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5 days ago
Current "In case of a fire the smoking ban is lifted!"
1 mo ago
Can anyone give me the precise suicide burn time for a KSP2 landing ? I need to save fuel for this!
2 mos ago
I'll try to get pending replies out tomorrow.
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2 mos ago
Depression is about to take a hold of me again... Let's see how long it lasts this time...
3 mos ago
Vacation! It's just one week, but that's WAY better than nothing!


Welcome to my profile page!

Who the hell is this person behind those many miles of fiber optics and copper cable ?

  • I'm a 30 year old guy.
  • ... who's working as an embedded system's engineer.

And into which hell will I descend with you participating in one of my roleplays?

  • I'm a fantasy addict: medieval high and low!
  • I'd consider myself to be a low casual roleplayer, 3 paragraphs per post on average.
  • My schedule varies. It might happen that I won't be able to post at all for a week, but then again it might happen that I'll reach a sweet spot inside which I can go on a posting rampage. I'd say one can expect 1-2 posts a week from me, depending on the lengths involved.
  • English is not my native language, but so far I've not encountered anyone who had had trouble with me over that :)

Want to RP with me ? Shoot me a PM, but don't shoot me!

Thanks for visiting!

Most Recent Posts

Vadym watched Ash, his hand in particular as he kept it in firm contact with the counter. It slowly dawned upon him now that the owner of this shop might in fact be blind or otherwise impaired in his eyesight, but if so the way Ash moved around was admirable. Vadym took a small step backwards to make sure Ash wouldn't accidentally bump into him.

"The Mystic Order ?" it came out of his mouth. Vadym's eyebrows were arched and for a moment he looked at Gaia as if to check if she might know more about it. So far he had considered himself to be a very experienced magic user, but he definitely could not recognize this name.

"No. I have not... What is it ?"

The gargoyle slowed, then almost abruptly stopped dead in its deep tracks. Hadn't he just heard something ? His feet were producing a rather considerable amount of noise despite his efforts to remain as silent as possible, but his ears were fully devoted to the task of picking up anything suspicious. Nobody was allowed to see him, so detecting any villager's activity in advance was a very important thing.

The beast turned around and just started at the male now in front of him. He was screwed, right ? Well... probably if that guy would start screaming now. Should he silence him ? A dangerous move since Blake seemed to be much faster than he was on his feet.

"Who are you ?" he started questioning. The gargoyle tried to keep his voice low, but still it was more like a rolling thunder. He almost felt stupid for his humble attempt to start a dialogue, but if it worked it could avoid disaster, couldn't it ?

Where Othen originated from nobody would ever have thought about building anything like Eversong. Way too much noble metal, marble and other white stone whose polished surfaces were crying out for everlasting cleaning action and careful handling. Way too much in terms of confining nature to arbitrarily chosen bounds with decorated river banks, luxurious bridges and probably quite a lot of other stuff Othen had not even discovered so far. Maybe even just way too much of everything. It wasn't that he'd despise the inhabitants of Eversong for anything of this, but his people just would not feel comfortable here and neither did he to a considerable degree.

Where Othen's people lived things were kept much closer to nature for the sake of simplicity and disguise. His people did not know about the kingdom's true military strength, but given what kind of style its towns and citites featured they assumed it had to be very significant -- too significant for what they themselves could have established on the field of battle. There was absolutely no interested in any offensive action, but neither was there any interested in a defensive one. They had decided to stay hidden in their remote, but vast refuge many centuries ago and so far that plan had played out quite well.

This didn't mean though that they tried to avoid any contact at all, in fact Othen himself was the proof of the very opposite. He was a scout, someone sent in disguise in order to enter the kingdom's heartland, make contact with other scounts, exchange information and extract them along with his own return. There clearly was no better place for this than Eversong, but this evening he was not on duty so to speak. His stay in the Griffin's Wing was a purely private affair as he simply had wanted to try out how things were in one of those large taverns.

It was safe to say that, in full spite of his disguise, Othen still stuck out like a sore thumb. The man had wrapped himself into rough and thick linen that already had lost quite a bit of its white color, but there was nothing he could do against the tattoos in his face. The more or less fine black lines and patterns, along with the fact that his skin seemed to be thick and hardened from prolonged exposure to a traveler's environment, were blatantly visible. No hair was to be seen on his scalp so it was both tanned and tattooed, too. His body appeared to be very thick and massive, his thighs bulging over the chair's edge on both sides while his broad shoulders forced other people to the sides a bit. He not only was a scout, but also a warrior. One of the brute strength sort who put it to the extreme, but with that linen on top one could also have thought of him being a little fat.

