Jance

A Different Kind of Dungeon

Trapped. Again. 

Had she not served her master well? Had she not done his every bidding? 

The siege of Claw Ridge Keep had been a success. She had proven her loyalty, beheaded the young Jarl and broken the offending 'Circle of Hope', driving them from their established home. 

Yet why had she been left to rot in this cell now? 

She had continued to serve her master, seeking to turn one of his servants into a pure blooded vampire as she herself now was, a gift from her master Molag Bal. However this servant, a man, could not receive the gift in the traditional manner thus a spell, a ritual was required. 

This is where things had gone wrong. Was that why she'd been abandoned? Because she had failed in this task?

The broken Circle, or the Crimson Chaos Company as they seemed to refer to themselves now, had taken her by surprise. Somehow her own incompetent agents had lead them to her, had let their sacrificial lamb escape and seek their aide. Now she was at their mercy. 

They had already begun their torture. She had been denied sustenance, denied the living blood of elves and men she needed to survive. Offered only the insult of vile animal blood. And her mind had been cursed, strange thoughts and false memories sent to torment her as she remained trapped within the metal cage they'd left her. 

Still, she couldn't help but hope. Her master would come, he'd gone to such great lengths to save her before, he would come again, she knew it. She was his favored servant. 

The darkness stirred, they'd sought to leave her in an enchanted sleep as they ventured from their new home yet an unfamiliar voice roused her from her slumber. At least in the enchanted sleep she'd been unaware of her hunger.

Jade growled as she opened her one eye and peered out through the cell bars. She didn't see anything at first, save for her two 'guards' the atronarch canines conjured by the elven wolf. But she could sense a figure lurking behind them and a cool chuckle came from the dimly lit basement. 

"Well, well, looks like they finally found you. Bit of a pity, they're wasting what could be a pretty valuable resource. So what if you kill a few random people? Their lot rarely know how to let loose and have a bit of fun don't they?" 

Jade slowly sat up and narrowed her eye. This certainly didn't sound like one of the typical goody goods the company usually attracted. "Strange talk for someone from the Circle of 'Hope'." She stated watching as the figure slowly emerged from the shadows and approached the cell. "I don't believe we've met."

Isyra grinned cheekily and winked at Jade. "Naw love, but I was the one they turned to when they went looking for you. Yea, bit of a surprise for me too but hey, Flame's a Dark Sister and it sounded like a bit of fun. You push the right buttons and this lot can be rather entertaining, especially when they get all indignant." She chuckled as she extended a hand then  stopped and laughed airly. "Ah right, magic barrier around your cage. Name's Isyra, love. Now, I expect my associates haven't had the stomach to give you a proper meal have they? Naw, they think vampires can make due on any blood, probably some stupid notion they got from my brother, if he's even let on he's one of us. He's not right in the head poor dear."

Isyra paused as she mused a moment then caught Jade's eye and grinned. "But I took the liberty of securing you something a bit more satisfying." The breton turned and swept back to the cellar door where she easily lifted a figure off the floor and carried it back to the cell. "Now until you're on board, I can't really just open this door now can I? Ah but that's no trouble. We'll just send your supper in with a bit of teleportation." 

She winked then closed her eyes and the hooded figure was engulfed in shadow then vanished from the spot and landed on the floor in front of Jade. "There. Should make for a good snack. Oh and I'll just tell the goody goods he's a murder or something."

Jade tilted her head suspiciously as she looked back toward Isyra. "I'm just supposed to accept this am I? How do I know you've not poisoned him or something?" She inquired as she reached out and raised the hood off the stranger. A dunmer male, likely homeless judging by his state of dress, stared about wildly in fear. "W-where am I?" He gasped out and Isyra rolled her eyes. 

"I told you, you're here for supper. Really, perhaps I should've rendered him unconscious but it's not nearly as much fun if they don't struggle is it?" She asked looking at Jade quizzically. "And why would I poison you? You're a vampire it wouldn't really do much would it? And no, no silver in his blood or anything." She waved a hand dismissively.

