sea with a Kamal frigate, and raids against Morrowind Armigers pushed Do'Karth to his limit; he did not want to be a part of a company of death that would get him and his friends killed in a war that could not be won. Still, he stuck on, despite the hardships such as losing Jorwen to the Kamal when the pair were on separate missions. The Khajiit had promised he would protect Jorwen's daughter, Solveig, and since Sevine seemed resolved to continue the fight, Do'Karth put aside his grievances to continue the war alongside the woman he loved against all odds, even if it meant literally beating sense into Leif after the Nord bard came after him in a drunken rage.
He does not know where the war will take him, but Do'Karth is worn and tired, looking for a win and a sign of hope to latch onto. All the while, just under the surface, Do'Karth fears that "Dar'Turga" didn't truly die and be forced to the surface if the situation grows dire enough that he no longer has the choice to avoid killing. An assassin would have been a better person to fight a hopeless war than a altruistic nomad, but Do'Karth fears failing the gods that gave him a second chance to redeem himself for past mistakes and losing sight of the person who he has found peace with.
Capabilities
§ Attributes
MAJOR:Speed MINOR: Agility
§ Skills Expert: Two-handed blunt Adept: Hand-to-Hand, Medicine (non-magical) Apprentice: Acrobatics, Unarmoured, Ta'agra (official in Elsweyr) Novice: Alchemy, Tailoring, Marksman
§ Weaknesses
Code against killing, persistent pain in right leg from an injury that never healed properly, deep regret over past actions, a lingering distrust of commitment to a cause
§ Spells
N/A
§ Tactics
Dar’Karth has a personal code against killing, as has spent several years developing a combat style based around a large-headed cane and staff that have become his go-to weapons of choice for defending himself and others. Keeping a distance and using surprising agility and acrobatic ability for someone with a seemingly bad leg, the khajiit aims to subdue his opponents with sweeps, jabs, disarmament and injuring limbs. He is proficient at knowing where pressure points are, and it’s not unheard of for Dar’Karth to render a foe unconscious with a well-placed blow.
§ Relations & Affiliations
Jorwen: Close friend and confidant, swore to protect Solveig Solveig: Friend, sworn to protect to Jorwen Sevine: Lover, close confidant Leif: Romantic rival for Sevine
§ Opinions
LAST UPDATE: DAWNSTAR WHALING FESTIVAL
Jorwen: Many seem afraid of Jorwen and his temper, but Do’Karth has only seen a kind man who wishes to do right by his daughter. He was the first to accept this one as a companion, and this one wishes to do right by him. He is a leader, others look up to him, and it is easy to see why. Jorwen has become this one's closest friend and an irreplacable companion upon these cold sands. He has welcomed Do'Karth as readily as family, taking him into his home, sharing meals and drink, and listening to Do'Karth's council. Jorwen has suffered and feels guilt over the man he once was; perhaps he cannot distinguish between that Jorwen and the one who greeted Do'Karth so warmly, but this one hopes he can help him find the peace he seeks. Do'Karth will stand by Jorwen, regardless of what we face. Him and his family are the closest to family Do'Karth has, and it is a cause worth fighting for in this war. This one cares not for coin or glory, it is this man and his kin that Do'Karth would die to keep safe.
Solveig: Do’Karth has not had the pleasure to speak with Solveig more than once, after her encounter with the Frost Demons left her incapacitated. He has done what he could to keep her comfortable and mend her wounds, but this one feels she is more like Jorwen than either of them realize. She is strong, both in spirit and body, and Do’Karth will do everything in his power to keep her safe and on a good path. This one wishes to get to know Solveig more and perhaps in time call her a friend as she learns to trust this one. It is amusing how the most deadly of circumstances can bring people close together, no?
Sadri: Poor Sadri, maimed in battle and he has walked Nirn four fold as many years as Do'Karth. He is brave, perhaps even foolishly so, but this one sees how he regards Solveig... it is touching, although he fears the dunmer might find disappointment in that pursuit. Solveig is a haunted woman who is determined... she may be unaware or unconcerned of Sadri's affections. Tragic, yes? Perhaps Do'Karth should speak with her. Life need not be so grim, even if Sadri is older than her father...
It sounds stranger when this one speaks it aloud. Ah, well. Strange times, strange events. Who would have thought a human and a khajiit would have fallen for each other, or a Breton and Imperial would try to blow themselves up to stop an army of Kamal?
Sevine: Do'Karth has never before felt more accepted for who he is than with Sevine; she was brought to him out of necessity, and while this one healed her leg... she managed to reach into this one's soul. Do'Karth had never expected to come so willingly to speak of who he was, let alone be accepted for it. This one feels she understands Do'Karth, and he can be himself, no act, no misdirection, just him. She means more to him than words could ever express. This one had never expected a Nord to touch him in such a way, let alone anyone at all. Do'Karth's heart swims for Sevine, for she feels the same, and we have come into each other's embrace. Sevine brings Do'Karth peace and affection, he never expected someone like her to take him as her own. She is Do'Karth's warm sands.
Leif: Do'Karth cannot reconcile the fact that Leif and himself have fallen for Sevine, and he knows Leif's resentment to be venomous. This one feels compassion for the man, whom is clearly devastated that Sevine's heart took her away from him, but he will not apologize for what has come to pass. The man's reputation as one who beds any willing woman he can did him no favours, so perhaps this will temper his ways. Perhaps not, but this one suspects Leif may wish to duel Do'Karth for Sevine's affection.
It brings this one no pleasure to know that Leif's physical suffering would match his emotional well-being that day.
Keegan: It is uncommon for Do’Karth to see an altmer who is not dressed in Justicar robes or Thalmor armour, but here is the most run-down and bed ragged looking altmer this one has ever laid eyes upon. He strikes this one as a mer who wishes he were anything but and to discard his heritage. Do’Karth could not blame him if that were the case; altmer tend to be quite insufferably proper and smug. This one had once been accosted by an altmer beggar who had immediately insulted Do’Karth’s caste. Tamriel truly is a land of wonders.
Sagex: Do’Karth only has had a brief acquaintance with Sagex, but the Imperial seems to be a likable fellow, keeping company with all sorts in the company, and he proved himself impossibly brave by exploding himself and a good chunk of the Kamal warship. Vaba Do'Shurh'do, friend. With a tale such at that, he will never need to purchase a drink for himself ever again, and this one suspects he might require such a thing quite urgently. This one has had spent more time alongside this Imperial in our excursion to Winterhold, and Sagex is impossibly brave in the face of certain death. He helped this one face his fear of the open frozen ocean... and he saved Do'Karth from the pincers of a Chaurus. This one owes Sagex a debt of gratitude, he would not be here without him. This one hopes to repay Sagex's bravery and compassion as our journey unfolds.