A small tankard rested on the table in front of him and Othen looked at its contents as if he had just been insulted by them. Well... his tongue certainly had been. How could those people here drink this stuff ? Beer was a mystery he currently was absolutely unwilling to solve by continuing to consume it, so his eyes started to just stare at the front door of the main hall he was sitting in. Othen's thoughts slowly drifted away to other things...
17th Sun's Dawn
Daggerfall, High Rock

Traveling around the Iliac bay had been an interesting experience, but like all good things it ultimately had to come to an end. It was safe to say that Ercanoriel hardly knew this sprawling city, but finding the docks still had not been particularly difficult for the smell and the amount of people working here. Why so many seemed to have an unbroken, enthusiastic relationship with the sea had become a mystery to the Altmer almost the moment he had entered this part of the city. Just as with every pond, be it oversized and salty or not, the downsides of water became apparent when it was standing still for prolonged periods of time. The shallowness here left not much room for algae, fish and whatever happened to be dumped into the docks to disperse its respective odour -- some of it being sucked through Ercanoriel's nostrils right now. He found it a little provocative, but for the Argonians he had seen roaming around here this must have been like a cheap copy of their murky paradise called Blackmarch.

However maybe the true reason for him to feel a little uncomfortable was that all of this reminded him of his departure from Sumerset ? That had been the last seaborn voyage he could remember and, as he had to add with an internal sigh, for this particular destination it had also been the last one. Despite the fact that his life had practically just begun. Ercanoriel raised his view further up from the massive wooden boards he was walking on and allowed it to roam around freely along the multitude of ships present. He searched for a particular vessel namend Kismet, hoping that it had a clear marking on its hull since for him they all looked similar. Nautical affairs clearly weren't the mer's forte, but at least another thing he remembered from the Sumerset transition was that he did not get sea sick easily. A small plus along a lot of minuses he was not looking forward to.

From aboard the Kismet one probably would have been able to spot Ercanoriel with ease: Not only was he huge, but also his attire of choice was quite a bit brotherhood-ish, at least according to clichés and rumors. The Altmer had wrapped himself in a decent amount of almost pitch black linen, the most notable part being the massive hood that protruded so much from his head that his face was well hidden inside the shadows cast by it. Ercanoriel fully expected people to regard this as awekward, silly, provocative or whatever other connotation could come to one's mind, but for him the reasoning was dead simple and straightforward: Damn the sun! A disturbingly little amount of it had the potential to convert his skin into a Masser-like surface: Bloody red and littered with craters! Almost needless to mention that this held especially true if one was completely surrounded by reflective water.

He meandered towards the Kismet slowly, but still there was this clanking sound giving away that he had stored his armor in his large rucksack. Making every part fit by stacking them into each other had taken quite a bit of time, but this way they were hidden from any thief's plain sight and maybe even protected from rats gnawing on some of the leather straps. One could never know... He would have hidden the axe too if this had been possible, but since it hadn't he had strapped the weapon tightly to his back. Now he stood at the lower end of the boarding plank and felt his stomach drop into the depths. That guy at the other end who had just taken a look at a piece of parchment that looked very similar to his own... Compared to Ercanoriel's stature he barely had that of a needle, but still his sheer presence stung greatly since the man was an Altmer. How great!

Hoping that the attendant would do nothing but just reach for the receipt and take a quick look at it Ercanoriel started to climb the plank. It quickly started oscillating beneath his steps, but even without this welcome excuse he would not have dared to look anywhere else. Maybe the Altmer did not even have to take a look at every person's face, so why give him the opportunity for free ? Of course the attendant tried to penetrate the shadows protecting the new passenger's face, also there was a patch of warmth Ercanoriel felt crossing his face that told him that some light had indeed leaked through. A small amount, but it was enough for this member of the ship's personnel to spend at least as much time on looking at the receipt as on trying to decipher more of the figure standing next to him. A sensation Ercanoriel couldn't run away from at this point, so hopefully that little lookup in the ship's manifest wouldn't take long!

The attendant gave an acknowleding nod that almost went unnoticed since the hood also put some limits on the sideways field of view. He was good to go, but... where ? He could spot a redguard in very neat looking clothes manning the wheel. If this deck was a chessboard than he had just found the black king who had sent all peasants forwards, but what when they and all the other figures present would inevitably find out that he belonged as much to the white side of things as it was possible ? Then maybe he'd find out what each person's definition of 'Checkmate' was in less abstract terms. Chess was a noble where no figure was 'beaten', but experience told that many people didn't care much about formalities...

Ercanoriel opted against going below decks right away. He wanted to see who was roaming around here and who else was coming, but preferably without being all too noticeable himself. Next to a bunch of crates he carefully put the huge axe on deck so as not to cause any unnecessary scratches, then sat down himself with his legs halfay bent. His eyes spotted a surprising number of Argonians, also a quite massive Khajiit with black fur. Someone apparently had enough natural authority to speak with the Captain right away -- or maybe the man was particularly talkative ? Anyway... as long as this wouldn't delay the ships departure. Earlier departure meant less people and less people were a good thing! Now unfortunately he had not even remotely enough funds to try and bribe somebody in exchange for a little bit of scheduling sabotage.
Alright, I have tried to improve on the original sheet :)

Here's a rough list of changes in the hope that it might save a bit of re-reading time:
  • Took what @Dervish has pointed out into consideration and added a relocation to Skyrim as Ercanoriel was arrested.
  • Added explanation to the Two-Handed expert skill and some minor explanations to the adept skills.
  • Demoted restoration from adept to novice and promoted illusion from novice to adept in exchange.
  • Dropped speech as an adept skill and promoted Destruction from novice to adept in exchange.
  • Added blacksmithing as a novice skill.
  • Re-formulated Ercanoriel's regret so it isn't as extremely misleading anymore as it has been before about which of his parents it is referring to. I'd like to ask for re-evaluation :)
  • Fixed a bunch of typos and wording mistakes.

