Hank

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Noon, 5th of Last Seed, 4E205
Solitude, Skyrim
The belowdecks of the Kyne’s Tear

The ebony longsword cut through the air with a heavy fwush. The Dunmer that wielded it abruptly halted the blade’s trajectory when it almost cut into a wooden support beam with less than an inch to spare. With a satisfied grunt, Narzul took a step back, raised the weapon in an offensive stance, and then repeated the slash once more. A hair’s breadth, this time, was all that seperated the edge from wood.

Narzul had sequestered himself away in one of the Tear’s many nooks and crannies after stowing his belongings, unwilling to mingle with the rest of the crew topside. He had dressed down to his breeches and began one of the manifold practice routines his old drillmaster would have him perform for hours on end. His torso glistened with sweat -- the elf had been at it for a while already.

“Boethiah,” he whispered, and ducked low to swipe at the support beam (his makeshift ‘dummy’ for this training session). Ebony touched wood and Narzul grimaced.

“Long is your arm, and swift is your blade. Deep is the cut, and subtle is the poison.”

A flurry of thrusts barely missed the support beam in the span of a second -- high left, high right, low left, low right, the flat of the blade passing so close to the wood that the space between was imperceptible. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, bouncing on his feet, and brandished his sword with a flourish.

“Worship, o faithful; pray your death is short.”

Deft footwork carried him in and out of striking range, dashing closer and hopping away, his body and mind fully immersed in the phantom fight, blade dancing and whistling. Then Narzul froze, breathing heavily but his sword perfectly steady.

“Worship, o faithful; pray your death is quiet.”

Like a coiled snake Narzul sprang into motion, pivoting and parrying an imaginary attack, before resuming his unbridled assault on the support beam. Now his arm did not falter; ebony did not strike wood again.

“Know that battle is a blessing; know that death is an eventuality.”

His face had contorted into a snarl, brow heavy with thunder, teeth bared, hair whipping around his head. Where his movements were silent before, he now grunted and growled with every slash and thrust.

“Know that you are dust in the eyes of Boethiah.”

He saw the Armiger now, the one that had wounded him on Bleakrock Isle; watched in his mind’s eye as the spear evaded his defenses and struck him in the abdomen. Narzul felt pain flare up, the soreness and aching in his body reliving the moment, and gritted his teeth.

”I am dust!”

And with that Narzul lunged forwards and drove his war-sword into the support beam, unyielding ebony splitting wood with a loud crack, all the way up to the hilt. His breaths came quick and ragged, his shoulders rising and falling with every gasp, and his lips trembled with exertion. A whirlwind of emotions raced through him; frustration, shame, wrath, even the fear of the unknown path that lay ahead.

But he held, and in a slow, graceful motion, he straightened up from his almost horizontal posture, drew the blade from the wood and returned to a defensive stance. Narzul felt his mind clear as he did so, all the weaknesses he had allowed to float to the surface leaking away, and he savored the sensation with closed eyes and a deep breath. He felt another, familiar presence in the back of his mind, and it expressed approval… but not explicitly so. As if it expected… more.

More of what?

“Worship, o faithful; worship the glory that is Boethiah,” Narzul whispered and bowed his head in reverence.

“What are you doing?” a voice suddenly asked, and Narzul’s head whipped around to see his sister standing in the doorway of the cabin. Niernen had her arms crossed and her head tilted; a sight he had seen many times before, back when they were children in Blacklight. She would appear to watch him train, just like this.

“Praying,” the elder sibling answered eventually, meeting Niernen’s inquisitive gaze levelly.

Niernen chuckled. “You pray like that? It looks exhausting. I sit still and meditate when I pray for Azura’s foresight and guidance,” she said and shrugged. “Much easier.”

“Easy does not equal adequate,” Narzul said and bent down to pick up his scabbard. “It seems to me that there are many things your Prince hasn’t foreseen lately.” Niernen’s face turned sour, but Narzul continued. “I know it looks exhausting, dear sister, but I feel stronger now than I did before.” He slid the ebony blade of his sword into the sheath and nodded, as if to reaffirm his own statement to himself. “I believe that’s why I faltered back on Bleakrock Isle; I had not seen to my faith adequately.”

Niernen sighed. “Perhaps. Either way, I came here to ask something of you. There’s a new recruit on the ship, a Bosmer -- I know -- who desperately wishes to challenge you to a duel.”

An initial look of surprise on Narzul’s face turned into a sinister smile that bordered on the malevolent, and Niernen held up a finger to cut off whatever he was going to say. “No, brothermine, I know what you’re thinking and no. I haven’t forgotten what happened with Wylendriel. This woman, Adaeze, looks like she grew up in Hammerfell and was very insulted when I didn’t refer to her as a Redguard. I fear she might actually try to kill you if you talk to her, let alone actually duel her. I strictly forbid it.”

Narzul’s face darkened with indignation and Niernen, realizing her mistake, backpedalled. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to order you around. Just… please don’t agree to a duel. Just blow her off and try not to talk to her. Alright? For me?”

“Hmph.” Narzul pulled his tunic over his head and did not say anything else until he had finished, fidgeting with his sleeves until they sat around his wrists just-so. “Very well. I won’t humor her. But I’m insulted that you think I would repeat the..” He almost said ‘mistake’, but cleared his throat instead and averted his gaze. “Look, you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want to be around your mercenary friends anyway. That’s why I’m down here.”

Niernen narrowed her eyes at him but saw only sincerity in his face -- sincere disgust, she knew, but that was useful right now. Her gaze softened and she smiled. “Thank you, brother.” Without another word, she turned around and left.

Narzul continued to stare at the doorway until long after she’d gone, his brow furrowed. “B’vek,” he growled. How had he let things get so far that his own sister was grateful he was avoiding everyone aboard?

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Niernen's mentor tells her about Divayth Fyr, 4000-year-old Telvanni sorcerer supreme.

22nd of Frostfall, 4E194
Silgrad, Morrowind
Llerwyn Othado’s manor

“Serjo Othado?”

“Yes, Niernen?”

“What do you know of Telvanni magic?”

Llerwyn looked up from his scrolls and put down his quill. He stared at Niernen in the flickering candlelight for a few seconds over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, his face unreadable, before he replied. “I thought you came here to learn war magic.”

He was old and wrinkled and his ancient hands, while still dutifully carrying out his wishes, contorted into a claw-like shape, weary with arthrosis. The girl standing in the doorway of his study was young -- so young, he thought, her cheeks smooth and her hair luscious, and her copper eyes studied him intently.

“Of course,” Niernen said, unsure whether this was a reprimand or not, “but… well, I’m just curious, that’s all.” She waited for a response but Llerwyn remained silent. “Is it true that they used to live in giant mushrooms they grew with magic?”

Llerwyn huffed. “Used to? They still do. House Telvanni wasn’t entirely destroyed by the Argonians, you know. There’s a fellow up in Solstheim who lives in such a tower, near Raven Rock. I visited him once when I was summoned there by Councilor Morvayn to see if there was anything I could do about the ebony mine. It dried up, you see. Very bad for business. I wanted to ask the wizard if he, perhaps, knew of any magic that might help, but he barely had time to see me. Tried to pass me off to an assistant of his. Useless boy, of course.”

Niernen crossed her arms and sighed as quietly as possible.

“Either way… yes, they grow their towers with magic. I just think they’re showing off. It’s far from practical to have an entirely vertical house. Can’t get up or down without levitation magic, which was of course banned. Why? Do you want to grow a house made out of fungus?” Llerwyn asked and frowned.

“No, no,” Niernen said and gestured dismissively with her hand. “What other magic did they possess? They must have been very powerful in combat if they studied magic their whole lives.”

“Ha!” Llerwyn barked and laughed. “You would think so, but no. The Telvanni tried to close the Oblivion gates during the Crisis, two centuries ago, and failed. You know who succeeded? The Argonians. Chased the Dremora right back where they came from. And then the those lizards ran right over the Telvanni when they invaded Morrowind. It took House Redoran to stop them, as you well know. No, the Telvanni were always far too busy studying the more… hmm, how to put it?” Llerwyn tapped his chin with a bony finger while he mused over his words. “They weren’t content to study the areas of magic defined within the traditional schools of sorcery.”

Pleased that she had managed to coerce her teacher to talk, Niernen sat down on an empty chair next to Llerwyn’s desk. “Like what?” she asked.

“Have you ever heard of Divayth Fyr?”

“No.”

Llerwyn sighed and shook his head, as if disappointed. “Lord Fyr was one of House Telvanni’s most powerful sorcerers. While he wielded great influence he never aspired to political power and refused to join their Council. He wrote several books and there were books written about him too. Like the other wizard-lords he lived in a mushroom tower of his own creation. Below Tel Fyr lay the Corprusiarium, a prison of sorts, where he kept victims of Corprus, the “divine disease” spread by Dagoth Ur. You have heard of Dagoth Ur, I should hope?”

“Of course,” Niernen replied and rolled her eyes.

“Hmph. Either way, Divayth Fyr would experiment on the victims of Corprus in the hopes of creating a cure. He succeeded in at least one case; the Nerevarine himself, who attained immortality in the process.”

Niernen’s eyes widened at this. “Immortality? How?”

“The name “divine disease” wasn’t an empty boast. Fyr theorized that it was actually the physical effect of contact with the divine upon a mortal body, which had both beneficial and extremely detrimental effects. The exact machinations of Corprus remain poorly understood to this day, but Fyr’s concoction successfully nullified the negative effects in Nerevar-Come-Again. Ironically, you could say that he was blessed by Dagoth Ur in the end.”

“Are there other immortals now because of Corprus, too?”

Llerwyn raised his hands and shrugged. “Perhaps, but I don’t think so. It was part of the prophecy that preceded the Nerevarine’s appearance that he would be immune to all diseases, and much like vampirism or lycanthropy, Corprus provided such an immunity.” He cleared his throat and continued, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Prophecies have power, Niernen, especially those uttered by a Daedric Prince. I’m inclined to believe that prophecy was true and the Nerevarine was a special case. As far as I know, everyone who Fyr gave his experimental cure to died instantly.”

Niernen whistled. “How do you know all this?” she asked and tilted her head.

“Because I was alive at the time, of course,” Llerwyn replied and laughed. “That was near the end of the Third Era, so a little over 200 years ago. Dunmer wizards can live for a long time. A little Restoration magic goes a long way. But none lived as long as Divayth Fyr, who was born Chimer and walked this earth for more than 4000 years.”

Dumbfounded, Niernen fell silent.

“And of course your next question is ‘how?’, again,” Llerwyn said, still smiling. “And that’s precisely the core of House Telvanni’s problem: I don’t know. Nobody knows. They did not share knowledge with each other. It was even customary for ambitious Telvanni to assassinate one another to make way for themselves. House Redoran is no stranger to an honorable duel to the death every now and then, like how your ancestor Bolvyn fought and died to the Nerevarine, but not anything like the Telvanni. They were truly ruthless and very, very isolationist. When I receive a letter from a young daughter of an esteemed member of my House to request a position as my apprentice, I acquiesce. A Telvanni lord would have fortified his defenses and hired an assassin. Ours is a much better way to go about things, I believe.”

Niernen thought about this for a few seconds while she looked at her lap. “Is he dead now?” she asked, eyes flitting back up to Llerwyn’s face. “You talk about him in past tense.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the old Dunmer replied. “If anyone could have survived the Red Year, it would be him. I simply haven’t heard anything about him since then. One begins to make assumptions after two hundred years have passed. For all I know he retreated underground, or into Oblivion. Perhaps he lives on the other side of Morrowind in what remains of House Telvanni’s holdings. Or the Argonians got him. Who’s to say?”

Llerwyn looked down at his papers and blinked a few times, his lips mouthing along to his thoughts. “Oh yes!” he muttered quietly and moved to pick up his quill.

“Honestly,” Niernen said and sat up straight in her chair, interrupting Llerwyn’s attempt at resuming his work, “it sounds like Divayth Fyr performed very important research and his magic was useful. He cured the Nerevarine and he lived to be thousands of years old. Imagine what he could tell us about the days of the Chimer?”

“Does that matter?” Llerwyn snarled, suddenly annoyed. “A lot of his efforts were useless and deplorable, too. He made… daughters, female clones of himself, though I’d be more inclined to call them abominations, and he used them as consorts too. Can you imagine?” He looked disgusted. “Either way, his life was his own, that doesn’t matter either -- the point is that he and the other Telvanni couldn’t protect Morrowind. This isn’t the Third Era anymore, Niernen. The Tribunal are gone, the Nerevarine is gone and even the Empire is close to disintegrating again. Whether or not the Telvanni research was important is irrelevant to us because it is not our station to carry it out. We are the defenders of Resdayn. Do you know what you can rely on to carry out that sacred duty? Do you?”