Rozalia: It seems like so long ago that Do'Karth first heard of Rozalia when her and Sagex decided the best way to confront ice demons was by blowing themselves up, and it was no wonder that Do'Karth had had the opportunity to offer his service as a healer to this Breton when he noticed her pain. Roze is a kind, compassionate, and rather sociable woman whom this one admires. May Mara keep her safe, for Tamriel needs more people of her nature, especially in these dark times.
Tsleeixth: Do’Karth feels regret over his lingering prejudice against argonians, and Tsleeixth has been an exceptional companion... this one believes he wishes to be friends. He has certainly earned this one's respect, and no small amount of admiration, and Do'Karth will strive to do right by Tsleeixth... even if his name is easier pronounced after sufficient drink.
Utu-Ja: This one has not even seen this argonian, which is quite the accomplishment as they are not a race that blends in with this crowd. Do’Karth has heard Utu-Ja has an almost animalistic posture, which this one has to see. Khajiit should not have the monopoly on four-legged subspecies. Do’Karth heard that Utu-Ja has lead a rather miserable life and can be somewhat shy around others, which this one feels is a shame. Which makes it all the more tragic that Utu-Ja was killed escaping Windhelm with the rest of us. A damn tragedy; how much life was lost to those creatures? May the argonian find peace and acceptance he never knew in life in death.
Rhasha’Dar: A fellow khajiit, and one Do’Karth has yet to meet! This one wonders if my Pelletinian counterpart has told his friends in the company that dar means thief as often as clever, or if anyone has bothered to figure it out. Alas, ignorance about our people runs rampant, and this one is all too happy to let it flourish for no other reason than it is quite amusing. Rhasha’Dar seems to be very much a peacemaker with others, and is quite a likeable individual. This one should speak to him, but Do’Karth is hesitant to speak of home. That was another life, and not Do’Karth’s.
Vurwe: Ah, the other altmer, and this one has the head start on unrelenting snobbery prevalent in the noble classes and the Thalmor. This one does not wish to speak with a child who probably would jump in the river to cleanse herself of contact with my race, and this one wonders why a small child with no martial talent is among this company. Perhaps Commander Ashav lost a bet. Many things happened in the Reach Do’Karth did not witness, who could say what is true?
Daixanos: Do'Karth spoke with this argonian briefly, as the one who calls himself Dax was bonding with Tsleeixth over their shared heritage... which reminds Do'Karth that there are khajiit within the company he has yet to seek out. This one takes for granted that there may not be time in the future, and he misses his people at times... so it is something he must do. This Dax is a hunter, both of man and animals, and this one hears he has enlisted due to doing tasks for Ashev that the company was not paid for. What is his compulsion, this one wonders? He seems blunt, uninterested. This one is not sure he wishes to find out what lays beneath the surface. There is an air of ruthlessness to Daixanos.
Raelyn This one has not spoken to Raelyn, but he has heard her sing in the inn. Pleasant voice, tall tales... she certainly is a bard. It would be unsurprising if Leif took a fancy to her on this alone, but dark and brooding seldom attracts someone who seems to release energy and enthusiasm like a fire sheds heat. Apparently she will join with the company... this one finds it strange. She is no fighter, yet wishes to be drawn into the war? This one cannot help but feel that Ashav is truly getting desperate to replenish the depleted ranks.
Elmera It is impossible to miss this dunmer woman's presence. She carries herself like a soldier, a warrior, and someone who has little humour or love to give. Jorwen and her apparently have already crossed paths in a very friction-filled way, and she is said to enforce Ashav's will with ruthless efficiency. The argonians are likely to hate her, and this one is cautious about her intentions. However, there is no doubt she will fight without fear against any the company faces. This one will stand by Jorwen if a divide forms.
§ Other
Night Eye: Do'Karth can see in the night and dark caves as easily as he can in the day, as is his people's biology Climber: Do'Karth is an accomplished climber, having years under his belt of practice Horse Rider: Do'Karth used to race sand steeds in the Alik'r desert. He is a confident and fairly skilled rider Heat tolerant: Born of the desert, Do'Karth is both adapted well to living in and thriving in arid desert environments and being exceptionally tolerant of the climate.
Inventory
§ Cash
0 Septims, spent last of coin on Sevine's replacement axe
Keys and Lockpicks:
None
§ Tools & Crafting Materials
Medical kit, sterilized medical sewing kit, mortar and pestle
§ Clothing & Armor
(From Appearance) He wears a simple embroidered, grey canvas thigh-length budi (traditional khajiit robe) that is not uncommon among the populace in Anequina, fastened at the waist with a large blue sash and a belt with numerous leather pouches. A set of black trousers rounds out his appearance, along with a heavy traveling cloak that has recently had a fur lining sewn into it to help protect against the harsh Skyrim cold. A simple blue bandanna is wrapped in a strip across his forehead and tied off at the back of his head.
§ Weapon & Ammo
Quarterstaff, no other weapon
§ Potion & Arcane Supplies
5 small vials and a mortar and pestle, three belt pouches dedicated to storing ingredients with smaller draw-string leather pouches to separate them. Current ingredients: Snowberries, Mudcrab Chitin, Charred Skeever Hide, Blisterwort, Imp Stool, various flowers
§ Jewelry & Valuables
Elsweyr crafted amulet of S’rendarr, writing utensils. He gifted his Elsweyr crafted amulet of Mara to his lover, Sevine.
§ Books & Documents
An empty journal he uses as a sketchpad, a heavily-abused copy of An Explorer’s Guide to Skyrim with several pages torn out, evidently to help start fires or for hygienic purposes.
§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients
A 2 liter water skin, a jar of honey, a paper-wrapped salmon steak, seared slaughter fish, an empty soup flask.
§ Load Bearing Equipment
A belt pouch with 8 leather pouches of various sizes that is fastened around Do’Karth’s waist, a small singles strapped knapsack that contains a folded bedroll and wool blanket, a tinderbox, a pair of wooden bowls, some assorted cutlery, a cooking pot.
§ Other
A woodcutting axe, a large pouch of moonsugar, fabric sewing kit and other leather and fabric patching kit.
Below is my character sheet. I hope this is alright! I've also listed the stat/attribute lineup, as the questionnaire didn't include a space for that.
Let me know if everything's cool. I was originally going to make her an expert in one-handed blades, but I saw that another character was already an expert in that. I also wanted Adaeze to have a sword crafted by her father (who is a smith). Since it's a hand-and-a-half sword, can she feasibly use all her relevant combat abilities with it depending on how she's wielding it? (Two-Handed Blades, One-Handed Blades, Restoration, Hand-to-Hand.)
Thanks for the patience! Also, GMs, please read the "Additional Information" section, in case you might otherwise miss it. Wrote lots there.