Jade pursed her lips, her rather dry lips, then bared her fangs and lunged at the man as he screamed and flailed trying to fight her off. Jade's hunger gave her strength though and she readily tore him apart, drinking her fill. She dumped what was left of his carcass on the floor then wiped her bloody lips with her sleeve. Her good eye raised to meet Isyra and she gave the breton a bloody smirk. 

"You're right, the struggle and screams really do stimulate the appetite."

Iysra grinned back. "I knew I'd like you."

J'ay'De

Aliases: Dark J'oann

Age: 23

Race: Imperial/Vampire (Daughter of Coldharbour)

Gender: Female

Birth Sign:  The Lord | First Seed/March

Occupation: Molag Bal Enforcer

Standard Inventory: Heavy armor, Mace of Molag Bal

Combat Skills: (racial skill)
1-Handed | Master | 2

Shield/Blocking | Adept | 1

Magical Skills: (racial skill)

Restoration | Novice | 1
Destruction | Master | 6

Conjuration | Adept | 4

Blood Magic | Adept | 4

General Skills: (racial skill/vampire)

Mercantile | Novice | 0

Diplomacy/Persuasion | Novice | 0

Stealth | Novice | 0

Athletics | Adept | 2

Noble | Adept | 2

Resilience | Master | 3

Intimidate | Adept | 2

Birth Sign Skills (racial skill): 

Military Tactics | Adept | 0

Forager | Novice | 0

Skill Points: 27/33

Character Flaws (8):

Amnesia | J'ay'De does not recall her most of former life and lives only to serve her master

Allergic (Shellfish) | Even daedric corruption cannot change one's DNA, thus J'ay'De still cannot eat shellfish

Callous | All kindness and caring has been wrenched from her leaving her cold and unfeeling

Can't Swim | Still can't swim but her fear of water seems to be quelled, for now

Clumsy | One still can't help their terrible coordination

Diabolical Master | She serves Molag Bal(ls) and his servant the Xivkyn Lieutenant who captured her

Missing Eye | Her left eye was badly damaged when she was being tortured

Nightmares | Now her nightmares revolve around her time spent in Oblivion

Zealot | Lives to serve Molag Bal(ls) and seeks to carry out his will across Tamriel

Innate Powers:

Mist Form

Guaranteed Powers:

Daywalking

Healed by normal healing spells

Enhanced Speed at night

Enhanced Strength at night

Feeding Heals Damage

Nightvision

Mandatory Flaws:

Fire Vulnerability (Moderate) | You have little to no natural resistance to fire and catch fire easily

Silver Vulnerability (Moderate) | You are weakened by silver or silver augmented weapons or restraints

Enhanced by Moonlight | Your blood protects you from the wrath of Arkay during the day but it is under the grace of the Moons where your powers come to life. Your Enhanced Strength and Speed can only be used at night

@AndrasteKer Birth sign roll pls, when you've the chance

Saavir

Aliases: Quartermaster Saavir, Saavir "the Ghost", Queen of the Abecean Sea, Slayer of the Terror of Iliac Bay, Sweetest Siren of the Seas
Age: 32
Race: Redguard
Gender: Female
Birth Sign: The Lord | First Seed / March | Military Tactics, Forgery
Occupation: Pirate
Backstory: 

Inventory: Dual swords, pair of one handed crossbows, 500g, 2 healing potions, 1 magicka potion, 2 vials of poison

Combat Skills: (racial skills)

One-Handed Weapons | Adept | 1

Archery | Adept | 1

Shield/Blocking | Novice | 0

Dual Wielding | Master | 3

Unarmed Fighting | Adept | 2

Throwing Weapons | Novice | 1

Dodge | Adept | 2

Parry | Novice | 1

Magical Skills: (racial skills)

Destruction | Novice | 1

General Skills: (racial skills) 

Athletics | Adept | 1

Blacksmithing | Novice | 0

Acrobatics | Novice | 1

Alchemy | Adept | 2

Alcohol Tolerance | Novice | 1

Diplomacy/Persuasion | Novice | 1

Intimidate | Adept | 2

Mercantile | Adept | 2

Lockpicking | Novice | 1

Pickpocketing | Novice | 1

Sailing | Master | 3

Stealth | Adept | 2

Streetwise | Novice | 1

Birth Sign Skills: (innate skills)

