Mortarion

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

@Hekazu A shame to see this end, I know that my participation in this wasn't too long, nor was I too active to my shame, but I enjoyed my time here. If it isn't too preposterous of me to say this, I'd love to join this once more if you decide to try and give it another go.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

26th of Rain’s Hand, Imperial City - 4E208

The day had started for Jaraleet as it did most days; he got up early in the morning, prepared his breakfast with what little food he could buy based on his meager incomes, and then go towards the docks present in the district. Once there, he’d help to unload one of the many ships that came to the dock each day and, preferably if possible, he’d help transport the cargo from the docks towards its destination inside of the city. It was a simple routine all things considered, but it was extremely important for the Saxhleel to follow it to the letter for it allowed him to wander around the city and, in some lucky occasions, get inside buildings normally closed off. And this, as an agent of the An-Xileel sent to spy on the Imperial City, proved invaluable, after all it’s much easier to collect info if one is to be expected inside a building and generally ignored as most workers are by everyone, with the exception of their superiors that is. In this last part, Jaraleet wasn’t all that different from the dock workers in truth; after all he was often ignored by most people but his superiors still kept tabs on him, the only difference lay in what his true work was. This routine went on for two years and it showed no signs of changing or stopping at all, that is until this day.

As Jaraleet was returning to the Waterfront district, the first sign that something was wrong was when the sun suddenly darkened before being followed by a cool breeze. The second sign were the number of screams and other assorted sounds of surprise that emerged from numerous passersby, who pointed towards the sky in apparent shock. The Argonian spy followed the direction of the pointed hands, his eyes coming to rest on what could only be described as a flying airship. The design of the flying contraption seemed oddly familiar, but Jaraleet didn’t stay to analyze the ships any longer in an effort to determine why they seemed familiar; he knew that whoever, or whatever, was piloting those ships presented a threat and, as such, Jaraleet did the only logical thing and ran. This decision proved to be the correct one as screams soon began to emerge from the area where he had stood but a few moments ago, quickly followed by war cries from who he guessed where Legionnaires.

“Good, good, this gives me more time.” The Haj-Eix thought as the sounds of combat drifted to his ears, more and more faintly as he sped away from the combat scene. Of course running away wasn’t a foolproof solution, as more and more enemies started to invade the city. It was only when his path was blocked by one of the mysterious assailants that Jaraleet recognized who they were. “The Dwemer…” He said breathlessly as he gazed upon one of the Dwemer’s famed Animunculi. He was by no means an expert, but he had read about the automatons that littered the Dwemer ruins, a courtesy of the education provided by the An-Xileel, but he had never expected to encounter one in-person, and who else could be controlling them if not their ancient and, until now, disappeared masters?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jaraleet dodged away from one attack from the automaton. The automaton, a sphere model, didn’t gave the Argonian much time to think, as it lunged towards him once more with it’s sword arm. Jaraleet knew that, unarmored and weaponless as he was, he stood no chance against the Animunculi and that his best bet was to escape.

To do this, he did something unexpected and charged towards the automaton. The sphered shot towards him with it’s crossbow arm, grazing his shoulder, but Jaraleet was able to slide under the extended sword arm with which he had been attacked before. Once he had gotten behind his mechanical foe, the Saxhleel spy continued his mad dash towards the Waterfront district in an effort to lose his enemy. Once he had managed to shake away the Dwemer Sphere, Jaraleet continued at a more slow pace, trying to evade any enemy patrols or other citizens who could give away his position. In the end, he managed to get to his home in the Waterfront district through a combination of skill and sheer luck.

As Jaraleet entered his home, he analyzed what little he had seen. The ancient Mer had appeared without making any sort of declaration or demands, and their forces butchered everyone they came across in the streets regardless of race or, apparent, wealth. Quietly cursing in Jel, Jaraleet moved the table in which he usually ate before removing the rug that was under that particular piece of furniture. With the rug out of the way a latch was revealed and inside of it stood an old travelling pack and, under it, a set of armor and two blades. The Argonian spy quickly put on his leather armor, then the metal vambraces with which he protected his wrists, before he took the sword and dagger that he had kept hidden. “I was wondering when I’d get to use these again.” He muttered as he attached both scabbards to the belt of his armor before slinging the rucksack over his shoulders and then closing the latch.

“Only one thing left to do.” The Argonian said as he approached the oil lantern that he kept near the entrance to the house. Grabbing the lantern, Jaraleet smashed it in the middle of the room it’s contents pooling in the wooden floor. With that done, he grabbed the flint he normally used to start a fire and used it over the small pool of oil; a spark flew and made contact with the easily ignited substance, a fire starting almost immediately afterwards. Jaraleet turned his back and exited the house, closing the door behind him as he started to move away from the Waterfront district and the carnage that had taken hold of the Imperial City.

---

4th of Second Seed, Skingrad - 4E208

In the end, Jaraleet had found himself joining with a group of refugees that had managed to escape from the Imperial City who were heading towards Skingrad. With no other plan in mind, and realizing that it’d be best for him to stay with a group for the time being, the Argonian joined the group in their march towards the southern city, lending his expertise in combat when it was needed to protect them from beasts, bandits, or monsters that roamed the countryside. The march had taken them days, a fact that didn’t bother Jaraleet all too much, but they had eventually reached Skingrad, relatively, safe and sound only to be turned away by orders of Count Hassildor.

The group itself had dissolved shortly afterwards when more and more refugees started arriving, to look for any surviving family the assassin guessed, but none of that mattered now. Laying on the ground in front of him was an old Argonian, his breath slow and steady, that Jaraleet remembered from the Waterfront district. It seemed that, amidst the escape, he had been shot by a strange weapon that the Dwemer possessed and while the wound had been bandaged, the exertion imposed upon the wound due to the days of travel meant that it had reopened and, worse of all, become infected. None of this would usually matter for a Saxhleel, they were known after all for their prodigious resistance to diseases and poisons of all kinds, but the days travelling, coupled with the scarce resources amidst the refugees, meant that the old Argonian was most likely to die, either from the blood loss or the infection.

Jaraleet had done what he could to make the old Saxhleel comfortable, getting a blanket for him and using his rucksack as an impromptu pillow. Now, he sat in front of the old man in what were likely his final hours on Nirn. “Are you comfortable Talen-Ja?” The assassin asked, getting a nod and a small smile in response from the older Argonian. They both knew that he was going to die unless he could get medical help, well more than what the refugees could provide that is, and so the only thing left to do was to wait the end.

The silence stretched on for minutes until Jaraleet began to hum quietly, in an effort to make Talen-Ja’s last hours more pleasant. It was an old song in Jel, he didn’t remember where he had heard it but it always helped to calm him down and, apparently, it had the same effect on Talen-Ja, who was smiling peacefully as he heard Jaraleet. The hours stretched by until, eventually, Talen-Ja went limp, his head lolling to the side as his soul left his body.

“Return to the Hist, honorable Raj-Deelith.” Jaraleet said as he closed the eyes of the old Argonian before taking his rucksack back and covering the corpse of the old man. Standing up, he turned to look at the walls of Skingrad and then towards the gathered refugees outside of the city. The sight didn’t bother him, he knew that Count Hassildor had made the right call to protect his city and that his fate didn’t lie with the other refugees. Walking through the rows of refugees with a cold stare, Jaraleet made his way to where he knew Brutus was; he had heard of the so called Colovian Rangers that the man had formed and he wished to join them. It was, he had surmised, the perfect way to turn this disadvantageous situation into an opportunity for himself. The return of the Dwemer presented many possibilities, and Jaraleet was determined to exploit them to further empower the An-Xileel and Argonia.

As he began to approach the place where he knew Brutus to be, Jaraleet began to play the story he had crafter inside his head over and over; he was a small time mercenary who’s comrades and friends had been butchered by the Dwemer, and he wanted revenge. Soon enough he was brought before the leader of the Rangers. “Please sir, let me join you, these bastards need to be taught a lesson.” Jaraleet said before Brutus could speak, his voice filled with apparent rage at the Dwemers. Brutus smiled at him and motioned for him to continue, all that Jaraleet had to do now was to convince the man but he had a good feeling that he could do so. It took some time but, in the end, Jaraleet managed to convince Brutus to let him into the Colovian Rangers. Now, all that he had to do was to continue on with the charade and attempt to find what opportunities he could to take advantage of the situation with the Dwemer.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

So, as I was chatting with Hank in the discord I mentioned that I had written a whole fake backstory for Jaraleet. Well, here it is:

Jaraleet's fake backstory

Born in the city of Helstrom, located in the unassailed heartland of Black Marsh, to Han-Maat and Simeesh, Jaraleet’s early life was shaped by the presence of his parents who, due to the death of his egg-siblings, turned all their efforts into raising their sole remaining hatchling. From his father, who was a hunter, Jaraleet learned to look for tracks and how to hunt the beasts that lived in the heartland of Blackmarsh, amidst many other things related to hunting throughout the years, and from his mother, he learned the basic principles of alchemy and from which creatures and plants he could extract the ingredients required in potion-making.