Also... How likely is the Yokudan language to come up? I get the feeling it's a waste of a skill if we're hanging around Skyrim and staying here a while. Should I change it to something more likely to come up? (Lockpicking, Speech?)
Attributes - Major Agility, Minor Strength Expert - Two-Handed Blades Adept - Athletics, Sneaking Apprentice - Light Armor, One-Handed Blades Novice - Acrobatics, Hand-to-Hand, Language (Yokuda), Restoration, Smithing
Application submitted on: 9th Morningstar | Solitude
<Snipped quote>
I am Adaeze at-Djer, warrior and proud descendant of the Ra Gada. I hail from Rihad.
<Snipped quote>
Tell me yourself. Is it my armor? My blade? Is it the dark skin that tells you the land of my birth, the sureness with which I hold this blade? Or do you just see the pointy ears and the elven eyes?
<Snipped quote>
I do not need to project. I am Ra Gada. My blade will speak for itself.
<Snipped quote>
Business. There is need for skilled fighters in Skyrim.
<Snipped quote>
This question is inane. Can we move on?
<Snipped quote>
Tu'whacca's taint! What do you want me to say? I have a family back home. Of course they're important to me, and I to them. I am one of five children of Djer at-Djer, and I treasure my family very much, and I always will. Does this answer suffice?
<Snipped quote>
A leader must be an example to those that follow, always at the fore of things, willing to live and die at vanguard of any conflict. A leader thus must possess martial prowess. But a leader must also possess cunning and wisdom, so they do not lead those that follow to their deaths; and they must have the respect of their companions. A leader must be able to delegate well, and whatever can't be delegated they must take upon their own self.
Could I lead? Doubtlessly. But I am a warrior, not a diplomat. I must prove myself first, and then perhaps others will follow me.
<Snipped quote>
I may not have seen very much battle, but I served Hammerfell as a scout as we fought the Dominion. I am Ra Gada, as I have said. I am no Ansei of bygone eras, but I must admit, I sometimes surprise myself with my own prowess with the blade!
Still, if what you want is more examples of what I have done, I will tell you. I have fought bandits and goblins, yes. I have served in the military, as I said, mostly as a scout. I have partaken in many duels from Hammerfell to Solitude, where we are now, and clearly I have traveled this far. That alone should speak volumes of my experience. I even plundered an Ayleid Ruin, and alone I might add! Not many can make such a claim.
<Snipped quote>
Do you see this sword? Note its gentle but distinct curve. Not the carefully-honed edge, and the detail on its edges. Do you know why it is so masterfully constructed? It is because my father and I crafted this sword together. It was my first blade. Redguard steel is without a question the finest around, and this steel has been alloyed with silver. It can fell both men and evil spirits equally well. I cherish it.
There is something you must understand about this sword, however: it was made perfectly for me. My father, Djer at-Djer, perhaps the finest smith in all of Rihad, made it to my specifications. It can be wielded in two hands or in one equally well; a hand-and-a-half sword if you will. I can make perfect use of its reach and make powerful two-handed blows, then pull my hand free and fight with an open palm and my blade, or a dagger and this blade. It is a cutting blade, not a thrusting one so much, made for one who fights as the Ra Gada do. It is quite versatile. It is called Swift Justice in the old Yokudan tongue.
When I fight, it is very much a dance. I like to focus on a single opponent at a time, using my expert footwork, swordsmanship, and agility to keep my enemy off-balance. Both my blade and my body are weapons: a hand to grab someone with, a helmet skull to pound someone with, a foot to swipe someone's feet out from under them... My weapon is a part of my body, and my body is a weapon. I do not relent. I do not lose.
I avoid the battles I cannot win, and those that I can I finish quickly and without hesitation. I am Ra Gada after all.
<Snipped quote>
I can think of more than a few things that require discretion. Foremost among these things is involvement in politics. If one must get tangled with petty lords and jarls, then one should be very careful not to end up getting on any one's bad side. It takes only a light purse of coins to hire murderers these days, and even the greatest of warriors have been felled by a dagger in the dark. Do they not whisper that the Dragonborn High King was felled in such a manner?
But also, nothing good ever comes from working with Daedra worshipers or the beasts they conjure. I do not care if they appeal to Malacath or Azura: they are best to be avoided, or in the case of the maddest of the bunch, executed. And if I hear anyone praising Sheogorath, I will go in the opposite direction.
<Snipped quote>
I meant to master the art of the blade and try to learn how to summon a Shehai as the ancestors did. Yes, I know, it must seem foolish to you, but it was a fancy of my youth to be as the Ansei. I suppose that is a goal which I know now I cannot achieve. I wonder, often, if perhaps there is more myth than truth to the stories of the Ansei.
I would have stayed in the army of Hammerfell, but I believed my talents to be stymied there. I think I will learn more traveling the open road.
<Snipped quote>
I do not let conflicts escalate. I end them. An enemy cannot return to fight you if he is dead.
<Snipped quote>
Whenever it presents itself? Stendarr's mercy, but some of these questions are maddening.
Look, sometimes I am outnumbered, yes? Sometimes there are problems that cannot be solved by the blade. And sometimes, sometimes an idiot asks me lots of questions that really, really try my patience. I find it very difficult not to hit such idiots.
<Snipped quote>
I care for this locket of brass. It holds a picture of my family. No, you cannot see them. Perhaps when we know each other, I might let you see, but you are a stranger to me.
I keep a journal, of course. I keep a holy book, too, and several mementos from home. I miss it, I will admit. The weather is far warmer there, and I didn't drown in the snow every time I walked about. I do have a collection of teeth from various beasts I have slain, too. Do you wish to see it? I may make a necklace of it yet.
<Snipped quote>
I need only a good blade.
<Snipped quote>
I make stories for bards to sing. I make weapons in the forge. I carve a place for myself in history - or I will. One day, I will. Whatever I have lost is nothing compared to what I will gain.
(Leave this section to be filled by GM) Contract: Assignment | Term | Pay Authenticated by:
Lies told in questionnaire: Firstly, Adaeze was booted from the army for insubordination and other things. It wasn't a matter of her not being able to learn what she needed; it was a matter of her not following orders. She is ashamed of this.
Adaeze also indeed is avoiding something - her Bosmer heritage. She doesn't know a single word of the wood elf tongue, and she staunchly wants to prove that she's as much a Redguard as any of her siblings. Unfortunately, the world sees her as a Bosmer, so she makes it known at every opportunity that she can trace her heritage back to the first Ra Gada warriors that took Hammerfell.
While Adaeze believes in the "end escalation by just killing the other guy" viewpoint in theory, she's not always the best at practicing it. Sure, it IS a wise course of action, but her hand is steadied by more mercy than she would like to admit.
Adaeze would not tell anyone, but as a child she was prone to stealing things and breaking into places she's not supposed to. She knows a bit more about subterfuge than she lets on; again, it's somewhat of a sore spot for her, because a true Ra Gada warrior would not have to depend on stealth to do their work.