Military Tactics | Adept | 1

Forgery | Novice | 0

Skill Points: 30/35

Character Flaws (13):

Addiction (Skooma/Tobacco) | Saavir is often seen with a pipe in hand or a bottle of high quality skooma, usually Belmorra Blue

Bounty | Wanted in nearly every port along the borders of the Daggerfall Covenant

Brutally Honest | Has little tact and speaks her mind as she pleases

Compulsion (Exaggeration/Liar) | Can't help but extol 

Deep Sleeper | When she's out, she's out, can sleep through a hurricane in the middle of the ocean

Flirtatious/Lustful | She swings both ways and rarely goes a night without having at least one, or two, or even three someone's in her bed

Haunted | She got her former captain, Ghork the Ugly, killed in a botched raid, and he has no intention of letting her live it down

Impatient | She's never been one to enjoy sitting on her hands and often springs into action before thinking things through

Notoriety | As a pirate she's pissed off plenty of different folks but especially those of the Daggerfall Covenant as she primarily roams those waters, not to mention her competition

Overconfident | Saavir always knows what she's doing and she knows she can get it done, no matter how impossible the task

Smart Ass | Of course the cocky pirate is also a huge smart ass

Stubborn | She likes things done her way and isn't fond of having to change course

Vain | She's the damn finest looking lass out on those waters and don't you forget it

The Lost Father

Travel to Elsweyr from Vvardenfell was not an easy trip to make. Aloie and her father, Eldure, rarely left the large island, and truly Aloie had never even been to the mainland in her sixteen years. Eldure was determined however that Aloie at least know something about her own culture. While the old dunmer thought of her only as his daughter, the relations between khajiit and dunmer were obviously strained and he knew the young feline maybe one day need to understand things beyond their small farm. 

Thus he booked passage on a small merchant ship traveling from the port of Vos down the eastern coast to Senchal, presumably the largest port in southern Elsweyr. It was a long, rather cramped, and overall dreary trip, yet ever the optimist Aloie made the trip bearable for her father and even their fellow passengers. As often the case, she was everyone's port in literal storms. 

Upon arrival in Senchal, Aloie was struck by the vast difference in the khajiiti city as compared to Vivec. The city spread out like a vast field with people everywhere. Market stalls and baazars covered the streets and the sheer brilliance of colors and smells all around them was overwhelming. Vivec was a large city in of itself but so much of it was contained in the city's maze like walls. This was just open and everywhere. Also as a holy site for dunmer, Vivec didn't see nearly the amount of diversity of peoples that were clustered all through the streets here. Khajiiti were obviously the most prominent of the Tamrielic races but there seemed to be sailors and merchants of all races splashed throughout the crowds. 

From this point, Eldure was uncertain as to how to proceed. He knew the ship that carried Aloie had been called Jode's Light and he suspected it came from this very port those some odd sixteen years ago. Of course what Eldure didn't realize was that the ship wasn't a legitimate merchant ship. And he wasn't exactly eager to find Aloie's family, if there were any left. This was supposed to simply be a father daughter trip of cultural education. 

Upon departing their vessel, young Aloie felt very insecure in this foreign place. Her father as well caught a few wary glances their way. They were now on khajiiti turf and many knew how dunmer viewed the khajiit. That the towering Cathay-raht was sticking so close to her father and looking rather humbled and submissive made a few busybodies suspect of the old dunmer's relationship to the teenage feline. 

Eldure guided the way further into the city, Aloie happy to carry what supplies they still had left from their trip. The logical course of action seemed to be to find a guide, someone who could tell them about Senchal, the khajiiti peoples and more. Naturally finding a reliable guide wasn't the easiest of tasks. Eldure made sure to secure them lodgings in a nearby inn, one that was likely not as reputable as he would've liked but within his meager farmer's budget. After speaking at length with the innkeep and barkeep he was given a name, Ma'ni. 