The knowledges imported by his father and mother set the routine of his life, as by day Jaraleet would help his father with his hunts -aiding him with progressively more tasks as the years went by- while by the evening he’d help his mother mix the potions that she sold. THis little routine continued on for years, Jaraleet’s knowledge in the crafts taught to him by his parents growing with each year, until tragedy struck out the family. When Jaraleet was 20 years old, and out hunting with his father, his mother was attacked by one of the many dangerous beasts that live in Blackmarsh as the woman was distracted gathering ingredients for her potions and was unable to return home. Both Jaraleet and his father worried about the disappearance of her when she failed to return home at the time she usually did and, with the help of the town guard, a search group was organised to comb the area for the missing woman. A group of the guards sent out to search found Jaraleet’s mother but, unfortunately, by then it was too late.

The only consolation that father and child would have laid in the fact that they were able to say their goodbyes to Simeesh before she finally passed away and rejoined the Hist. Simeesh’s death irrevocably changed the relationship between father and son, not to mention the ambiance of the house. Whereas before there was an atmosphere of serenity and contentment what few individuals came into the house in the wake of Simeesh’s death, be it to pay their respects to the deceased woman or to trade with Han-Maat, noted that the ambiance seemed to be charged with tension and that a gloomy mood seemed to permeate the household. This was mainly due to Han-Maat, who was unable to move past the loss of his dear wife. The hunter began drinking greatly, first in his spare time but eventually, little by little, this tendency began to creep upon his work as a hunter until it turned into full-blown alcoholism as Han-Maat was drunk even as he hunted. This habit eventually wound up costing his father, for during one hunt the elder Argonian was too slow to evade an attack from an animal due to his drunkenness.

This would have proved fatal, where it not for Jaraleet’s presence, who was able to drive away the beast and bring his father back to Helstrom, where the healers tended to him as best they could. Unfortunately, his father was left crippled and unable to continue his work as a hunter and was forced to remain at home. Jaraleet would try and support himself and his father by taking over the job of the latter as a hunter but it quickly became that, by himself, he was unable to hunt enough game to provide for the both of them. Before his father had been crippled, the both of them had been able to hunt and thus bring enough game to sell so as to sustain themselves and, even before that, his mother had chipped in with her work as an alchemist but now, Jaraleet was the only source of income in the household.

It quickly became apparent to the young Argonian that the present situation was unsustainable and that, sooner or later, both he and his father would starve to death if they didn’t find a source of steady income. It took Jaraleet a long time to find a suitable solution to the problem he and his faced father, a hard time where they had to sustain themselves on the meagre incomes obtained from Jaraleet’s hunts, but in the end, the young Argonian found out what he thought was the best solution; he’d enlist in the garrison of the town and become a part of the army that the An-Xileel had formed after they took control from the Empire. Everything seemed to work perfectly for a time, Jaraleet stayed stationed in Helstrom and he was able to visit his father regularly who seemed to be showing signs of recovering from his alcoholism. While it was clear that the old Argonian couldn’t return to his old work as a hunter, the fact that he was overcoming his alcoholism, and seemingly also moving from his wife’s death, meant that Han-Maat not could look for new avenues of work and not be entirely dependant of Jaraleet.

Problems came when he was transferred to the frontier between Blackmarsh and Morrowind. Skirmishes between the two nations were common in the border between both nations and, as such, fresh soldiers were needed in a, relatively, constant frequency. However, years as a guard hadn't prepared Jaraleet for combat in the border between the two nations; as days went by and the fighting continued and more and more of his comrades died, Jaraleet's spirit slowly began to break. The final straw came when, during yet another skirmish, a particularly incompetent commander led Jaraleet and his unit right into an ambush. The fighting was ferocious and, in the end, the Dunmer forces were routed but at a terrible cost: most of the unit had died. Only Jaraleet and the commander had survived the fighting, but that was not to be for long. Driven mad by the accumulated stress and the recent fight, Jaraleet savagely murdered the commander while blaming him for all the deaths that had occurred. When he finally came to his senses and he realised what he had done, Jaraleet ran away. Once the adrenaline had died away, Jaraleet knew that, where the truth to come out, he would be tried as a traitor and exectued but, more importantly than that, he also realised that he couldn't take the strain anymore.

And so, with that in mind, what came afterwards was a mad dash as he fled in the general direction of the only place that he felt that was safe: Helstrom. It took weeks of arduous travel but, by some miracle, Jaraleet managed to arrive in Helstrom before news of his desertion of the An-Xileel’s army did.

Jaraleet rushed to his father’s home, finding out that luckily he was there. His father was surprised to see him returned, to say the least, having heard words of his transfer to the Blackmarsh-Morrowind border and, more importantly, that his son wasn’t supposed to have returned yet from his faraway assignment on the border between the two nations. Taking a second to calm himself down, Jaraleet explained to his father his whole story, hiding no detail from him, and while the elder Argonian was conflicted by what he had heard from his son, he still agreed to hide him at least long enough for him to recuperate his energies. A week passed and word of Jaraleet’s desertion arrived in Helstrom, not to mention a bounty for whoever brought him alive to the respective authorities. By that point however, Jaraleet had already come up with what he had to do; it was impossible for him to flee by boat, the agents of the An-Xileel would easily locate him if he tried to do so, and going to Morrowind was equally out of the question, which left him with only one option: flee to Cyrodiil. During the night, Jaraleet sneaked out of his father's house and began making the arduous trek towards the homeland of the Imperials.

The trip was fraught with peril but, after weeks of travel, in the end, he reached the Imperial City. At first Jaraleet tried to live as a civilian, working in the Waterfront District, but as time went on, he realized that after what he had seen he wasn’t fit for civilian life any longer. Taking up his arms once again, one of the few possessions he had left from his time as part of Argonia’s armies, Jaraleet joined up a small time mercenary crew, who acted mostly as guards for caravans not rich enough to hire better mercenary companies or employ the assistance of the vaunted Fighters Guild. The job was simple enough as to not to trouble Jaraleet’s already fragile conscience and the group was tight knit, it seemed like Jaraleet had found his place in the world but it was not to be forever. While the group was resting in the Imperial City after a successful contract, the returned Dwemer attacked the cosmopolitan city. The rest of his friends died, trying to protect some of the refugees evacuating the city, and Jaraleet was the only one left alive; numb from the attack, he went on with the rest of the refugees towards Skingrad. However, once in the outside of the cities, shock quickly gave way to anger, and now Jaraleet searches for a group that’s ready to take the fight back to the returned Dwemer.

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

@Hekazu Sorry for not answering before, been a bit distracted with a combination of other RPs + university obligations. I'll try and get a post as soon as possible, but I am still as interested when I first asked if I could join.

Though, and I say this in an effort to help, maybe it'd be a good idea to bump the old interest check for this? See if we can get in a few new people to re-inject some more vitality now that we've lost a couple of players to my understanding.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Jaraleet

Name: Jaraleet

Age: 32

Sex: Male

Race: Argonian

Birthsign: The Shadow

---

Family Origins: Born in Helstrom during the 27th of Second Second seed in the year 176 of the Fourth Era.

• Han-Maat; Father, Alive.
• Simeesh; Mother, Deceased.
• Meen-Rei; Training Instructor, Alive,
• Brand-Jei; Fellow trainee and Haj-Eix, Deceased.
• Saliith; An-Xileel representative and head of training facility, Alive.

---

Appearance:

Jaraleet is a somewhat tall individual, standing at 6’3 feet; still, in spite of this, he is not a very broad man, having instead a lithe body-type. This is not to say that he isn’t strong, long years of training have given Jaraleet a well toned body and his work as an assassin, combined with frequent exercise in his free time, has kept him in shape throughout the years. Jaraleet’s scales are naturally of a uniform rusty red throughout his whole body, the only thing breaking this uniformity of color being the numerous scars that dot his body, arms, and legs, a byproduct of the training that turned him into an assassin and his time in captivity. The most prominent features of his face are the dull amber eyes, slitted as is typical for Argonians, and three slash scars that run throughout the length of his face and over his left eye.

Life as a Haj-Eix has left Jaraleet with little free time in general until his assignment to Cyrodiil, and as such he is most comfortable wearing his set of leather armor most of the times. However, when forced to change clothings, he opts for a simple white linen shirt. To go with these, Jaraleet wears a set of dark trousers and a pair of matching boots.

