Character Name:Cercus Arrailius
Age:24
Race:Imperial
Sex:Male
Birthsign:The Tower
[.hr][.hr]
Specialisation:Brawler
Class:Warrior
Skills:
[.hr][.hr]
Appearance:Cercus would likely be a much more beautiful and refined man if not for three long scars that appear to be clawed down the left side of his face. He is known for standing tall among the Altmer at 6'7, and is well toned for his slender form. His skin is pale for an imperial from lack of lighting, melding with his ice blue eyes. Tumbles of his curly black hair often hang amongst them when he doesn't feel like keeping it neat. His cheekbones are high and his nose is slightly crooked from the number of times it had been broken, with the scar of another gash bridging it.
The man's body appears to be more scar tissue in most places, his arms are lined with the deep marks, and the muscle has stretched them further along. His sleek appearance is hindered by the fact he slouches when not paying enough attention to keep himself upright. Notably on his right hand there is the mark of the Tower, and his back is tattooed with a long list of tally marks on what's left of his skin. He wears what appears to be modified plated armor from the Imperial City Arena, with thick steel covering vital organs as well as a plate on the left shoulder to protect his neck. His gauntlets are flexible but heavily reinforced on the knuckles.
Personality:Cercus believes in judgement at first sight, the moment he lays eyes on somebody he will want to either protect or kill them. He is acceptably and willingly a guard dog, but also very stubborn, his words are viewed to himself as fact. His social setting can be awkward as he is impeccably honest, and most of the time can't help himself. This trait, sought after as people may think, is mostly negative when someone has no filter.
The man is nearly savage in combat, there is no trick to dirty or painful. When enemies are in sight he immediately engages without any thought. His background has made him confident and efficient, fighting in single combat is a pass-time and a group of enemies has become another day. Beasts of wrangled often with his bare hands and if one were to watch him without his helmet they'd see him enjoying himself in the kill. Despite the martial state and his habit of disarming his enemies, Cercus has a very hard time capturing enemies alive, and is prone to unintentionally killing with his style, but has no qualms with any loss of life.
Backstory:Cercus was raised in the pits of the Imperial City, the bastard product of an arena champion and a fan that had been to excited to meet the warrior. His mother died in childbirth, and as all must very soon after taking his new son into the world, the champion had fallen. Cercus lived off of his fathers reputation at first despite hardly knowing the man, fighting boars, wolves, and other animals in the arena from a young age. When he was ten years old he killed a young bear with only his spiked gauntlets, but has the claw marks on his face to show for it. He spent his young life in martial labor, undefeated for years on end and killing many in the process, for in the arena you only kill or be killed.
Saving up his winnings when he started to get paid, Cercus began to gain his own possessions. The boy grew to a man, and then a champion of the arena on his own accord. The man who had defeated the Gray Prince struck fear into his heart, a feeling he hadn't known before that, and was sure he'd never win. He left the life of that pit behind to become a mercenary at first, setting his life to even more violence as it was his only applicable skill. His armor was refitted, and he wears a plate helmet into combat to keep himself secret as people who had seen his fights often ran away. He traveled, and ended up in Kvatch looking for work before he knew it.
Spells: N/A
Inventory:
Leather Rucksack
Three healing potions.
His modded arena armor, and very thick knuckled gauntlets. (Shaped to block blades and take impact.)
Two loaves of bread.
Two Wedges of cheese.
A bottle of Surilie Brothers Wine.
A leather Rucksack
Age:24
Race:Imperial
Sex:Male
Birthsign:The Tower
[.hr][.hr]
Specialisation:Brawler
Class:Warrior
Skills:
- Master- Hand to Hand
- Expert- One Handed, Athletics
- Journeyman- Heavy Armor, Shields
- Novice- Speechcraft (Intimidate,) Sneak, Acrobatics
[.hr][.hr]
Appearance:Cercus would likely be a much more beautiful and refined man if not for three long scars that appear to be clawed down the left side of his face. He is known for standing tall among the Altmer at 6'7, and is well toned for his slender form. His skin is pale for an imperial from lack of lighting, melding with his ice blue eyes. Tumbles of his curly black hair often hang amongst them when he doesn't feel like keeping it neat. His cheekbones are high and his nose is slightly crooked from the number of times it had been broken, with the scar of another gash bridging it.
The man's body appears to be more scar tissue in most places, his arms are lined with the deep marks, and the muscle has stretched them further along. His sleek appearance is hindered by the fact he slouches when not paying enough attention to keep himself upright. Notably on his right hand there is the mark of the Tower, and his back is tattooed with a long list of tally marks on what's left of his skin. He wears what appears to be modified plated armor from the Imperial City Arena, with thick steel covering vital organs as well as a plate on the left shoulder to protect his neck. His gauntlets are flexible but heavily reinforced on the knuckles.
Personality:Cercus believes in judgement at first sight, the moment he lays eyes on somebody he will want to either protect or kill them. He is acceptably and willingly a guard dog, but also very stubborn, his words are viewed to himself as fact. His social setting can be awkward as he is impeccably honest, and most of the time can't help himself. This trait, sought after as people may think, is mostly negative when someone has no filter.
The man is nearly savage in combat, there is no trick to dirty or painful. When enemies are in sight he immediately engages without any thought. His background has made him confident and efficient, fighting in single combat is a pass-time and a group of enemies has become another day. Beasts of wrangled often with his bare hands and if one were to watch him without his helmet they'd see him enjoying himself in the kill. Despite the martial state and his habit of disarming his enemies, Cercus has a very hard time capturing enemies alive, and is prone to unintentionally killing with his style, but has no qualms with any loss of life.
Backstory:Cercus was raised in the pits of the Imperial City, the bastard product of an arena champion and a fan that had been to excited to meet the warrior. His mother died in childbirth, and as all must very soon after taking his new son into the world, the champion had fallen. Cercus lived off of his fathers reputation at first despite hardly knowing the man, fighting boars, wolves, and other animals in the arena from a young age. When he was ten years old he killed a young bear with only his spiked gauntlets, but has the claw marks on his face to show for it. He spent his young life in martial labor, undefeated for years on end and killing many in the process, for in the arena you only kill or be killed.
Saving up his winnings when he started to get paid, Cercus began to gain his own possessions. The boy grew to a man, and then a champion of the arena on his own accord. The man who had defeated the Gray Prince struck fear into his heart, a feeling he hadn't known before that, and was sure he'd never win. He left the life of that pit behind to become a mercenary at first, setting his life to even more violence as it was his only applicable skill. His armor was refitted, and he wears a plate helmet into combat to keep himself secret as people who had seen his fights often ran away. He traveled, and ended up in Kvatch looking for work before he knew it.
Spells: N/A
Inventory:
Leather Rucksack
Three healing potions.
His modded arena armor, and very thick knuckled gauntlets. (Shaped to block blades and take impact.)
Two loaves of bread.
Two Wedges of cheese.
A bottle of Surilie Brothers Wine.
A leather Rucksack