@AbandonedIntel It's all up for speculation at this point as to what happened.
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@AbandonedIntel yes you're accepted, sorry for the delay. You can begin posting as if you just woke up later than the others.
Maele and Harold searched the room in an attempt to find something out of place - but perhaps the most unusual thing they observed was how nothing seemed noteworthy at all. It's as if someone had built this room around them - there were no seams in the walls where hidden doors could be, no slots on the roof to drop anything down. This room was its own environment; nothing seemed to be able to penetrate it. At the same time, something was clearly off with the objects in the room. There were the beds that everyone woke up on, but also a few miscellaneous furniture pieces. A metal table in the middle of the room, a few night stands next to random beds. Some shabby looking rugs here and there.
When you looked at the objects, however, they seemed... unreal. As if they were constantly coming in and out of existence. You saw a lamp on the night stand next to Jess's bed; you blinked, and it was gone. But you weren't sure if there ever was a lamp there, or if you just remembered it slightly wrong, since you now see there's a lamp next to Harold's bed one spot over. It was as if some mist was clouding your mind from fully getting your bearings.
Anyone who searched the room came away feeling uneasy, uncertain and more vulnerable than ever before.
When you looked at the objects, however, they seemed... unreal. As if they were constantly coming in and out of existence. You saw a lamp on the night stand next to Jess's bed; you blinked, and it was gone. But you weren't sure if there ever was a lamp there, or if you just remembered it slightly wrong, since you now see there's a lamp next to Harold's bed one spot over. It was as if some mist was clouding your mind from fully getting your bearings.
Anyone who searched the room came away feeling uneasy, uncertain and more vulnerable than ever before.
Monologue-ing as Berich is definitely something I can get used to. I took some liberty to explain why Berich wouldn't be ransomed off to the Imperials, so I hope that was alright. @Dervish I don't know how you want to handle NPCs but you're free to take control and do whatever with Titus Urellius who is pretty much the lone guard still hunting Berich.
Mediocrity?
Berich thought he recognized everything else that just transpired, but did that bandit just accuse him of mediocrity? You know, from getting smuggled out of the Imperial City through a sewer pipe, to hiding in that haunted tomb in Chorrol, to getting the shit beaten out of me by an angry yet oddly determined guardsman who followed me all the way from the Imperial City, being called mediocre hurts the most. Berich had never had so much excitement in such a short period in his life, and that's including the time he tried that synthetic skooma from the travelling Khajiit in the tattered grey robes. I'm practically an adventurer, now, Berich thought, I mean, slightly above average if anything.
Berich probably would have shat himself at the riding in of the oddly well groomed bandit if he had been given anything of sustenance to eat during his time in prison. But as his body failed him, so did the Count's body fail as it's head was separated from the rest of its gross self. The Count Whosit is dead, well I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the best possible outcome of this day, Berich admitted. I can't believe he was going to take the Emperor's money they paid him to hand me over and then sell me into slavery. What a... weasel. Even I wouldn't do that. Then they'd come back asking questions, and what's he gonna say? Guileless fool.
Berich remembered the conversation the Count of Meir Thornvale had with the lone Penitus Oculatus agent that had managed to follow Berich to this shitstain of a Breton town. Titus Urellius, was his name. He always liked to stick his nose up and pretend he was above being bought. In truth, Berich just couldn't find his price. Ah, Titus! My sweet, pure symbol of upstanding guardianship! It is fitting you were the one to catch me, old boy. But did you really have to kick my ribs so many times? I only have the few. I suppose that was responding to when I sent the prostitutes to his door. I really had you pegged for a prostitutes kind of man, but you went and arrested them all. Big Tit Bruna was a fine girl, and she didn't deserve to see the inside of a jail cell.
"This piece of rat shit cannot be trusted," Titus had told the Count while Berich was tied up. "He will try and make you release him with promises of gold. As such, you can't tell any of your guardsmen you have him in your custody. Let nobody know his true wealth. If anyone asks, say he is an Imperial merchant from the city who committed tax fraud. Keep that in the records, too. When I get backup and Macer is transferred to the Imperial City, we will pay you double whatever he offers to release him. Here is a down payment on that offer." Titus finished his instructions by handing the Count a small bag of gold, and Berich saw the greed in his eyes. Perhaps the Count was always planning on double crossing the Empire. If I'm really lucky, Count Whosit had Titus killed when he went to signal his other Penitus Oculatus boyfriends. Then nobody really knows I'm here.