---

Equipment:

• Steel Longsword
• Steel Parrying Dagger (Swordbreaker variant)
• Full set of leather armor with removed pauldrons, further modified to include a leather hood.
• Metal Vambraces

Misc. Possessions:

• Travelling rucksack with an assortment of travel supplies such as dried meats
• Small satchel with various alchemical ingredients along with a mortar and pestle
• 100 Septims
• Sleeping sack
• Journal
• Ink bottle
• Quill
• Bottle of Theilul (Argonian rum)

Favoured Skills:

• Highly Proficient; 1H Blade (Dual Wield): Jaraleet’s skill with wielding a sword and a dagger at the same time come as a result of his training as a Haj-Eix. Earlier on in the training process, Meen-Rei, one of the trainers, detected that Jaraleet, amongst a few others trainees, showed the potential skill that was necessary to be able to wield two blades effectively. As such, they were grouped together and given extra training so that they could master combat forms that utilised two blades. Of these, Jaraleet showed the most proficiency using a longsword with a dagger and, as such, he specialised in techniques that utilized the full potential of those two weapons when paired.
• Highly Proficient; Sneak: Years of training as a Hidden Scale have allowed Jaraleet to easily slip by enemies. He knows the best way to distribute his weight when walking so as to make the least amount of noise and knows the best ways to bypass an enemies field of view. Despite this, his height is still somewhat of a hindrance in that, should he make a mistake and be spotted, it’s easier to track him down by his now alerted enemies.
• Moderately Proficient; Alchemy: Along with his training in fighting and sneaking techniques, Jaraleet received training as an alchemist as well. This knowledge, however, extends mainly to the ability of making poisons and their antidotes, when it comes to other types of potions, such as healing one's, Jaraleet is bereft of knowledge, at the very best he can make a potion to enhance stamina and, even then, they are of dubious quality when compared to someone who has more knowledge in that particular area of alchemical knowledge.
• Moderately Proficient; Light Armor: Despite being trained in its use, and using it frequently, Jaraleet is not fully accustomed to fighting for long periods in his armor. He is used to scouting out areas or quick confrontations with assassination targets when he makes a mistake, as such his skills in taking advantage of the benefits of light armor in prolonged combat aren’t quite up to par with those of someone who is more accustomed to traditional fights.
• Somewhat Proficient; Speech: While spending time in Cyrodiil gathering information at the behest of the An-Xileel, Jaraleet developed a bit of a skill for convincing people and bringing them up to his side. However, Jaraleet’s skill pale in comparison to other, more manipulative, individuals, he is good at reading individuals but isn’t too good at using the information that he picks from reading said individuals. Along with this, he depends heavily on the fact that other races have trouble reading Argonian expressions as a crutch of a sort, but other people with more skills could easily read him or call him on any bluffs he makes.

---

History:
Born in the city of Helstrom, located in the unassailed heartland of Black Marsh, to Han-Maat and Simeesh, Jaraleet’s early life was shaped by a single life altering event: at the age of 5, Jaraleet was given by his parents to agents of the An-Xileel. The An-Xileel had been gathering Saxhleel youths born under the sign of the Shadow for the purpose of creating a new organization: the Haj-Eix. The Haj-Eix, or Hidden Scales in Cyrodilic, were created by the An-Xileel as a way to fill in the void left by the destruction of the Shadowscales of old, but this new organization differentiated itself from its predecessor in several key ways. For one, the Haj-Eix were part of the An-Xileel’s forces, gone were the days of depending on the, now destroyed, Dark Brotherhood for the training of assassins and, with it, the dual-loyalties of the Shadowscales of the past, the Haj-Eix were first and foremost servants of the An-Xileel and no one else. Furthermore, these new agents also were trained to act as spies rather than merely assassins as had been the case with their predecessors who were expected to perform only the latter task.

These dual tasks meant that the prospective Haj-Eix were subjected to rigorous trainings to prepare them for their future service towards the An-Xileel. For one they were schooled in the histories of other tamrielic nations in preparation for assignments away from Blackmarsh, but this was merely one facet of their training. The prospective agents were also schooled in forms of torture and how to resist it, namely by being subjected to it once they were older and it was deemed that they could resist such punishment without doing any lasting physical damage that could impact their effectiveness as agents and only to, relatively, light degrees as an extra precaution. To keep the youths compliant through this extreme portion of training, the trainers at the facility indoctrinated them with the thought that the pain they went through was a necessary sacrifice for the prosperity and safety of Blackmarsh, that they were being shaped into guardians that would protect innocent Saxhleel and prevent atrocities like the slave raids of the past from repeating themselves.

Along with this, Jaraleet and the other trainees were forced to endure long periods without food or drink if they didn’t perform up to expectation in their exercises against their trainers. The exercises consisted of a series of duels were the young trainees were given weapons that they were unfamiliar with, and ones which the trainer that they were paired with were proficient at, and told to defeat their trainers. At first these practice duels were conducted with the use of dulled weapons but, as the young Argonians got older, the dulled weapons were replaced with real weapons. They were forbidden from outright killing, or maiming, the trainees but, aside from these limitations, the trainers were encouraged to go all out against their charges. The first objective behind this barbarous training regime was that, by teaching them and making them experience pain, the future Haj-Eix would be desensitized to pain, both their own and that of others. The second objective was that, by continuously fighting individuals more skilled than them, the trainees would quickly gain the skills necessary to wield a variety of weapons, skills that would later be honed even further through more conventional means of training.

It was through this training that Jaraleet first discovered his aptitude for wielding two blades when facing Meen-Rei. Meen-Rei was one of the trainers appointed by the An-Xileel to mold the future Haj-Eix, she was an ex-mercenary who had felt the need to return to her homeland but, once she came back, noticed that she didn’t fit in like she thought she would; the An-Xileel approached her and offered her a place in a society where she thought she’d never fit in again. She first met Jaraleet when the boy was 13 years old and they had been pitted against each other in one of the training exercises, there the young Argonian was forced to use a pair of swords as the weapon of choice dictated by the head of the training facility. The young Jaraleet came close to defeating her, and in this Meen-Rei recognised that the boy had a good aptitude for that style of combat and that, with enough training, he could become a master; as such, Meen-Rei took the young Jaraleet under her wings to polish up his natural talents with blades. It was during this time as well that Jaraleet learned about his predisposition towards potion making, although he always excelled in the craft of poisons rather than in the making of more benign alchemical concoctions.

Along with this, the prospective assassins regularly went through team exercises, both in big groups and in pairs. These exercises fomented a spirit of brotherhood between the future assassins, who came to see in each other a foster family of sorts. Amongst the many trainees, Jaraleet was closest to another youth from Helstrom: Brand-Jei. Both had been taken from the city in the same roundup and, sharing this one common element, they had stuck together through the earlier periods of the training before the whole group had bonded, becoming like brothers before they came to see the other members of the group as an extended family.

This training continued until Jaraleet was 20 years old, where it was deemed that he, and the other trainees, were ready to be sent out into the wider world to perform the will of the An-Xileel. The decade and half of brutal exercises, coupled with the propaganda fed to them by the An-Xileel constantly, had turned Jaraleet and the other trainees into merciless killers, wholly devoted to their task as the instruments of the An-Xileel’s will throughout Blackmarsh and, if needed, throughout the rest of Tamriel. Jaraleet himself worked mostly in Blackmarsh, eliminating those individuals that the An-Xileel felt posed a risk to the well being of all Saxhleel. This category included those individuals that the An-Xileel deemed to be subversive towards their rule, such as those few Argonians who had Imperial sympathies or wished the An-Xileel to be gone, along with more common criminals such as thugs and thieves. Along with this, Jaraleet was sometimes called to the areas near the border between Blackmarsh and Morrowind; while the border territories between both nations were firmly held by the Argonians, it wasn’t strange for the occasional skirmish to break out between Dunmer and Argonian forces. Jaraleet’s role when such situations occurred was to interrogate those Dunmers that were captured at the end of a skirmish, brutally torturing them for whatever information they might have before executing them.

These tasks given to Jaraleet meant that he travelled throughout most of Blackmarsh in his role as an instrument of the An-Xileel for a decade. However, it was thanks to these travels that Jaraleet was able to learn what had become of his parents after a decade and a half; he had been sent to Helstrom to investigate rumors of a potential gathering of malcontents, it was through the course of his investigation into these rumors that he learned what had happened to his parents. While examining the information that the local authorities at Helstrom had about their citizens, Jaraleet learned that his mother and father had been assaulted by bandits while returning to Helstrom a few months ago. As the reports said, his parents, who were traders, were returning to Helstrom after selling their wares in a nearby village and, on the trip back, they were assaulted by bandits, who slaughtered his mother and took off with whatever money his parents had made from selling their goods. The only good news that he learned was that his father had survived, albeit crippled as the wounds dealt to him had meant that his arm had to be amputated due to the amount of time that he had went without medical help.