Niernen attempted to respond, but Llerwyn wagged a crooked finger at her and she closed her mouth again.

“Fire and thunder!” the wizard spat, and for a brief moment his eyes lit up with the fury of a much younger elf. The moment went as soon as it came and Llerwyn sank bank in his chair -- he looked so old and frail to Niernen then it was almost as if he was about to disappear into his ornate robes. She stared at him expectantly, eyes wide, picturing how fierce her mentor might have been in his day.

“Bah,” Llerwyn grumbled. “You need not worry. That Telvanni wizard on Solstheim I told you about, Neloth, seems to be carrying on Divayth Fyr’s work. In spirit, anyway. I think he was studying the ash of Red Mountain when I visited him. That’s exactly the kind of nonsense Divayth Fyr would have occupied himself with for a few centuries.”

Then he returned his gaze to his scrolls again, this time with an air of finality about him, shuffling his papers while whispering urgently to himself. Niernen took the hint, excused herself and made her way out of the room. She stopped at the door and turned to look over her shoulder at the elder Othado, but he did not spare her another glance. She exhaled sharply through her nose and looked away. The younger Othado should be around somewhere too. Niernen wondered if he was as fierce as Llerwyn might have been. Smiling to herself, she left the old wizard to his devices.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

_{Featuring the immaculate @Spoopy Scary skeletons.}

Two days ago, on the 3rd of Sun’s Height, 4E205
Solitude, Skyrim
Aboard the Kyne’s Tear

“Is this going to leave a scar?” Narzul asked, frowning as he looked down at his abdomen in the dim light of the ship’s hold. The cabin was small and cramped, filled with barrels and sacks of goods and provisions that left room for only a small bed upon which the Dunmer sat. Niernen hovered over him, having gingerly unwrapped the bandages she’d applied, and prodded her brother’s wound with her fingers. It was the only blemish on his muscular torso. Niernen had always admired (and been envious of) her brother’s dedication to his physical prowess and he somehow looked even bigger than when she left Morrowind a month ago. Niernen sighed at the thought; she was thinner than she’d ever been.

Focusing on the here and now, Niernen continued her work. She would have gladly let Do’Karth (the company’s official combat medic) tend to Narzul, were it not for him protesting so venomously to the idea of being touched by ‘that filthy cat’ that it clearly wasn’t an option. She had swallowed her retort. Narzul’s racism continued to infuriate her, but she spared him her anger while he was injured. It was enough humiliation for him that he had to be rescued by Sadri on two separate occasions during their misadventure at Bleakrock Isle and she knew better than to try and teach Narzul anything while he was upset. That had never worked.

“Probably,” Niernen replied, and smiled apologetically at Narzul’s sigh of frustration. It had been a point of pride for twenty years that the Redoran warrior had gone through life almost entirely unscathed, but that streak was coming to an end. Niernen had been able to stop the internal bleeding and prevent the wound from being infected, but properly mending everything back together was beyond her skill. During the ritualistic duels that the captain of the Armiger outpost had them conduct, Narzul had fought and killed two of the enemy in succession but sustained a heavy injury in doing so. The second Armiger’s spear had punched through Narzul’s iron plate armor and made quite a mess. “If a real healer had been there when it happened it would have healed without a scar, but now…” she added.

“If I had some real armor then this wouldn’t have happened,” Narzul said, and stared darkly at the mismatched suit of iron and steel that rested on the bed next to him, the different pieces stacked on top of each other. He was used to wearing the finest protection the Redoran smiths could offer; the ebony armor he wore in Black Marsh would have easily stopped the Armiger’s spear. Niernen shrugged, straightened up and began to unwrap the bandages around Narzul’s right arm. He winced but she shushed him to be quiet.

Pleased with her handiwork there, Niernen smiled. This was the wound Narzul had sustained earlier, when he was fighting an Armiger after tumbling down a ravine when the bridge that crossed it had collapsed. “This looks much better, though. I don’t think you’ll see much of a scar on your arm once Wylendriel is done. You can at least go sleeveless without embarrassing yourself,” she teased. She took a look at the scrape on Narzul’s brow (from the aforementioned fall) but that minor wound had healed perfectly, leaving no trace.

Narzul scowled. “Not funny.”

There was a light knock rapping at the cabin door, capturing both of the siblings’ attention before the door was opened, revealing the short stature of the Wylendriel who was wrapped up in her typical green and brown robes comprised of wool, furs, and leathers. She slowly stepped forward before the two of them, looking at Narzul with an expression of unfamiliarity and glanced between the siblings, as if trying to find the resemblance between the two.

“Lady Venim.” Wylendriel addressed in a breathy and faintly trembling voice with the slight bow of her head. She then looked to Narzul, “Ah… Sir Venim, I presume?”

The priestess didn’t know of the proper dunmeri honorifics, and based on what little she has heard of this fellow from his sister, she had a feeling she was going to learn what they were very soon. She stepped closer and leaned in, appraising handiwork of the bandaging without touching. They were suitable and served its purpose she supposed, if a bit sloppy. It wasn’t of the same tidiness like the bandages Niernen was wearing when they first met in Dawnstar. She heard that perhaps they thought it would be best if it was Niernen who kept at his bedside, but in the end, it wasn’t her specialty. Wylendriel only hoped that her brother’s racial pride would at least allow another mer to take care of his injuries.

Narzul narrowed his eyes at the sight of Wylendriel, then glanced at his sister. She had neglected to inform him that the priestess was a Bosmer; a race that Narzul had very little dealings with, and plenty of prejudices about. “Serjo Venim,” he corrected her, his voice sharp.

Immediately exasperated, Niernen slapped Narzul’s shoulder and hissed at him to behave, then smiled at Wylendriel. “Thank you for coming, and don’t mind him,” she said and waved a hand at Narzul. “He gets cranky when he’s injured.”

Her brother tensed up and his irritation was clearly written all over his face, but his desire to be healed was stronger than his frustration and he exhaled slowly. “Indeed,” he muttered, “so be careful.”

Niernen almost slapped him again, but thought better of it. “Go ahead,” she said softly to Wylendriel and made room for the bosmer priestess to tend to Narzul, shuffling closer to the door. The priestess nodded and closed her eyes as she focused her magicka into her hands. They were soon aglow with a soft white light with a disease curing spell so that her hands were disinfected, before a harsher, brilliant yellow light consumed them. Wylendriel took a few steps closer and sat on the chair beside his bed, looking intensely at her latest patient’s injury.

“Take a deep breath and try tensing where it hurts.” She said, trying to give him a toothy smile. “It helps the muscles stitch themselves back together.”

Upon seeing Wylendriel’s sharp teeth -- all of them -- Narzul winced, despite himself, and pulled back from her touch. “Ayem’s mercy,” he hissed, eyes flitting between Wylendriel and Niernen. “You people eat each other!” Narzul shook his head and threw up his hands. “I can’t go along with this, Niernen. Find me another healer. This one… who are you a priestess of, anyway?” he asked, his tone venomous.

Wylendriel’s head swiveled around, her eyes shooting daggers at Niernen and paired with a sardonic smile. Quite obviously unamused and annoyed with her new patient’s attitude, she took in a deep breath and slowly sighed as she tried to maintain her temper and control her urges. The audacity! This mer was on the brink of being bedridden for the rest of his damned life, and he’s getting fussy with what kind of healer he gets? She looked back at Narzul and feigned as understanding a look as best as she muster, but ultimately it came off as condescending.

“I worship my lady, Kynareth, and the Storyteller, Y’ffre.” She affirmed. “And I do follow the Green Pact, but cannibalism has fallen out of common practice for as long as since the Second Era. I’m not going to eat you, roth vendan.”

Niernen mustered her best apologetic look. Now that she had made room for Wylendriel to tend to Narzul she was out of range to slap him again -- not that it would matter, she realised. He was so stuck in his ways. It must have been the difference in their education and the proximity to their father that had caused their beliefs to diverge so strongly, Niernen thought, and wondered if she would have turned out like her brother if their positions had been reversed.

“Very well,” Narzul muttered after a few seconds and moved back into position, sitting up straight so that Wylendriel could properly heal his abdomen. He tried to remember which one Kynareth was (Y’ffre he had never even heard of) and settled on the deity of life and death. It seemed most appropriate for a healer. In Morrowind the Temple priests were responsible for both physical and spiritual healing and the cremation of the dead, so Narzul assumed that was the case with the western gods too.

He still had to resist the urge to flinch when her glowing fingers touched his side. It felt wrong, unclean, that he was being touched in such a vulnerable place by what he thought to be a race of woodland savages. “So which one of your parents is the Imga, your mother or your father?” he asked and sneered at the thought.

A burning, seething rage was welling up in her chest, that kind the almost makes you sick to your stomach. In the middle of this procedure, there was no way for Wylendriel to cope with it using her usual methods - usually taking her hands back and clenching them into fists for as long and tight as she could - so she felt her fingers began to twitch. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt that it would serve this mer right if she set him in his place right here and now while he was vulnerable. At the same time, part of her felt bad for even thinking of it.

“Both of my parents are Spinners of Valenwood and they deserve respect.” She grumbled, her voice slightly trembling.

Narzul could see that he was getting a rise out of Wylendriel; carried away by the momentum of his supremely sour mood and his distaste for the whole situation, he ignored the furious gaze of his sister warning him to shut up and said: “That may be, but you still haven’t told me which one is the Imga.”

Wylenriel’s eye twitched for a second, then glared at Narzul dead in the eyes, not sparing a single glance at Niernen this time. Venomous words at the tip of her tongue, but she held them. There was a split second where she thought about all the things she could do to him at this moment, and part of her really wanted to make this as painful a process as possible for Narzul… but she decided against it. Not while Niernen was here.

The priestess lost her temper all the same however, and suddenly stood up from where she was sitting and planted the open palm of her left hand against Narzul’s chest. She was forcing him down with all of her weight as the yellow glow that was surrounding her hand slowly began shifting into green. While her right hand continued healing his wounds, the other felt like it was slowly sapping away his energy and stamina.

While her brother’s eyes widened in anger and, though he’d never admit it, a twinge of fear, Niernen recognised the magic Wylendriel was using and barked out a laugh.

“Niernen!” Narzul hissed as his limbs lost their strength faster than he could resist. “Stop this!”

She shook her head. “Oh no, brother-mine, you deserve this. Now shut up and stop being such an n’wah. Wylendriel is a friend and you will treat her with respect.”

Her brother fell silent, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. It was as if by sapping his energy Wylendriel had also drained him of his anger. He clenched his jaw and tried to ball his fists, but his fingers failed him. “I’m…” he began, but stopped. While he still didn’t much like the idea of the wood elves, he realized how childish and stupid it was to insult one to her face. “I should not have said that,” he managed.

“I think you’re right.” Wylendriel said sardonically, still not relieving him of her hand. “What was that you said before? You’re what?”

Niernen crossed her arms, frowned and smiled at the same time. It was both amusing (and gratifying) to see her brother in such a state of helplessness for a change, but there was also something discomforting about it. He had always seemed invincible to her when they were younger. It was sobering to realize that even Narzul was just another mortal.

“That’s all you’ll get from me, witch,” Narzul replied, his voice flat and strained. His eyes moved to meet Wylendriel’s again and he held her gaze this time. They stared off at one another for a brief moment before the priestess sighed.

“Well, in that case…” she began as she pulled her hands back, the magical auras that once surrounded them now dissipating, “that’s all you’re getting from me. Your injuries are mostly healed now, you’ll just have to settle with the aches and pains for a little while longer.”

She turned around with her mind apparently set on the matter and started walking toward the end of the room where Niernen, giving her an apologetic expression that was somewhat tarnished by her temper, characterized by her lack of eye contact. Only after a moment of hesitation did she say, “I apologize, there’s nothing more I can do for him.”

“Don’t apologize,” Niernen said, her voice low so that Narzul couldn’t hear. “You’ve done more than he deserves right now. I’ll talk with him and make sure this never happens again.” She put a hand on Wylendriel’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

For his part, Narzul kept his tongue and remained where he was while his strength slowly came back to him. If his wounds were healed, that was good enough. The aches and pains would serve as a reminder of the failure of his sword-arm and the failure of his temper, and perhaps that’s what he needed right now.

Wylendriel recoiled a little bit at Niernen’s touch at first, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she closed her eyes and took in every second of the moment. It was as if she wasn’t just squeezing her shoulder, but also wringing out the stress and the tension that’s been building up inside her. She hasn’t felt the same ever since they left Dawnstar, so she had to try every moment she could to find some semblance of peace. The priestess took in a deep breath and sharply exhaled, finally opening her eyes and looking up with a slight smile on her face at the taller dunmer woman.