That would explain why the Count kept Berich for so long. Titus should have been back at least a week ago with two, three of his merry band of Oculatus fops. So this Raimes fellow has no idea what my crime really is... and if I'm lucky, Titus is dead and the trail is cold... worst case, my doting Titus returns here and assumes me dead or sold into slavery. And I can slip away from these stinky prisoners the moment I get a chance! Berich had to contain a cackle as he formulated his plan. Then again... the Penitus could always pick up the trail. I suppose if Titus is dead, then that will only increase the attention tenfold whenever his body is found. And it's not like I have an appearance that can't be easily described... by Azura, I'm missing a damned finger. A blind midwife could describe who I am to a passing Penitus Oculatus hunting me. It might work if I stayed with this group... for now, at least. Safety in numbers, and I don't even think Titus will suspect me of travelling in a group. I hate people. They're the worst. Yes... this would be the perfect escape. My finale to our dance across the continent, Titus! I will evade you!
"Boy, that was weird." Berich offered, trying to make himself seem normal to the other prisoners. "You know, when someone says to me 'quick, I need a prison break, find some reliable men', my first reaction wouldn't be to raid a village's prison, throw a bag of money at some convicts and hope for the best. That is just... very optimistic, I'll give him that." Berich shrugged. "Anyway, I suppose I have nothing better to do than storm a castle. So I'll be accompanying you. Just don't expect me to fight, please. Also, don't expect me to wear any guards' armor if we do sneak into the castle. The plates bruise my shoulders. Other than that, I'm in."
Berich thought he recognized everything else that just transpired, but did that bandit just accuse him of mediocrity? You know, from getting smuggled out of the Imperial City through a sewer pipe, to hiding in that haunted tomb in Chorrol, to getting the shit beaten out of me by an angry yet oddly determined guardsman who followed me all the way from the Imperial City, being called mediocre hurts the most. Berich had never had so much excitement in such a short period in his life, and that's including the time he tried that synthetic skooma from the travelling Khajiit in the tattered grey robes. I'm practically an adventurer, now, Berich thought, I mean, slightly above average if anything.
Berich probably would have shat himself at the riding in of the oddly well groomed bandit if he had been given anything of sustenance to eat during his time in prison. But as his body failed him, so did the Count's body fail as it's head was separated from the rest of its gross self. The Count Whosit is dead, well I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the best possible outcome of this day, Berich admitted. I can't believe he was going to take the Emperor's money they paid him to hand me over and then sell me into slavery. What a... weasel. Even I wouldn't do that. Then they'd come back asking questions, and what's he gonna say? Guileless fool.
Berich remembered the conversation the Count of Meir Thornvale had with the lone Penitus Oculatus agent that had managed to follow Berich to this shitstain of a Breton town. Titus Urellius, was his name. He always liked to stick his nose up and pretend he was above being bought. In truth, Berich just couldn't find his price. Ah, Titus! My sweet, pure symbol of upstanding guardianship! It is fitting you were the one to catch me, old boy. But did you really have to kick my ribs so many times? I only have the few. I suppose that was responding to when I sent the prostitutes to his door. I really had you pegged for a prostitutes kind of man, but you went and arrested them all. Big Tit Bruna was a fine girl, and she didn't deserve to see the inside of a jail cell.
"This piece of rat shit cannot be trusted," Titus had told the Count while Berich was tied up. "He will try and make you release him with promises of gold. As such, you can't tell any of your guardsmen you have him in your custody. Let nobody know his true wealth. If anyone asks, say he is an Imperial merchant from the city who committed tax fraud. Keep that in the records, too. When I get backup and Macer is transferred to the Imperial City, we will pay you double whatever he offers to release him. Here is a down payment on that offer." Titus finished his instructions by handing the Count a small bag of gold, and Berich saw the greed in his eyes. Perhaps the Count was always planning on double crossing the Empire. If I'm really lucky, Count Whosit had Titus killed when he went to signal his other Penitus Oculatus boyfriends. Then nobody really knows I'm here.