Once Jaraleet was done reading a simple emotion occupied his mind: rage. Jaraleet tried to convince himself that the source of his rage originated from the fact that the brigands were allowed to act with impunity to hurt loyal citizens of Blackmarsh but the truth, even if Jaraleet didn’t admit it to himself, was much simpler, his anger stemmed from s very simple fact: a son enraged at the death of his moth and the maiming of his father. And so, for the first time in his service to the An-Xileel, Jaraleet disobeyed his orders and began tracking down the brigands who had caused his parents so much suffering. It seemed that, in the intervening months, the band of bandits that had assaulted his parents had gone from being a small group to a large one, to the point that it had split off into smaller, but still affiliated, groups for more chances to assault travelers and caravans. So began Jaraleet’s grim task as he began dismantling group after group of bandits in the only way he knew how to: subterfuge. He’d sneak into camp in the middle of the night, slitting the throats of those who slept or poisoning their food supplies with poisons strong enough that even the prodigious resistance of the Saxhleel towards poisons and diseases could not withstand; very occasionally he’d take one of the bandits alive and torture them for information before putting them out of their misery.

However, in his endeavor to eliminate the bandits, Jaraleet had been careless, for as he continued attacking the group of bandits rumors started spreading about him and his crusade against the bandits near Helstrom. These rumors soon reached into the ears of the leader of the original group, who was now the general leader of the bandits around Helstrom, and the next time that Jaraleet attacked one of the camps, he was promptly overwhelmed by bandits laying in wait near the camp he was attacking. Captured, Jaraleet was brought back to the main base of the bandits; an ancient ruin of either Lilmothiith or Kothringi origin. There, he was tortured by weeks upon weeks by the leader of the bandits, who wanted to know why Jaraleet was targeting him and his underlings but the assassin mere laughed at him and spit in his face. Enraged, the leader of the bandits ordered Jaraleet to be executed and, for a second, everything seemed to be lost until a sudden cry of alarm drew attention away from the captured Haj-Eix. Soon, a force of Argonian soldiers broke into the ruins led by a figure that Jaraleet thought he’d never see again...one of his old friends from during his training: Brand-Jei.

Brand-Jei made his way towards Jaraleet, battling the confused bandits in an effort to try and save Jaraleet. However, before Bran-Jei could reach him, the leader of the bandits attacked his friend; what followed was an intense duel as bandit leader and assassin dueled against each other. In the end, both combatants seemed evenly matched but Brand-Jei managed to persevere and defeat the leader of the bandits and, in turn, managed to rescue Jaraleet. What happened next, he doesn’t knows, for Jaraleet soon passed away due to his injuries, however that was not to be the end of the troubles that he’d have to face. When he next woke up, Jaraleet was in a familiar place; the facility where he had trained to become an agent of the An-Xileel, however he didn’t have much time to ponder things for as soon as someone noticed that he was awake he was brought into a room deeper inside the training facility. There stood Saliith, representative of the An-Xileel and head of the facility, along with other individuals unknown to Jaraleet but whom he guessed where other representatives of the An-Xileel. The purpose of the gathering soon became clear to the assassin, as the convened group accused him of abandoning his duty and, worse of all, being the cause of the death of an Haj-Eix and numerous soldiers loyal to the An-Xileel.

The news hit him as if he had been blasted by an atronach...Brand-Jei was dead. The silence stretched for a few seconds as Jaraleet’s shocked mind tried to process the events, taking his silence for confusion one of the representatives explained to him what had happened. As the weeks stretched after his capture the An-Xileel began to fear that he had been killed or that he had deserted, and so Brand-Jei had been sent to t track him down and bring him back to explain himself. As it turned out, while Brand-Jei had managed to locate, and save, him, he had died shortly afterwards they had both been brought to Helstrom, his deceased friend had been given a burial and when the other soldiers were sure that he wouldn’t die during the travel, Jaraleet was brought to the training facility. The silence stretched once more, the mood in the room growing more and more tense, until Jaraleet finally broke out of his stupor and prostrated himself before the gathered representatives. He first begged for forgiveness, both for deserting his mission and for causing the death of a fellow Scale, before he explained himself in full, about how he had learned of the existence of the bandits and how he couldn’t allow them to continue acting unpunished as they had done in the past.

Jaraleet was hushed out of the room and told to wait, and soon enough murmurs could be heard outside of the room. The hours passed by as the representatives debated between themselves and Jaraleet was starting to fear the worst as time went on, until he was called inside the room once more. The council of representatives had decided that, while Jaraleet had betrayed the trust of the An-Xileel by forsaking his mission, an act which led to the death of one of his fellow agents, he was to be granted a second chance due to his years of exemplary service. The mission itself consisted in an assignment in the heartland of the Mede Empire, where Jaraleet was to gather as much information as possible and send it back once every month through another agent who would be sent to monitor his situation and status; this task seemed easy, and clear, enough for him to be able to do without forsaking his duty like it had been the case with his prior mission, at the very least that’s what the council had decided. Jaraleet was given enough time to fully recuperate but, as soon as he was in proper conditions to undertake the travel to the capital of the Cyrodilic Empire he was to leave at once.

One more week passed as he fully recuperated but, once that was over, Jaraleet left Black Marsh, but not before using what little influence he had left after his failure to make sure that his father would be taken care of in his absence. The month long trek was arduous and long, but to Jaraleet it seemed easier and shorter than any other amount of travelling that he had done; the chance of making up for his failure, for the death of his friend, gave him a sort of manic energy. Soon enough he was set in the Imperial City, living by the Waterfront District, and living under the assumed identity of a deserter from the An-Xileel’s army who had deserted after being unable to cope with the stress of the position. Slowly, but surely, Jaraleet began building a small network of informants, obtaining information from corrupt guards or dissatisfied citizens and, sometimes, employing the Thieves Guild to steal important documents from the Imperial Legions.

This information was slowly, but steadily, sent to his superiors through the monthly check-up by the other Haj-Eix, visits that he hided when asked about it by pretending that the other Scales were other deserters that were merely staying for a while before moving further away from the Imperial City. Two years went by and things seemed poised for him to be able to make up for his failures, however things were to take a turn for the worse as, before the monthly check up, the Imperial City was sieged. Putting on his leather armor and taking his sword and dagger, Jaraleet raced out of his home to bear witness to the might of the returned Dwemer. Knowing that he’d be able to do nothing if he died fighting, Jaraleet quickly returned to his home and grabbed what few meager possessions he had before leaving the Waterfront District with a bunch of other scared refugees. The group soon arrived at Skingrad after a few days of travel and, in that time, an idea formed inside Jaraleet’s mind; if he could gather enough intel about the Dwemer, or even better obtain a piece of their esoteric technology, he could finally redeem himself for the failures of his past. However, to do that, he’d need to be part of a group that was likely to come into contact with the returned Mer, an opportunity that would be nonexistent amongst the refugees from the Imperial City. The solution to this conundrum presented as a local from Skingrad, an Imperial man named Brutus Denian, formed a militia called the Colovian Rangers to help the refugees; seeing these Colovian Rangers as his best chance to get close to the Dwemer and be able to obtain intel on them, Jaraleet signed on with the recently formed militia by selling a story about how he was looking for vengeance against the Dwemer.

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Personality: Jaraleet is a normal situation is an easy going, friendly, individual. He prefers to avoid conflicts with other people and between other people, due to this last fact he is bound to try and intervene if he sees a situation growing tense if he deems that it's his place to try and stop a fight. However, should he deem that he has no place in an unfolding situation he won’t intervene even if his presence would be of help.

However, despite this easy going, friendly, personality of his, Jaraleet is a man who has been conditioned by the long time he has spent as a Haj-Eix. When in combat his whole demeanor changes, suddenly becoming cold and pragmatic in the extreme and while this change might come as extreme this is the core of Jaraleet’s character as a result of the long time he has spent in service to Argonia. This cold, goal-oriented, attitude can also come out of battle, particularly in serious situations or when Jaraleet deems it’s something that’s related to the interests of Blackmarsh (and the An-Xileel by extension).

A third facet of Jaraleet’s personality is that, to some degree, he is a manipulative individual. He is willing to manipulate someone without a hint of remorse if he believes that it’ll help him in his mission as a Haj-Eix. So far, the only beings that are exempt from this side of him are his father, although Jaraleet himself wouldn’t admit that, and the other members of the Haj-Eix that he trained with; when around them, Jaraleet is a more caring individual and prone to show genuine displays of worry and care. Such bonds are rare for Jaraleet to form, and they usually take time to properly develop, but once they are formed, Jaraleet is a loyal, steadfast, ally and friend for life.

