Jarl Coolgruuf

Elder Scrolls: Skingrad Company

Tulvar Sun-Breaker

Tulvar Sun-Breaker

RACE
Nord

GENDER
Male

AGE
46

PERSONALITY
Brash, boisterous, and forthright. His will is iron and his voice is thunder as all who meet him can attest to. Tulvar has little patience for indecisiveness or complex diplomacy and prefers to speak straight or not at all. He has absolutely no patience for incompetence or general weakness and possess an particular disdain for magic users save for alchemists and enchanters. His contempt of most mages, however, pales in comparison to his unyielding, uncompromising scorn for all elves.

Believing strongly in fairness, he’s been known to give an unarmed opponent his own sidearm before attacking. He also finds the ideas of poisoned weapons and dirty fighting in general abhorrent. This is not to say he is merciful by any means. He will strike down any who take up arms against him should they stand in his way be they wounded or old, weak or crippled. Although he is wholly against underhanded fighting, he is not above occasional mockery of those he brings to heel on the battlefield.

As any true Nord does, he relishes the opportunity to test his mettle against other warriors like himself. Men dull just as easily as blades and so he does everything he can to stay sharp despite his age.

CLASS
Barbarian

SKILLS

Major
> Block (no shield)
> Two-Handed (battle axes)
> Heavy Armor

Minor
> Athletics
> One-Handed
> Unarmed
> Smithing

EQUIPMENT
> Full steel plate armor minus a helmet
> Battle axe
> Hooded cloak made from the pelt of a snow bear
> Steel sword he keeps as a sidearm
> A single healing potion of moderate strength
> Leather pouch holding 31 septims
> A large sack for transporting any loot he might find in a bandit camp or deep in forgotten ruins

HISTORY
The son of a mercenary who was the son of a mercenary who was the son of a mercenary who was himself the son of a mercenary and so on for generations upon generations. Like his ancestors before him, Tulvar learned the way of the warrior from his father and by the age of 14 had killed the first of many highwaymen to come. By the time he was 20 he took up the sword his father had passed down to him and set off to see the wonders of Tamriel. And see he did.

Over the next two and a half decades he traveled across the world and witness things that were scarcely believable. He’s seen liquid fire flowing down a mountain to rival The Throat of the World, desert cats with more magic in one paw than entire covens of witches put together, titanic trees with entire cities built within their branches that migrate with the seasons of their own power. As much as he traveled to see the world, he also set out to test his steel against the greatest warriors it had to offer. He’s traded blows with warriors of every race and province from Alik’r warriors to orc berserkers.

In the past couple of years Tulvar has seen hard times and a light coin pouch but recent events have had him looking up. Word of recruitment by a large company of mercenaries out of Cyrodiil had him practically running all the way from Hammerfell. What they want from him is of little concern, he needs the pay. Besides, it’s been a bit of time since he’s seen the home of the Imperials. Why not stop by and settle for a season?

Warhammer 40k: Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader RP (MK III)

It was no secret as to the sheer volume of pirates and mercenaries that came through Footfall nor their ever present need for armaments. Jerricho fit the niche of illegal arms dealing like a puzzle piece and that suited him just fine. Calling him famous would be an overstatement, but his reputation for reliability and quality merchandise had quickly spread b word of mouth. He’d even needed to hire a few employees to deal with the ever increasing number of orders. Jerricho actually preferred dealing with pirates and the like. More organized criminals were too demanding and petty thugs were often stupid enough to think they could pull one over on him. The worst were legitimate customers who asked annoying questions like “is it safe?” and “is that dried blood on the receiver?” However, sometimes he needed a bit of extra coin to afford new stocks and currently he was stuck dealing with a pair of those aforementioned idiot-variety thugs.

“C’mon mate can’t we work something out? We’ll pay you half now and--”
"No."
“But you di--”
“No.”

The more he looked at the two men the more irritated he was. The one flapping his gums trying to bargain had his blue dyed hair up in a mohawk with the sides of his head shaved. Jerricho wondered if he could peel his eyebrow off like masking tape by pulling on one of those ridiculous piercings and became more inclined to try with each passing second. The other man was mercifully quiet but still looked moronic with those spiked goggles on his forehead.

Jerricho sighed and pointed to the door of his shop.
“What does the sign say?”
“Uh... open?”
“The other one you tenth wit. It says “no bargaining” right there on the door. So why are you wasting my time? Actually, I don’t care why. Pay or leave.”

Mohawk’s face twisted into a furious snarl as he leaned over the counter and began to shout in Jerricho’s face. Emphasis on began. The moment his spittle touched the arms dealer a shot rang out. The man let out a strangled gurgle and fell back, hitting the floor with a thump, a fist-sized hole in his gut leaking both blood and shredded bits of intestine. His partner jumped and went for a laslock but received an instant lobotomy for his trouble. Jerricho sighed and holstered his scatter pistol, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a pain to clean up. He tried to be professional and orderly, he really did, but it seemed half the settlement was hell bent on preventing that.

“What a fucking mess,” he grumbled as he turned to open the closet behind the counter and retrieved a mop, bucket, and some plus size trash bags ready to go, “and after I just had the floor scrubbed yesterday.”