That would explain why the Count kept Berich for so long. Titus should have been back at least a week ago with two, three of his merry band of Oculatus fops. So this Raimes fellow has no idea what my crime really is... and if I'm lucky, Titus is dead and the trail is cold... worst case, my doting Titus returns here and assumes me dead or sold into slavery. And I can slip away from these stinky prisoners the moment I get a chance! Berich had to contain a cackle as he formulated his plan. Then again... the Penitus could always pick up the trail. I suppose if Titus is dead, then that will only increase the attention tenfold whenever his body is found. And it's not like I have an appearance that can't be easily described... by Azura, I'm missing a damned finger. A blind midwife could describe who I am to a passing Penitus Oculatus hunting me. It might work if I stayed with this group... for now, at least. Safety in numbers, and I don't even think Titus will suspect me of travelling in a group. I hate people. They're the worst. Yes... this would be the perfect escape. My finale to our dance across the continent, Titus! I will evade you!
"Boy, that was weird." Berich offered, trying to make himself seem normal to the other prisoners. "You know, when someone says to me 'quick, I need a prison break, find some reliable men', my first reaction wouldn't be to raid a village's prison, throw a bag of money at some convicts and hope for the best. That is just... very optimistic, I'll give him that." Berich shrugged. "Anyway, I suppose I have nothing better to do than storm a castle. So I'll be accompanying you. Just don't expect me to fight, please. Also, don't expect me to wear any guards' armor if we do sneak into the castle. The plates bruise my shoulders. Other than that, I'm in."
Berich's first impressions, with love
Cedric: Great, a Breton whose ego is as big as his brutish physique. I get it, because I'm some soft Imperial citizen he thinks he's better than me. It's true, I can't lift things up and put them down like he can. Truly an irreplaceable talent.
Brynn: I'll be honest, I don't know what to make of this guy. I've learned from my dealings even the most despicable bandits can be good, reliable folk. He seems like someone who could be for hire too, which is something I'll have to watch out for.
Fiona: Oh, a do-good optimist. Reminds me of the people I ruined back in the City. They're always the easiest targets. People like me just don't factor into their world view.
Finch: Ew, a hobo. He says he's from the Imperial City. Strange, because I swear I used to work with a woman named Finch in my old bank... can't be the same family, I'm sure.
Faruq: Oh, a young man who has spent his life fighting the Dominion. How... inconvenient. Better not let slip how I was a Thalmor agent in my spare time until we're at the point in our friendship where it will be a bonding experience.
Gaela: Ooh, someone who I'm taller than. Note to self: stand close to Gaela.
Maulakanth: Well would you look at that, someone shat my breeches while I was busy looking at this walking mountain.
Kiralla: You know, when I was a boy I always dreamed of being a conjurer. I wonder if she'd teach me anything? Plus, strangely enough, this one is the only one in the group I don't mind myself irrationally disliking. Maybe it's because I'm taller than her.
Cyrendil: Ooh, a geriatric paladin rounds out the group, yay! I'm a little offended. I count Vampires, Necromancers and Lycanthropes among my closest of friends.
Cedric: Great, a Breton whose ego is as big as his brutish physique. I get it, because I'm some soft Imperial citizen he thinks he's better than me. It's true, I can't lift things up and put them down like he can. Truly an irreplaceable talent.
Brynn: I'll be honest, I don't know what to make of this guy. I've learned from my dealings even the most despicable bandits can be good, reliable folk. He seems like someone who could be for hire too, which is something I'll have to watch out for.
Fiona: Oh, a do-good optimist. Reminds me of the people I ruined back in the City. They're always the easiest targets. People like me just don't factor into their world view.
Finch: Ew, a hobo. He says he's from the Imperial City. Strange, because I swear I used to work with a woman named Finch in my old bank... can't be the same family, I'm sure.
Faruq: Oh, a young man who has spent his life fighting the Dominion. How... inconvenient. Better not let slip how I was a Thalmor agent in my spare time until we're at the point in our friendship where it will be a bonding experience.
Gaela: Ooh, someone who I'm taller than. Note to self: stand close to Gaela.
Maulakanth: Well would you look at that, someone shat my breeches while I was busy looking at this walking mountain.
Kiralla: You know, when I was a boy I always dreamed of being a conjurer. I wonder if she'd teach me anything? Plus, strangely enough, this one is the only one in the group I don't mind myself irrationally disliking. Maybe it's because I'm taller than her.
Cyrendil: Ooh, a geriatric paladin rounds out the group, yay! I'm a little offended. I count Vampires, Necromancers and Lycanthropes among my closest of friends.