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Miscellaneous:

• Jaraleet is an usually calm individual who isn’t easily enraged, but there are two particular topics that cause him to visibly lose his temper: slavery and banditry. Both of these acts enrage Jaraleet, and if he comes across someone who performs either of those activities he is bound to end said individuals life, often painfully, more often than not unless he is convinced to the contrary.
• Jaraleet has a great respect for Saxhleel elders and is bound to, more often than not, refer to them by the Jel title of Raj-Deelith (Honored Elder in Cyrodilic).
• Jaraleet isn’t usually rattled by displays of carnage or other gruesome sights. Years of acting as an assassin, and occasional torturer, have left him jaded and unfeeling towards most atrocities. He can pretend to be affected if needed be to gain someone’s trust or sympathy, although if one paid enough attention it could be easily discerned that he is faking any type of shock or any other similar reactions.

Jaraleet's fake backstory

Born in the city of Helstrom, located in the unassailed heartland of Black Marsh, to Han-Maat and Simeesh, Jaraleet’s early life was shaped by the presence of his parents who, due to the death of his egg-siblings, turned all their efforts into raising their sole remaining hatchling. From his father, who was a hunter, Jaraleet learned to look for tracks and how to hunt the beasts that lived in the heartland of Blackmarsh, amidst many other things related to hunting throughout the years, and from his mother, he learned the basic principles of alchemy and from which creatures and plants he could extract the ingredients required in potion-making.

The knowledges imported by his father and mother set the routine of his life, as by day Jaraleet would help his father with his hunts -aiding him with progressively more tasks as the years went by- while by the evening he’d help his mother mix the potions that she sold. THis little routine continued on for years, Jaraleet’s knowledge in the crafts taught to him by his parents growing with each year, until tragedy struck out the family. When Jaraleet was 20 years old, and out hunting with his father, his mother was attacked by one of the many dangerous beasts that live in Blackmarsh as the woman was distracted gathering ingredients for her potions and was unable to return home. Both Jaraleet and his father worried about the disappearance of her when she failed to return home at the time she usually did and, with the help of the town guard, a search group was organised to comb the area for the missing woman. A group of the guards sent out to search found Jaraleet’s mother but, unfortunately, by then it was too late.

The only consolation that father and child would have laid in the fact that they were able to say their goodbyes to Simeesh before she finally passed away and rejoined the Hist. Simeesh’s death irrevocably changed the relationship between father and son, not to mention the ambiance of the house. Whereas before there was an atmosphere of serenity and contentment what few individuals came into the house in the wake of Simeesh’s death, be it to pay their respects to the deceased woman or to trade with Han-Maat, noted that the ambiance seemed to be charged with tension and that a gloomy mood seemed to permeate the household. This was mainly due to Han-Maat, who was unable to move past the loss of his dear wife. The hunter began drinking greatly, first in his spare time but eventually, little by little, this tendency began to creep upon his work as a hunter until it turned into full-blown alcoholism as Han-Maat was drunk even as he hunted. This habit eventually wound up costing his father, for during one hunt the elder Argonian was too slow to evade an attack from an animal due to his drunkenness.

This would have proved fatal, where it not for Jaraleet’s presence, who was able to drive away the beast and bring his father back to Helstrom, where the healers tended to him as best they could. Unfortunately, his father was left crippled and unable to continue his work as a hunter and was forced to remain at home. Jaraleet would try and support himself and his father by taking over the job of the latter as a hunter but it quickly became that, by himself, he was unable to hunt enough game to provide for the both of them. Before his father had been crippled, the both of them had been able to hunt and thus bring enough game to sell so as to sustain themselves and, even before that, his mother had chipped in with her work as an alchemist but now, Jaraleet was the only source of income in the household.

It quickly became apparent to the young Argonian that the present situation was unsustainable and that, sooner or later, both he and his father would starve to death if they didn’t find a source of steady income. It took Jaraleet a long time to find a suitable solution to the problem he and his faced father, a hard time where they had to sustain themselves on the meagre incomes obtained from Jaraleet’s hunts, but in the end, the young Argonian found out what he thought was the best solution; he’d enlist in the garrison of the town and become a part of the army that the An-Xileel had formed after they took control from the Empire. Everything seemed to work perfectly for a time, Jaraleet stayed stationed in Helstrom and he was able to visit his father regularly who seemed to be showing signs of recovering from his alcoholism. While it was clear that the old Argonian couldn’t return to his old work as a hunter, the fact that he was overcoming his alcoholism, and seemingly also moving from his wife’s death, meant that Han-Maat not could look for new avenues of work and not be entirely dependant of Jaraleet.

Problems came when he was transferred to the frontier between Blackmarsh and Morrowind. Skirmishes between the two nations were common in the border between both nations and, as such, fresh soldiers were needed in a, relatively, constant frequency. However, years as a guard hadn't prepared Jaraleet for combat in the border between the two nations; as days went by and the fighting continued and more and more of his comrades died, Jaraleet's spirit slowly began to break. The final straw came when, during yet another skirmish, a particularly incompetent commander led Jaraleet and his unit right into an ambush. The fighting was ferocious and, in the end, the Dunmer forces were routed but at a terrible cost: most of the unit had died. Only Jaraleet and the commander had survived the fighting, but that was not to be for long. Driven mad by the accumulated stress and the recent fight, Jaraleet savagely murdered the commander while blaming him for all the deaths that had occurred. When he finally came to his senses and he realised what he had done, Jaraleet ran away. Once the adrenaline had died away, Jaraleet knew that, where the truth to come out, he would be tried as a traitor and exectued but, more importantly than that, he also realised that he couldn't take the strain anymore.

And so, with that in mind, what came afterwards was a mad dash as he fled in the general direction of the only place that he felt that was safe: Helstrom. It took weeks of arduous travel but, by some miracle, Jaraleet managed to arrive in Helstrom before news of his desertion of the An-Xileel’s army did.

Jaraleet rushed to his father’s home, finding out that luckily he was there. His father was surprised to see him returned, to say the least, having heard words of his transfer to the Blackmarsh-Morrowind border and, more importantly, that his son wasn’t supposed to have returned yet from his faraway assignment on the border between the two nations. Taking a second to calm himself down, Jaraleet explained to his father his whole story, hiding no detail from him, and while the elder Argonian was conflicted by what he had heard from his son, he still agreed to hide him at least long enough for him to recuperate his energies. A week passed and word of Jaraleet’s desertion arrived in Helstrom, not to mention a bounty for whoever brought him alive to the respective authorities. By that point however, Jaraleet had already come up with what he had to do; it was impossible for him to flee by boat, the agents of the An-Xileel would easily locate him if he tried to do so, and going to Morrowind was equally out of the question, which left him with only one option: flee to Cyrodiil. During the night, Jaraleet sneaked out of his father's house and began making the arduous trek towards the homeland of the Imperials.

The trip was fraught with peril but, after weeks of travel, in the end, he reached the Imperial City. At first Jaraleet tried to live as a civilian, working in the Waterfront District, but as time went on, he realized that after what he had seen he wasn’t fit for civilian life any longer. Taking up his arms once again, one of the few possessions he had left from his time as part of Argonia’s armies, Jaraleet joined up a small time mercenary crew, who acted mostly as guards for caravans not rich enough to hire better mercenary companies or employ the assistance of the vaunted Fighters Guild. The job was simple enough as to not to trouble Jaraleet’s already fragile conscience and the group was tight knit, it seemed like Jaraleet had found his place in the world but it was not to be forever. While the group was resting in the Imperial City after a successful contract, the returned Dwemer attacked the cosmopolitan city. The rest of his friends died, trying to protect some of the refugees evacuating the city, and Jaraleet was the only one left alive; numb from the attack, he went on with the rest of the refugees towards Skingrad. However, once in the outside of the cities, shock quickly gave way to anger, and now Jaraleet searches for a group that’s ready to take the fight back to the returned Dwemer.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

And here's Jaraleet!

Jaraleet

Name: Jaraleet

Age: 32

Sex: Male

Race: Argonian

Birthsign: The Shadow

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Family Origins: Born in Helstrom during the 27th of Second Second seed in the year 176 of the Fourth Era.

• Han-Maat; Father, Alive.
• Simeesh; Mother, Deceased.
• Meen-Rei; Training Instructor, Alive,
• Brand-Jei; Fellow trainee and Haj-Eix, Deceased.
• Saliith; An-Xileel representative and head of training facility, Alive.