The Ayleid ruin she claimed she plundered was really just a few rooms of a ruined Ayleid watchtower. Yes, she was the first to plunder it. No, it wasn't actually that impressive, though it did have some angry spirits that tried to attack her. They were Ayleid spirits, of course, and she had a silver sword, so it went alright.
Adaeze actually has doubts about her ability to lead. It is something she would like to do, but she secretly fears she is not capable of command.
While Adaeze is good with a sword - damned good at that - she isn't quite as experienced as she says she is. She spent a good portion of her trip to Solitude on quiet caravan rides. Sure, she's done some mercenary work, but she talks herself up so she can get better pay and better contracts.
Background not included in questionnaire: Adaeze hails from the city of Rihad, and she was apprenticed to her father (a blacksmith) before she joined the military. Her ,other died during childbirth, but she has very close ties to her family, especially her brothers that are off to war.
Something that bothers Adaeze deeply is that her siblings, both younger and older, are aging alarmingly more quickly than she is. She still has all the vigor and wanderlust of youth while some of her siblings are entering middle age. It distresses her.
Additional appearance details: Adaeze is a dark skinned Bosmer with amber eyes. She has a few scars on her face. Her body is wiry and muscular, and she stands a little taller than other Bosmer women (but not by much). She is very athletic.
(She should be darker skinned than the picture and have slightly more Afro-Arabic features, but ESO is limited in what it can do. I may get a custom piece done later.)
Additional personality analysis: There's a lot to be said about Adaeze. She is cocky and eager to prove herself, and she's quick to rub it in when she's victorious. She has a competitive spirit, and functions best when a challenge has been made of things ("Let's see who can kill more goblins," for instance). She's quick-tempered, too, and when she's spouting on about Ra Gada pride she can come across as haughty or aloof.
Once she gets to know someone, Adaeze can be a lot more easy-going. She needs company that can put up with her sharp tongue, as she's prone to tossing a verbal jab at her compatriots whenever the opportunity presents itself, but it's often meant in a playful, jesting manner. She likes to get a rise out of people.
While Adaeze has a bad habit of lying, especially to cover up her own failures and embarrassments, she is a steadfast ally in battle. With only a few exceptions, she's the sort of woman to make sure her companions get out of the battle alive. She's got lots of flaws, when the chips are down this proud Hammerfell warrior will risk her life for the betterment of the group.
One thing is for sure: Adaeze likes getting into fights. She's good at combat and she relishes opportunities to prove it, be they bar brawls, formal duels, or pitched battles.
Additional skills and flaws: Like most Bosmer, Adaeze has heightened senses. She has a keen sense of sight and hearing, and she's picked up some knowledge about tracking from military training and her own adventuring.
Adaeze is highly defensive about her heritage. She insists that she is Ra Gada, and she discards any notion that she is a Bosmer in anything but blood. Anyone that challenges this notion is prone to anger her. Adaeze can be reckless when angered.
Adaeze is superstitious about fighting walking corpses. In Hammerfell, it is one of the most grievous of sins to strike down the honored dead. It brings misfortune on one's family, a curse upon one's name. Ergo, she does not enjoy the idea of fighting Draugr or zombies or anything of that nature, even though this curse only applies to those who strike down the dead of Hammerfell. She will fight undead outside of Hammerfell, but she isn't confident doing so, and she may lock up with fear or even run away.
Additional inventory items: Adaeze wears a light, short coat of chainmail over padded cloth armor. She also wears steel greaves and bracers, both in the fashion of Hammerfell, and a light helmet with a small spike at the top, also in the Redguard style. She keeps basic smithing supplies with her, rations, water, a hip flask full of rum, and basic traveling gear (rope, bedroll, grappling hook, etc). Her miscellaneous gear includes various feather pens and an inkwell. Adaeze keeps a dagger for a sidearm. She carries most of her equipment in a backpack or on her belt, sometimes in pouches. It's not uncommon for her to throw her backpack down before a fight.
I haven't had the chance to read things over yet, but for your pre-emptive questions and concerns,
Languages are pretty much a part of who your character is and you don't need to feel pressed to use all of your skill points if it doesn't work for a character. The game will be moving beyond Skyrim's borders, and there's always a chance of running into someone who speaks regional dialects. It's more of a roleplaying skill than a "hard" skill, if that makes sense.
And don't worry about not picking a skill because it's already been "covered", we want people to make a character that fits the ideas you have and if we had a disproporionate amount of archers, for example, we can still work with it. If you have a character that's spent their entire life being trained on how to fight with a saber, or whatever, it makes sense to make them a 1h blade expert.
Do’Karth was a man of a strong but lithe frame, renown for his skill with a quarterstaff and for his deep rooted oath against killing, and his feline features gave him a rounded head with erect triangular ears and a powerful squared jaw under ovaloid whiskered lips and a broad dark nose of rough skin. His fur was striped over a rusty colouring, lightening under his jaw trailing down his abdomen and under his arms. His eyes belaid a sense of serenity and compassion, despite the predatory slits native to his feline heritage that would give the impression of cunning viciousness to those unacquainted with his amber-orange corneas. He lacked a mane like many other Khajiit, and his head was covered with a well-worn water-blue bandana, and upon his chin was perched a dark and intricately braided beard that hung several inches below his chin. He walked digitigrade, that is on the balls of his feet like most cats, and his feet were bare, except for the wraps that were tight about them, leaving his toes and heel exposed. He also carried across him a number of scars; one predominantly up the left side of his face from his left cheek to ear, where the tip had been clipped, along with a number of others that resided beneath his clothing. He has been a man who had experienced quite his share of injury and battle.
The Khajiit’s attire was traditional Anequinan garb, a simple grey thigh-length robe called a budi that was fastened about his waist by a sash that matched his bandana and a utility belt that carried much of his belongings in boiled leather pouches. The robe was fashioned so it criss-crossed from one hip to the other on both sides, over his shoulders, and securing on opposite ends from where they began, giving triangular depressions on his chest and at the nape of his neck, and providing tidy folds when they crossed over one another. His only other article of clothing of note were a pair of black cotton trousers that ended loosely around his ankles and a thick grey traveling cloak that was lined with white fox fur that he had purchased and amended by a tailor when he first arrived in Skyrim in Riften.
§ Personality
Good-natured, introspective, and resourceful, Do'Karth seems to have a love of life that can be infectious, proving to be an optimistic and oftentimes talkative personality that belies a surprising amount of insight and wisdom for someone of his age and race. Loving to tell and hear of good stories, Do'Karth strives to make his life as colourful and lively as possible, indulging in all manners of pleasures, especially cuisine, that comes his way. He sometimes, intentionally or not, uses his homeland's culture to bumble his way into or out of situations, doing things like taking needed or wanted things no one would likely miss, walking through unlocked doors without knocking, taking unattended food, and so on.