Placing a hand of her own on top of hers, she said with an awkward chuckle, “Can’t say it was my pleasure, but you are more than welcome to come to me for anything. Thank you for your kindness.”

As she brushed past Niernen and opened the cabin door to the deck of the ship, she bemoaned, “Well... another hour, another wound. Let me know if you’d like me to teach you that trick I just did. Maybe it could come in handy for you.”

Niernen couldn’t help but smile widely at the offer. The joy she felt at the simple, honest reprieve of interacting with a kind soul was writ upon her face. “That would be great! I’ll let you know when I’m ready, we’ll carve out some time and sit down for it.” She waved at Wylendriel as the Bosmer made her way topside, then turned around to face her brother.

“You! Narzul Venim, I swear to Azura, you are unbelievable.”

Narzul rolled his eyes. “Here we go…”

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Niernen Venim

Niernen Venim

Female Dunmer | 31 | The Serpent

Profile

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§ Birthplace

Blacklight, Morrowind.

§ Appearance

Though probably not everyone's cup of tea, Niernen is an attractive woman by Dunmeri standards. Her eyes are large and expressive and have an unusual coppery hue to them, diluting the crimson iris that is so characteristic of her race. They are supported by prominent cheekbones; beneath that, Niernen's face narrows sharply, sporting a small chin and gaunt cheeks, though her jawline is well-defined. A ruddy scar runs over her left eye and cheek, almost touching the corner of her mouth. Niernen's lips are lush and display a peaked Cupid's bow. All that said, her ashen skin has become even more pale after her suffering at the hands of the Kamal and her face has thinned remarkably from weeks of starvation.

While she takes pride in (and good care of) her hair, which is long and dark, the lustrous shine has faded and the split ends are too many to count. Niernen usually wears it swept back, tucked away behind her ears from where it cascades down to her shoulders, but it has a habit of swinging this way and that during combat and she has ended up looking like a disheveled madwoman more than once.

Her once rather conventional body has undergone rapid weight loss and it shows; her skin hangs a little loose around her frame and her bones shine through in more places than they should. If one got the chance to see her undressed they'd be able to spot faint scarring on her chest, abdomen and back, caused by wicked Argonian warblades, but these blemishes are overshadowed by severe bruising from more recent injuries that just doesn’t want to seem to heal. Niernen stands at 5'6", which makes her rather short for a Dunmeri woman.

Everything about her, from the intense, wary look in her eyes to the incessant tremor in her hands and even the state of her clothes, screams ‘traumatized’, which is absolutely true. She walks with a limp, constantly scans her surroundings and jumps at shadows. When presented with actual danger, however, one of two things can happen: she either panics and shuts down, or is fueled by an immense, all-consuming wrath that would frighten even the most hardened veteran, streams of searing flames shooting from her hands as torrid arcs of electricity dance around her form. So, while her smile and laugh are both beautiful and infectious, Niernen can’t help but to make those around her wary with her own paranoia. One can only hope that she will find peace someday.

§ Personality

By nature, Niernen is resourceful, intelligent, witty, stubborn and kind-hearted. These traits are all inherent to her mind and personality and haven't changed over the years. She takes to new knowledge quickly, enjoys conversing at an engaging level, is quick to improvise when faced with problems, becomes nearly impossible to sway after she's made up her mind about a course of action, and tries to treat the people she meets with respect and compassion -- even 'outlanders'. She never thought highly of the xenophobia inherent to the Dunmer of Morrowind.

However, the course of her life has seriously damaged her, both emotionally and physically, and she is a shadow of the woman she was. While still headstrong, she used to be far more so and has relented a lot after her injuries in Blackmarsh. Her confidence was already significantly shaken by the whole ordeal and she struggles to regain her former level of self-assuredness, but brutality suffered at the hands of the Kamal have put another, even larger dent in her. Without moral and emotional support of her friends and comrades Niernen would undoubtedly relapse into powerful depression and anxiety, and she is vulnerable to horrific nightmares, flashbacks and a near-constant sense of paranoia.

As for interpersonal relationships, Niernen gets along well with most people except Argonians and still finds it difficult to look at them, let alone have a proper conversation, due to strong feelings of guilt. The struggles she is dealing with internally (something that can only be described as post-traumatic stress disorder and soldier's remorse) make it difficult for her to be entirely honest about who she is, but she craves understanding and compassion all the same. This creates a deep-seated sense of vulnerability that she struggles to cope with.

She's proud of her magical abilities and relies on them heavily, refusing to carry physical weapons into combat, and resorts to telekinesis for heavy lifting. Because she was born into a wealthy, aristocratic family Niernen used to have no idea what it's like to be a peasant and would occasionally make off-the-cuff remarks that reflect this ignorance, but her experiences as a slave of the Kamal have grounded her firmly into the misery of the unwashed masses. Her greatest pleasures were fine dining, magical discoveries and moonlit nights, but now she is simply thankful for every moment of peace, however uncomfortable it may be -- it is always better than the horrors she has endured.

She worships the Reclamations, particularly Azura, but her faith is wavering.

§ Background

Born to parents that held influential positions in House Redoran, Niernen Venim came second to a favored son. Her birth under the sign of the Serpent was considered bad omen by Redoran traditions, and hopes for Niernen weren't high. Though she was by no means ever abused, her brother Narzul was a tough act to follow and her parents could be blind in their devotion. Niernen was always quietly bitter about this but didn't act out against her brother in any way; in fact, she was very fond of him herself. Besides, it wasn't his fault he was such a good son.

While Narzul was rather obviously being groomed to take his father's place as House Father, Niernen was left mostly to her own devices and became determined to excel somewhere her brother didn't. Narzul's martial prowess was stellar, as befitting a son of House Redoran, but Niernen's short stature and natural ineptitude with weapons prevented her from matching up to him. It is often said that Dunmer have three talents; the blade, the shadow and the flame. Niernen wanted to focus on the last.

Whether a sign of love or casual disregard Niernen couldn't figure out, but her parents allowed her to pursue an education in Destruction magic with the war-wizards of House Redoran. She traveled all over Morrowind for this, apprenticing for several such war-wizards. Because of their rarity, they were posted all over the province. One of them was able to teach her a little about Conjuration as well, especially how to summon and bound a Flame Atronach, and they all knew a little Alteration for general utility. A sympathetic Temple Priest taught her a few things about Restoration.

Niernen returned to Blacklight when she was 27. She was now reasonably skilled, far from a master, but remarkable for her age nonetheless. For the first time in her life, Niernen got to experience what it was like for her father to be impressed by something she had achieved after demonstrating her Flame Cloak spell. Narzul had risen to the rank of House Cousin on his own merits by now and the two siblings remained very supportive of each other.

Life seemed to trundle along on its scheduled course when the Nerevarine unexpectedly returned to Morrowind, intending to take the title of High King. Niernen was far too young to have been alive when the Nerevarine first appeared but she'd grown up with the stories, of course -- her ancestor, Bolvyn Venim, had been Archmaster of House Redoran at the time, and the Nerevarine had murdered him in a duel for that title. The Venim family never forgave the Nerevarine for that act, and while he was worshiped as a saint in the Dunmeri pantheon Niernen's father disapproved highly of the Nerevarine's claim to the throne. Openly opposing him was political suicide, however, so this particular Redoran family was forced to watch as the Nerevarine wrestled power away from their Great House (again) and became High King of all the Dunmer people.

Her father expected some kind of aggression from the Nerevarine towards the Venim family, but none came. Perhaps the Nerevarine had forgotten about the last name of the man he had to slay in his quest to become Hortator -- Bolvyn Venim was, after all, merely one of many on a mound of corpses the Neverarine had left in his wake. Seeing no reason to further hold that event against her new High King, Niernen obeyed the decree to aid in the rebuilding of the province, much to her father's chagrin. She didn't do it because she cared about the province, really, or the Nerevarine's ambitions. No, she merely wanted to prove the usefulness of her arcane studies. Narzul also participated, though this was decided to be politically necessary if the Venim family was to remain relevant. The two traveled to the south of Morrowind with a contingent of the Redoran army and joined the raids on Black Marsh.

Determination alone wasn't enough to completely repell the horrors of war. Niernen had never raised her magic against another person before and she was having difficulty processing the consequences. Narzul would lead the charge against the Argonians while Niernen and a conjured Flame Atronach lobbed fireballs at designated targets from a safe distance. From so far away it wasn't so bad, but being confronted with the charred, twisted corpses of Argonians she encountered on the battlefield afterwards haunted her dreams. Narzul was blind to her turmoil and merely proud of his sister, Niernen the battlemage.

It was fantastic practice however, and Niernen continued to develop her skills rapidly. She contributed significantly to a victory in the fight for Stormhold's gates, blanketing the area just inside the city walls with flames through a small hole in the gate, forcing the Argonian defenders back and allowing siege units to knock the gate down. Niernen started making a real name for herself and saw herself rise through the ranks of House Redoran on her own merits. This, and the encouragement from her brother, was enough for Niernen to persist.

Misfortune struck during an assault near the city of Thorn. The thick jungle-marsh prevented the Dunmer from anticipating a flanking strike and Niernen was almost asssassinated by a pair of Shadowscales. The two Argonians killed Niernen's bodyguards in the initial strike and struck her with quick jabs from their twisted daggers. Overcome with adrenaline, Niernen seared them both with gouts of hot flame, burning brighter than they ever had, but the Shadowscales were high on Hist sap and unstoppable. Within seconds, Niernen had been stabbed several times, including a horrific gash in the left side of her face, and collapsed. One of the Shadowscales made the mistake of stabbing the Flame Atronach through the chest; it exploded violently, killing the Argonians and knocking Niernen unconscious.

Narzul, having heard the detonation, abandoned his post at the head of the battle and rushed to save his sister. A retreat was organized and the Redoran army back off from Thorn momentarily. Niernen's life was saved by the combined efforts of seven Temple Priests; the daggers used to wound her were coated with a potent poison that was rapidly turning her insides to goop and an enormous amount of magicka was required to reverse the damage.

Alas, Niernen would never be quite the same. She was permanently weakened and her entire body hurt if she overexerted herself. Narzul was reprimanded for his actions in putting his sister's life over the success of the entire battle, but allowed to remain. Niernen was sent home with a commendation for valor in the face of mortal danger, but it was merely a small comfort. She was ashamed of having been a burden to her brother and traumatized by the near-death experience; the images of the Shadowscales, moving like frenzied blurs to inflict maximum damage, undeterred by the fire eating away at their flesh, was never far from her mind's eye. It took her more than a year to recover enough to start leaving the house in Blacklight. At first, short walks would leave her exhausted and gasping for air, but by the start of 4E 204 she had regained most of her former range of mobility, provided she didn't start to run. Most of the scarring had faded away except for the cut over her eye. It wasn't considered life-threatening at the time so little magicka was dedicated to repairing the damage by the Temple Priests, and it was too difficult to fix after the fact.

In 4E 205, the decree was lifted and Narzul returned home. He had served with distinction and replaced his father as House Father of the Great House Redoran, who gladly retired and started dedicating his time to literary pursuits and woodcrafting.

Tired of sitting at home like some kind of sickly woman, Niernen resolved to resume traveling and developing her abilities. She was also determined to face her fears and overcome them; it seemed to her that the nightmares weren't going away on their own. Narzul protested fiercely but Niernen had made up her mind. She promised to be cautious and brought one of the family's Nix-hounds with her, a fine specimen named Garm, who could protect her during a spell of weakness. Niernen traveled west, to Skyrim, and found herself applying for a mercenary company in the city of Windhelm, somewhat to her own bewilderment.

This turned out to be an act of supremely poor timing, as Skyrim was invaded by Akaviri forces for the first time in hundreds of years the very day after she joined Ashav's company. Niernen helped defend the docks of Windhelm against the invaders and, working together with a brave and agile Khajiit known as Do'Karth, she scored two kills against the enormous, hulking monsters. They successfully repelled the initial assault but their success was short-lived. Windhelm fell to the overwhelmingly superior Kamal forces within twenty-four hours. The Company retreated but Niernen lost them in the chaos as she fell into a sewer when the ground collapsed beneath her feet. Her panicked flight carried her out of the city and into the frozen wilderness, where she was pursued by the Kamal and their horrifying, arachnidian mounts. After being surrounded and left with nowhere to run, Niernen used a scroll she had been given by one of her mentors to summon a ravenous firestorm. The Kamal were incinerated where they stood, melting away into clouds of mist, and Niernen lived to fight another day. Her Nix-hound, Garm, loyal to a fault, died defending her against the Kamal, and for the first time in her life Niernen was utterly alone.