Name: Berich Macer (Born Volstag Iron-Arm), the White-Gold Weasel
Race: Berich files as Imperial for tax purposes, however he was born full blooded Nord. Just conspicuously short.
Family Origins: Berich was born to Ingvar and Ganhild Iron-Arm in a small clan of Nordic barbarians in the mountains of Skyrim. He was raised with horses and goats in a family of barbarians, but dropped off said mountain on account of his short stature. He was then raised by an Imperial merchant named Eulalia.
Appearance: Many would remark Berich as being the smallest Nord they had ever met, if they in fact knew he was a Nord. Berich is slight in frame and stands at about 5 foot 7 inches. He dies his fair-blond hair black and wears it back in a ponytail yet cannot cover up his sky-blue eyes that he inherited from his parents. Berich has no less than three gold teeth. A scar runs across from the top of his right eye to the bottom of his chin, from an encounter with an Orcish booker looking to collect. He's missing his left index finger. Different orc booker, same situation. There always seem to be some whiskers on Berich's chin no matter how often he cares to shave.
Age: Berich is 37, although he'd usually tell you he's a hard 28.
Equipment: Berich travels light, with an Imperial white silk garment fitting of someone of his status, and a black fur cloak. He carries a finely sharpened Elvish dagger with many jewels encrusted in the hilt.
Miscellaneous: Some dried fruit and nuts, a skin of wine (ok, several skins of wine).
Also, poison. Like, a lot of poison. Like, a ridiculous amount of poison. Berich is very fond of avoiding combat through the use of poison. Don't worry, though, most of it is non-lethal. The bigger body trail he leaves, the more angered sons and lovers will be hunting him down, and that is just a hassle.
Favored Skills:
Highly efficient: Mercantile, Unarmoed
Moderately Efficient: Alchemy, Athletics
Somewhat Proficient: Short Blade
Crime Committed:
High Treason against the Meade Dynasty
Theft from the Imperial Treasury
21 Counts of theft from members of the Elder Council
Character Background: Volstag Iron-Arm was born in the snowy, mountainous area of Skyrim north of Cyrodiil's Bruma. He was raised by barbarians until the age of ten. This was a nomadic life, full of raiding nearby settlements and hunting animals or starving. Volstag despised this life, and on clear nights he would sneak off from his camp and gaze upon the lights and fires of Bruma. Volstag's parents were warriors, and he was expected to be too. When he grew up, however, the clan realized how small and weak the child would be as an adult. Ganhild, Volstag's mother, was ordered to kill him so he would not be a burden on the clan. Instead, the woman left Volstag on the road at the base of a mountain with a hug and a tearless farewell. He never saw his parents after that, but was shortly found by a travelling Imperial merchant, Eulalia Macer, who took the boy in and named him Berich.
Eulalia, a native of the Imperial City, took Berich back with her and raised him in her shop, The Golden Goose (a jewelry store). Berich went from the barbarians of Skyrim to the bourgeoisie of Cyrodiil, and the transition could not have been easier for him. Berich took very well to the education he received, making up for the years he went without. He proved himself a natural salesman in his adopted mother's store. When he was 16, he apprenticed at the Imperial Bank, the largest bank in Cyrodiil.
Berich was always very self centered. He'd always obsess about making sure his appearance was flawless, spending hours on his hair and clothing. The other boys would bully Berich mercilessly, but he didn't really let it get to him. He'd always go home to Eulalia and she'd reaffirm that he didn't need to play with those mean boys; mommy was the only friend Berich would ever need.
Berich took to banking as easily as he did life in the Imperial City. He was a natural not only at handling money, but at getting people to give him money. As he grew up and gained more of a prominent position within the Imperial Bank, he began to wonder: what if I could turn these peoples' money into even more money? That's when Berich began to begin lending money to more and more citizens who needed it, even those who he realistically knew could not pay him back. When they defaulted on their loans, Berich legally seized everything they owned. He became so successful he left to start his own bank, affectionately called the Golden Goose Bank.
Berich started as a small banker in a back corner of the Market District. Berich wanted to get ahead fast; so he did what few bankers brought up in pomp and nobility were willing to do. He invested in underground skooma houses, prostitute rings, and gambling dens. The illicit profits from these organizations propelled Berich into extreme wealth. He began to spread his business; soon he wasn't just dealing with the middle class, but rubbing elbows with the Imperial Council and the Emperor's court. Soon, Berich Macer was on the tongue of every nobleman in the Imperial City. Macer knows how to handle your money. You haven't invested in the Golden Goose? He handles' the Emperor's Skyrim funds. He was on top of the world; he was rich!
