Character Name:Valentis “Valen” Fenotorai (Fen-o-tor-i)
Age:67
Race:Imperial
Sex:Male
Birthsign:Mage
Specialisation:Warrior/Mage
Class:Bō master
Skills:- Master - Two-Handed
- Expert - Akiviri Translation (crafting skill)
- Apprentice - Destruction, Restoration and Alteration - Woodwork/Fletching (Crafting skill)
- Novice - Light Armour, Athletics, Acrobatics and hand to hand.
Appearance:
The face of a man who has lived along life, filled with turbulence.
There has been sadness, joy, pain and sorrow - on top of that he has seen his fair share of combat, with bandits, warriors, beasts and demons from the plane of oblivion.
His body has numerous scars tracing around it, puncture wounds from arrows, burn marks from magic and fire in general, long linear scars from blades and gouging crevices from beasts.
Whilst his long tattered cloak that he wears commonly covers these, his body is not a nice sight.
Despite his age and how weathered he is, his body is actually quite athletic and retains a fair bit of youth in it, he is still quite spy and supple; from afar in combat one would not think he is in his late 60’s, a lifetime of practising the ancient akaviri art of the Bō has helped him retain much of his youthfulness in the body; unfortunately, this is not the same for his mind.
Personality:The best way to describe Valen is a bit like calling him an Old Grandad, to those whom are young he offers caution and kindness, but can still apply a firm hand if they endanger themselves - it’s easy to detect if Valen is fond of someone or has taken a liking to them.
Whilst he hasn’t had much human contact within the past decade, he has never lost his touch with conversing with others - he’s a kindhearted man who offers sage advice to those who ask for it.
But in equal part he is also cold and unfeeling towards those who abuse power and are “bad”, he will let them know if he feels that they are doing something wrong, thieves, killers, mages, lords, peasants - all are seen with an equal eye from Valen.
At times, he may even step in, and stop them with force if their ways continue.
He is not a man who resorts to violence easily - it is always the last step he takes.
Often he takes a blow or a strike before he even ready’s his combat stance with his staff; even then he will apologise for the actions he is about to take.
You will probably never find a kinder hearted man as this - odd, given that his past is filled with so much darkness and suffering.
He also suffers from moments of deep contemplation and melancholy, it’s not uncommon to see him sitting quietly thinking about the past.
His old age also ails his mind a bit, he can be forgetful at times and even a bit confused or slow; in combat he as sharp as a Daedroths talon, and he’s yet to reach the point where his fighting capabilities are adversely affected in anyway, but when things are slow, and typically early in the morning Valen can be quite docile, it typically takes Albert to give his sleeve a tug to pull him out of it.
For many years his sanity has relied upon his faithful companions - without them it’s hard to say he would ever have got this far with his mind intact, he will commonly talk to Albert as if he were a human, even engaging in a conversation with him.
Albert barks happily though when his master talks to him, and that makes everything alright.
His dog is one of the pillars that keep this old man up and able to fight as there is few other things that do this now - his life has been long, and at times he wishes nothing more that to simply rest.
Backstory:Valentis has lead a long life, it has been full with memories both good and bad and he has seen many a foreign land, he spent a year in the alien and hostile continent of Akivir, whereupon he expanded his Fighting style massively as well as acquiring the wood for his staff that he uses to this day.
His early lifeValentis was born to a middle class family in Chorrol - his father was a steward in the castle and his mother was the owner of a store that sold common goods.
It meant that he was brought up with relative comfort and in an environment where pretty much everything needed was provided.
Both of his parents were middle aged and pure blooded Imperials, both from long lines of Imperial descent, something both of them held with an air of superiority.
Other than their racial backgrounds, his parents were pretty up standing citizens that were respected and liked throughout the city.
And the same respect was transmitted to the kid, who as the years past seemed to be following in his parents footsteps - he was well educated, especially in history and even had the makings of a decent mage.
In his teenage years Valentis spent most of his time in the Mages guild of Chorrol studying magic, his parents would have preferred to focus his time on other studies but eventually his father thought that in time he could become a court mage, a very well paid spot and as a steward he could provide the road to that outcome with ease.
So both of his parents allowed him to begin travelling Cyrodiil at the age of 21, he had a fair bit of money and decent supplies to allow him to get his Recommendations from the mages guild.
This, however would be the last time Valentis ever seen his parents, he was in his youth and was excited to begin an adventure across the lands; it would be painful for him to admit, but his travels took him far from most civilisation and the news of his father getting ill never reached his ears until he was long in the ground; his wife buried next to him when she died of a medicinal brew she had been drinking for a few years every day.