Brushing off the discrimination and racism he often experiences outside of Anequina, Do'Karth does his best to appear aloof or disinterested, although inside he is preparing for the worst. Inversely, he is very protective and concerned for those he grows fond of; although a part of him knows that he may be on the road again at a moment's notice, he knows that good companions and friendships are invaluable and will stay by those he cares for through impossible situations. It is for this reason that Do'Karth is somewhat concerned about growing too attached to strangers; his very nature keeps him from staying in one place for too long, and he feels a pressing need to be in a perpetual state of wandering, lest he lose himself in one place and forget himself.
In private, he does not enjoy too much time to reflect, instead losing himself in sketching the world around him with charcoal and other drawing instruments that he can obtain or quiet prayer to S’rendarr and Mara, of which he wears two small amulets around his neck. Fond of food and drink, and no stranger to moon sugar, Do’Karth has an insatiable curiosity and delight of the culinary tastes of other cultures and the customs of these people, often partaking in rituals he is permitted to.
Something of an egalitarian, Do’Karth sees all people as one, and because of that, he refuses to kill another man even if he must fight him to submission, claiming that many who make poor choices in life deserve a chance at redemption. This, along with his other eccentric quirks, have often put him at odds with his traveling companions and has sometimes even lead to his departure from their company.
However, no one could accuse him of being a coward or a poor fighter, especially after witnessing Do’Karth's willingness to step in and take on tasks that others would balk at. He feels the need to prove himself in the eyes of his companions, and it is his responsibility to do what must be done if he is able.
§ Background
For Do’Karth, who was born Dar’Turga to a pair of parents who changed aliases so often he never knew what their names truly were. Such was the life of the members of the Renrijra Krin, a leaderless and loosely organized organization of just about every kind of scum imaginable across Elsweyr; if one were to fall on the wrong side of the law or ethics that khajiit hold sacrosanct, you could reasonably expect them to be finding their way into the ranks of Renrijra Krin. Not afforded a proper education, Dar’Turga instead learned the arts of deception and combat, unwittingly being groomed for the day he would prove his worth to the Orcrest clan he was born into.
Into his teens, Dar’Turga would discover that his parents, who were distant at best, were arrested trying to cross the Cyrodiil border to get to Leyawiin to stoke the fires of an uprising there. When pressed for how he felt about their captivity, Dar’Turga was surprised to find he was emotionally indifferent in their fate. He did not even know if he had siblings, and other members of the clan had taken a far more active role in his upbringing. He would later on refer to his parents as “strangers with the same blood”, as if that explained everything, and for many, it often did.
Being trained in the art of combat and hiding in plain sight, it became clear to Dar’Turga that he was being groomed for something outside of the thieving, clandestine murders, and other such specialties of the Renrijra Krin. When he was 17 (to the best of his knowledge, he was never told his birth date other than he was born in Autumn at some time), he was approached by his clan leader along with two other young adults; he was to become a sleeper agent, infiltrating the Mane’s palace and personal guard until he was given the order to strike. Accepting this heavy responsibility with a heavy but proud heart, Dar’Turga spent the next year training with his brothers for the awesome responsibility to come before making the long journey from the familiar deserts surrounding Orcrest and to the much more tropical climate of Torval.
Before long, Dar’Turga, now using the moniker of Do’Karth, and the other two agents had found their way into the city guard. The impressive palace, made of Valenwood timber, and the sprawling moon sugarcane plantations became familiar sights to Do’Karth as he became a regular sight near the palace, doing his patrols. For the next two years, he had become very much a fabric of the city, familiar with the people and acquainting himself with members of the populace. Until the order to act came, Do’Karth had to act the part of a citizen, which was much more credible of one had friends.
One such acquaintance turned friend was a scribe named S’Razza, an Ohmes of fair complexion and a lattice of dark tattoos across his face to accent his more feline features. The two had met when a particularly gusty day tore pages of script from S’Razza’s hands and Do’Karth rushed to his aid, helping collect the wayward pieces of parchment. Finding one another to have amicable personalities, they arranged to meet once a week for lunch, and S’Razza became an invaluable source of information of the inner workings of the palace and court gossip. Through his new friend, Do’Karth had even been given leave to attend one of the days of the Mane’s summons, an awe-inspiring event that the to-be assassin was ill prepared for, as the pomp and pageantry of court and the almost divine bearing of the Mane’s appearance were awe inspiring. Would he be able to kill this man, if he could be killed at all? The question troubled Do’Karth for some time, and without anyone to speak to of the matter, as his fellow sleeper agents had kept separate lives as to not attract suspicion, Do’Karth was left to stew in his doubts for many months.
One day, the word came via a dagger left beside his bedroll with a ribbon tied to the grip. It was time.
The assassination attempt took several days of planning, and when the night came to act, Do’Karth said his prayers to Khenarthi for swiftness and to grant the Mane a peaceful transition from his body to the Sands Beyond the Stars. Slipping the dagger into his belt, and grabbing a quiver of djerids (a type of throwing spears) and a saber, Do’Karth slipped into the night and into the palace’s sugarcane fields, waiting and observing for the time the Mane would no longer be holding audience. When his palanquin was labourlessly being transported to his quarters would be the time to strike. The only hard part would be to avoid the Warrior Guard, a caste of bodyguards for whom obtaining membership still remained elusive to Do’Karth.
Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to act. Having evaded the guards and members of the court by scaling the roof and following the Mane via series of windows, Do’Karth sensed his opportunity when he heard the now familiar voice of S’Razza calling to the Mane, begging for a moment of his time. The palanquin was set down by the massive Senche-raht that carried it and the Mane disembarked with the assistance of a guard to speak with S’Razza. Do’Karth, heart racing, leapt down from the rafters with a roll and with djerid in hand, hurled it at the Mane, the assassin willing his aim to be true.
To his horror, it was S’Razza who took the spear, seeing the assassin from the shadows and the movement of the guards, moved to put himself between the Mane and harm’s way. The djerid pierced his chest, ending his life after a brief struggle. The moment had stunned Do’Karth; everything had happened so fast, and despite all of his training, this was the first time he killed a man. He had not expected it to be his friend.
His hesitation cost him time to escape, however, and the guards were soon upon him. Between blows and cuts, the last thing Do’Karth remembered was a sword being driven into his gut and the world went black.