And that spelled trouble. She was intercepted and captured by Armigers on her way to Morrowind on the suspicion of "treason". It was from them that she learned the Kamal had been brought to the shores of Tamriel by the Nerevarine, High King of Morrowind, the very leader whose decree she had so loyally carried out in Black Marsh. The Armigers sold her to the Kamal to be used as a slave aboard one of their soul-powered frigates. She was enslaved aboard this ship, forced to perform manual labor with the other captives (most of them fellow Dunmer) in the hold of the ship, suffering regular beatings at the hands of a particularly large and cruel Kamal. She managed to maintain hope (and her sanity) by remembering the mercenaries, especially Do'Karth, and dreaming she would see them again someday. When fearless (but foolish) pirates attacked the frigate she and and another Dunmer named Valen were able to escape in a raft, which left them bobbing about the Sea of Ghosts without direction -- but at least they were free. They came upon a small island chain and made landfall, where an almost unbelievable bout of luck brought her face to face with someone she thought she'd never see again: Ashav, and his company too. The island chain turned out to be home to an ancient Dwemer armory and Niernen accompanied the mercenaries down into the darkness. Her reunion with Do'Karth was a tearful, joyous encounter, but it became tinged with a hollow feeling of sorrow when she learned that the Khajiit had become lovers with a Nord woman named Sevine.

Not that there was much time to dwell upon that. After fighting with a group of Ashlander treasure hunters and a bunch of Dwemer automatons the Company was able to achieve their mission, retrieving powerful Dwemer ballistae that they mounted on their ship. Those weapons immediately became worth their weight in gold when the very Kamal frigate that Niernen and Valen had escaped from hunted them down at sea. Valen died in the ensuing naval battle, pulled beneath the waves by a dying Kamal, and Niernen's torture was avenged when a trio of her allies killed the large Kamal taskmaster that had beaten her so often. Once again confronted with the deaths around her of people she couldn't save, Niernen sank even deeper into despair.

After some much-needed rest in Dawnstar, their next mission saw them heading to Bleakrock Isle, an outpost of the Nerevarine-allied Armigers. What was supposed to be a mission of stealth quickly turned south when their cover was blown and they had to high-tail it out of there after a series of horrible ritual deathmatches, in which Niernen had to watch as Narzul cut down two Armigers before being severely wounded himself. She stabilized Narzul's wounds as best she could, but they did not reunite with the rest of the Company (that had remained behind in Dawnstar) until they reached Solitude, having set sail for the city after a Dreamsleeve message from Gustav. Now they plan to retreat even further west, desperately in need of a win. How much more can Niernen take?

Capabilities

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§ Attributes

Major: Intelligence.
Minor: Willpower.

§ Skills

Expert: Destruction.
Adept: Alteration and Conjuration.
Apprentice: Restoration, Light Armor, Alchemy.
Novice: Tailoring, Speech, Dunmeris.

§ Weaknesses

Foot in the Grave: Niernen came so close to death after the Shadowscale assassination attempt that she never fully recovered. The poisons took a hefty toll on her physical fortitude, reducing her strength to that of a child's and her endurance to that of an elder with rockjoint. She cannot march long distances, lift anything heavier than an axe or throw something larger than a coconut. Most of these inconveniences can be worked around with magic, but she's dead weight after her magicka is spent. Riding on horseback also doesn't solve the long-distance travel problem entirely, as it takes a lot of energy to merely stay seated; carriages, on the other hand, are ideal.

The Horror, The Horror: Niernen hasn't overcome the mental trauma of the brutality she has suffered at the hands of her enemies during her life. Her recent capture and enslavement by the Kamal was possibly even worse than her near-death experience in Black Marsh, and she is now definitely nearing the edge of insanity. Already reliant on others to protect her from physical harm, she has now also become highly susceptible to flashbacks, panic attacks and fits of extreme rage.

§ Spells

Destruction: Niernen commands most Fire-variety Destruction spells, though she favors Fireball from a distance and Incinerate on closer targets. Wall of Flames sees occasional use in large confrontations. Fire Storm is beyond her grasp. With great concentration, she can create fierce flames that burn so hot it causes an involuntary retreat in most targets, mimicking the Intense Flames perk from Skyrim.

Alteration: Telekinesis, Magelight and Detect Life for general utility. Stoneflesh in a pinch.

Conjuration: Flame Atronach, Flaming Familiar.

Restoration: Fast Healing, Healing Hands, Turn Lesser Undead.

§ Tactics

Niernen staunchly refuses to engage her enemies up close unless absolutely forced to. She prefers to lob Fireballs at her enemies from a distance, preferably from a high vantage point, in support of other armed forces. She will often summon a Flame Atronach to double the rate of fire. She has never wielded a weapon into battle and isn't about to start now; not that it would do much good, what with her condition. If presented with an overwhelming force her tactic is to spray Wall of Flames as far as possible and retreat.

That said, the power of Niernen's spells seems to be fueled by her anger, and particularly intense moments of wrath have seen her incinerating her enemies at close range with searing gouts of superheated plasma and even blasting them apart with concussive detonations.

She has recently discovered the more offensive uses of telekinesis magic and has begun to incorporate that into her repertoire of spells.

§ Relations & Affiliations

Narzul, and the rest of the Venim family in Blacklight. She was on friendly terms with all of her magic teachers when she left them, though some of them probably don't even remember her anymore.

§ Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

§ Other

Niernen's heavenly virtue is Charity. Her deadly sin Envy.

Inventory

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§ Cash

None at the moment.

§ Keys & Lockpicks

No lockpicks. Several keys, to such places as her house in Blacklight and the family coffers.

§ Tools & Crafting Materials

A needle and some thread.

§ Clothing & Armor

Niernen wears a traditional Dunmer tunic over a set of form-fitting, lightweight leather armor, sans the helmet. She picked up a pale gray traveling cloak during her escape from Windhelm and she now wears it around her shoulders. It's clasped at her throat and so large that it obscures her form completely if she withdraws her arms beneath the folds of the robe and the large hood can hide her face in the dark.

§ Weapon & Ammo

None.

§ Potions & Arcane Supplies

Five small, thin vials to hold magicka potions (currently filled) and the ingredients to make more in a pouch at her waist, though she lacks the equipment to do so while on the road. She stuffed a handful of filled soul gems into her pockets that she found in the armory of Bthamz that she hasn't found a purpose -- or an enchanter -- for yet.

§ Jewelry & Valuables

A Redoran signet ring on the ring finger of her left hand and a necklace given to her by her brother. She also carries a rosette, awarded for valor in the face of mortal danger, in her breast pocket. The signet ring is enchanted with a mild feather effect to help counteract the weakness of her condition.

§ Books & Documents

She lost all of her books and currently travels paperless.

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients

A hip flask with sujamma to help calm her nerves and some beef jerky.

§ Load Bearing Equipment

Several waist pouches to hold her alchemical ingredients, potion vials and money. Niernen also had a leather backpack that held her books and her map, but these have been lost.

§ Other

Nothing I can think of.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Niernen Venim

Niernen Venim

Female Dunmer | 31 | The Serpent

Profile

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§ Birthplace

Blacklight, Morrowind.

§ Appearance

Though probably not everyone's cup of tea, Niernen is an attractive woman by Dunmeri standards. Her eyes are large and expressive and have an unusual coppery hue to them, diluting the crimson iris that is so characteristic of her race. They are supported by prominent cheekbones; beneath that, Niernen's face narrows sharply, sporting a small chin and gaunt cheeks, though her jawline is well-defined. A ruddy scar runs over her left eye and cheek, almost touching the corner of her mouth. Niernen's lips are lush and display a peaked Cupid's bow. All that said, her ashen skin has become even more pale after her suffering at the hands of the Kamal and her face has thinned remarkably from weeks of starvation.

While she takes pride in (and good care of) her hair, which is long and dark, the lustrous shine has faded and the split ends are too many to count. Niernen usually wears it swept back, tucked away behind her ears from where it cascades down to her shoulders, but it has a habit of swinging this way and that during combat and she has ended up looking like a disheveled madwoman more than once.

Her once rather conventional body has undergone rapid weight loss and it shows; her skin hangs a little loose around her frame and her bones shine through in more places than they should. If one got the chance to see her undressed they'd be able to spot faint scarring on her chest, abdomen and back, caused by wicked Argonian warblades, but these blemishes are overshadowed by severe bruising from more recent injuries that just doesn’t want to seem to heal. Niernen stands at 5'6", which makes her rather short for a Dunmeri woman.

Everything about her, from the intense, wary look in her eyes to the incessant tremor in her hands and even the state of her clothes, screams ‘traumatized’, which is absolutely true. She walks with a limp, constantly scans her surroundings and jumps at shadows. When presented with actual danger, however, one of two things can happen: she either panics and shuts down, or is fueled by an immense, all-consuming wrath that would frighten even the most hardened veteran, streams of searing flames shooting from her hands as torrid arcs of electricity dance around her form. So, while her smile and laugh are both beautiful and infectious, Niernen can’t help but to make those around her wary with her own paranoia. One can only hope that she will find peace someday.

§ Personality

By nature, Niernen is resourceful, intelligent, witty, stubborn and kind-hearted. These traits are all inherent to her mind and personality and haven't changed over the years. She takes to new knowledge quickly, enjoys conversing at an engaging level, is quick to improvise when faced with problems, becomes nearly impossible to sway after she's made up her mind about a course of action, and tries to treat the people she meets with respect and compassion -- even 'outlanders'. She never thought highly of the xenophobia inherent to the Dunmer of Morrowind.

However, the course of her life has seriously damaged her, both emotionally and physically, and she is a shadow of the woman she was. While still headstrong, she used to be far more so and has relented a lot after her injuries in Blackmarsh. Her confidence was already significantly shaken by the whole ordeal and she struggles to regain her former level of self-assuredness, but brutality suffered at the hands of the Kamal have put another, even larger dent in her. Without moral and emotional support of her friends and comrades Niernen would undoubtedly relapse into powerful depression and anxiety, and she is vulnerable to horrific nightmares, flashbacks and a near-constant sense of paranoia.

As for interpersonal relationships, Niernen gets along well with most people except Argonians and still finds it difficult to look at them, let alone have a proper conversation, due to strong feelings of guilt. The struggles she is dealing with internally (something that can only be described as post-traumatic stress disorder and soldier's remorse) make it difficult for her to be entirely honest about who she is, but she craves understanding and compassion all the same. This creates a deep-seated sense of vulnerability that she struggles to cope with.

She's proud of her magical abilities and relies on them heavily, refusing to carry physical weapons into combat, and resorts to telekinesis for heavy lifting. Because she was born into a wealthy, aristocratic family Niernen used to have no idea what it's like to be a peasant and would occasionally make off-the-cuff remarks that reflect this ignorance, but her experiences as a slave of the Kamal have grounded her firmly into the misery of the unwashed masses. Her greatest pleasures were fine dining, magical discoveries and moonlit nights, but now she is simply thankful for every moment of peace, however uncomfortable it may be -- it is always better than the horrors she has endured.

She worships the Reclamations, particularly Azura, but her faith is wavering.

§ Background

Born to parents that held influential positions in House Redoran, Niernen Venim came second to a favored son. Her birth under the sign of the Serpent was considered bad omen by Redoran traditions, and hopes for Niernen weren't high. Though she was by no means ever abused, her brother Narzul was a tough act to follow and her parents could be blind in their devotion. Niernen was always quietly bitter about this but didn't act out against her brother in any way; in fact, she was very fond of him herself. Besides, it wasn't his fault he was such a good son.

While Narzul was rather obviously being groomed to take his father's place as House Father, Niernen was left mostly to her own devices and became determined to excel somewhere her brother didn't. Narzul's martial prowess was stellar, as befitting a son of House Redoran, but Niernen's short stature and natural ineptitude with weapons prevented her from matching up to him. It is often said that Dunmer have three talents; the blade, the shadow and the flame. Niernen wanted to focus on the last.

Whether a sign of love or casual disregard Niernen couldn't figure out, but her parents allowed her to pursue an education in Destruction magic with the war-wizards of House Redoran. She traveled all over Morrowind for this, apprenticing for several such war-wizards. Because of their rarity, they were posted all over the province. One of them was able to teach her a little about Conjuration as well, especially how to summon and bound a Flame Atronach, and they all knew a little Alteration for general utility. A sympathetic Temple Priest taught her a few things about Restoration.

Niernen returned to Blacklight when she was 27. She was now reasonably skilled, far from a master, but remarkable for her age nonetheless. For the first time in her life, Niernen got to experience what it was like for her father to be impressed by something she had achieved after demonstrating her Flame Cloak spell. Narzul had risen to the rank of House Cousin on his own merits by now and the two siblings remained very supportive of each other.