It contained trace amounts of distilled Mandrake root and Nightshade, meant to numb pain but never meant to be taken in the quantities she consumed them at.
But before that he travelled to Skingrad for his first recommendation - the plan was for him to Travel to anvil after receiving his recommendation and then getting a ship from anvil to Leyawiin, then work his way back up to Chorrol and then finally the Imperial city after seeing his parents and getting his last recommendation.
That of course was practically derailed almost instantly.
He reached Skingrad relatively easily, only had to avoid some marauders and deal with a few Imps on the way, where he badly extracted some gall to sell as alchemical ingredients; his mentor on Alchemy made it look far easier than it actually was.
It didn’t take him long to get the guild after getting in the city, he was well received as they heard from the guild in Chorrol that he would be coming here, a budding mage who was meeting all expectations.
The task he was handed with after a few days of rest and studying from the School of Destruction was not an easy one.
His task was to head into the Colovian Highlands and collect a bushel of rare flowers, it was a rare breed of the Dragon Tongue plant that only grew in that area, it was discernible from its more common cousin by a blood red flower instead of a bright orange one.
This would teach him that there is much to do with the wilderness that is not easy, especially when it comes to exploring and trying to find a particular item or even creature for their alchemical components.
A bit odd of a task in his opinion but nevertheless; not one to be daunted by the task he made the note of the general area on his map and set off towards the highlands.
It took a few days of travelling but he finally made it to the area he had marked upon his map - it was a wide open plain with many hillocks and inclines with a few lone trees and rocks scattered amongst it, To the east there was an increasingly more craggy like terrain that would eventually start to make the mountains of northern Cyrdoiil, to the west was the expanse of farmland that fed most of this part of the country, as well as numerous vineyards.
There was also a lone fort that could be made out in the north of his position, atop of a large incline of sharp rock, with a cascade of pine and rowan trees making a sort of natural palisade around it.
It looked very picturesque, but equally it was slightly ominous.
A sense of adventure took hold of Valentis once more and with a gleeful smile he quickly made his way to it - forgetting why he was even here in the first place.
Unbelievably this turn would define most of his future from that moment forward.
The fort itself was a bit unusual in its construction, as well as that his map made no reference of its existence - Valentis had seen his fair share of these old forts that were mainly outposts back in the 2nd era, but this one was different from the others.
Cautiously he made his way inside the battlements and it quickly dawned upon him that nobody had been here in many, many years - odd given that it wasn’t exactly hidden, after spotting the door that led to the subterranean part of the fort Valentis gave it a push.
But all he received in return was a little give and a loud resounding jolt.
The door was locked…
After a disappointed sigh Valen set up camp here, it would protect him from the elements whilst he both explored the ruins and searched for this plant - but for the time being, after a small blast of fire got his hastily constructed campfire going, Valentis merely rested for a while - reading quite an onerous tome on the Differentiation between Mysticism and Alteration.
It wasn’t until the light died out in the sky and a cool breeze blew through the numerous holes and gaps in the old forts construction that valentis knew why nobody ventured near this place.
Spectral apparitions of soldiers began forming around him, seemingly going about their business as if the fort still stood in its entirety and completely ignoring the man sat in between all of their hustle and bustle.
This was fascinating, whilst at first it scared the living daylights out of him, it quickly became apparent they were of no threat to him; Valen was avidly watching them for what seemed like a good few hours until he heard what was unmistakably metal grinding upon metal and an ancient mechanism at work.
One of the spectres was opening the doors back in this time that they were trapped in, but for some reason the same effect was occurring in this time as well.
It appeared that the key was probably long gone, and only this phantom that appeared during the night cycles could allow access to the bowels of this ancient fortress.
Without waiting on ceremony Valentis grabbed his things and ran through the open doors - instantly a cold and stale wind hit him, forcing his cloak to snap and crack wildly behind him.
Lighting one of the torches upon the wall and taking it Valen made his way into the fortress, a few moments later the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.
He was in here till the next night now, whether he liked it or not.
The Lost Akaviri Fortress. Valentis had spent at least a good 4 days down in this massive fortress now, it had 9 levels each one of them very large and in good condition, the masonry and craftsmanship of this fort was unparalleled and incomparable to any of the other forts that dotted the expanses of Cyrodiil, it was also here that he discovered that this fort was not Rumarran, but actually Akiviri in design and construct; the numerous skeletons that littered the bowels of these ancient halls also had arms and armour that were not of any design he had ever seen.
A grand library filled with old texts and books were written in a strange dialect that no matter how long Valen spent pondering over them in the torch light, could not be deciphered by him alone.