Another reason Berich was able to get ahead was the fact that he employed poison against his enemies. At first, it began very innocently: as an aspiring chef, Berich served one of his fellow bankers a pork with nightshade shavings for spice. Too much nightshade, in addition to a bad reaction with the other ingredients, and the banker fell into a month long coma. Ever since then, Berich has been crafting non-lethal poisons to take people of out the "game" so he could improve his own business with no competition. He also isn't that bad of an amateur chef, believe it or not.
Eventually, Berich wanted more than just money. He wanted influence; power. As a failsafe (Berich was very fond of the idea that even in defeat, he comes out ahead) Berich began passing along information to the Thalmor in the city, effectively becoming a Thalmor spy. In return, the Thalmor promised Berich that he would be able to keep his business in the event of a Thalmor takeover of the Imperial City. Berich has naked political ambitions born of his newfound power. He was an upstart, but one with the power to back up his desires. Berich began to court members of the Elder Council of the Empire. He was invited into their homes; began to give them personal tips on how to expand their wealth. Eventually, Berich took his proposition to the Elder Council as a petition: make me a Councilor, and we will become rich together. The Council, and Tamriel itself!
Berich was, unsurprisingly, laughed out of the Council chambers. You think a flash of wealth deserves a place next to families who have been in power for generations? Berich was mocked, his name dragged through the dirt. That's when he did something desperate, and very, very stupid. He held the Council's money as collateral. Appoint me Councilor, or I cannot guarantee that you'll see your money again. I sense an economic downturn. Perhaps if I had the connections of an Elder Councilor, I could save your investments.
This did not sit well with the Council, or the Emperor. Berich was accused of High Treason against the Meade crown for threatening to steal millions of septims worth of Council wealth and upset the balance of power in the Empire. Berich caught wind of this just moments before the guard came crashing into his estate. He ran to the Thalmor embassy in the city, and they managed to smuggle him out of the city in return for his services.
Berich was then on the run. He was pursued by Imperial guardsmen relentlessly... because Berich had implemented a failsafe. The money that the Meade dynasty had invested with the Golden Goose, the funds meant to serve as Skyrim's entire budget for the year, in addition to countless wealth from 21 different Councilors, were hidden by Berich's associates. Only Berich can order the funds recovered. As a result, he was chased by every guardsman in the Empire. He managed to flee until Meir Thornvale, where he was captured and was to be immediately transferred to the Imperial City.
Fighting Style: Berich really cannot fight. If cornered, he will use his dagger. If he wants someone dead, he'll put out a hit on them. He could also try and poison them when they're not looking, or coat his dagger in poison. Otherwise, he'll probably try and run. Berich is not a brave man.
Personality: Berich is, as described, a man without a moral code. He lusts after power and influence, but also craves excitement and intrigue. He loves the thrill of living dangerously, but loves the benefits of coming home to a mansion and being waited on by servants. He is fundamentally dishonest and will lie, cheat and steal just because he can. Berich couldn't be trusted to fetch a glass of water without stealing it.
That is not to say that he isn't fun to be around. Berich is an electric personality. He makes people like him; how else could he have sustained his practices for so long? He makes people feel important, and he showers them in gifts if they follow what he says.
Berich is also, perhaps unsurprisingly, deeply insecure. He is used to being surrounded by material wealth and the praises of bought friends. He is terrified that at his core, his stumped Nordic core, he is unlovable.
Berich is obsessed with the idea of getting the last laugh. He always thinks five steps ahead, even when having a casual conversation with someone. He creates backups and back doors in case he needs to escape a situation. Leverage is what keeps him alive; and he needs all he can get in order to stay above water in the situation he has found himself in.
Berich is a very, very sore loser. He gets angry and irrational, plotting your downfall and letting revenge cloud his mind. Despite his genius dealings, it can be undone with one brash action on Berich's part, as evident by his lording the investments over the crown.
Font Colour: Aquamarine
Race: Berich files as Imperial for tax purposes, however he was born full blooded Nord. Just conspicuously short.
Family Origins: Berich was born to Ingvar and Ganhild Iron-Arm in a small clan of Nordic barbarians in the mountains of Skyrim. He was raised with horses and goats in a family of barbarians, but dropped off said mountain on account of his short stature. He was then raised by an Imperial merchant named Eulalia.