Ma'ni, they said, was an astute guide who could provide the old dunmer and young khajiit with knowledge of the region as well as a tour of the city and even beyond into the surrounding wilds if they so desired. She, an adventurer of some renown, simply asked for fascinating stories to tell in return, and perhaps a few fair trinkets. 

As Aloie's knowledge of khajiit culture and genetics was limited, the young Cathay-raht was quite surprised when they finally met their guide and discovered she was a lovely, solid black Alfiq. Ma'ni and Aloie hit it off pretty much instantly as the young khajiit was enthralled with the 'novelty' of a talking cat yet she knew enough not to simply treat Ma'ni as a typical housecat, despite her strong desire to scoop Ma'ni into her arms and smother her with kisses and cuddles. 

Ma'ni happily guided Eldure and Aloie on a tour through Senchal telling tales of of the city's history and importance as a port town. However they were unaware of the many eyes upon the odd pair that had been watching them since their arrival. After a few days of staying in Senchal, Eldure requested of Ma'ni that they venture into the wilderness to see more of Elsweyr and what else it had to offer.

The silky Alfiq considered their request and set them up with a traveling caravan that was headed for the capital city of Torval, home of The Mane, and an excellent place for young Aloie to learn about her heritage. The merchant caravan would also be a fine opportunity for Eldure to engage in a bit of trading, the old dunmer's pockets were rather light by this time and he had brought a few items of value just in case. 

The caravan setoff early the next day and all seemed well. The weather though warm was pleasant and Aloie was happy to meet the others they were traveling with. The unsuspecting group however had not realized the ire they'd drawn by the company of their guests and thus would never reach the gates of Torval. 

When the group had stopped to setup camp for the evening, their camp was soon set ablaze by none other than a dragon. Eldure and Aloie were separated, Eldure having gone to the nearby stream to fetch some water whilst Aloie was bustling about their camp making supper for themselves and any of their traveling companions that were in need. 

Once Eldure saw the camp in flames he raced back fearful for his daughter's fate. Aloie however had gone out seeking her father also concerned for his safety. 

Personality Quirks, Habits & Other Notes, Facts & Tidbits

- Erleeif absolutely hates being referred to by the nickname Erl; as a child his dead brother Kveund was the only one who called him Erl as to annoy his younger sibling, thus the name invokes strong feelings and memories all relating to the murder of his brother and his overall exile from his home and family

- The chances of Erleeif losing control and berserking if called Erl are very, very high especially whilst sober (or at least mostly sober)

- Erleeif has a 13 year old illegitimate son out there of which he's completely unaware

- Erleeif doesn't really like the feel of clothing and is highly likely to attempt to remove articles of clothing whenever possible if in a safe environment, these attempts drastically increase when intoxicated

Darkness. 

It was all there was, all she'd known. How long had it been? Hours? Days? Eons? Time had no meaning, not here.

Silence, or screams. That was the only sound she knew. Total silence broken at times by the screams. Who's screams? Her screams.

How had it come to this? Why had she been abandoned? What was life like before this? Once, she thought, she had hope. Yet... she couldn't even remember what hope felt like.

Her body had been broken, ravaged and defiled, repeatedly. All she was, all she held dear, the innocence and purity she once clung to, was gone. 

There was a vague, distant memory of fighting. Fighting tooth and nail against everything that was thrown at her. Against each foe that wished to do her harm. Yet it wasn't enough, it was never enough.

Suddenly it came upon her again. A flash of memory, of failure, of grief. The darkness was now filled with the image of her mother, lying broken and bleeding at her feet. This was their new favored method, and it was by far worse than anything else she'd endured.

Soon came the water. It was all around her, the icy cold grip of death wrapped about her naked flesh and dragged her down to her mother's corpse. Her lungs were filled with the inky black liquid and she coughed and sputtered between screams. 

Voices began to fill the blackness. "Failure." "Murderer." "It's your fault she's dead." "You couldn't save her." "Stendarr didn't save her." 

Then even the lifeless body of her mother began taunting her as well. "Worthless. How could I ever love something as pitiful as you? You're no daughter of mine."

This was no dream. It was endless and eternal, and though she knew it by heart, it cut every time, harder and deeper than any physical pain ever could. 