It was on his 5th night that he left the fort with a few of the Akiviri tome son his person - there was a number of things he had to do when he got to Skingrad.
Once he was there he set up a deal with a provisions merchant to send supplies to that fort once every 2 weeks, and he would be paid monthly.
He also paid some hunters to hunt for deer and boar around that area and bring some of the meat to the fort once every week.
Thankfully he was not short of money and could afford to do this for at least a few years.
Of course, that was before he sent these tomes to the Arcane university; an act that nabbed him a massive amount of compensation for his actions; in turn a number of scrolls and books on translating Akiviri texts came back to him with a large amount of septims in the process.
Valentis was sitting on a gold mine of knowledge that in turn could be sold to the Arcane university for actual gold.
This allowed Valen to stay in that fort for half a decade in great comfort and security; where he spent most of his time learning the language and deciphering the tomes.
3 years into his stay he managed to decipher a small book on the combat style of the Bō; it was the art of using a 2 handed pole made from wood to incapacitate enemies, typically it was regarded as an art, rather than a method to kill your opponent- it taught restraint and elegance in combat; one could use their body in amazing ways with this art to take down foes non-lethally - of course one could actually use this weapon to kill, but that was not its primary function.
The book also detailed that a certain type of wood allowed the wielder to infuse their magic with the Bō staff, allowing some very interesting combinations and effects - the wood however was only found in the West of a central based piece of land within the mysterious continent of Akivir.
This intrigued Valen to no end, he was 24 now and was still a bit wet behind the ears as his dad used to say; and so he sifted through the barracks for a Bō staff, but came up empty.
Descending two level to the armoury he yet again found no Bō staff amongst the hundreds of ancient curved blades and spears that filled the large room.
A brief search of the entire castle turned up nothing; it did dawn upon him that the wood would likely be rotten now anyway - this was a bit of a dilemma, the Bō fighting art was something that Valen desperately wished to try out. Inevitably Valen slept on the matter, and the following day he left the fort (having discovered the keys for the door on a skeleton on one of the deepest floors a couple of months ago) and with his sleeves rolled up and one of the akiviri axes in hand began chipping away at one of the rowan trees outside of the fort; despite the blades age it didn’t nick nor did it crack, it wasn’t particularly sharp and it made the job very tiresome and slow.
After finding a whetstone and having lunch he resumed his work on the tree - making far better progress with each swing this time round.
The next week had him whittling the tree down into firewood and multiple long poles of wood to make Bō staves when he cut them into their proper shapes; as seen in a little diagram in the book he deciphered earlier in the week.
With the fireplaces dotted around the training area all lit and the sconces filled with lit torches he waited till nightfall - a light set of clothing on and a Bō staff ready at his feet.
He found that around 3am the training area was filled with numerous spectral soldiers dressed down and out of their armour receiving instructions from their trainer in the foreign tongue that was Akiviri - amongst the spectres of the dead there stood a lone man grunting into the musty air copying the ghosts of ancient men - his days were now mostly about sleeping and resting, evenings studying and night time came his training with the foreign soldiers.
This mantra continued till his age of 30; he spent some of the cold winter nights out meditating; an act that apparently made his spirit and body more in tune with nature, and his nights were he rested became shorter, getting a maximum of 6 hours of sleep a day, in order to maximise what he could achieve every day.
Eventually the spectres could no longer teach him anything more, and he finally began to test what he had learn on living creatures - he would search into the wilderness for animals such as wolves and even bears to try and defeat with naught but his staff; it was here that he began earning his scars, and his restoration magic after the fight came in handy; preventing infection and anything else.
Sometime during the spring he managed to incapacitate 4 bandits roaming the nearby route his provisions came along; gaining more trophies of his mistakes, but inevitably he survived every encounter with little more than some cuts and bruises.
Once nothing more than a green mage, now a practised specialist in the art of the Bō; and fluent in speaking, reading and writing Akaviri - eventually this all lead up to the biggest adventure of his life, and one that almost cost his life on numerous occasions.
He had found an encrypted map that detailed where the land of Akivir was, after breaking the encryption from months of hard study and work it also showed a typically safe route via the seas towards this ancient and alien land.
It would take a great deal of money to get a ship to go anywhere near that continent, but even more to have them pick him back up at a later date.
Valentis sent the Arcane university 30 tomes on the Akivir, something that would occupy them for years - in turn he received a great deal of septims that was sent to the bank in his name.
Grabbing a staff, his supplies and a large number of books to occupy him he left for Anvil where he would ply a captain to take him to this land, thankfully the captain in question was a very adventurous sort, and so long as the money was good - he would pick him back up in a years time from the spot he would be dropped off.