Life seemed to trundle along on its scheduled course when the Nerevarine unexpectedly returned to Morrowind, intending to take the title of High King. Niernen was far too young to have been alive when the Nerevarine first appeared but she'd grown up with the stories, of course -- her ancestor, Bolvyn Venim, had been Archmaster of House Redoran at the time, and the Nerevarine had murdered him in a duel for that title. The Venim family never forgave the Nerevarine for that act, and while he was worshiped as a saint in the Dunmeri pantheon Niernen's father disapproved highly of the Nerevarine's claim to the throne. Openly opposing him was political suicide, however, so this particular Redoran family was forced to watch as the Nerevarine wrestled power away from their Great House (again) and became High King of all the Dunmer people.

Her father expected some kind of aggression from the Nerevarine towards the Venim family, but none came. Perhaps the Nerevarine had forgotten about the last name of the man he had to slay in his quest to become Hortator -- Bolvyn Venim was, after all, merely one of many on a mound of corpses the Neverarine had left in his wake. Seeing no reason to further hold that event against her new High King, Niernen obeyed the decree to aid in the rebuilding of the province, much to her father's chagrin. She didn't do it because she cared about the province, really, or the Nerevarine's ambitions. No, she merely wanted to prove the usefulness of her arcane studies. Narzul also participated, though this was decided to be politically necessary if the Venim family was to remain relevant. The two traveled to the south of Morrowind with a contingent of the Redoran army and joined the raids on Black Marsh.

Determination alone wasn't enough to completely repell the horrors of war. Niernen had never raised her magic against another person before and she was having difficulty processing the consequences. Narzul would lead the charge against the Argonians while Niernen and a conjured Flame Atronach lobbed fireballs at designated targets from a safe distance. From so far away it wasn't so bad, but being confronted with the charred, twisted corpses of Argonians she encountered on the battlefield afterwards haunted her dreams. Narzul was blind to her turmoil and merely proud of his sister, Niernen the battlemage.

It was fantastic practice however, and Niernen continued to develop her skills rapidly. She contributed significantly to a victory in the fight for Stormhold's gates, blanketing the area just inside the city walls with flames through a small hole in the gate, forcing the Argonian defenders back and allowing siege units to knock the gate down. Niernen started making a real name for herself and saw herself rise through the ranks of House Redoran on her own merits. This, and the encouragement from her brother, was enough for Niernen to persist.

Misfortune struck during an assault near the city of Thorn. The thick jungle-marsh prevented the Dunmer from anticipating a flanking strike and Niernen was almost asssassinated by a pair of Shadowscales. The two Argonians killed Niernen's bodyguards in the initial strike and struck her with quick jabs from their twisted daggers. Overcome with adrenaline, Niernen seared them both with gouts of hot flame, burning brighter than they ever had, but the Shadowscales were high on Hist sap and unstoppable. Within seconds, Niernen had been stabbed several times, including a horrific gash in the left side of her face, and collapsed. One of the Shadowscales made the mistake of stabbing the Flame Atronach through the chest; it exploded violently, killing the Argonians and knocking Niernen unconscious.

Narzul, having heard the detonation, abandoned his post at the head of the battle and rushed to save his sister. A retreat was organized and the Redoran army back off from Thorn momentarily. Niernen's life was saved by the combined efforts of seven Temple Priests; the daggers used to wound her were coated with a potent poison that was rapidly turning her insides to goop and an enormous amount of magicka was required to reverse the damage.

Alas, Niernen would never be quite the same. She was permanently weakened and her entire body hurt if she overexerted herself. Narzul was reprimanded for his actions in putting his sister's life over the success of the entire battle, but allowed to remain. Niernen was sent home with a commendation for valor in the face of mortal danger, but it was merely a small comfort. She was ashamed of having been a burden to her brother and traumatized by the near-death experience; the images of the Shadowscales, moving like frenzied blurs to inflict maximum damage, undeterred by the fire eating away at their flesh, was never far from her mind's eye. It took her more than a year to recover enough to start leaving the house in Blacklight. At first, short walks would leave her exhausted and gasping for air, but by the start of 4E 204 she had regained most of her former range of mobility, provided she didn't start to run. Most of the scarring had faded away except for the cut over her eye. It wasn't considered life-threatening at the time so little magicka was dedicated to repairing the damage by the Temple Priests, and it was too difficult to fix after the fact.

In 4E 205, the decree was lifted and Narzul returned home. He had served with distinction and replaced his father as House Father of the Great House Redoran, who gladly retired and started dedicating his time to literary pursuits and woodcrafting.

Tired of sitting at home like some kind of sickly woman, Niernen resolved to resume traveling and developing her abilities. She was also determined to face her fears and overcome them; it seemed to her that the nightmares weren't going away on their own. Narzul protested fiercely but Niernen had made up her mind. She promised to be cautious and brought one of the family's Nix-hounds with her, a fine specimen named Garm, who could protect her during a spell of weakness. Niernen traveled west, to Skyrim, and found herself applying for a mercenary company in the city of Windhelm, somewhat to her own bewilderment.

This turned out to be an act of supremely poor timing, as Skyrim was invaded by Akaviri forces for the first time in hundreds of years the very day after she joined Ashav's company. Niernen helped defend the docks of Windhelm against the invaders and, working together with a brave and agile Khajiit known as Do'Karth, she scored two kills against the enormous, hulking monsters. They successfully repelled the initial assault but their success was short-lived. Windhelm fell to the overwhelmingly superior Kamal forces within twenty-four hours. The Company retreated but Niernen lost them in the chaos as she fell into a sewer when the ground collapsed beneath her feet. Her panicked flight carried her out of the city and into the frozen wilderness, where she was pursued by the Kamal and their horrifying, arachnidian mounts. After being surrounded and left with nowhere to run, Niernen used a scroll she had been given by one of her mentors to summon a ravenous firestorm. The Kamal were incinerated where they stood, melting away into clouds of mist, and Niernen lived to fight another day. Her Nix-hound, Garm, loyal to a fault, died defending her against the Kamal, and for the first time in her life Niernen was utterly alone.

And that spelled trouble. She was intercepted and captured by Armigers on her way to Morrowind on the suspicion of "treason". It was from them that she learned the Kamal had been brought to the shores of Tamriel by the Nerevarine, High King of Morrowind, the very leader whose decree she had so loyally carried out in Black Marsh. The Armigers sold her to the Kamal to be used as a slave aboard one of their soul-powered frigates. She was enslaved aboard this ship, forced to perform manual labor with the other captives (most of them fellow Dunmer) in the hold of the ship, suffering regular beatings at the hands of a particularly large and cruel Kamal. She managed to maintain hope (and her sanity) by remembering the mercenaries, especially Do'Karth, and dreaming she would see them again someday. When fearless (but foolish) pirates attacked the frigate she and and another Dunmer named Valen were able to escape in a raft, which left them bobbing about the Sea of Ghosts without direction -- but at least they were free. They came upon a small island chain and made landfall, where an almost unbelievable bout of luck brought her face to face with someone she thought she'd never see again: Ashav, and his company too. The island chain turned out to be home to an ancient Dwemer armory and Niernen accompanied the mercenaries down into the darkness. Her reunion with Do'Karth was a tearful, joyous encounter, but it became tinged with a hollow feeling of sorrow when she learned that the Khajiit had become lovers with a Nord woman named Sevine.

Not that there was much time to dwell upon that. After fighting with a group of Ashlander treasure hunters and a bunch of Dwemer automatons the Company was able to achieve their mission, retrieving powerful Dwemer ballistae that they mounted on their ship. Those weapons immediately became worth their weight in gold when the very Kamal frigate that Niernen and Valen had escaped from hunted them down at sea. Valen died in the ensuing naval battle, pulled beneath the waves by a dying Kamal, and Niernen's torture was avenged when a trio of her allies killed the large Kamal taskmaster that had beaten her so often. Once again confronted with the deaths around her of people she couldn't save, Niernen sank even deeper into despair.

After some much-needed rest in Dawnstar, their next mission saw them heading to Bleakrock Isle, an outpost of the Nerevarine-allied Armigers. What was supposed to be a mission of stealth quickly turned south when their cover was blown and they had to high-tail it out of there after a series of horrible ritual deathmatches, in which Niernen had to watch as Narzul cut down two Armigers before being severely wounded himself. She stabilized Narzul's wounds as best she could, but they did not reunite with the rest of the Company (that had remained behind in Dawnstar) until they reached Solitude, having set sail for the city after a Dreamsleeve message from Gustav. Now they plan to retreat even further west, desperately in need of a win. How much more can Niernen take?

Capabilities

---

§ Attributes

Major: Intelligence.
Minor: Willpower.

§ Skills

Expert: Destruction.
Adept: Alteration and Conjuration.
Apprentice: Restoration, Light Armor, Alchemy.
Novice: Tailoring, Speech, Dunmeris.

§ Weaknesses

Foot in the Grave: Niernen came so close to death after the Shadowscale assassination attempt that she never fully recovered. The poisons took a hefty toll on her physical fortitude, reducing her strength to that of a child's and her endurance to that of an elder with rockjoint. She cannot march long distances, lift anything heavier than an axe or throw something larger than a coconut. Most of these inconveniences can be worked around with magic, but she's dead weight after her magicka is spent. Riding on horseback also doesn't solve the long-distance travel problem entirely, as it takes a lot of energy to merely stay seated; carriages, on the other hand, are ideal.

The Horror, The Horror: Niernen hasn't overcome the mental trauma of the brutality she has suffered at the hands of her enemies during her life. Her recent capture and enslavement by the Kamal was possibly even worse than her near-death experience in Black Marsh, and she is now definitely nearing the edge of insanity. Already reliant on others to protect her from physical harm, she has now also become highly susceptible to flashbacks, panic attacks and fits of extreme rage.

§ Spells

Destruction: Niernen commands most Fire-variety Destruction spells, though she favors Fireball from a distance and Incinerate on closer targets. Wall of Flames sees occasional use in large confrontations. Fire Storm is beyond her grasp. With great concentration, she can create fierce flames that burn so hot it causes an involuntary retreat in most targets, mimicking the Intense Flames perk from Skyrim.

Alteration: Telekinesis, Magelight and Detect Life for general utility. Stoneflesh in a pinch.

Conjuration: Flame Atronach, Flaming Familiar.

Restoration: Fast Healing, Healing Hands, Turn Lesser Undead.

§ Tactics

Niernen staunchly refuses to engage her enemies up close unless absolutely forced to. She prefers to lob Fireballs at her enemies from a distance, preferably from a high vantage point, in support of other armed forces. She will often summon a Flame Atronach to double the rate of fire. She has never wielded a weapon into battle and isn't about to start now; not that it would do much good, what with her condition. If presented with an overwhelming force her tactic is to spray Wall of Flames as far as possible and retreat.

That said, the power of Niernen's spells seems to be fueled by her anger, and particularly intense moments of wrath have seen her incinerating her enemies at close range with searing gouts of superheated plasma and even blasting them apart with concussive detonations.

She has recently discovered the more offensive uses of telekinesis magic and has begun to incorporate that into her repertoire of spells.

§ Relations & Affiliations

Narzul, and the rest of the Venim family in Blacklight. She was on friendly terms with all of her magic teachers when she left them, though some of them probably don't even remember her anymore.

§ Opinions

(For group members; fill after IC introduction)

§ Other

Niernen's heavenly virtue is Charity. Her deadly sin Envy.

Inventory

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§ Cash

None at the moment.

§ Keys & Lockpicks

No lockpicks. Several keys, to such places as her house in Blacklight and the family coffers.

§ Tools & Crafting Materials

A needle and some thread.

§ Clothing & Armor

Niernen wears a traditional Dunmer tunic beneath a set of form-fitting, lightweight leather armor, sans the helmet. She picked up a pale gray traveling cloak during her escape from Windhelm and she now wears it around her shoulders. It's clasped at her throat and so large that it obscures her form completely if she withdraws her arms beneath the folds of the robe and the large hood can hide her face in the dark.

§ Weapon & Ammo

None.

§ Potions & Arcane Supplies

Five small, thin vials to hold magicka potions (currently filled) and the ingredients to make more in a pouch at her waist, though she lacks the equipment to do so while on the road.

§ Jewelry & Valuables

A Redoran signet ring on the ring finger of her left hand and a necklace given to her by her brother. She also carries a rosette, awarded for valor in the face of mortal danger, in her breast pocket. The signet ring is enchanted with a mild feather effect to help counteract the weakness of her condition.

§ Books & Documents

She lost all of her books and currently travels paperless.

§ Food/Drinks/Ingredients

A hip flask with sujamma to help calm her nerves and some beef jerky.