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Appearance:

Jaraleet is a somewhat tall individual, standing at 6’3 feet; still, in spite of this, he is not a very broad man, having instead a lithe body-type. This is not to say that he isn’t strong, long years of training have given Jaraleet a well toned body and his work as an assassin, combined with frequent exercise in his free time, has kept him in shape throughout the years. Jaraleet’s scales are naturally of a uniform rusty red throughout his whole body, the only thing breaking this uniformity of color being the numerous scars that dot his body, arms, and legs, a byproduct of the training that turned him into an assassin and his time in captivity. The most prominent features of his face are the dull amber eyes, slitted as is typical for Argonians, and three slash scars that run throughout the length of his face and over his left eye.

Life as a Haj-Eix has left Jaraleet with little free time in general until his assignment to Cyrodiil, and as such he is most comfortable wearing his set of leather armor most of the times. However, when forced to change clothings, he opts for a simple white linen shirt. To go with these, Jaraleet wears a set of dark trousers and a pair of matching boots.

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Equipment:

• Steel Longsword
• Steel Dagger
• Full set of leather armor with removed pauldrons, further modified to include a leather hood.
• Metal Vambraces

Misc. Possessions:

• Travelling rucksack with an assortment of travel supplies such as dried meats
• Small satchel with various alchemical ingredients along with a mortar and pestle
• 100 Septims
• Sleeping sack
• Journal
• Ink bottle
• Quill
• Bottle of Theilul (Argonian rum)

Favoured Skills:

• Highly Proficient; 1H Blade (Dual Wield): Jaraleet’s skill with wielding a sword and a dagger at the same time come as a result of his training as a Haj-Eix. Earlier on in the training process, Meen-Rei, one of the trainers, detected that Jaraleet, amongst a few others trainees, showed the potential skill that was necessary to be able to wield two blades effectively. As such, they were grouped together and given extra training so that they could master combat forms that utilised two blades. Of these, Jaraleet showed the most proficiency using a longsword with a dagger and, as such, he specialised in techniques that utilized the full potential of those two weapons when paired.
• Highly Proficient; Sneak: Years of training as a Hidden Scale have allowed Jaraleet to easily slip by enemies. He knows the best way to distribute his weight when walking so as to make the least amount of noise and knows the best ways to bypass an enemies field of view. Despite this, his height is still somewhat of a hindrance in that, should he make a mistake and be spotted, it’s easier to track him down by his now alerted enemies.
• Moderately Proficient; Alchemy: Along with his training in fighting and sneaking techniques, Jaraleet received training as an alchemist as well. This knowledge, however, extends mainly to the ability of making poisons and their antidotes, when it comes to other types of potions, such as healing one's, Jaraleet is bereft of knowledge, at the very best he can make a potion to enhance stamina and, even then, they are of dubious quality when compared to someone who has more knowledge in that particular area of alchemical knowledge.
• Moderately Proficient; Light Armor: Despite being trained in its use, and using it frequently, Jaraleet is not fully accustomed to fighting for long periods in his armor. He is used to scouting out areas or quick confrontations with assassination targets when he makes a mistake, as such his skills in taking advantage of the benefits of light armor in prolonged combat aren’t quite up to par with those of someone who is more accustomed to traditional fights.
• Somewhat Proficient; Speech: While spending time in Cyrodiil gathering information at the behest of the An-Xileel, Jaraleet developed a bit of a skill for convincing people and bringing them up to his side. However, Jaraleet’s skill pale in comparison to other, more manipulative, individuals, he is good at reading individuals but isn’t too good at using the information that he picks from reading said individuals. Along with this, he depends heavily on the fact that other races have trouble reading Argonian expressions as a crutch of a sort, but other people with more skills could easily read him or call him on any bluffs he makes.

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History:
Born in the city of Helstrom, located in the unassailed heartland of Black Marsh, to Han-Maat and Simeesh, Jaraleet’s early life was shaped by a single life altering event: at the age of 5, Jaraleet was given by his parents to agents of the An-Xileel. The An-Xileel had been gathering Saxhleel youths born under the sign of the Shadow for the purpose of creating a new organization: the Haj-Eix. The Haj-Eix, or Hidden Scales in Cyrodilic, were created by the An-Xileel as a way to fill in the void left by the destruction of the Shadowscales of old, but this new organization differentiated itself from its predecessor in several key ways. For one, the Haj-Eix were part of the An-Xileel’s forces, gone were the days of depending on the, now destroyed, Dark Brotherhood for the training of assassins and, with it, the dual-loyalties of the Shadowscales of the past, the Haj-Eix were first and foremost servants of the An-Xileel and no one else. Furthermore, these new agents also were trained to act as spies rather than merely assassins as had been the case with their predecessors who were expected to perform only the latter task.

These dual tasks meant that the prospective Haj-Eix were subjected to rigorous trainings to prepare them for their future service towards the An-Xileel. For one they were schooled in the histories of other tamrielic nations in preparation for assignments away from Blackmarsh, but this was merely one facet of their training. The prospective agents were also schooled in forms of torture and how to resist it, namely by being subjected to it once they were older and it was deemed that they could resist such punishment without doing any lasting physical damage that could impact their effectiveness as agents and only to, relatively, light degrees as an extra precaution. To keep the youths compliant through this extreme portion of training, the trainers at the facility indoctrinated them with the thought that the pain they went through was a necessary sacrifice for the prosperity and safety of Blackmarsh, that they were being shaped into guardians that would protect innocent Saxhleel and prevent atrocities like the slave raids of the past from repeating themselves.

Along with this, Jaraleet and the other trainees were forced to endure long periods without food or drink if they didn’t perform up to expectation in their exercises against their trainers. The exercises consisted of a series of duels were the young trainees were given weapons that they were unfamiliar with, and ones which the trainer that they were paired with were proficient at, and told to defeat their trainers. At first these practice duels were conducted with the use of dulled weapons but, as the young Argonians got older, the dulled weapons were replaced with real weapons. They were forbidden from outright killing, or maiming, the trainees but, aside from these limitations, the trainers were encouraged to go all out against their charges. The first objective behind this barbarous training regime was that, by teaching them and making them experience pain, the future Haj-Eix would be desensitized to pain, both their own and that of others. The second objective was that, by continuously fighting individuals more skilled than them, the trainees would quickly gain the skills necessary to wield a variety of weapons, skills that would later be honed even further through more conventional means of training.

It was through this training that Jaraleet first discovered his aptitude for wielding two blades when facing Meen-Rei. Meen-Rei was one of the trainers appointed by the An-Xileel to mold the future Haj-Eix, she was an ex-mercenary who had felt the need to return to her homeland but, once she came back, noticed that she didn’t fit in like she thought she would; the An-Xileel approached her and offered her a place in a society where she thought she’d never fit in again. She first met Jaraleet when the boy was 13 years old and they had been pitted against each other in one of the training exercises, there the young Argonian was forced to use a pair of swords as the weapon of choice dictated by the head of the training facility. The young Jaraleet came close to defeating her, and in this Meen-Rei recognised that the boy had a good aptitude for that style of combat and that, with enough training, he could become a master; as such, Meen-Rei took the young Jaraleet under her wings to polish up his natural talents with blades. It was during this time as well that Jaraleet learned about his predisposition towards potion making, although he always excelled in the craft of poisons rather than in the making of more benign alchemical concoctions.

Along with this, the prospective assassins regularly went through team exercises, both in big groups and in pairs. These exercises fomented a spirit of brotherhood between the future assassins, who came to see in each other a foster family of sorts. Amongst the many trainees, Jaraleet was closest to another youth from Helstrom: Brand-Jei. Both had been taken from the city in the same roundup and, sharing this one common element, they had stuck together through the earlier periods of the training before the whole group had bonded, becoming like brothers before they came to see the other members of the group as an extended family.

This training continued until Jaraleet was 20 years old, where it was deemed that he, and the other trainees, were ready to be sent out into the wider world to perform the will of the An-Xileel. The decade and half of brutal exercises, coupled with the propaganda fed to them by the An-Xileel constantly, had turned Jaraleet and the other trainees into merciless killers, wholly devoted to their task as the instruments of the An-Xileel’s will throughout Blackmarsh and, if needed, throughout the rest of Tamriel. Jaraleet himself worked mostly in Blackmarsh, eliminating those individuals that the An-Xileel felt posed a risk to the well being of all Saxhleel. This category included those individuals that the An-Xileel deemed to be subversive towards their rule, such as those few Argonians who had Imperial sympathies or wished the An-Xileel to be gone, along with more common criminals such as thugs and thieves. Along with this, Jaraleet was sometimes called to the areas near the border between Blackmarsh and Morrowind; while the border territories between both nations were firmly held by the Argonians, it wasn’t strange for the occasional skirmish to break out between Dunmer and Argonian forces. Jaraleet’s role when such situations occurred was to interrogate those Dunmers that were captured at the end of a skirmish, brutally torturing them for whatever information they might have before executing them.

