Fetzen

The Heroes Go Forth!

Setariél

Setariél

Gender: Male
Race: Half elf, half human
Appearance: Setariél's skin has the clarity, flawlessness and smoothness of a young man in his early twenties, but it is pale like the full moon and won't change no matter how much time he'd spent in the desert of Sweym Sma. His eyes have become devoid of any other color except the bright red of fresh blood and so have his lips. His hair almost reaches down to the middle of his back and usually is combed with love to detail. In general it can be said that he tries to keep himself clean and in order just like it would be expected from someone of his, well, former standing. His ears are pointy, but obviously not enough for a pure-blooded elf. Being over a head taller than either the average elf or the average human, appearing well-fed and very muscular he's also an intimidatingly big, easy to recognize fellow.

Birthplace: Linmark
Status or nobility ?: He's a noble, but barely receives any support from his family anymore due to certain events in his biography.

Knack for magic or fighting prowess: Setariél has been trained in the way of a knight, but probably without the holy fuzz other nations would make around this job. He can wear heavy armor with ease and handle both one- and two-handed swords, but his enormous bulk -- while giving him tremendous strength -- doesn't allow for fast movements or much trickery. Magic has not been part of his training, even though his sword and armor have been imbued to enhance their durability.

Personality: Setariél is a calm being, getting him enraged can be considered a minor achievement in most situations. Due to his noble background he is surprisingly well educated, but he doesn't try to let this hang out. On the contrary: He has almost been conditioned to be modest. However, since he has been banned by his family, the first cracks have begun to appear. A lot of internal frustration has piled up and poking him there repeatedly might result in a anything but modest outburst. Also he has started to invest coins into lots of beer and other beverages in order to try and dilute his pain. He's intelligent and values loyalty, but becoming true friends with him has become a lot more difficult. Setariél has started to distrust foreigners by default -- they have to prove to him that they don't have any harmful intent.

Biography: Setariél was born into an old and quite reknown family of nobles in the capital city of Linmark. Being one of three childs born in pretty much the same generation he was not the only one to receive the attention of his parents, but nonetheless he did not have to fear any kind of shortcomings on the material side of things. However there also was no lack of demands put on the young boy.

His family is much into local and regional politics, has money to an amount that could be considered fairly abundant and certainly does not lack influence, but also has a reputation to defend. Therefore his education was pushed from early on not only in order to shape him into a viable successor for the family's business, but also to excel over the average countryman of his age in many other areas such as literature, mathematics and last but not least physical exercise and fighting skills in particular. It is safe to say that this kind of approach did see considerable successes, but also it was quite incompatible with the expectations and hopes most young men, including him, have for their life.

Producing a lot of internal friction with regard to the rest of his family Setariél did keep quiet towards the public though. Just as it was expected of him he tried to stay away from any kind of snob-like behavior and to mix with the average people as far as his general standing allowed for. A family needed fresh blood from time to time and his one followed the tradition of being open towards less or even not noble individuals marrying with their members. That was... if those individuals met the criteria put up by the elders.

Setariél's interests did not exactly follow suit with those criteria though. He started to have feelings for a woman his parents, having much more experience, would clearly have turned against. Knowing this right from the beginning, he also prevented them knowing about her right from the beginning. That was until that damned night when they met in bed and she revealed the true nature about her attractivity: She bit him, sucked out some of his blood and left behind the curse.

The vampirism triggered a quite violent reaction inside Setariél's body. His appearance changed from blonde hair, brown eyes and ordinary complexion to the red-white 'monster' he seems to be now, but only on the outside. On the inside his personality remained unchanged, so while he clearly felt the newborn urge for blood he refused to let go of it against each and everyone. Managing this requirement alone probably would have been rather difficult, but the worst part of the damage done was that now his relationship could no longer remain hidden.

Outraged about what had happened the family's council had to decide what to do now. One of the three current sons having been turned ? The delicate control system having failed to utterily ? The thought of this becoming public was intolerable, but successfully hiding Setaríél from now on for all of time was equally unimaginable. A less embarrassing cover story was invented, one about a vampire having intruded Setariél's manor while he had been on vacation. It worked, but only while also demonstrating that there was no way back for Setariél. His vampiric component could not be allowed to intoxicate the bloodline, nor could he be allowed to roam around in Linmark freely despite him claiming to have things under control.