During this time Valen ended up meeting and talking with some of Tscaesci people; they were a mysterious race that spoke Akaviri - they knew of the land that he hailed from and of the past - despite this he was relatively safe if he remained on the rural parts of the land - he would not dare as to be brazen enough to go to their capital or any of their major settlements despite how much he wanted to.
Within the year he had acquired a special type of wood that allowed him to use the Bō style properly with magic, and had numerous artefacts both Akaviri and Tscasei alike to take back home with him.
Despite how little the odds were in his favour the day on the year the captain that took him here came back for him - 2000 septims was the price offered for doing so - no captain worth his salt would turn his nose at that price.
A year older, but 50 years more the wiser came back the man that was Valentis; the time he spent on that Continent provided him a wealth of things that no soul could imagine, or dare to hope to.
As a personal favour he gave the captain an ancient Akaviri wayfarers charm that would protect him from dangerous waters and ensurer his safety on journeys on the sea.
The captain laughed and thanked him ,but he didn’t really believe it would do that.
Settling down.Valentis was back in Anvil, and after getting arriving in the Anvil mages guild; few could believe it - he had told them prior to his leaving that he was heading to the Akiviri continent, and all suspected that he was mad and insane, or just plain lying - or both.
With the evidence he had on his person though; it was hard to dispute that he was telling the truth; within moments he had become a dead man, to the foremost scholar on Akiviri history.
The next couple of years heralded a great deal of stability and affluence for his life - despite the discovery that both of his parents had passed away - and in turn leaving their estates to him, he managed to secure a place in the court of Bruma as court mage and as an Akaviri scholar - due to the Countess’ fascination with them.
He knew somewhere had made his father proud.
By the age of 40 he had courted a beautiful Nordic woman, whom was a bit younger than himself, her name was Sigfra Fire-heart and owned one of the many taverns in Bruma -it was typically where most of the more middle and upper class officials went though, more suited for them and their purses than most of the inhabitants.
Within a few years the pair had been married and had a idyllic little cottage and lot of land a few miles North of Bruma - not only that but a child was on its way to them too.
It seemed as if all things in his life were going well; he still trained daily with his Bō staff, some day soon he would master the art as well as finish his magnus opus on the Akiviri.
Alas.
All good tales must meet their peak, and once the peak is reached - there is only one way left to go.
Down.
Never has a fall from grace been as evident as this; It was a harsh winter night when Valens wife Sigfra entered labour; Valen had sped off towards Bruma and called for a midwife from the Chapel - the pair of them left into the night, a blizzard howling around them and the cold biting viciously at them - in his haste, Valen noticed that the midwife was no longer behind him - this was at least half way there - and through the howling of the wind a more primal one could be heard.
Wolves.
Bō staff at the ready he channelled fire into the staff at the word began to ember- giving off a bright orange light that illuminated the pitch black vortex that swirled around him.
Before long he spotted traces of crimson in the snow; instantly he turned back and tried to make his way to the cottage as fast as he could - the midwife was dead, or would be very soon.
In this weather even with his restoration magic there was little he could do for her- regardless she would no longer be able to perform her duties.
He had to get back to help his wife in this dire moment.
Valentis could hear, through the wind the sound of snow being tread upon - it seemed it be coming from multiple directions, he was being tracked, and encircled by a pack of wolves - his senses were astute and they were not far from him now - but equally he was not far from the cabin.
Should he run for it? In doing so causing the beasts that were snaring him to do the same - or stand and fight.
The way he seen it - if he led the wolves to his home; they could still endanger his wife and his child, these creatures had to be dealt with here and now.
Ceasing the flow of magic for a few seconds into his staff the embers died down and stopped - and then he reignited them twice as powerful as before - within that short space of time the wolves - of which he could see 3, and sense 2 at least behind him were in clear sight now - the alpha was easily defined by a long scar on its right eye socket and dry blood around its muzzle.
In a flash 2 dove at him, whilst the rest circled like sharks, closing the distance with each circumference.
He struck them both with each end of the staff; the simultaneous attack from them worked against them, stunning them both momentarily, he sent a burst of magicka through the staff and swivelled it in the air striking both wolves as they lie dazed - both set ablaze in a burst of flames.
Unable to even move as the flames consumed their bodies the lied in the howling snow howling like hell itself was at their tails.
The rest of the pack resounded that mournful howl and as the flames died down their piercing yellow eyes could no longer be seen - they clearly aren’t the most foolish of animals are wolves.
They know when they can’t win.
With the wind at his back Valentis blazed through the blizzard towards his cottage; what awaited him, would forever change his life.
His wife had perished long before he got there; at least by 2 hours - she had died during labour, the child with her.