These tasks given to Jaraleet meant that he travelled throughout most of Blackmarsh in his role as an instrument of the An-Xileel for a decade. However, it was thanks to these travels that Jaraleet was able to learn what had become of his parents after a decade and a half; he had been sent to Helstrom to investigate rumors of a potential gathering of malcontents, it was through the course of his investigation into these rumors that he learned what had happened to his parents. While examining the information that the local authorities at Helstrom had about their citizens, Jaraleet learned that his mother and father had been assaulted by bandits while returning to Helstrom a few months ago. As the reports said, his parents, who were traders, were returning to Helstrom after selling their wares in a nearby village and, on the trip back, they were assaulted by bandits, who slaughtered his mother and took off with whatever money his parents had made from selling their goods. The only good news that he learned was that his father had survived, albeit crippled as the wounds dealt to him had meant that his arm had to be amputated due to the amount of time that he had went without medical help.

Once Jaraleet was done reading a simple emotion occupied his mind: rage. Jaraleet tried to convince himself that the source of his rage originated from the fact that the brigands were allowed to act with impunity to hurt loyal citizens of Blackmarsh but the truth, even if Jaraleet didn’t admit it to himself, was much simpler, his anger stemmed from s very simple fact: a son enraged at the death of his moth and the maiming of his father. And so, for the first time in his service to the An-Xileel, Jaraleet disobeyed his orders and began tracking down the brigands who had caused his parents so much suffering. It seemed that, in the intervening months, the band of bandits that had assaulted his parents had gone from being a small group to a large one, to the point that it had split off into smaller, but still affiliated, groups for more chances to assault travelers and caravans. So began Jaraleet’s grim task as he began dismantling group after group of bandits in the only way he knew how to: subterfuge. He’d sneak into camp in the middle of the night, slitting the throats of those who slept or poisoning their food supplies with poisons strong enough that even the prodigious resistance of the Saxhleel towards poisons and diseases could not withstand; very occasionally he’d take one of the bandits alive and torture them for information before putting them out of their misery.

However, in his endeavor to eliminate the bandits, Jaraleet had been careless, for as he continued attacking the group of bandits rumors started spreading about him and his crusade against the bandits near Helstrom. These rumors soon reached into the ears of the leader of the original group, who was now the general leader of the bandits around Helstrom, and the next time that Jaraleet attacked one of the camps, he was promptly overwhelmed by bandits laying in wait near the camp he was attacking. Captured, Jaraleet was brought back to the main base of the bandits; an ancient ruin of either Lilmothiith or Kothringi origin. There, he was tortured by weeks upon weeks by the leader of the bandits, who wanted to know why Jaraleet was targeting him and his underlings but the assassin mere laughed at him and spit in his face. Enraged, the leader of the bandits ordered Jaraleet to be executed and, for a second, everything seemed to be lost until a sudden cry of alarm drew attention away from the captured Haj-Eix. Soon, a force of Argonian soldiers broke into the ruins led by a figure that Jaraleet thought he’d never see again...one of his old friends from during his training: Brand-Jei.

Brand-Jei made his way towards Jaraleet, battling the confused bandits in an effort to try and save Jaraleet. However, before Bran-Jei could reach him, the leader of the bandits attacked his friend; what followed was an intense duel as bandit leader and assassin dueled against each other. In the end, both combatants seemed evenly matched but Brand-Jei managed to persevere and defeat the leader of the bandits and, in turn, managed to rescue Jaraleet. What happened next, he doesn’t knows, for Jaraleet soon passed away due to his injuries, however that was not to be the end of the troubles that he’d have to face. When he next woke up, Jaraleet was in a familiar place; the facility where he had trained to become an agent of the An-Xileel, however he didn’t have much time to ponder things for as soon as someone noticed that he was awake he was brought into a room deeper inside the training facility. There stood Saliith, representative of the An-Xileel and head of the facility, along with other individuals unknown to Jaraleet but whom he guessed where other representatives of the An-Xileel. The purpose of the gathering soon became clear to the assassin, as the convened group accused him of abandoning his duty and, worse of all, being the cause of the death of an Haj-Eix and numerous soldiers loyal to the An-Xileel.

The news hit him as if he had been blasted by an atronach...Brand-Jei was dead. The silence stretched for a few seconds as Jaraleet’s shocked mind tried to process the events, taking his silence for confusion one of the representatives explained to him what had happened. As the weeks stretched after his capture the An-Xileel began to fear that he had been killed or that he had deserted, and so Brand-Jei had been sent to t track him down and bring him back to explain himself. As it turned out, while Brand-Jei had managed to locate, and save, him, he had died shortly afterwards they had both been brought to Helstrom, his deceased friend had been given a burial and when the other soldiers were sure that he wouldn’t die during the travel, Jaraleet was brought to the training facility. The silence stretched once more, the mood in the room growing more and more tense, until Jaraleet finally broke out of his stupor and prostrated himself before the gathered representatives. He first begged for forgiveness, both for deserting his mission and for causing the death of a fellow Scale, before he explained himself in full, about how he had learned of the existence of the bandits and how he couldn’t allow them to continue acting unpunished as they had done in the past.

Jaraleet was hushed out of the room and told to wait, and soon enough murmurs could be heard outside of the room. The hours passed by as the representatives debated between themselves and Jaraleet was starting to fear the worst as time went on, until he was called inside the room once more. The council of representatives had decided that, while Jaraleet had betrayed the trust of the An-Xileel by forsaking his mission, an act which led to the death of one of his fellow agents, he was to be granted a second chance due to his years of exemplary service. The mission itself consisted in an assignment in the heartland of the Mede Empire, where Jaraleet was to gather as much information as possible and send it back once every month through another agent who would be sent to monitor his situation and status; this task seemed easy, and clear, enough for him to be able to do without forsaking his duty like it had been the case with his prior mission, at the very least that’s what the council had decided. Jaraleet was given enough time to fully recuperate but, as soon as he was in proper conditions to undertake the travel to the capital of the Cyrodilic Empire he was to leave at once.

One more week passed as he fully recuperated but, once that was over, Jaraleet left Black Marsh, but not before using what little influence he had left after his failure to make sure that his father would be taken care of in his absence. The month long trek was arduous and long, but to Jaraleet it seemed easier and shorter than any other amount of travelling that he had done; the chance of making up for his failure, for the death of his friend, gave him a sort of manic energy. Soon enough he was set in the Imperial City, living by the Waterfront District, and living under the assumed identity of a deserter from the An-Xileel’s army who had deserted after being unable to cope with the stress of the position. Slowly, but surely, Jaraleet began building a small network of informants, obtaining information from corrupt guards or dissatisfied citizens and, sometimes, employing the Thieves Guild to steal important documents from the Imperial Legions.

This information was slowly, but steadily, sent to his superiors through the monthly check-up by the other Haj-Eix, visits that he hided when asked about it by pretending that the other Scales were other deserters that were merely staying for a while before moving further away from the Imperial City. Two years went by and things seemed poised for him to be able to make up for his failures, however things were to take a turn for the worse as, before the monthly check up, the Imperial City was sieged. Putting on his leather armor and taking his sword and dagger, Jaraleet raced out of his home to bear witness to the might of the returned Dwemer. Knowing that he’d be able to do nothing if he died fighting, Jaraleet quickly returned to his home and grabbed what few meager possessions he had before leaving the Waterfront District with a bunch of other scared refugees. The group soon arrived at Skingrad after a few days of travel and, in that time, an idea formed inside Jaraleet’s mind; if he could gather enough intel about the Dwemer, or even better obtain a piece of their esoteric technology, he could finally redeem himself for the failures of his past. However, to do that, he’d need to be part of a group that was likely to come into contact with the returned Mer, an opportunity that would be nonexistent amongst the refugees from the Imperial City. The solution to this conundrum presented as a local from Skingrad, an Imperial man named Brutus Denian, formed a militia called the Colovian Rangers to help the refugees; seeing these Colovian Rangers as his best chance to get close to the Dwemer and be able to obtain intel on them, Jaraleet signed on with the recently formed militia by selling a story about how he was looking for vengeance against the Dwemer.

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Personality: Jaraleet is a normal situation is an easy going, friendly, individual. He prefers to avoid conflicts with other people and between other people, due to this last fact he is bound to try and intervene if he sees a situation growing tense if he deems that it's his place to try and stop a fight. However, should he deem that he has no place in an unfolding situation he won’t intervene even if his presence would be of help.