Awakening against all odds and expectation among the dead in a communal grave outside of the city, Do’Karth’s agony nearly drove him to madness as he screamed with the weight of his failure and unfathomable pain. A clear voice broke through his scattered and pained consciousness, ordering him to press on, to live. Pushing his body to its limits, he escaped the pit and slowly regaining control over his thoughts, put what limited alchemical and medical knowledge he had learned to use, saving own life and fighting off life-threatening infections with poultices and hastily mixed potions made of local ingredients, as well as bandaging himself with whatever could double as a bandage in a pinch. Having dragged himself deeper into the woods and away from the roads, Do’Karth would frequently pass out and regain consciousness enough to move a bit further before finding shelter under the raised roots of one of the jungle’s towering trees. Days went by, and slowly but surely, Do’Karth began to recover and regain control of his thoughts. Unable to shake the events that had led to his near-death and current agony, and the fact it was his actions that had murdered a friend, Do’Karth felt a deep shame unlike anything he had ever experienced. He decided that there would be no more killing, but he would fight every day to survive if he had to. He had to live long enough to find peace, if not redemption. Having healed enough to travel, Do’Karth headed back to the roads to await a traveling merchant, where he would exchange his services for a new set of clothes and to share the road for a time. Five years later, Do’Karth still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.
A number of things have been used to describe Do’Karth, a khajiit nomad whose travels have taken him across Tamriel and with numerous stories to accompany him. Usually well mannered, but sometimes forgetting cultural differences, he has remained something of an enigma to those who had not immediately dismissed him as a “filthy cat”.
The best anyone has readily gotten out of Do’Karth is that he hails from Elsweyr, and he has been traveling years, having grown bored of the tastes and scents of the deserts and jungles of his homelands on a personal quest to experience all Tamriel has to offer. Always traveling light and rarely taking more than what he needs (unless he really wants it), the khajiit has proven to be a colourful sight on often dreary roads and in the company of numerous caravans and travelers, often exchanging his services in exchange for food and supplies. The stories surrounding him paint him in an interesting light; a man who fights readily, but refuses to kill, a talented artist who is unable to read or write, a man who is unable to stay in one place for long but had on a few occasions chosen to simply build a raft and float on a lake for weeks at a time. Those who encounter him sometimes have wildly differing stories of who it was they had met, but one thing was always constant; a pleasant disposition with a willingness to help.
Do’Karth, from all accounts, is a nimble-fingered medical practitioner whose knowledge of anatomy and first aid had saved numerous lives on the road, and he had also been quite capable with brewing a potion in haste. While some of the people he saved claimed he spiked said potions with moon sugar, Do’Karth always denied the allegations/ praise, saying “Had Do’Karth used moon sugar to cure their ailments, it would mean less for him, no?”
If anyone had noticed his use of moon sugar, it would be the most observant and those who Do’Karth lets his relaxed-seeming but vigilant guard down around. Using it to sweeten rations and to prepare for spiritual rituals, the moon sugar is a vital and guarded resource that the khajiit knows is hard to come by, as well as the stigma around it by non-khajiit. For him, it’s a way to help commune with his gods, for others, it’s a sign of a well-hidden addiction. Confrontations with those who discovered the moon sugar use have not always gone smoothly, which have made it fortunate the goodwill Do’Karth had earned through his services and personality have carried him far. Failing that, the khajiit is a nimble and skilled fighter with a quarter staff, fearing neither beast nor knight even though he carries no blade and wears no armour.
Do’Karth, from all accounts, has not kept any group of companions long enough to form a coherent enough image of his history and exploits, which are numerous and colourful. From claiming to have briefly served as a juggler for the Count of Skingrad, an esteemed Yokudan Charger racer, and only survived becoming a bosmer’s next meal by besting him in an acrobatic race, it’s impossible to tell where truth and fiction reign, if any of what Do’Karth claims is true. What is known is he has spent a considerable amount of time in Cyrodiil, from all accounts enjoying the temperate countryside and finding refuge among the smaller hamlets that dotted the province, and he has a reasonable fear of ever stepping foot into Black Marsh. Those he encounter claim he seems too preoccupied with the now and where he’s going to worry about where he came from, and he’s surprisingly quiet about his past. While he often deflects such inquiries with humour or another tall tale, those who are observant may notice a very sober and serious look in the normally affable khajiit’s eyes. Clearly, there’s more to the khajiit than a personal philosophy of enjoying life in the moment.
Currently traveling North into Skyrim with a small group of merchants, Do’Karth is making his way to Windhelm, curious about the North’s own rebellion that reflects that of his homeland, and to experience true cold and snow. Having been aimless for so long, Do’Karth seems to be moving with a renewed purpose, and a chance encounter with a mercenary company staging out of the city might be exactly what the khajiit needs to find purpose.
That is, until the next big tale comes along and steals his heart away on a whim. But his newfound companions need not know of that which has not yet come to pass, no?
Do'Karth joined the company in Windhelm as a simple Khajiit planning on ditching the mercenaries when he grew bored or conflicted at what would have been a paid adventure and chance to see Skyrim's wonders in as safe a manner as possible, as well as affording opportunities that him as a Khajiit would have not had under typical auspices. Quickly befriending a great bearded giant of a Nord named Jorwen, Do'Karth had unwittingly begun to form the first personal attachments he'd have since leaving Anequina as a reformed man. However, his plan of touring Skyrim in a relatively tame manner quickly came undone as he had enlisted just in time to witness the opening acts of the Akaviiri invasion, something that he and many others had never expected they'd witness in their lifetimes.
Proving himself to be a brave if foolish fighter with seemingly unnatural luck at avoiding grievous wounds, as well as a much-needed medical practitioner that had long ago learned out of desperation to fix his own wounds to avoid dying, Do'Karth earned his place among the mercenaries, proving himself to be resourceful and a skilled fighter, even if his own moral code prevented him from exercising his athletic and nimble manner of combat to lethal effect. It was his medical talents that brought Sevine into his path, and the two quickly formed a quick friendship based on mutual curiosity and admiration. Before long, to the surprise of both, they learned the dark secrets of each others' pasts and quickly discovered a kindred soul that accepted them for who they were without judgement. It was only a matter of time before this affection turned to attraction, and both struggled with the prospect of a romance neither were expecting nor planned for; difficulties of being separate species notwithstanding, along with the over-bearing and jealous Leif who had his sights on Sevine since they served together in the Stormcloak Rebellion.
After Windhelm fell, Do'Karth and his new friends, a word he'd long forgotten the meaning of since the "death" of Dar'Turga in Torval, made their way to Dawnstar and quickly discovered this place was not the refuge they had thought it would be. An ill-fated rescue attempt at the College of Winterhold, a battle at sea with a Kamal frigate, and raids against Morrowind Armigers pushed Do'Karth to his limit; he did not want to be a part of a company of death that would get him and his friends killed in a war that could not be won. Still, he stuck on, despite the hardships such as losing Jorwen to the Kamal when the pair were on separate missions. The Khajiit had promised he would protect Jorwen's daughter, Solveig, and since Sevine seemed resolved to continue the fight, Do'Karth put aside his grievances to continue the war alongside the woman he loved against all odds, even if it meant literally beating sense into Leif after the Nord bard came after him in a drunken rage.