Jerricho started piling the near headless corpse into one of the bags before he turned at the sound of a wet cough from the other body. He met the man’s eyes and saw the indescribable pain and fear they held. Jerricho stood, making his way over to the survivor and ended his life in a swift angled stomp that wrenched his neck to the side with a wet snap. As he dragged the first bag out the front door, the arms dealer couldn't help but wonder where all these idiots came from and why they felt so inclined to enter his shop.

Superpowers, government conspiracy, rebellion, and more!

X-men but not watered down like most people try to do?

Very interested

Metro 2037

Good idea

I did post a request but a site with some 70k members probably gets a lot of those requests so it might take awhile

Post Deletion

Hi! Sorry to be another one of those people but I tried making an edit and it posted another copy of what I was trying to edit. Could you delete the old copy for me?

Metro 2037

Fuck I didn't mean to post that twice I was trying to make the edits

Metro 2037

Jeremy

Steel is Golden

Name:
Jeremy, or at least that's what he has written on the piece of paper he uses to introduce himself.

Age:
Somewhere in his early 20's

Sex:
Male

Height:
5'9

Weight:
137

Appearance:
Brown hair, average height, average weight (for a post apocalypse) average face. Overall he appears pretty average save for bright and piercing green eyes.
He was born with a few (presumably) radiation induced birth defects including 12 fully functional fingers, a few extra toes, and a partially functional extra left arm half way down his ribcage he keeps tucked away under his shirt and coat. So maybe not so average.

Equipment:

> Throwing Knives (x5)
Throwing knives are never immediately lethal, but throwing 7 ounces of sharpened metal into someone's neck or arm or simply hurling it into their abdomen makes for a great distraction. Years of practice have made him incredibly precise on the level of being able to reliably hit a neck at 25 ft. He made all the throwing knives he owns as he prefers to weight them himself.

> 10” Pry Bar
Though not nearly as heavy duty as a full crowbar, it can still jimmy most locked boxes and doors given time and enough muscle while still being compact.

> Lock Picking Tools
A small pouch of funny shaped slivers of metal no bigger than a smartphone and a Phillips head screwdriver can get one into a surprising number of places assuming they know how to use them like Jeremy does.

> Ka-Bar
7 inch fighting knife with a blacked out blade and leather sheath. He greatly prefers a knife over any gun. Guns are loud, they jam, run out of ammo, it's easy to miss, and gunshots usually aren't fatal without follow up save for headshots. Knives are quiet, they never jam, don't need to be reloaded, he's never missed with this knife, and a slit throat or severed brain stem is always fatal. Despite how much he uses it, the knife remains both razor sharp and impeccably clean. Given how often it saves his life, he feels it's the least he can do in return.

> Whetstone
Living in a post nuclear holocaust wasteland doesn't mean you have an excuse to let your equipment degrade.

> Crank Flashlight
An old beaten junker that often needs to be beat to do its job. Every 1 minute of cranking gives him about 30 minutes of admittedly bright light up to 4 hours at full battery.

> Canteen
Holds water. Not much else to tell.

> Zippo
Usually works. Useful for both clearing spider scorpion webs and most fire related needs.

> Torches (×3)
He's rather proud of these little pipe, cloth, and fat amalgamations. It's just best not to ask where he gets the fat.

> Police Issue Gas Mask (filters x6)
Jeremy tries not to think about how many pieces of his gear came from people he's killed and what that says about him.

> Small Notepad and Pencil
Sometimes gestures and expressions just don't cut it especially when trying to bargain.

> 60L Military Issue Rucksack
He still feels a tad guilty about taking this from a corpse he found. Some years ago someone told him the men who used them fought for freedom and were the bravest of the brave. Jeremy thinks that's noble and hopes the man he took it from won't mind him using it.

Personality
For a mute, he's rather talkative. He greatly enjoys interacting with others, but only at arm's length. Depending on others is hard for him even for menial tasks so forget bringing other people for scavenging runs. Sure he might make more mg rounds with one or two other people to help haul and guard his back but people make mistakes and two people means twice as many mistakes. At least... that's how he feels.
Lately though he's been trying to give people more chances. He's reached the limits of what he can do on his own and besides, having more permanent friends sounds nice.

Backstory:
Jeremy was born to a pair of bandits in the northern tunnels who both died rather unceremoniously in a gun fight while attempting to rob some seemingly unassuming travelers. One of these travelers followed the sound of a crying baby back to their would be muggers' shelter and, taking pity on the child he'd just orphaned, took him back down into the metro tunnels. From there he raised the boy and taught him the means to survive down in the tunnels and the world above. Jeremy took these lessons and held them tight to his chest. Ironically his adoptive father died to pneumonia rather than bandits, faction warfare, or even mutant animals. These lessons were only the beginning as Jeremy continued to learn from others’ successes and mistakes, from their wisdom and their ignorance. He quickly developed a talent for scavenging above ground and retrieving pre-war treasures back to the markets. His years of experience have taught him how to be incredibly resourceful and given him extensive knowledge of how to survive above ground.

Metro 2037

@Treue Shit my bad. And yeah he was born in London but down in the Metro away from the larger settlements

"Jeremy was born to a pair of bandits in the northern tunnels..."

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

where is everyone