The solution was to banish him, to put him as far away from Linmark as Linmark's authority reached. It would be up to each of the other nations to decide on their own what to do with new inhabitants of this kind, assuming that Setariél would dare to live in the open in the first place. Contact would remain, but what his parents certainly won't tell him is that they have their fingers on the trigger that activates an assassination contract... Just in case they should get the impression that things are about to spin out of control irrecoverably.

Shortly after him leaving Linmark the vision set in, guiding him to the holy kingdom. He's not sure what to make out of the strange words, it could also be that his new condition also includes him slowly becoming crazy, but... Currently this is the only aim he has. And he is doing his best to reach his destination without getting arrested or so.

The Heroes Go Forth!

@DontCallMeZelda I'd like to apologize for the delay in my application, but here it is. I hope it makes sense :)

Setariél

Setariél

Gender: Male
Race: Half elf, half human
Appearance: Setariél's skin has the clarity, flawlessness and smoothness of a young man in his early twenties, but it is pale like the full moon and won't change no matter how much time he'd spent in the desert of Sweym Sma. His eyes have become devoid of any other color except the bright red of fresh blood and so have his lips. His hair almost reaches down to the middle of his back and usually is combed with love to detail. In general it can be said that he tries to keep himself clean and in order just like it would be expected from someone of his, well, former standing. His ears are pointy, but obviously not enough for a pure-blooded elf. Being over a head taller than either the average elf or the average human, appearing well-fed and very muscular he's also an intimidatingly big, easy to recognize fellow.

Birthplace: Linmark
Status or nobility ?: He's a noble, but barely receives any support from his family anymore due to certain events in his biography.

Knack for magic or fighting prowess: Setariél has been trained in the way of a knight, but probably without the holy fuzz other nations would make around this job. He can wear heavy armor with ease and handle both one- and two-handed swords, but his enormous bulk -- while giving him tremendous strength -- doesn't allow for fast movements or much trickery. Magic has not been part of his training, even though his sword and armor have been imbued to enhance their durability.

Personality: Setariél is a calm being, getting him enraged can be considered a minor achievement in most situations. Due to his noble background he is surprisingly well educated, but he doesn't try to let this hang out. On the contrary: He has almost been conditioned to be modest. However, since he has been banned by his family, the first cracks have begun to appear. A lot of internal frustration has piled up and poking him there repeatedly might result in a anything but modest outburst. Also he has started to invest coins into lots of beer and other beverages in order to try and dilute his pain. He's intelligent and values loyalty, but becoming true friends with him has become a lot more difficult. Setariél has started to distrust foreigners by default -- they have to prove to him that they don't have any harmful intent.

Biography: Setariél was born into an old and quite reknown family of nobles in the capital city of Linmark. Being one of three childs born in pretty much the same generation he was not the only one to receive the attention of his parents, but nonetheless he did not have to fear any kind of shortcomings on the material side of things. However there also was no lack of demands put on the young boy.

His family is much into local and regional politics, has money to an amount that could be considered fairly abundant and certainly does not lack influence, but also has a reputation to defend. Therefore his education was pushed from early on not only in order to shape him into a viable successor for the family's business, but also to excel over the average countryman of his age in many other areas such as literature, mathematics and last but not least physical exercise and fighting skills in particular. It is safe to say that this kind of approach did see considerable successes, but also it was quite incompatible with the expectations and hopes most young men, including him, have for their life.

Producing a lot of internal friction with regard to the rest of his family Setariél did keep quiet towards the public though. Just as it was expected of him he tried to stay away from any kind of snob-like behavior and to mix with the average people as far as his general standing allowed for. A family needed fresh blood from time to time and his one followed the tradition of being open towards less or even not noble individuals marrying with their members. That was... if those individuals met the criteria put up by the elders.