§ Load Bearing Equipment

Several waist pouches to hold her alchemical ingredients, potion vials and money. Niernen also had a leather backpack that held her books and her map, but these have been lost.

§ Other

Nothing I can think of.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Because of that rule I will be bringing back Niernen Venim after all. I'll take this opportunity to bring her old sheet up to the level of detail that I hold myself to these days, so it'll take a few days to get her up to snuff, I think.

I'll also obviously change Narzul's sheet to remove any references to Niernen being captured.

The new character I was working on (Akyoren) will be shelved for the foreseeable future. If I can't use him immediately I might as well take the time to fine-tune him to perfection and only introduce him when it makes more sense in the context of the plot for him to replace one of the Venim siblings, instead of just dropping Niernen off-screen.

The Elder Scrolls: Serpent's Fall

As happens to me so often, my ambition outpaces my time and my capabilities. I won't be making this RP for now. But the idea isn't gone, nor is the stuff I've already written, so consider this shelved and not scrapped. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Narzul Venim

Narzul Venim

Male Dunmer | 41 | The Warrior

Profile

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Birthplace

Blacklight, Morrowind.

Appearance

Perhaps the most accurate overarching description of Narzul's appearance is 'regal' in the most Dunmeri sense of the word. His arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, narrow mouth and sharp nose combine to create the impression of a haughty and noble elf -- all characteristics Narzul inherited from his father. His eyes are the same blood-red as the rest of his race, with darker sclera and bright, scarlet irises. Narzul is possessed of an intense gaze that has a habit of discomforting those who stare into it too long, as if he is keenly judging their very souls. While Niernen takes more after their mother, one trait that Narzul shares with his sister is his full set of lips. One side of his head is shaved as part of a traditional Redoran hairstyle. The rest of Narzul's jet-black hair is swept aside out of his face and cascades down to his shoulder in luscious, straight locks.

Tall, broad and supremely physical, Narzul represents the highest ideals of House Redoran as one of its most capable members of his generation. His body is a finely-tuned instrument sporting unusually heavy musculature for a Dunmer, and yet he is capable of blistering speed and finesse -- the results of a lifetime of healthy eating, a brutal exercise regime and combat training. He toes the line between athlete and hulking juggernaut deliberately and it speaks volumes of Narzul's dedication that he does not falter in achieving this perfect balance.

A few scars here and there are unavoidable when one marches to war but Narzul's use of heavy armor and a shield has limited such marks on his skin to a minimum. Additionally, precious little hair grows on his chest and limbs and he is smooth-shaven, so aside from the scars and calluses on his hands and feet his skin (which is as dark as volcanic rock) is remarkably lustrous and unblemished.

Personality

There was never much room in Narzul's upbringing for him to become anything other than a true, ash-blooded Dunmer of Morrowind. He is appropriately grim, aloof and stubborn, with the Redoran warrior-code of honor totally and utterly ingrained into his very being. His sense of loyalty and duty overrules almost every other impulse that Narzul might be subjected to and it defines all of actions. Well, almost. The only thing in his life that can sway Narzul from his intended course is family.

While all of the above is easily attributable to nurture, some of Narzul's natural inborn traits are quick wit, calmness in the face of danger and a resistance to feelings of fear and horror. He is not easily distraught by the ravages of combat or war and has an iron resolve when presented with resistance in executing his plans. He is not nearly as academically capable or intelligent as his sister and lacks her perceptive grasp of theory and spellcasting, but they are equals when it comes to problem-solving and swift thinking on their feet.

In conversation, Narzul is curt and direct. He is used to commanding swaths of soldiers in the field who obey his every command and he does not waste his time with the frivolities of chit-chat; that he leaves that to House Hlaalu. A man of force and alacrity, Narzul prefers to have his actions speak for him. That is not to say he is entirely unfriendly -- Narzul has often enough gone to great lengths to save those he cares about, treats the elderly with respect, seldom raises his voice in anger and is quick to act against injustice.

What justice means, exactly, is naturally very subjective, but there are many in Tamriel who would not agree with Narzul's view on it. He has no sympathy for the beast-races that his nation shamelessly enslaves, barely counting them as sentient, and looks down his sculpted nose on the rest of the continent's peoples. This is not born out of hatred or dislike of them, but instead stems from deep-rooted knowledge that the Dunmer race is superior and Narzul himself, as excellent specimen, even more so. He is supremely confident in himself, his path in life and his abilities as a warrior. His successes thus far seem to suggest this is merely accurate self-awareness, but the slope to vainglory and arrogance is only a short distance away. And yet... there is a small part of him, a resistant nugget, that chews away at him ever since his sister almost died in Black Marsh. Perhaps the great Narzul is not immune to making grave mistakes after all.

He worships the Reclamations and the warrior-aspect of Boethiah in particular.

Background

The older brother of Niernen Venim, Narzul was born into an aristocratic and influential family of House Redoran. He was groomed from birth to be his father's successor and, as first-born son, took to this calling with ease and enthusiasm. An intensive regimen had been prepared for the boy since before his birth and was imposed on Narzul as soon as he could walk. Even then, at such a young age, he never complained. Father commanded and Narzul obeyed. At the age of six Narzul began training for combat, clashing wooden swords with the sons of other Redoran prominents. He learned how to maintain arms and armor before he turned eight. Hours upon hours were spent in the training yard doing pushups, crunches, situps and other exercises. It got to the point where even Narzul's mother, devoted wife to his father, began questioning the intensity of what Narzul was subjected to. His father dismissed those thoughts, so engrossed was he with his son's prodigious aptitude for blade-dancing and long marches that he only saw the future of his family in Narzul. The boy bore this burden silently.

When Narzul was ten years old, his sister Niernen was born under poor auspices. The young elf relished the idea of gaining a sister and spent entire days by the crib looking at her with fascination and love. It is the nature of older brothers to be protective of their younger sisters and Narzul was no different. As she grew up and Narzul entered adolescence it became obvious that Niernen did not share his talent for warmongering and weaponry. Initially disappointed, Narzul quickly got over that hurdle when his father seemed to insist on Niernen following the same path as Narzul regardless. The boy fiercely protested and demanded that Niernen was allowed to determine her own future; only the first of many times in which he would leap to his sister's aid. Niernen was slightly bitter over Narzul's status as favored son but nevertheless loved him dearly and their bond was strong.

Narzul officially joined the ranks of House Redoran and its standing army as soon as he came of age and began putting all of his training into practice. It started with simple missions; defending Redoran lands against bandits, escorting trade caravans, serving as a guard, and various other tasks. Narzul immediately benefited from years of discipline and hard work by performing with distinction -- unlike many of his fellows, Narzul never complained, never tired and never faltered. Niernen left to pursue her own career in the arcane arts, something Narzul encouraged, and he redoubled his efforts. Narzul was rewarded with greater responsibilities and, proportionally, greater rewards. He was directly involved in the witch-hunt for the Cult of the Four Corners, slaying their Smiling Lord in single combat; commanded the initial resistance against the Dreugh Assault of 4E195; won the Tournament of Ashes in Necrom in the category Long-Blade-and-Shield and, finally, became the commanding officer of the Redoran garrison in Soluthis. By the time his sister returned to Blacklight from her studies Narzul had risen to the rank of House Cousin. He was then thirty-seven years old.

The return of the Nerevarine to Morrowind shook the very foundations of Narzul's life. His father had intended for him to become the next Archmaster, following in the footsteps of his ancestor Bolvyn Venim. Unfortunately, the long-lived Nerevarine had slain the very same Bolvyn Venym more than two hundred years ago in a duel for the title of Archmaster in his quest to become Hortator and unite the Great Houses against Dagoth-Ur. With the Nerevarine claiming the throne of High King for himself, not only did the influence wielded by the Archmaster of Redoran decrease significantly it was also likely to become much harder for Narzul to ever attain that position. Even worse; Narzul's father expected retributions against his family immediately following the Nerevarine's ascension. None came. Narzul and Niernen both reasoned that so much time had passed that the Nerevarine had no reason to hold a grudge against the Venim family anymore. Their father remained highly suspicious but nevertheless agreed to send Narzul to join the slave-raids in Black Marsh. If Narzul was to retain the momentum of his meteoric rise within House Redoran he had to make the most of this opportunity.

Narzul was given command over an entire regiment of soldiers of the Redoran standing army and clad in the finest ebony armor the Redoran war-smiths could forge. His sister insisted on accompanying him. Narzul was initially wary and shared his father's concerns -- for different reasons. Their father was afraid Niernen would die in Black Marsh. Narzul, instead, worried that Niernen's life of scrolls and quiet study hadn't prepared her for the grim reality of war. Either way, neither of them could technically forbid her from heeding the Nerevarine's call to action and Narzul acquiesced. While Narzul led his forces from the front, diving into the thick of it against the Argonians, he stationed Niernen at the edge of the battlefields from where she worked her (quite literal) magic.

The raids -- which quickly turned into a proper war -- were some of the heaviest fighting Narzul had ever been a part of. The long slogs through marshland and the asymmetrical warfare waged by the Argonians was exhausting. The lizard-folk would seemingly disappear and reappear at will within their half-aquatic, half-terrestrial environment and Narzul quickly learned that engaging them out in the field was pointless. He instead took to full-scale city-sieging, something the Argonians were unprepared for, and achieved great success in the Battle for Stormhold in combination with Niernen's seething flames. Now it was Narzul's turn to inherit his father's blindness in the face of success and he did not see how his sister struggled to cope with the charred corpses she left in her wake. Insensitive to such horrors, Narzul only felt pride at his achievements and his sister's and encouraged her to keep up the good fight.

After the horrifying incident that almost claimed Niernen's life in the Battle for Thorn, Narzul's confidence was shaken for the first time in his life. His sister was sent home so badly injured that she could barely walk and he received a stern admonishment for his actions from the Archmaster of House Redoran himself, Roark Farandras. Narzul had abandoned the frontlines and sprinted back to where his sister lay surrounded by the corpses of her bodyguards and two Argonian Shadowscales, arriving just in time to deliver her dying body to the outstretched arms of the Temple Priests that proceeded to save her from the brink of death. He was wracked with guilt and firmly of the opinion he should not have agreed to let her come with him. Despite this, the siege was only set back a few days and Narzul successfully led his soldiers to victory after all. Because of this, he was allowed to remain in his position.

The final years of the decree and Narzul's post in Black Marsh passed without great incident. The foothold Narzul and his colleagues had managed to secure in Black Marsh was enough to supply Morrowind with slaves by the thousands and Narzul spent the rest of his time in command over the field-garrison in Stormhold.

In 4E205, the decree was lifted. Satisfied with his achievements in Black Marsh, Narzul wagered it would suffice to ensure his position within the upper echelon of House Redoran for the foreseeable future and returned home to Blacklight. His father, now approaching old age rather rapidly, was more than happy to step aside for his son and Narzul was unanimously voted to replace him as House Father, one of the highest ranks within the Great House. He was the youngest to attain this position in over a century.

Now seemingly at the apex of his power and ready to finally rest on his laurels, Narzul was distraught to learn that Niernen insisted on traveling away from home by herself. He tried to talk her out of it and failed -- all he managed to negotiate was that she would bring one of the family's Nix-hounds with her for protection, and off she went. Narzul watched her go with a heavy heart and decided to deal with this in the same way he dealt with all of his problems; work harder.

The Nerevarine revealed his plans for an invasion of the rest of Tamriel with the aid of the mysterious "Kamal", a group that Narzul had never heard of before. Being such a high-ranking member of House Redoran Narzul was privy to more details than most, and a creeping feeling of impending doom came over him when he realized the full implications of the Nerevarine's plans. What if Niernen was in the wrong place in the wrong time? Alas, no mere mortal can sway the mind of a Godkiller, and Narzul was powerless to stop the Akaviri invasion. Abandoning his post to look for Niernen would put him out of his sphere of influence at a key moment in Morrowind's history and Narzul decided against risking everything he had ever worked for. He had to trust that Niernen would do the sensible thing and come home.

After the start of the invasion in Sun's Height, 4E205, Narzul had finally resigned himself to this idea and expected his sister's return any day when the Nerevarine's intelligence agency began spreading lists of Dunmer that had been branded 'traitors' by the government. Narzul's heart skipped a beat when he saw his sister's name on it -- she was accused of colluding with a 'foreign power', whatever that meant, and sentenced to slavery in the event of her capture. Terrified for her safety and simultaneously angry with his sister for getting caught up in this mess, Narzul was torn between leaving Blacklight and traveling to Skyrim to search for Niernen -- a reckless endeavor that could very well land him on the list of traitors himself -- and staying at his post and doing his duty to his country and his High King.

In the end it was Narzul's father that made the decision for him; an unexpected change of heart from the old elf.