Valentis knelt by her corpse for what seemed like an eternity, before forcibly snapping himself out of it; he had not yet finished mourning her, and he probably never would.
But in the meantime - he would send her to Sovengarde - he spent the next day building a wooden pyre and on that cloudless night sent her soul on.
It was the hardest task of his life; and it aged him considerably - finally after all this time, the ailments of age and his journeys caught up with him; he never finished his magnum opus and stopped working in Bruma - taking what research he had and artefacts he left that little cottage and travelled Southwest towards the place he called home for a number of years.
Paying his respects to the graves of his parents he then continued on to the Colovian Highlands - a chance encounter along the way had him come into the possession of a little furry friend.
A farmer bred dogs that were called Border collies; or Sheepdogs - they were adorable little things that grew into fast and intelligent dogs.
He received him for free since he couldn’t handle the litter that he had - after naming the little pup Alexander a small smile crept along an ageing mans face and he headed towards his destination feeling a bit more complete than the wreck that had made a the journey here so far.
Valentis spent the next 15 years in a repeat cycle, he continued his research in the fort he named Fireheart fortress - keeping a large hearth at the centre of the tower burning permanently as a sign of his never ending love for the woman who took his heart with her to Sovangarde.
On occasion he left on long trips around the surrounding countryside, exploring, fighting, meeting strangers, and foraging -he hoped to find another fort like the one he currently inhabited but the occasion never arose.
One day his faithful furry friend met an unfortunate end to a group of bandits that Valen was dealing with for a local settlement.
A stray arrow hit him and killed him - it tore Valen apart seeing him die in his hands; there’s some things magic can’t prevent, he knew this harsh reality more than most.
On his way back to the fort - he made a stop at farmer's cottage once again; hoping against hope that another litter had been produced.
It had, but two years ago, the dog was already in it’s adulthood, this time he had to pay the farmer to acquire the rambunctious fiend that was Allistair - once again a spring was in Valens step and he left off home with his companion.
By the age of 60 Valentis was an unparalleled master of the Bō, there were few who could match his skill in a battle, not nearly as spry as he used to be in his youth, but his skill made up for it; Valen was actually growing tired of the fortress now, he had spent so much time there and began longing more and more for travelling, every time he set out he went further afield - going to Kvatch and Anvil - there he met with the Captain who helped him long ago, they drank together whenever they met, and did so long into the night.
Every trip into civilisation had the mages guild pester him to return to them; recommendations aside and head to the Arcane university, where they wished for him to teach, Alistair disliked the idea and always started snarling when someone from the mages guild approached - not the dullest tool in the shed, that's for sure.
He always turned them down - he had enough of studying and dusty old tomes now, he would travel more and more until his bones could no longer carry him.
Come the age of 67 Valentis had acquired a new companion - Albert - easily the one with the fluffiest coat of the trio he had acquired over the years.
He has 3 year old and the pair were heading to Kvatch, the Count was having a big Birthday celebration and Valen could go for a festival to spice things up a bit.
How little did he know just what he would be getting himself into though.
Spells:Heal, Heal other, Protect, Burden, Drain Life, Drain stamina, Firebolt, Weak fireball, Shock, Frostbite and Snowball.
Inventory:Biscuits and Jerky for Albert, Herbs,salt, Bedroll, Steel Fletching knife, 76 Septims (has several stashes of money as well as some other useful items dotted around the country.)A map for said stashes, some dry/salted meat.
He wields a long staff made from oak; it is special in that the wielder can infuse their spells within it and change how the staff works - an ancient akaviri combat magic style that works somewhat similar to enchanting, but only temporary.
For instance, if Valen wished to take someone out non-lethally he would infuse his staff with Stamina draining magic, each strike would then cause that magical effect - this will last for a short period of time or until a new magic is applied to the staff.
The staff itself is clearly well used and old, despite this it’s strikes are hard hitting and painful - it still seems as if it were newly cut.
In terms of clothing, He wears a long weathered cloak that is a dark gray, it's made from a thick cotton and is well made.
It keep its wearer warm and shields them from the elements; it also has a slight enchantment that prevents some non-magical weapons and damage to be completely negated - under this thick cloak he wears some fur and leather armour; although it’s purpose has mainly been to keep him warm in the mountains rather than to actually serve as armour - it will stop some weapons and arrows from hitting him but it offers very minor protection.
”His steadfast companion.”Name:Albert, Alexander, Alistair… His memory slips sometimes, and calls Albert by his older companions names.
Breed: Border Collie - Typically bred in the Colovian Highlands.
:Appearance: 
:Bio Arf!
*Wags tail* 
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