Appearance: Many would remark Berich as being the smallest Nord they had ever met, if they in fact knew he was a Nord. Berich is slight in frame and stands at about 5 foot 7 inches. He dies his fair-blond hair black and wears it back in a ponytail yet cannot cover up his sky-blue eyes that he inherited from his parents. Berich has no less than three gold teeth. A scar runs across from the top of his right eye to the bottom of his chin, from an encounter with an Orcish booker looking to collect. He's missing his left index finger. Different orc booker, same situation. There always seem to be some whiskers on Berich's chin no matter how often he cares to shave.
Age: Berich is 37, although he'd usually tell you he's a hard 28.
Equipment: Berich travels light, with an Imperial white silk garment fitting of someone of his status, and a black fur cloak. He carries a finely sharpened Elvish dagger with many jewels encrusted in the hilt.
Miscellaneous: Some dried fruit and nuts, a skin of wine (ok, several skins of wine).
Also, poison. Like, a lot of poison. Like, a ridiculous amount of poison. Berich is very fond of avoiding combat through the use of poison. Don't worry, though, most of it is non-lethal. The bigger body trail he leaves, the more angered sons and lovers will be hunting him down, and that is just a hassle.
Favored Skills:
Highly efficient: Mercantile, Unarmoed
Moderately Efficient: Alchemy, Athletics
Somewhat Proficient: Short Blade
Crime Committed:
High Treason against the Meade Dynasty
Theft from the Imperial Treasury
21 Counts of theft from members of the Elder Council
Character Background: Volstag Iron-Arm was born in the snowy, mountainous area of Skyrim north of Cyrodiil's Bruma. He was raised by barbarians until the age of ten. This was a nomadic life, full of raiding nearby settlements and hunting animals or starving. Volstag despised this life, and on clear nights he would sneak off from his camp and gaze upon the lights and fires of Bruma. Volstag's parents were warriors, and he was expected to be too. When he grew up, however, the clan realized how small and weak the child would be as an adult. Ganhild, Volstag's mother, was ordered to kill him so he would not be a burden on the clan. Instead, the woman left Volstag on the road at the base of a mountain with a hug and a tearless farewell. He never saw his parents after that, but was shortly found by a travelling Imperial merchant, Eulalia Macer, who took the boy in and named him Berich.
Eulalia, a native of the Imperial City, took Berich back with her and raised him in her shop, The Golden Goose (a jewelry store). Berich went from the barbarians of Skyrim to the bourgeoisie of Cyrodiil, and the transition could not have been easier for him. Berich took very well to the education he received, making up for the years he went without. He proved himself a natural salesman in his adopted mother's store. When he was 16, he apprenticed at the Imperial Bank, the largest bank in Cyrodiil.
Berich was always very self centered. He'd always obsess about making sure his appearance was flawless, spending hours on his hair and clothing. The other boys would bully Berich mercilessly, but he didn't really let it get to him. He'd always go home to Eulalia and she'd reaffirm that he didn't need to play with those mean boys; mommy was the only friend Berich would ever need.
Berich took to banking as easily as he did life in the Imperial City. He was a natural not only at handling money, but at getting people to give him money. As he grew up and gained more of a prominent position within the Imperial Bank, he began to wonder: what if I could turn these peoples' money into even more money? That's when Berich began to begin lending money to more and more citizens who needed it, even those who he realistically knew could not pay him back. When they defaulted on their loans, Berich legally seized everything they owned. He became so successful he left to start his own bank, affectionately called the Golden Goose Bank.
Berich started as a small banker in a back corner of the Market District. Berich wanted to get ahead fast; so he did what few bankers brought up in pomp and nobility were willing to do. He invested in underground skooma houses, prostitute rings, and gambling dens. The illicit profits from these organizations propelled Berich into extreme wealth. He began to spread his business; soon he wasn't just dealing with the middle class, but rubbing elbows with the Imperial Council and the Emperor's court. Soon, Berich Macer was on the tongue of every nobleman in the Imperial City. Macer knows how to handle your money. You haven't invested in the Golden Goose? He handles' the Emperor's Skyrim funds. He was on top of the world; he was rich!