"What are you still doing here? Go save your sister, n'wah!"

That turned out to be easier said than done. Narzul managed to track Niernen down to a mercenary company in Dawnstar. She had been captured after the siege of Windhelm by the Dunmer of Morrowind and sold to the Kamal as a slave, but escaped from one of their frigates during a reckless (and ultimately ill-fated) attack by pirates. Fate had reunited her with the Company, and determination had brought Narzul to her. He insisted that she return home with him but she refused, citing her camaraderie with the other mercenaries and a particular fondness for the Khajiit Do'Karth. Narzul was apoplectic. After a philosophical sparring match with Sadri Beleth, one of the Company's other Dunmer members, Narzul decided to stay with the mercenaries to look after Niernen. He would bide his time and when the moment came, he would convince her to come back home.

An expedition to Bleakrock Isle that turned into a disaster meant the moment never came. During combat against enemy Armigers Narzul hesitated and was humiliated when Sadri had to save him, and he well and truly condemned himself to the side of the resistance after he killed two enemy Dunmer in a fit of rage during a series of ritual duels demanded by the Armiger commander -- a feat that almost cost him his life. Sadri had to come to his aid once again and carried the fuming Redoran aristocrat to their ship as the Company escaped. His sister cared for his injuries as best she could, but he was not able to receive proper treatment from an expert until they reached Solitude. On top of his injuries, Narzul worries; when will he ever find an opportunity to bring Niernen home if they keep going even further away? Is it even possible for them to go home now, after their misadventure at Bleakrock Isle? Only time will tell.

Capabilities

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Attributes

Major: Strength.
Minor: Endurance.

Skills

Expert: One-Handed Blade, Heavy Armor.
Adept: Shield, Athletics.
Apprentice: None.
Novice: Dunmeris.

Weaknesses

Ego Optimus Sum: Being so firm in his self-perceived superiority makes Narzul difficult to work with for people who want to be seen as equals, especially for Khajiit and Argonians. It hasn't been a problem before because of Narzul's immensely privileged upbringing and the hierarchy of Dunmer society but this is very likely to cause grief and woe now that Narzul is traveling outside of his comfort zone.

Now It's Personal: Recent events have forced Narzul to side with the resistance in a war he didn't want to be a part of in the first place. He has absolutely no love for the people of Tamriel, nor does he feel any moral obligation to defend its shores from the Kamal invaders. His only motivation is to defend his sister. This means that Narzul would readily deviate from the plan, risk victory or sacrifice thousands of lives in a heartbeat if it meant that his sister would not be harmed.

Path of the Warrior: Having spent his entire life taken care of by servants that attended to his every need, Narzul only ever needed to learn how to do two things: fight and bark orders. While his ability as a warrior is undeniably immense he possesses absolutely zero utilitarian skills and will find himself becoming reliant on others to provide such services. You can imagine how he'll feel about that.

Spells

None.

Tactics

Three decades of intensive training, two of which were also spent engaging in combat frequently and with enthusiasm, have honed Narzul into one of the most capable warriors this side of the Niben Basin. His skill with the long blade is such that his prized ebony longsword has become an extension of his arm, the power of its strikes fueled by his fearsome strength and dexterity. He practices an aggressive combat style that forgoes acrobatics and flashiness for hard-hitting, fast and relentless strikes. Capable of great precision and brute force, Narzul can pierce the weak link in his opponent's armor as easily as he can punch through steel plate with a powerful thrust.

Additionally, Narzul has spent so much time in heavy armor that he shoulders its burden like a lesser man might wield leather. Despite the weight he can be alarmingly fast when he needs to be -- Narzul has won many duels by dashing foward with great speed while his armor protects him from any potential counter-attacks. The addition of a shield further increases Narzul's defensive options, blocking and deflecting blows that would pierce even his armor, rounding out his skillset nicely.

When not trading blows with his opponents directly, Narzul is a capable and experienced battlefield commander that has presided over large-scale engagements and entire sieges and is well versed in strategy and the logistics of troop deployment. He knows how to delegate tasks, predict enemy movements and utilize force multipliers within his command to tip the scales in his favor. Last but not least is his talent for setting the example and leading from the front, something that can rally the troops behind him and turn the tide of battle.

Relations & Affiliations

His mother and father in Blacklight.

House Redoran.

Many, many soldiers and officers of Redoran's standing army.

Opinions

To be decided.

Other

Narzul's heavenly virtue is Diligence. His deadly sin is Pride.

Inventory

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Cash

Being an aristocrat, Narzul has access to significant funds. He carries 200 septims with him.

Keys & Lockpicks

Keys to his family's estate in Blacklight.

Tools & Crafting Materials

A whetstone to keep his blade sharp.

Clothing & Armor

Having relinquished his suit of ebony armor upon his return to Blacklight, Narzul has to make do with lesser materials. Before his departure, he has scrounged together a full suit of inconspicuous heavy armor that he hopes will hide his identity. The various mismatching pieces (cuirass, gauntlets, pauldrons, greaves, boots and full-faced helmet) are made of iron and steel, and a hooded all-weather cape (full of patchwork and holes) is fastened around his shoulders and falls all the way down to his heels. Beneath his armor Narzul wears a sturdy Dunmer tunic. And last but not least, his shield; a simple, round, iron thing. It'll do the job.

In full gear Narzul looks more like a hedge knight than a Redoran nobleman, which is precisely his intention.

Weapon & Ammo

Disguised in an ordinary leather sheath by his waist is Narzul's fearsome weapon, a master-crafted ebony longsword in the old Vvardenfell style (straight blade tipped with a sharp point, a curved crossguard and a round pommel). Its material and make mean that Narzul can go edge-to-edge with practically any other sword in Tamriel without fear of chipping his blade, and its weight and durability let him thrust straight through armor and sever limbs like nobody's business.

In case of emergencies, Narzul has a steel dagger strapped to his boot.

Potion & Arcane Supplies

None.

Jewelry & Valuables

A Redoran signet ring, normally worn on the ring finger of his left hand, now hidden in a pouch, and a necklace given to him by his sister that he wears underneath his clothes and armor.

Books & Documents

A map of Tamriel, one of the Nerevarine's 'traitor lists' that has Niernen's name on it and a copy of the Tamrielic Gazette that features an interview with her, penned by Madura.

Food/Drinks/Ingredients

Enough dried food (all of it native to Morrowind, like ash yams, scrib jerky and kwama eggs) to last him a week and a skein full of water, but no alchemical ingredients.

Load Bearing Equipment

Several pouches clipped to his belt and a large rugsack he wears slung around his back, kept safe beneath his shield.

Other

Two straps on the bottom of his rugsack hold a quilted bedroll in the traditional Dunmer style and a blanket for sleeping out in the wilderness (or to cover barbaric Nordic straw bedding with).

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Narzul Venim

Male Dunmer | 41 | The Warrior

Full sheet

Profile

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Birthplace

Blacklight, Morrowind.

Appearance

Perhaps the most accurate overarching description of Narzul's appearance is 'regal' in the most Dunmeri sense of the word. His arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, narrow mouth and sharp nose combine to create the impression of a haughty and noble elf -- all characteristics Narzul inherited from his father. His eyes are the same blood-red as the rest of his race, with darker sclera and bright, scarlet irises. Narzul is possessed of an intense gaze that has a habit of discomforting those who stare into it too long, as if he is keenly judging their very souls. While Niernen takes more after their mother, one trait that Narzul shares with his sister is his full set of lips. One side of his head is shaved as part of a traditional Redoran hairstyle. The rest of Narzul's jet-black hair is swept aside out of his face and cascades down to his shoulder in luscious, straight locks.

Tall, broad and supremely physical, Narzul represents the highest ideals of House Redoran as one of its most capable members of his generation. His body is a finely-tuned instrument sporting unusually heavy musculature for a Dunmer, and yet he is capable of blistering speed and finesse -- the results of a lifetime of healthy eating, a brutal exercise regime and combat training. He toes the line between athlete and hulking juggernaut deliberately and it speaks volumes of Narzul's dedication that he does not falter in achieving this perfect balance.

A few scars here and there are unavoidable when one marches to war but Narzul's use of heavy armor and a shield has limited such marks on his skin to a minimum. Additionally, precious little hair grows on his chest and limbs and he is smooth-shaven, so aside from the scars and calluses on his hands and feet his skin (which is as dark as volcanic rock) is remarkably lustrous and unblemished.

Personality

There was never much room in Narzul's upbringing for him to become anything other than a true, ash-blooded Dunmer of Morrowind. He is appropriately grim, aloof and stubborn, with the Redoran warrior-code of honor totally and utterly ingrained into his very being. His sense of loyalty and duty overrules almost every other impulse that Narzul might be subjected to and it defines all of actions. Well, almost. The only thing in his life that can sway Narzul from his intended course is family.

While all of the above is easily attributable to nurture, some of Narzul's natural inborn traits are quick wit, calmness in the face of danger and a resistance to feelings of fear and horror. He is not easily distraught by the ravages of combat or war and has an iron resolve when presented with resistance in executing his plans. He is not nearly as academically capable or intelligent as his sister and lacks her perceptive grasp of theory and spellcasting, but they are equals when it comes to problem-solving and swift thinking on their feet.

In conversation, Narzul is curt and direct. He is used to commanding swaths of soldiers in the field who obey his every command and he does not waste his time with the frivolities of chit-chat; that he leaves that to House Hlaalu. A man of force and alacrity, Narzul prefers to have his actions speak for him. That is not to say he is entirely unfriendly -- Narzul has often enough gone to great lengths to save those he cares about, treats the elderly with respect, seldom raises his voice in anger and is quick to act against injustice.

What justice means, exactly, is naturally very subjective, but there are many in Tamriel who would not agree with Narzul's view on it. He has no sympathy for the beast-races that his nation shamelessly enslaves, barely counting them as sentient, and looks down his sculpted nose on the rest of the continent's peoples. This is not born out of hatred or dislike of them, but instead stems from deep-rooted knowledge that the Dunmer race is superior and Narzul himself, as excellent specimen, even more so. He is supremely confident in himself, his path in life and his abilities as a warrior. His successes thus far seem to suggest this is merely accurate self-awareness, but the slope to vainglory and arrogance is only a short distance away. And yet... there is a small part of him, a resistant nugget, that chews away at him ever since his sister almost died in Black Marsh. Perhaps the great Narzul is not immune to making grave mistakes after all.

He worships the Reclamations and the warrior-aspect of Boethiah in particular.

Background

The older brother of Niernen Venim, Narzul was born into an aristocratic and influential family of House Redoran. He was groomed from birth to be his father's successor and, as first-born son, took to this calling with ease and enthusiasm. An intensive regimen had been prepared for the boy since before his birth and was imposed on Narzul as soon as he could walk. Even then, at such a young age, he never complained. Father commanded and Narzul obeyed. At the age of six Narzul began training for combat, clashing wooden swords with the sons of other Redoran prominents. He learned how to maintain arms and armor before he turned eight. Hours upon hours were spent in the training yard doing pushups, crunches, situps and other exercises. It got to the point where even Narzul's mother, devoted wife to his father, began questioning the intensity of what Narzul was subjected to. His father dismissed those thoughts, so engrossed was he with his son's prodigious aptitude for blade-dancing and long marches that he only saw the future of his family in Narzul. The boy bore this burden silently.

When Narzul was ten years old, his sister Niernen was born under poor auspices. The young elf relished the idea of gaining a sister and spent entire days by the crib looking at her with fascination and love. It is the nature of older brothers to be protective of their younger sisters and Narzul was no different. As she grew up and Narzul entered adolescence it became obvious that Niernen did not share his talent for warmongering and weaponry. Initially disappointed, Narzul quickly got over that hurdle when his father seemed to insist on Niernen following the same path as Narzul regardless. The boy fiercely protested and demanded that Niernen was allowed to determine her own future; only the first of many times in which he would leap to his sister's aid. Niernen was slightly bitter over Narzul's status as favored son but nevertheless loved him dearly and their bond was strong.

Narzul officially joined the ranks of House Redoran and its standing army as soon as he came of age and began putting all of his training into practice. It started with simple missions; defending Redoran lands against bandits, escorting trade caravans, serving as a guard, and various other tasks. Narzul immediately benefited from years of discipline and hard work by performing with distinction -- unlike many of his fellows, Narzul never complained, never tired and never faltered. Niernen left to pursue her own career in the arcane arts, something Narzul encouraged, and he redoubled his efforts. Narzul was rewarded with greater responsibilities and, proportionally, greater rewards. He was directly involved in the witch-hunt for the Cult of the Four Corners, slaying their Smiling Lord in single combat; commanded the initial resistance against the Dreugh Assault of 4E195; won the Tournament of Ashes in Necrom in the category Long-Blade-and-Shield and, finally, became the commanding officer of the Redoran garrison in Soluthis. By the time his sister returned to Blacklight from her studies Narzul had risen to the rank of House Cousin. He was then thirty-seven years old.