Setariél's interests did not exactly follow suit with those criteria though. He started to have feelings for a woman his parents, having much more experience, would clearly have turned against. Knowing this right from the beginning, he also prevented them knowing about her right from the beginning. That was until that damned night when they met in bed and she revealed the true nature about her attractivity: She bit him, sucked out some of his blood and left behind the curse.

The vampirism triggered a quite violent reaction inside Setariél's body. His appearance changed from blonde hair, brown eyes and ordinary complexion to the red-white 'monster' he seems to be now, but only on the outside. On the inside his personality remained unchanged, so while he clearly felt the newborn urge for blood he refused to let go of it against each and everyone. Managing this requirement alone probably would have been rather difficult, but the worst part of the damage done was that now his relationship could no longer remain hidden.

Outraged about what had happened the family's council had to decide what to do now. One of the three current sons having been turned ? The delicate control system having failed to utterily ? The thought of this becoming public was intolerable, but successfully hiding Setaríél from now on for all of time was equally unimaginable. A less embarrassing cover story was invented, one about a vampire having intruded Setariél's manor while he had been on vacation. It worked, but only while also demonstrating that there was no way back for Setariél. His vampiric component could not be allowed to intoxicate the bloodline, nor could he be allowed to roam around in Linmark freely despite him claiming to have things under control.

The solution was to banish him, to put him as far away from Linmark as Linmark's authority reached. It would be up to each of the other nations to decide on their own what to do with new inhabitants of this kind, assuming that Setariél would dare to live in the open in the first place. Contact would remain, but what his parents certainly won't tell him is that they have their fingers on the trigger that activates an assassination contract... Just in case they should get the impression that things are about to spin out of control irrecoverably.

Shortly after him leaving Linmark the vision set in, guiding him to the holy kingdom. He's not sure what to make out of the strange words, it could also be that his new condition also includes him slowly becoming crazy, but... Currently this is the only aim he has. And he is doing his best to reach his destination without getting arrested or so.

The Heroes Go Forth!

I'm working on an half-elven archer with limited melee prowess. Since we so far seem to have a rather mage-heavy party I have decided to go for a less magical and more physical approach. I hope that's a viable concept.

The Heroes Go Forth...(High Fantasy)

@DontCallMeZelda I'd be interested as well if there's still a spot open :)

The Five Senses

Týfurkh

All Týfurkh could feel was his right knee collapsing due to a sudden kick from behind. The combination of pollen and dust sand had worked well enough for him to be unable to just shoot Smit from point blank range when the latter had slipped past the giant. Now Týfurkh could see the steps below him becoming bigger in his view rapidly, his great height allowing for his head to gain a lot of speed before the inevitable collission. He tried to counteract the fall with his free hand but still there was a considerable impact on his nose and forehead. Momentarily stunned, Týfurkh's body started rolling down the staircase until it reached the next intermediate level where the steps changed direction.

By the time Týfurkh was fully conscious again a nice little pool of blood had formed around him, causing some of the red liquid to drip from his hair and his face in general as he, slowly, tried to get back on his feet. He moved his fingertips to his nose only to retract them immediately when their touch triggered a surge of pain. Probably broken. Blinking, he looked up the staircase he had just come down, but Smit was nowhere to be seen anymore. Apparently he had already reached the top of the tower.

Speaking of which... Something was odd. Why was there so much light coming from the exit above ? When he had went up there the first time the roof had pretty much prevented sun or moon from doing anything. And then there was so much fine dust floating in the air and irritating his breathing again... It seemed that the ubiquitous layer of dust that had settled on the walls over time had just been disturbed and blown off the surface it had clung to. Týfurkh suspected that his own self hurtling down in an uncontrolled manner had caused enough wind to do this, so he didn't spend much more time on thinking about it. He followed his original intention of getting downstairs again, though quite a bit more slowly now and very cautious that noone could ambush him from behind.