He does not know where the war will take him, but Do'Karth is worn and tired, looking for a win and a sign of hope to latch onto. All the while, just under the surface, Do'Karth fears that "Dar'Turga" didn't truly die and be forced to the surface if the situation grows dire enough that he no longer has the choice to avoid killing. An assassin would have been a better person to fight a hopeless war than a altruistic nomad, but Do'Karth fears failing the gods that gave him a second chance to redeem himself for past mistakes and losing sight of the person who he has found peace with.
Capabilities
§ Attributes
MAJOR:Speed MINOR: Agility
§ Skills Expert: Two-handed blunt Adept: Hand-to-Hand, Medicine (non-magical) Apprentice: Acrobatics, Unarmoured, Ta'agra (official in Elsweyr) Novice: Alchemy, Tailoring, Marksman
§ Weaknesses
Code against killing, persistent pain in right leg from an injury that never healed properly, deep regret over past actions, a lingering distrust of commitment to a cause
§ Spells
N/A
§ Tactics
Dar’Karth has a personal code against killing, as has spent several years developing a combat style based around a large-headed cane and staff that have become his go-to weapons of choice for defending himself and others. Keeping a distance and using surprising agility and acrobatic ability for someone with a seemingly bad leg, the khajiit aims to subdue his opponents with sweeps, jabs, disarmament and injuring limbs. He is proficient at knowing where pressure points are, and it’s not unheard of for Dar’Karth to render a foe unconscious with a well-placed blow.
§ Relations & Affiliations
Jorwen: Close friend and confidant, swore to protect Solveig Solveig: Friend, sworn to protect to Jorwen Sevine: Lover, close confidant Leif: Romantic rival for Sevine
§ Opinions
LAST UPDATE: DAWNSTAR WHALING FESTIVAL
Jorwen: Many seem afraid of Jorwen and his temper, but Do’Karth has only seen a kind man who wishes to do right by his daughter. He was the first to accept this one as a companion, and this one wishes to do right by him. He is a leader, others look up to him, and it is easy to see why. Jorwen has become this one's closest friend and an irreplacable companion upon these cold sands. He has welcomed Do'Karth as readily as family, taking him into his home, sharing meals and drink, and listening to Do'Karth's council. Jorwen has suffered and feels guilt over the man he once was; perhaps he cannot distinguish between that Jorwen and the one who greeted Do'Karth so warmly, but this one hopes he can help him find the peace he seeks. Do'Karth will stand by Jorwen, regardless of what we face. Him and his family are the closest to family Do'Karth has, and it is a cause worth fighting for in this war. This one cares not for coin or glory, it is this man and his kin that Do'Karth would die to keep safe.
Solveig: Do’Karth has not had the pleasure to speak with Solveig more than once, after her encounter with the Frost Demons left her incapacitated. He has done what he could to keep her comfortable and mend her wounds, but this one feels she is more like Jorwen than either of them realize. She is strong, both in spirit and body, and Do’Karth will do everything in his power to keep her safe and on a good path. This one wishes to get to know Solveig more and perhaps in time call her a friend as she learns to trust this one. It is amusing how the most deadly of circumstances can bring people close together, no?
Sadri: Poor Sadri, maimed in battle and he has walked Nirn four fold as many years as Do'Karth. He is brave, perhaps even foolishly so, but this one sees how he regards Solveig... it is touching, although he fears the dunmer might find disappointment in that pursuit. Solveig is a haunted woman who is determined... she may be unaware or unconcerned of Sadri's affections. Tragic, yes? Perhaps Do'Karth should speak with her. Life need not be so grim, even if Sadri is older than her father...
It sounds stranger when this one speaks it aloud. Ah, well. Strange times, strange events. Who would have thought a human and a khajiit would have fallen for each other, or a Breton and Imperial would try to blow themselves up to stop an army of Kamal?
Sevine: Do'Karth has never before felt more accepted for who he is than with Sevine; she was brought to him out of necessity, and while this one healed her leg... she managed to reach into this one's soul. Do'Karth had never expected to come so willingly to speak of who he was, let alone be accepted for it. This one feels she understands Do'Karth, and he can be himself, no act, no misdirection, just him. She means more to him than words could ever express. This one had never expected a Nord to touch him in such a way, let alone anyone at all. Do'Karth's heart swims for Sevine, for she feels the same, and we have come into each other's embrace. Sevine brings Do'Karth peace and affection, he never expected someone like her to take him as her own. She is Do'Karth's warm sands.
Leif: Do'Karth cannot reconcile the fact that Leif and himself have fallen for Sevine, and he knows Leif's resentment to be venomous. This one feels compassion for the man, whom is clearly devastated that Sevine's heart took her away from him, but he will not apologize for what has come to pass. The man's reputation as one who beds any willing woman he can did him no favours, so perhaps this will temper his ways. Perhaps not, but this one suspects Leif may wish to duel Do'Karth for Sevine's affection.
It brings this one no pleasure to know that Leif's physical suffering would match his emotional well-being that day.
Keegan: It is uncommon for Do’Karth to see an altmer who is not dressed in Justicar robes or Thalmor armour, but here is the most run-down and bed ragged looking altmer this one has ever laid eyes upon. He strikes this one as a mer who wishes he were anything but and to discard his heritage. Do’Karth could not blame him if that were the case; altmer tend to be quite insufferably proper and smug. This one had once been accosted by an altmer beggar who had immediately insulted Do’Karth’s caste. Tamriel truly is a land of wonders.
Sagex: Do’Karth only has had a brief acquaintance with Sagex, but the Imperial seems to be a likable fellow, keeping company with all sorts in the company, and he proved himself impossibly brave by exploding himself and a good chunk of the Kamal warship. Vaba Do'Shurh'do, friend. With a tale such at that, he will never need to purchase a drink for himself ever again, and this one suspects he might require such a thing quite urgently. This one has had spent more time alongside this Imperial in our excursion to Winterhold, and Sagex is impossibly brave in the face of certain death. He helped this one face his fear of the open frozen ocean... and he saved Do'Karth from the pincers of a Chaurus. This one owes Sagex a debt of gratitude, he would not be here without him. This one hopes to repay Sagex's bravery and compassion as our journey unfolds.
Rozalia: It seems like so long ago that Do'Karth first heard of Rozalia when her and Sagex decided the best way to confront ice demons was by blowing themselves up, and it was no wonder that Do'Karth had had the opportunity to offer his service as a healer to this Breton when he noticed her pain. Roze is a kind, compassionate, and rather sociable woman whom this one admires. May Mara keep her safe, for Tamriel needs more people of her nature, especially in these dark times.