However, despite this easy going, friendly, personality of his, Jaraleet is a man who has been conditioned by the long time he has spent as a Haj-Eix. When in combat his whole demeanor changes, suddenly becoming cold and pragmatic in the extreme and while this change might come as extreme this is the core of Jaraleet’s character as a result of the long time he has spent in service to Argonia. This cold, goal-oriented, attitude can also come out of battle, particularly in serious situations or when Jaraleet deems it’s something that’s related to the interests of Blackmarsh (and the An-Xileel by extension).

A third facet of Jaraleet’s personality is that, to some degree, he is a manipulative individual. He is willing to manipulate someone without a hint of remorse if he believes that it’ll help him in his mission as a Haj-Eix. So far, the only beings that are exempt from this side of him are his father, although Jaraleet himself wouldn’t admit that, and the other members of the Haj-Eix that he trained with; when around them, Jaraleet is a more caring individual and prone to show genuine displays of worry and care. Such bonds are rare for Jaraleet to form, and they usually take time to properly develop, but once they are formed, Jaraleet is a loyal, steadfast, ally and friend for life.

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Miscellaneous:

• Jaraleet is an usually calm individual who isn’t easily enraged, but there are two particular topics that cause him to visibly lose his temper: slavery and banditry. Both of these acts enrage Jaraleet, and if he comes across someone who performs either of those activities he is bound to end said individuals life, often painfully, more often than not unless he is convinced to the contrary.
• Jaraleet has a great respect for Saxhleel elders and is bound to, more often than not, refer to them by the Jel title of Raj-Deelith (Honored Elder in Cyrodilic).
• Jaraleet isn’t usually rattled by displays of carnage or other gruesome sights. Years of acting as an assassin, and occasional torturer, have left him jaded and unfeeling towards most atrocities. He can pretend to be affected if needed be to gain someone’s trust or sympathy, although if one paid enough attention it could be easily discerned that he is faking any type of shock or any other similar reactions.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@FetzenHey, I sent you a couple ideas about what we could do with our collab in my latest response. Y'know, so that we can get it done soon and, hopefully, not loose the other idea we had talked about.

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

Cassius listened as the Master spoke, apparently displeased by the brashness that he and the fellow with the tricorn hat had demonstrated in not enjoying all that the party offered. The Inquisitive Veteran tensed imperceptibly, waiting for the hammer to strike the metaphorical anvil that'd spell whatever retribution that Mr. Spices had in mind for them. Then, something unexpected happen...the Master laughed, seemingly pleased by the 'direct to business' mentality that he had displayed alongside the Ruinous Captain.

Just as soon as he had tensed, Cassius relaxed imperceptibly. In hindsight, it had been ridiculous for him to tense for Mr. Spices was the polar opposite of the other Master present at the party. Still, something good had come out of this most importantly that Mr. Spices was pleased with their demeanour and, secondly, that he had made a few of those ingrained with the nobility to squirm slightly by the show presented by the Master in front of them. He knew that, logically, he shouldn't find it nearly as amusing as he did, since he technically was part of the same social group...but the Ashdowns had never quite fit in with high society and so Cassius enjoyed seeing nobles and their ilk squirm in place when reminded of their place.

He listened intently as Mr. Spices explained the reasons behind why they had been invited, and the mission that the Masters had planned for them to undertake. He was intrigued to say the least by what the Masters requested of them, to hunt one of their former agents who had fallen off of the Masters favor or who had betrayed them directly. The request, in and of itself, was nothing peculiar, what truly piqued Cassius' interest was the fact that they'd turn to a group of individuals who hadn't met each other before the masquerade itself.

He listened as the various members that had gathered offered their assistance, some more hesitantly than others, and a smirk slowly appeared on his face. "Oh, this will be very interesting indeed." The Inquisitive Veteran thought, already feeling quite content by having accepted the invitation to the masquerade. "I offer my expertise as well to this endeavour." Cassius finally spoke, bowing slightly to the Master once more. "Well then, I would suggest we all start working, no?" He said to no one in particular, waiting to see how everything would unfold next.

@Hekazu

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

@Hekazu Sorry, sorry, been ab ti scatterbrained and distracted in general. Gonna get working on a post right now, and if I don't get it up by tomorrow, well, feel free to, idk, do something horrible to my character down the line? But, on a serious note, my apologies for once again being late with my posts.

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

It took Tsleeixth a moment to notice the fact that the ship had been under attack, having attributed the shouts that he had heard to the inclement weather that had begun the past night. What first tipped him off that something was wrong was the sound of a loud explosion that reverberated through the air, “What the fuck.” He muttered instinctively. Surprise soon gave way to finely-honed instincts and Tsleeixth began to armor up, which was when the second clue that something was out of the ordinary appeared before him was the claw-tipped chains that penetrated the lower deck as he was halfway through putting on his armor. Quickening his pace, Tsleeixth quickly put on the rest of his armor and grabbed the scabbard that held his falmer sword before he hurried towards the upper deck.

Once he arrived there what he saw robbed him of breath, a flying ship was the source of the chains that had penetrated the lower deck of the Kyne’s Tears. Along with this there several crustacean- like creatures with gold prosthetics, which his mind took a few seconds to recognize as land dreughs, were quickly dropping from the airship down into the deck of the Tear. However, all of this couldn’t have prepared him for what was to come next as an undead werewolf, fitted with the same gold prosthetics as the dreughs, jumped into the deck as well. There was something familiar about the undead beast but the advanced stage of decomposition in which the werewolf was, couple with the golden prosthetics, meant that it took Tsleeixth a few seconds to recognize the undead monstrosity as Relmyna Vibrato, one time member of the company. He remembered the discussion that had surrounded what to do with the Dunmer woman, whether to exile or kill her outright, and how, in the end, they had decided to imprison her like some beast.

He felt a pang of guilt, wondering if this wasn’t some sort of retribution for their callous treatment of someone who had been part of the group but he quickly moved past those thoughts. Relmyna’s present state wasn’t some sort of divine retribution against the group, merely the work of the Kamal that had butchered her during the Windhelm uprising. Hot rage surged in his mind as more memories from the siege of Windhelm returned to his mind; their retreat from the besieged city and their flight towards Nightgate Inn. The rage quickly subsided as he remembered the panic that had taken hold of his heart when the Kamal forces sent from the city caught up to them but any further thoughts were interrupted when Hargjorn urged everyone to take the fight towards whoever, or whatever, was hiding in the airship currently hovering aboard the Tear by climbing the chains that held the ship in place.

Rage surged through him once again, both towards the enemy and towards himself for his past cowardice and as Tsleeixth gripped the handle of his sheathed sword he vowed to himself never to fall prey to that blind fear again; to fight until his dying breath against the Akaviri invaders and this mysterious new foe. “Victory or Sovngarde!” The Argonian shouted as he unsheathed his sword and began making his way towards one of the chains that connected the Tear to the mysterious airship. He had to deflect a couple of attacks from the dreughs but, in no time, Tsleeixth was in front of one of the chains.

Quickly grabbing ahold of the chain, the Argonian spellsword began climbing his way towards the airship. The metal links of the chain were slippery from the crashing waves, slowing the progress of the Argonian but he, nonetheless, made his way upwards slowly but surely. Problems began to rise when the chains started rattling, one of the metal links hitting Tsleeixth on his bum knee; pain quickly began to spread and, instinctively, Tsleeixth let go of the chain with one hand to try and reach for his knee. That mistake nearly caused him to fail in his endeavor, as the slippery nature of the chains, coupled with their rattling, meant that he almost fell due to holding on with only one hand.

Fortunately he managed to hold on and continued with his ascent, but the pain spreading through his knee was the least of his problems as a growing stiffness began to spread through his leg which caused him to misstep and almost lose his equilibrium. The stiffness, coupled with the pain, meant that such accidents repeated once or twice more before Tsleeixth finally reached the airship proper, his left leg feeling as if it was on fire due to the strain that he had put it through. Panting tiredly, Tsleeixth took a second to catch his breath and massage his bum knee in an effort to lessen the pain; he knew that it was impossible to make the pain go away entirely, but he needed to lessen is as much as possible if he wanted to be an effective combatant when fighting inevitably broke out within the airship.

Once he was done recuperating, Tsleeixth unsheathed his sword and took a moment to scan his surrounding. It quickly became apparent that, through some miracle, he had been the first to get onto the airship proper, probably because he had followed Hargjorn’s call without a second of hesitation. Knowing that heading into the airship alone was suicide, Tsleeixth remained in place, ready for combat, and waited for other members of the company to join him for, while he couldn’t do much alone, he could at least secure a safe zone for the others to climb into the airship.