The dust didn't get away. In fact it only became even more concentrated the closer he came to the main hall at the bottom of the tower. And then Týfurkh saw it, his facial expression instantly changing to something close to please tell me this is not real!: The bell had come down and buried itself in the stone floor, the broken remainders of the roof it had been hanging from decorating the crash site along with debris from an undetermined number of other wooden floors. Of course this could hardly be a very badly timed accident, but still this level of crazyness was an astonishing feat. Týfurkh rushed in closer was on the verge of shouting out for Karina, but stoppped dead in his tracks when he started hearing unfamiliar voices. A discussion seemed to go on and it didn't seem to be anyone of his own team debating what to do next.

Trying to act more cautiously, Týfurkh hid himself behind the next corner and continued listening. He needed to find out what the situation was while hoping that his appearance had not yet been discovered. He wasn't exactly good at stealth after all...

A Journey for the Ages [1x1 SporkoBug and Fetzen]

"One of their own ? That's... interesting to say the least." Well, under the assumption that Ash was speaking the truth and not just some humble rumors and fairytales he had picked up somewhere while in a stupor Vadym could only wonder whe he had not heard about a millenia-old organization earlier. One that had quite literally destroyed itself in particular one might add.

"Alright, the Mystics." Vadym continued, not feeling the need to point out his lack of knowledge yet. "So what would we be tasked with in particular ? Maybe its more efficient to start asking this way and to dig into the lore from that point onwards." the mage added.

---

The man seemed terrified, terribily terrified. The gargoyle was somewhat aware about how he must have appeared to other people, but what made things really bad was that, on most occasions, he failed utterily to explain that his personality was a different one. And one could certainly argue if releaving one of his giant, razor-sharp claws was the most adequate thing for trying to appear harmless...

"Your hands are tied ? Well, that can be fixed I think. If you'd like to show this device of constraint to me ?" Each of the gargoyle's words was a little thunder, he could only hope that this unexpected need to speak would not wake up any of the villagers already sleeping.

Portals to the Nether (Fetzen x AutumnFrost)

Still staring at the front door, Othen had spotted Branna the moment she had crossed the threshold of the main hall's entrance. However, at least at that moment, he had not paid much attention to her. Some other patrons had turned their heads and tracked her steps towards the counter with greedy eyes, but he broke his line of view after a mere few seconds. Well, if he was honest to himself this wasn't because she wouldn't be attractive at all, but his orders were quite strict when it came to doing anything that could trigger unnecessary attention. Him tracking her probably wouldn't have made much of a difference in the environment of the Griffin's Wing, but still... And he felt tired.

Branna caught him veering around the humble remainders of beer that were left in the depths of his tankard. Othen's eyes blinked a few times when he noticed her -- and this time he couldn't stop himself from inspecting her up and down a little. Yes, she was definitely attractive. Various aspects about her also allowed him to make an educated guess about her fighting capability and his experience found it to be very considerable. If he should start a little smalltalk ? That couldn't hurt, or could it ? Anyway, the big man's first reaction was to put up a gentle smile and offer her the seat requested. There was plenty of room left around the table, at least if he put his colossal legs aside a little. The furniture of this tavern wasn't exactly designed with men of his proportion in mind so his knees reached well into his neighbourhood. He pushed back the chair in order to make room and as he made use of the chairback the latter produced a symphony of creaking.

"May I introduce myself ? I'm Othen, just... Othen." and he offered her his open palm. At least so far he had not crushed any poor fellow's ankle with it, but it certainly looked as if capable of such a thing. "Don't worry, I'm gentle." Othen added in an attempt to return the favor of Branna's words. "With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking ?" At least in Othen's mind he currently was doing his best in order to present his friendly side to her as he saw absolutely no point in doing anything else. This journey had to be more than just a job, this capital city was bound to offer more than just information about military planning. Othen felt confident that he could allow himself to be entertained a little, as long as his activities remained below the radar so to speak of course.

Something had started working in the back of his mind though. He'd need a good cover story and it had to be consistent with the numerous other cover stories he had delivered so far to various people. His true task never left him, quite a bit to his misfortune at this point.

A Journey for the Ages [1x1 SporkoBug and Fetzen]

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 ?

Portals to the Nether (Fetzen x AutumnFrost)

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...

The Elder Scrolls: Days of Night

17^th 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.