The water slammed against her over and over, twisting and turning her about until she was suddenly jerked back by jagged chains that wrenched her upward and suspended her in the air.

So he'd come. He didn't always, at times he left her to her misery, alone in the darkness and silence. Yet it was inevitable he would come eventually.

She knew the question. It was always the same. Tears filled her eyes, how much more could she endure? How strong was she supposed to be? Was Stendarr testing her? Did Stendarr even care?

Relief was brief, only when he was there. Only in his presence was her pain eased, only for that moment. 

"...Be my champion..."

The sickening voice whispered, the same request he had begun to make the moment she'd arrived, however long ago that was. 

The chains dug into her wrists, her ankles and her neck. The image of her mother's lifeless corpse still floated across the darkness, glaring at her with dead, hate filled eyes. 

She didn't know why she was fighting anymore. She had no family, no friends, no master. There was nothing now, only this and him. 

She struggled against the chain around her neck as she slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze, a last, pitiable look of defiance, before dropping her head and gasping for breath.

"...Yes, master."

Erleeif Ingriksson 

The Drunken Werewolf Merc

Erleeif, an Eastmarch native, was born into a small werewolf pack consisting of his maternal grandparents (Jorkun & Annlia) , mother (Svea) and father (Ingrik), elder brother (Kveund), younger sister (Brenna), a couple aunts, uncles and a few cousins. They dwelled within the small village of Cragwallow though spent much of their time in the surrounding wilderness. His family boasts a long werewolven lineage, his grandfather used to claim they were descended from Thane Icehammer himself but there's never been any proof to that, though they are careful to keep their inner wolf contained and secreted away from the other residents of Cragwallow. There's been a few incidents over the ages but his pack was quiet adept at covering for their kin.

Erleeif was raised like most nord children save for his nightly hunts with his siblings. The children were taught young how to control the wolf within thus Erleeif has considerable more control as a purebred than the bitten. The young lad took to his wolf so well in fact he often spends long stretches of time as the wolf rather than his human self. Life is somehow simpler as a wolf. However such control still had it's limits and it took time for Erleeif to perfect. As a lad his emotions often got the better of him. 

Roughly around the age of fifteen or so, Erleeif and his elder brother Kveund got into a heated argument over a girl they both fancied. Erleeif's anger brought his wolf to the surface and before he could stop himself he'd attacked his own kin. His ferocity was so great his brother was unable to withstand the attack and died at Erleeif's hands. Now fights within the pack weren't unusual but to kill your own kin was a grave sin in the eyes of his pack. That coupled with Erleeif's own guilt over having his brother's blood on his claws caused the young wolf to flee his own home. He simply couldn't stand the thought of facing his family after what he'd done.

Erleeif lived the next few years alone, wandering the woods in the southwest of Eastmarch as a wolf, hunting and surviving on his own. It wasn't until he was about seventeen he was drawn back to civilization, by the lovely daughter of one of the nobles dwelling within Fort Amol. Erleeif proved himself a capable fighter and joined with the soldiers stationed there and thus began living as a human once more, though his wolfish nature was rather prevalent in his looks and behavior. Still he was able to compensate with plenty of mead, of which he grew very fond of. 

As time passed he was able to grow closer to the girl, Karana, who'd caught his wolf's attention. Though a noble's daughter, Erleeif's natural fighting prowess caught her favor. The two were soon inseparable though Erleeif had yet to reveal his true nature. Her father naturally wasn't entirely pleased with his daughter having a dalliance with a simple soldier, and he'd never particularly liked Erleeif thinking him rather violent and drunkard, though he let her have her fling certain she'd grow out of it. However, things were about to go very wrong for Erleeif. At twenty years of age and a good two years of courtship Erleeif fully intended to take Karana as his wife.

He proposed to her in a quiet place where the two bedded each other for the first time after Karana had accepted his proposal. Erleeif having never given into such passions before, largely due to his self isolation as well as it being a dangerous undertaking for a wolf in general because of exactly what happened next. His wolf emerged and he ravished Karana, biting her and infecting her with his curse, and his seed. Though Karana would ultimately live, her life was entirely changed. Terrified she fled from him once he'd exhausted himself and ran to her father sobbing. 