Another reason Berich was able to get ahead was the fact that he employed poison against his enemies. At first, it began very innocently: as an aspiring chef, Berich served one of his fellow bankers a pork with nightshade shavings for spice. Too much nightshade, in addition to a bad reaction with the other ingredients, and the banker fell into a month long coma. Ever since then, Berich has been crafting non-lethal poisons to take people of out the "game" so he could improve his own business with no competition. He also isn't that bad of an amateur chef, believe it or not.
Eventually, Berich wanted more than just money. He wanted influence; power. As a failsafe (Berich was very fond of the idea that even in defeat, he comes out ahead) Berich began passing along information to the Thalmor in the city, effectively becoming a Thalmor spy. In return, the Thalmor promised Berich that he would be able to keep his business in the event of a Thalmor takeover of the Imperial City. Berich has naked political ambitions born of his newfound power. He was an upstart, but one with the power to back up his desires. Berich began to court members of the Elder Council of the Empire. He was invited into their homes; began to give them personal tips on how to expand their wealth. Eventually, Berich took his proposition to the Elder Council as a petition: make me a Councilor, and we will become rich together. The Council, and Tamriel itself!
Berich was, unsurprisingly, laughed out of the Council chambers. You think a flash of wealth deserves a place next to families who have been in power for generations? Berich was mocked, his name dragged through the dirt. That's when he did something desperate, and very, very stupid. He held the Council's money as collateral. Appoint me Councilor, or I cannot guarantee that you'll see your money again. I sense an economic downturn. Perhaps if I had the connections of an Elder Councilor, I could save your investments.
This did not sit well with the Council, or the Emperor. Berich was accused of High Treason against the Meade crown for threatening to steal millions of septims worth of Council wealth and upset the balance of power in the Empire. Berich caught wind of this just moments before the guard came crashing into his estate. He ran to the Thalmor embassy in the city, and they managed to smuggle him out of the city in return for his services.
Berich was then on the run. He was pursued by Imperial guardsmen relentlessly... because Berich had implemented a failsafe. The money that the Meade dynasty had invested with the Golden Goose, the funds meant to serve as Skyrim's entire budget for the year, in addition to countless wealth from 21 different Councilors, were hidden by Berich's associates. Only Berich can order the funds recovered. As a result, he was chased by every guardsman in the Empire. He managed to flee until Meir Thornvale, where he was captured and was to be immediately transferred to the Imperial City.
Fighting Style: Berich really cannot fight. If cornered, he will use his dagger. If he wants someone dead, he'll put out a hit on them. He could also try and poison them when they're not looking, or coat his dagger in poison. Otherwise, he'll probably try and run. Berich is not a brave man.
Personality: Berich is, as described, a man without a moral code. He lusts after power and influence, but also craves excitement and intrigue. He loves the thrill of living dangerously, but loves the benefits of coming home to a mansion and being waited on by servants. He is fundamentally dishonest and will lie, cheat and steal just because he can. Berich couldn't be trusted to fetch a glass of water without stealing it.
That is not to say that he isn't fun to be around. Berich is an electric personality. He makes people like him; how else could he have sustained his practices for so long? He makes people feel important, and he showers them in gifts if they follow what he says.
Berich is also, perhaps unsurprisingly, deeply insecure. He is used to being surrounded by material wealth and the praises of bought friends. He is terrified that at his core, his stumped Nordic core, he is unlovable.
Berich is obsessed with the idea of getting the last laugh. He always thinks five steps ahead, even when having a casual conversation with someone. He creates backups and back doors in case he needs to escape a situation. Leverage is what keeps him alive; and he needs all he can get in order to stay above water in the situation he has found himself in.
Berich is a very, very sore loser. He gets angry and irrational, plotting your downfall and letting revenge cloud his mind. Despite his genius dealings, it can be undone with one brash action on Berich's part, as evident by his lording the investments over the crown.
Font Colour: Aquamarine
Thanks for the feedback and obvious effort put in @Dervish, I'll get to touching up Berich's skills soon, and also getting familiar with all of the characters in the RP!
As a last minute surprise, I've revised Berich as a character. I guess you can call it a downsizing. I made him as a bit of a hyperbolic character, but I think I should take a bit of a more serious tone. Also, I made his own failings as part of his downfall, rather than random chance interrupting his amazing success. I like to think I made him more believable now, and more interesting.
roleplayerguild.com/posts/3637112
roleplayerguild.com/posts/3637112
Let's say they're wearing what they'd wear on a normal day.
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