Tsleeixth: Do’Karth feels regret over his lingering prejudice against argonians, and Tsleeixth has been an exceptional companion... this one believes he wishes to be friends. He has certainly earned this one's respect, and no small amount of admiration, and Do'Karth will strive to do right by Tsleeixth... even if his name is easier pronounced after sufficient drink.
Utu-Ja: This one has not even seen this argonian, which is quite the accomplishment as they are not a race that blends in with this crowd. Do’Karth has heard Utu-Ja has an almost animalistic posture, which this one has to see. Khajiit should not have the monopoly on four-legged subspecies. Do’Karth heard that Utu-Ja has lead a rather miserable life and can be somewhat shy around others, which this one feels is a shame. Which makes it all the more tragic that Utu-Ja was killed escaping Windhelm with the rest of us. A damn tragedy; how much life was lost to those creatures? May the argonian find peace and acceptance he never knew in life in death.
Rhasha’Dar: A fellow khajiit, and one Do’Karth has yet to meet! This one wonders if my Pelletinian counterpart has told his friends in the company that dar means thief as often as clever, or if anyone has bothered to figure it out. Alas, ignorance about our people runs rampant, and this one is all too happy to let it flourish for no other reason than it is quite amusing. Rhasha’Dar seems to be very much a peacemaker with others, and is quite a likeable individual. This one should speak to him, but Do’Karth is hesitant to speak of home. That was another life, and not Do’Karth’s.
Vurwe: Ah, the other altmer, and this one has the head start on unrelenting snobbery prevalent in the noble classes and the Thalmor. This one does not wish to speak with a child who probably would jump in the river to cleanse herself of contact with my race, and this one wonders why a small child with no martial talent is among this company. Perhaps Commander Ashav lost a bet. Many things happened in the Reach Do’Karth did not witness, who could say what is true?
Daixanos: Do'Karth spoke with this argonian briefly, as the one who calls himself Dax was bonding with Tsleeixth over their shared heritage... which reminds Do'Karth that there are khajiit within the company he has yet to seek out. This one takes for granted that there may not be time in the future, and he misses his people at times... so it is something he must do. This Dax is a hunter, both of man and animals, and this one hears he has enlisted due to doing tasks for Ashev that the company was not paid for. What is his compulsion, this one wonders? He seems blunt, uninterested. This one is not sure he wishes to find out what lays beneath the surface. There is an air of ruthlessness to Daixanos.
Raelyn This one has not spoken to Raelyn, but he has heard her sing in the inn. Pleasant voice, tall tales... she certainly is a bard. It would be unsurprising if Leif took a fancy to her on this alone, but dark and brooding seldom attracts someone who seems to release energy and enthusiasm like a fire sheds heat. Apparently she will join with the company... this one finds it strange. She is no fighter, yet wishes to be drawn into the war? This one cannot help but feel that Ashav is truly getting desperate to replenish the depleted ranks.
Elmera It is impossible to miss this dunmer woman's presence. She carries herself like a soldier, a warrior, and someone who has little humour or love to give. Jorwen and her apparently have already crossed paths in a very friction-filled way, and she is said to enforce Ashav's will with ruthless efficiency. The argonians are likely to hate her, and this one is cautious about her intentions. However, there is no doubt she will fight without fear against any the company faces. This one will stand by Jorwen if a divide forms.
§ Other
Night Eye: Do'Karth can see in the night and dark caves as easily as he can in the day, as is his people's biology Climber: Do'Karth is an accomplished climber, having years under his belt of practice Horse Rider: Do'Karth used to race sand steeds in the Alik'r desert. He is a confident and fairly skilled rider Heat tolerant: Born of the desert, Do'Karth is both adapted well to living in and thriving in arid desert environments and being exceptionally tolerant of the climate.
Inventory
§ Cash
0 Septims, spent last of coin on Sevine's replacement axe
Keys and Lockpicks:
None
§ Tools & Crafting Materials
Medical kit, sterilized medical sewing kit, mortar and pestle
§ Clothing & Armor
(From Appearance) He wears a simple embroidered, grey canvas thigh-length budi (traditional khajiit robe) that is not uncommon among the populace in Anequina, fastened at the waist with a large blue sash and a belt with numerous leather pouches. A set of black trousers rounds out his appearance, along with a heavy traveling cloak that has recently had a fur lining sewn into it to help protect against the harsh Skyrim cold. A simple blue bandanna is wrapped in a strip across his forehead and tied off at the back of his head.
§ Weapon & Ammo
Quarterstaff, no other weapon
§ Potion & Arcane Supplies
5 small vials and a mortar and pestle, three belt pouches dedicated to storing ingredients with smaller draw-string leather pouches to separate them. Current ingredients: Snowberries, Mudcrab Chitin, Charred Skeever Hide, Blisterwort, Imp Stool, various flowers
§ Jewelry & Valuables
Elsweyr crafted amulet of S’rendarr, writing utensils. He gifted his Elsweyr crafted amulet of Mara to his lover, Sevine.
§ Books & Documents
An empty journal he uses as a sketchpad, a heavily-abused copy of An Explorer’s Guide to Skyrim with several pages torn out, evidently to help start fires or for hygienic purposes.
§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients
A 2 liter water skin, a jar of honey, a paper-wrapped salmon steak, seared slaughter fish, an empty soup flask.
§ Load Bearing Equipment
A belt pouch with 8 leather pouches of various sizes that is fastened around Do’Karth’s waist, a small singles strapped knapsack that contains a folded bedroll and wool blanket, a tinderbox, a pair of wooden bowls, some assorted cutlery, a cooking pot.
§ Other
A woodcutting axe, a large pouch of moonsugar, fabric sewing kit and other leather and fabric patching kit.
They reach maturity around the same age that humans do, as shown by Barenziah and Ayrenn. However, I imagine some elven societies may take advantage of their longer lifespan and stay in school for an extended period of time.
This is pretty much why it's going to be next to impossible to stop the Thalmor, those sons-of-bitches have the luxury of plotting centuries in advance. Hawkish Emperor going to be a problem? Outlive him and wait for a weak heir to take the throne. Install a puppet to a throne that you can control and they can play into your hand for decades, etc.
One more question, since I can't find a solid answer:
How long, roughly, do Bosmer live? I'm considering my character starting at 40 years old. I understand Mer hit adulthood around 20-ish?
<Snipped quote by Chicken>
All Mer live for about a few hundred years to my knowledge. I remember real old lore about Altmer being able to live thousands of years, but I think that got retconned (or never existed).
Best I figured it out to be and equalled it out for my own games is that Altmer can live to be about 1,000 naturally due to dem Slytherin like Aldmer purity thing, all the other Mer can ambitiously make it to around 200-250.
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Lowering the site's value since January 2012.[/center]
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Auz,
Spoopy Scary,
Baklava,
Silverwind Blade,
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