@Fetzen I really like the character! I do think it's worth mentioning that Dwemer were never in any of the Aldmeri Dominion lands, so the Thalmor claiming ownership of them seems a tad off, and arresting people for exploring them would be well outside of their authority to enforce. There are a bunch of Aleyid ruins in Valenwood, though! Maybe Ercanoriel got interested in ancient elven civilizations and magic and technology first through the Alyeids before personally discovering the Dwemer ruins on his own after he got out of jail?

Thanks for pointing this out! I did a lot of research for this character, but this must be something that slipped past my attention unnoticed.

Him going after Dwemer ruins completely on his own however would throw up the question of where and when he did get the skills he currently has. At the point he was arrested he was rather close to ground zero so I'd need a very good explanation of how he achieved the change/boost in his self-esteem, where he got the equipment if it wasn't for a bunch of other adventurers willing to lend him a helping, looting hand and who trained him. Strolling into dwemer ruins as a completely novice-level one-man-show and doing it the very hard way would be a very, very daredevil move that would well suit his personality, but I'm not entirely confident if this wouldn't be too much.

Therefore I'd like to propose another solution: A transition of his location from Valenvald to Skyrim briefly before or during his arrest. Dunno, but it might just have been an act of bureaucracy and resource management on side of the Thalmor and they could have decided to dispose of him there because pretty much everyone's a tad more pale there, rendering his condition a bit less embarrassing for Altmer standards. The ragtag adventurer's group he encountered in prison there might have been put into arrest for another thing they did together instead of any Dwemer-related affair.

It seems much simpler to me and doesn't throw up a significant bunch of other questions that would require answering.
Character sheet creation marathon's over. Here is the first version of it :)

Týfurkh honestly had not expected for his plan to work out this brilliantly, but either Tayla was as good of a devilish actor as she was a relentless fighter when she gave every reason for others to believe that she was expecting immediate doom or she truly had been injured badly.

Either way he had no intention of wasting any time. Hopefully Tayla didn't know it, but it would certainly have been a good thing if he had been able to tell Karina openly that his magic was exhausted for the moment. Týfurkh had to switch back to conventional weapons and that ment retrieving and reloading his crossbow. Luckily though Karina seem to have things under pretty good contorl while the aforementioned process was underway...

In fact his companion seemed so confident about her own capability to continue the fight if necessary that Týfurkh started to wonder if he could turn his attention to other things. They had not come here alone, there were others of their group still deep below in the bowels of the tower probably facing off other cultist threats.

"Karina ? If it's okay I'll head downstairs and see after the others so you don't get surprised up here." He didn't expect a detailed answer for not paying any attention to Tayla for even a very brief moment had already proven to be a very dangerous thing. "If you need me just shout and I'll come back as fast as possible!" he added seconds later.

With his crossbow restocked and back in action the giant turned around and left the wooden platform that too had had to pay a price for the fight raging on it, given the various damaged spots that hadn't been there just minutes earlier. Týfurkh didn't pay much attention to the two three men littering the ground in front of the staircases entrace, he simply guided his feet carefully around their bodies before rushing downwards as fast as he could.

The follower of the art of Canor had no idea that, in fact, right now some cultists were on their way up...
"Hello Ash!" Vadym reciprocated the greeting before pondering about the other words. "Not simple letters you say ? Well, I think that depends on your point of view. For the average reader they obviously are intended for giving the pattern of their distribution they so far must seem to be. So would you like to introduce me deeper into the reason for their existence ? I'm not entirely sure who the last mystic is and what his deeds might be ?"

Now Vadym truly was curious. One could see how he concentrated much more on Ashton than on anyone else in the room, including the precense of the dragon woman who clearly was outstanding in her own right as well.

The gargoyle was a humongous beast, leaving behind deep, clawed traces in the mud of the roads that had the potential to leave people behind in fear the next morning. However he too was bound to the force of gravity and thus couldn't avoid this to happen without flying, but he couldn't to anything else while flying. On the plus side for some people it might be rather ease to keep track of him for Blake...

Now the gargoyle too encountered one of the mysterious parchments that still happened to lie around. He wasn't a good reader though, so deciphering and understanding the meaning of the message would take a considerable amonut of time.
Tomorrow, I will work on, and do my best to complete, my character. Get ready for a bare-fisted, idealistic monk hunk.

A more gentle, less pointy-eared and more adorable An-Hasst? You make me curious!
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