Name: Lix'r Darja
Race: Khajiit
Age: 24
Birthsign: The Shadow
Family Origins: His parents are travelers so his hometown is all of Skyrim. After coming of age he made roots in Markarth.
Appearance: 
History: Despite the conditions he grew up in, Lix'r had a fairly easy life. With both his parents working as traveling merchants, he was no stranger to long carriage rides and nights spent in tents pitched on the side of the road. He was also no stranger to bandits. Growing up, he fought his fair share of them and, by the time he turned 12, already had a few kills under his belt. This would've been crippling to his development if not for the shining approval of his parents. While most people would be abhorred to discover their child a murderer, Lix's parents were grateful for their son's bloodlust. It kept them safe. They encouraged it. They were even more grateful for his swift fingers.
Often they would set Lix'r after one of their recent customers, goading him to steal back the goods the person had just bought. He'd done it so many times that, eventually, he could hold a full conversation with the person while robbing them blind, all with a smile. It didn't take long for him to acquire a love of shiny things and a talent for conversation. Even quicker to develop were his light feet. It all came too natural to him. At 17 he went solo and set off on his own into Skyrim's wilds. And though his parents were sad to see him go, the three maintained steady contact through the years. He remains to this day, their favorite boy. And he treats his parents well, loves them more than anything.
To the frustration of all of his enemies, life has been pretty good to Lix'r. He has ample amounts of money, more than he knows what to do with truly. At this point in his life, he treasure-hunts and explores dungeons simply for the thrill, and to fill the pockets of the occasional hired Follower. He has a nice house and the disdain of the Jarl, no true love but plenty of wenches, and a job that fills him with the same thrill it did on the first day. Things could be much worse. Unfortunately, much worse has arrived.
Lately, strange things have been happening around Lix'r. First he lost his lucky hood. Next, his hand-for-hire disappeared without even collecting pay. And then, his father died. Well, he didn't "die", rather than vanished without a trace, much to his mother's dismay. Heartbroken over the death of his dear father, and troubled by the nightmares that have begun to plague his daytimes, Lix'r sets off to Anvil, to get to the bottom of these strange happenings once and for all.
Personality: As the only son to two wealthy, aging parents, Lix'r had no choice but to grow up spoiled. And spoiled he is, down to the rotted bone. The boy gets what he wants, and tries his best to make the process as quick and easy as possible. Sometimes this means a wink and a flirt, most often it means stealing. He's great at both so really he could flip a coin and be just as satisfied with whatever outcome. It’s honestly boring at this point. These days, he doesn't want much for anything at all.
He has a confidence about himself that would border on cocky and condescending if he weren’t so casual about it. He's not one to boast or to flaunt, but he also doesn't hide his assets or downplay his talents. This gets him into the exact amount of trouble that he likes being in. He doesn't initiate fights, but when one presents itself to him he can't help but engage. Same goes whenever he hears about a new cave, yet to be explored. Trouble draws him like an apple to the ground. He can't resist the pull.
This speaks to both his unwavering conviction and also a frightening lack of concern or worry for his own safety. Because of the way that he was raised, traveling on hidden roads with chests full of gold, exposed from birth to all of the horrors of the world and the people in it (Bandits are not above stealing babies), Lix'r's sense of danger has been... modified. He will have his hands in his pockets all the way up until the first blade is drawn and pointed at his throat. When he enters a tomb and sees it flooded with dragur and traps, the most he feels is annoyed. This mindset has cost him two fingers and a whole year off his life which he spent lost and losing his mind in Apocrypha's labyrinths. Still, even with missing a pinky and middle finger on his left hand, and a cast of chattering voices in the back of his head, he finds himself thoughtlessly, instinctively, ambling over towards the first sign of danger.
He hates this about himself. It feels out of his control.
He’s a generally pleasant guy. Calm, relaxed demeanor. A slow, steady stride and an easy way of speaking. He moves through life as if there’s not a thing in the world that could make him hurry his pace. And there isn’t. Still, there’s no denying, or ignoring, that there’s something off about Lix’r. For one, his eyes never seem to hold any light. Rather, they reflect it. And if you can see past the glare you’ll find them to be flat and empty. Even when he smiles, even when he laughs, nothing seems to spark within them. Another thing, he is never afraid. Truly. You could sneak up behind him in the middle of the night while he’s out taking a piss and he still wouldn’t jump at the knife in his back. Though his fight or flight does kick in and he will react, he simply will not startle.
Even more disturbing is the fact that he was in love once. The most love he has felt for anyone other than his own parents. And the things he did- The way he betrayed the only person he has ever truly loved… it haunts him. Now and forever.
When he sits and thinks about these things he can feel self-hatred bubbling up in his chest. He looks at how other people behave - running, laughing, yelling - and can’t quite understand what it is he’s missing. Lix’r feels completely isolated from his peers, yet desperate to join them. He doesn't understand what's wrong with him, why he can't relate to others despite his efforts. Part of him wants to turn that confusion into a hatred of others, but instead all the blame falls back onto his own shoulders.
Often you’ll find him people-watching, an innocent enough hobby. What you don’t see is how he practices behind closed doors. He does this religiously. Either pantomining a fight between friends or mimicking a young man’s advances on his lady love. These little shows that he puts on for himself are the only things he has that resemble true human connection. And he needs these performances. Watching others teaches him how to behave when he has no real understanding on how to “be himself”.
Even though he is great company for a few nights, he knows that all his charm and appeal is nothing more than a party trick. There has only ever been one person who has known Lix, and there will never be another. He struggles to know himself, even. He isn’t sure he wants to. When he does look in the mirror, he hates what he sees. Sometimes the sound of his own thoughts are enough to send him running off into another cave, not to be seen for weeks, months, before turning back up with a host of new scars and somehow, someway, even less color in his face. He's been living like this for years.
For now he has his caves and his dungeons and his brawls. He has his money and his mead and his wench.
He doesn’t have enough.
And soon he won’t have anything at all.
Biggest Regret: What he did to Kiba. Also never learning how to read or write.
Lix‘s Goal: To get to the bottom of what happened to his father.
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Skills:Expert: Sneak - He’s been sneaking around since before he could walk. His parents honed this skill in him by playing hiding games and, of course, sending him after their customers.
Adept: Pickpocketing - This was honed alongside Sneak in his youth and he continues to practice this skill today.
Adept: One-Handed - Aside from the training in his youth, Lix has been delving dungeons alone since he was 17. The bones littered across the caves of Skyrim tell the tale of his training montage.
Adept: Speech - He devotes a lot of hours into making sure that his human mask is well tailored.
Spells: Doesn’t know any magic and can’t learn any because he can’t read.
Equipment: A dragon-bone sword and dagger, given to him by his father on his 17th birthday. A set of Black Brotherhood armor, stolen, missing a hood. His trusty satchel. A lantern. Climbing hooks. Rope. First-aid kit. A copious amount of healing potions.
Misc. Possessions: A moonstone necklace his mother gave him the day he was born, he never takes it off. Two full coin purses. A bow and arrow that he can’t use but refuses to part with. A spattering of cheese and meat. A vial of poison.
Member
EpicRoleplay,
Vampiretwilight