The return of the Nerevarine to Morrowind shook the very foundations of Narzul's life. His father had intended for him to become the next Archmaster, following in the footsteps of his ancestor Bolvyn Venim. Unfortunately, the long-lived Nerevarine had slain the very same Bolvyn Venym more than two hundred years ago in a duel for the title of Archmaster in his quest to become Hortator and unite the Great Houses against Dagoth-Ur. With the Nerevarine claiming the throne of High King for himself, not only did the influence wielded by the Archmaster of Redoran decrease significantly it was also likely to become much harder for Narzul to ever attain that position. Even worse; Narzul's father expected retributions against his family immediately following the Nerevarine's ascension. None came. Narzul and Niernen both reasoned that so much time had passed that the Nerevarine had no reason to hold a grudge against the Venim family anymore. Their father remained highly suspicious but nevertheless agreed to send Narzul to join the slave-raids in Black Marsh. If Narzul was to retain the momentum of his meteoric rise within House Redoran he had to make the most of this opportunity.

Narzul was given command over an entire regiment of soldiers of the Redoran standing army and clad in the finest ebony armor the Redoran war-smiths could forge. His sister insisted on accompanying him. Narzul was initially wary and shared his father's concerns -- for different reasons. Their father was afraid Niernen would die in Black Marsh. Narzul, instead, worried that Niernen's life of scrolls and quiet study hadn't prepared her for the grim reality of war. Either way, neither of them could technically forbid her from heeding the Nerevarine's call to action and Narzul acquiesced. While Narzul led his forces from the front, diving into the thick of it against the Argonians, he stationed Niernen at the edge of the battlefields from where she worked her (quite literal) magic.

The raids -- which quickly turned into a proper war -- were some of the heaviest fighting Narzul had ever been a part of. The long slogs through marshland and the asymmetrical warfare waged by the Argonians was exhausting. The lizard-folk would seemingly disappear and reappear at will within their half-aquatic, half-terrestrial environment and Narzul quickly learned that engaging them out in the field was pointless. He instead took to full-scale city-sieging, something the Argonians were unprepared for, and achieved great success in the Battle for Stormhold in combination with Niernen's seething flames. Now it was Narzul's turn to inherit his father's blindness in the face of success and he did not see how his sister struggled to cope with the charred corpses she left in her wake. Insensitive to such horrors, Narzul only felt pride at his achievements and his sister's and encouraged her to keep up the good fight.

After the horrifying incident that almost claimed Niernen's life in the Battle for Thorn, Narzul's confidence was shaken for the first time in his life. His sister was sent home so badly injured that she could barely walk and he received a stern admonishment for his actions from the Archmaster of House Redoran himself, Roark Farandras. Narzul had abandoned the frontlines and sprinted back to where his sister lay surrounded by the corpses of her bodyguards and two Argonian Shadowscales, arriving just in time to deliver her dying body to the outstretched arms of the Temple Priests that proceeded to save her from the brink of death. He was wracked with guilt and firmly of the opinion he should not have agreed to let her come with him. Despite this, the siege was only set back a few days and Narzul successfully led his soldiers to victory after all. Because of this, he was allowed to remain in his position.

The final years of the decree and Narzul's post in Black Marsh passed without great incident. The foothold Narzul and his colleagues had managed to secure in Black Marsh was enough to supply Morrowind with slaves by the thousands and Narzul spent the rest of his time in command over the field-garrison in Stormhold.

In 4E205, the decree was lifted. Satisfied with his achievements in Black Marsh, Narzul wagered it would suffice to ensure his position within the upper echelon of House Redoran for the foreseeable future and returned home to Blacklight. His father, now approaching old age rather rapidly, was more than happy to step aside for his son and Narzul was unanimously voted to replace him as House Father, one of the highest ranks within the Great House. He was the youngest to attain this position in over a century.

Now seemingly at the apex of his power and ready to finally rest on his laurels, Narzul was distraught to learn that Niernen insisted on traveling away from home by herself. He tried to talk her out of it and failed -- all he managed to negotiate was that she would bring one of the family's Nix-hounds with her for protection, and off she went. Narzul watched her go with a heavy heart and decided to deal with this in the same way he dealt with all of his problems; work harder.

The Nerevarine revealed his plans for an invasion of the rest of Tamriel with the aid of the mysterious "Kamal", a group that Narzul had never heard of before. Being such a high-ranking member of House Redoran Narzul was privy to more details than most, and a creeping feeling of impending doom came over him when he realized the full implications of the Nerevarine's plans. What if Niernen was in the wrong place in the wrong time? Alas, no mere mortal can sway the mind of a Godkiller, and Narzul was powerless to stop the Akaviri invasion. Abandoning his post to look for Niernen would put him out of his sphere of influence at a key moment in Morrowind's history and Narzul decided against risking everything he had ever worked for. He had to trust that Niernen would do the sensible thing and come home.

After the start of the invasion in Sun's Height, 4E205, Narzul had finally resigned himself to this idea and expected his sister's return any day when the Nerevarine's intelligence agency began spreading lists of Dunmer that had been branded 'traitors' by the government. Narzul's heart skipped a beat when he saw his sister's name on it -- she was accused of colluding with a 'foreign power', whatever that meant, and sentenced to slavery in the event of her capture. Terrified for her safety and simultaneously angry with his sister for getting caught up in this mess, Narzul was torn between leaving Blacklight and traveling to Skyrim to search for Niernen -- a reckless endeavor that could very well land him on the list of traitors himself -- and staying at his post and doing his duty to his country and his High King.

In the end it was Narzul's father that made the decision for him; an unexpected change of heart from the old elf.

"What are you still doing here? Go save your sister, n'wah!"

That turned out to be easier said than done. Narzul managed to track Niernen down to a mercenary company in Dawnstar. She had been captured after the siege of Windhelm by the Dunmer of Morrowind and sold to the Kamal as a slave, but escaped from one of their frigates during a reckless (and ultimately ill-fated) attack by pirates. Fate had reunited her with the Company, and determination had brought Narzul to her. He insisted that she return home with him but she refused, citing her camaraderie with the other mercenaries and a particular fondness for the Khajiit Do'Karth. Narzul was apoplectic. After a philosophical sparring match with Sadri Beleth, one of the Company's other Dunmer members, Narzul decided to stay with the mercenaries to look after Niernen. He would bide his time and when the moment came, he would convince her to come back home.

An expedition to Bleakrock Isle that turned into a disaster meant the moment never came. During combat against enemy Armigers Narzul hesitated and was humiliated when Sadri had to save him, and he well and truly condemned himself to the side of the resistance after he killed two enemy Dunmer in a fit of rage during a series of ritual duels demanded by the Armiger commander -- a feat that almost cost him his life. Sadri had to come to his aid once again and carried the fuming Redoran aristocrat to their ship as the Company escaped. Niernen was not so lucky, however...

Capabilities

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Attributes

Major: Strength.
Minor: Endurance.

Skills

Expert: One-Handed Blade, Heavy Armor.
Adept: Shield, Athletics.
Apprentice: None.
Novice: Dunmeris.

Weaknesses

Ego Optimus Sum: Being so firm in his self-perceived superiority makes Narzul difficult to work with for people who want to be seen as equals, especially for Khajiit and Argonians. It hasn't been a problem before because of Narzul's immensely privileged upbringing and the hierarchy of Dunmer society but this is very likely to cause grief and woe now that Narzul is traveling outside of his comfort zone.

Now It's Personal: Recent events, including the recapture of his sister Niernen by the Dunmer of Morrowind, have forced Narzul to side with the resistance in a war he didn't want to be a part of in the first place. He has absolutely no love for the people of Tamriel, nor does he feel any moral obligation to defend its shores from the Kamal invaders. His only motivation is to save his sister. This means that Narzul would readily deviate from the plan, risk victory or sacrifice thousands in a heartbeat if it meant he could protect Niernen. It also means that wrath bubbles beneath the surface, ready to erupt at a moment's notice, fueled by equal parts fury and shame. He failed her. Narzul hates failure.

Path of the Warrior: Having spent his entire life taken care of by servants that attended to his every need, Narzul only ever needed to learn how to do two things: fight and bark orders. While his ability as a warrior is undeniably immense he possesses absolutely zero utilitarian skills and will find himself becoming reliant on others to provide such services. You can imagine how he'll feel about that.

Spells

None.

Tactics

Three decades of intensive training, two of which were also spent engaging in combat frequently and with enthusiasm, have honed Narzul into one of the most capable warriors this side of the Niben Basin. His skill with the long blade is such that his prized ebony longsword has become an extension of his arm, the power of its strikes fueled by his fearsome strength and dexterity. He practices an aggressive combat style that forgoes acrobatics and flashiness for hard-hitting, fast and relentless strikes. Capable of great precision and brute force, Narzul can pierce the weak link in his opponent's armor as easily as he can punch through steel plate with a powerful thrust.

Additionally, Narzul has spent so much time in heavy armor that he shoulders its burden like a lesser man might wield leather. Despite the weight he can be alarmingly fast when he needs to be -- Narzul has won many duels by dashing foward with great speed while his armor protects him from any potential counter-attacks. The addition of a shield further increases Narzul's defensive options, blocking and deflecting blows that would pierce even his armor, rounding out his skillset nicely.

When not trading blows with his opponents directly, Narzul is a capable and experienced battlefield commander that has presided over large-scale engagements and entire sieges and is well versed in strategy and the logistics of troop deployment. He knows how to delegate tasks, predict enemy movements and utilize force multipliers within his command to tip the scales in his favor. Last but not least is his talent for setting the example and leading from the front, something that can rally the troops behind him and turn the tide of battle.

Relations & Affiliations

His mother and father in Blacklight.

House Redoran.

Many, many soldiers and officers of Redoran's standing army.

Opinions

To be decided.

Other

Narzul's heavenly virtue is Diligence. His deadly sin is Pride.

Inventory

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Cash

Being an aristocrat, Narzul has access to significant funds. He carries 200 septims with him.

Keys & Lockpicks

Keys to his family's estate in Blacklight.

Tools & Crafting Materials

A whetstone to keep his blade sharp.

Clothing & Armor

Having relinquished his suit of ebony armor upon his return to Blacklight, Narzul has to make do with lesser materials. Before his departure, he has scrounged together a full suit of inconspicuous heavy armor that he hopes will hide his identity. The various mismatching pieces (cuirass, gauntlets, pauldrons, greaves, boots and full-faced helmet) are made of iron and steel, and a hooded all-weather cape (full of patchwork and holes) is fastened around his shoulders and falls all the way down to his heels. Beneath his armor Narzul wears a sturdy Dunmer tunic. And last but not least, his shield; a simple, round, iron thing. It'll do the job.

In full gear Narzul looks more like a hedge knight than a Redoran nobleman, which is precisely his intention.

Weapon & Ammo

Disguised in an ordinary leather sheath by his waist is Narzul's fearsome weapon, a master-crafted ebony longsword in the old Vvardenfell style (straight blade tipped with a sharp point, a curved crossguard and a round pommel). Its material and make mean that Narzul can go edge-to-edge with practically any other sword in Tamriel without fear of chipping his blade, and its weight and durability let him thrust straight through armor and sever limbs like nobody's business.

In case of emergencies, Narzul has a steel dagger strapped to his boot.

Potion & Arcane Supplies

None.

Jewelry & Valuables

A Redoran signet ring, normally worn on the ring finger of his left hand, now hidden in a pouch, and a necklace given to him by his sister that he wears underneath his clothes and armor.

Books & Documents

A map of Tamriel, one of the Nerevarine's 'traitor lists' that has Niernen's name on it and a copy of the Tamrielic Gazette that features an interview with her, penned by Madura.

Food/Drinks/Ingredients

Enough dried food (all of it native to Morrowind, like ash yams, scrib jerky and kwama eggs) to last him a week and a skein full of water, but no alchemical ingredients.

Load Bearing Equipment

Several pouches clipped to his belt and a large rugsack he wears slung around his back, kept safe beneath his shield.

Other

Two straps on the bottom of his rugsack hold a quilted bedroll in the traditional Dunmer style and a blanket for sleeping out in the wilderness (or to cover barbaric Nordic straw bedding with).

The Elder Scrolls: Serpent's Fall

We had some unseasonably fabulous spring weather over the weekend so I was mostly outside basking in the sun. In other words, the OOC thread isn't finished yet. Will continue working on it on Monday and Wednesday.