The guard was dispatched to the spot where they found Erleeif sleeping soundly having reverted back to a man. They arrested the naked nord and threw him into the cells to await further judgement for what he'd done to the noble's daughter. From her hysterics the father never really quite figured out what exactly had happened just that Erleeif had attacked her. This whole he turned into a monster he assumed was simply nonsense she'd invented from the trauma. Once Erleeif had managed to regain his senses and found himself in the fort's dungeon he was once again awash with anguish at his loss of control. Later he would learn of a sizable bounty placed upon his head by the noble should he ever return to Fort Amol, and possibly Eastmarch itself.

Later that evening he transformed again and managed to escape the cells and manage to flee the fort. This time he left Eastmarch completely and headed down into the Rift. He again reverted to the ways of the wolf prowling about the Rift and giving into his baser instincts. After a few more years had passed and at twenty-five Erleeif met Ernae a fellow werewolf female and leader of a small pack. Erleeif hadn't ever met any wolves outside of his own family and found Ernae fascinating. As she was a fellow wolf she accepted him without question and the pair were an instant item. Erleeif was certain he'd at last found someone he could spend his life with. Alas Ernae was nothing like the wolf Erleeif wanted to be.

His family had always done their part to keep their wolf life and their human life separate. They tried hard not to harm others and to keep from passing on the curse without consent. Ernae however was a devout zealot of Hircine. Ernae wasn't purebred like Erleeif but she had been bitten as a teenager and lived with the gift for sometime. When she first turned she'd attacked her parents though was able to restrain herself enough simply to infect them. Thus a small family of wolves were born. They were brought into the pack of the wolf that had originally bitten her and she quickly embraced the wolf finding the strength and freedom it gave her intoxicating. She learned under their alpha and was infatuated with him  and soon become his mate.

However their alpha was reckless and attacked many farms on the outskirts of Riften causing the jarl to summon the Order of the Silver Dawn. Soon much of Ernae's pack had been wiped out including her mate and her parents. Enraged she swore and oath to Hircine to bring all of the Rift into his service. Thus she was on a crusade to infect all the nords of the Rift with Hircine's gift. Erleeif didn't learn this fact of Ernae until after he'd sworn himself to her. To celebrate their union she brought him on a hunt to the a small town of Ivarstead. Here she attacked a small child who'd wandered into the fields to play. Erleeif however intervened saving the child from Ernae's clutches and pitting himself against his mate. 

Erleeif however proved himself the stronger and drove his former love off. He was heartbroken by this betrayal but he couldn't bring himself to kill Ernea. Thus he made his home between the towns of Ivarstead and Nimalten intent on protecting it from Ernae's pack. His territory established and his warning to the nearby settlements were enough to keep Ernae at bay though she was left to ravage the eastern Rift as she pleased. Erleeif resumed life as a nord once more joining the fighter's guild and becoming a mercenary to afford the cost of living as a man. Life has remained such for the passed nine or so years until Erleeif found himself in the company of the Circle.

Captured

It was a fight unlike any other. J'oann had been trained to fight daedra and thier ilk since her teenage years but this was nothing she was prepared for. The daedric titan Alkamel was a force she was unsure her friends could take on alone, yet they had little choice in the matter. It was fight or flee and Jo wasn't one to flee, not when daedra were running loose and a danger to the innocent. 

Though she and her comrades fought bravely it would ultimately prove in vain. Alkamel had tried twice to capture members of their party seeming to have some agenda in mind. What that could be they could only wonder. Yet it wasn't long until his claws had ensnared her own self. 

It happened faster than she could react. The dragon's claws gripped her so tight she felt as though her armor would crush her. Yet she still carried her mace and shield and with every effort she swung and bashed at the claws holding her. At one point she was positive she saw a large, furry beast leap onto Alkamel's tail, a werewolf? Though she couldn't be certain as her focus was primarily on breaking herself free. 

However, it was not to be. The fear of Alkamel dropping her over the water was intense but at least if she fell in the water she had a chance. Yet the titan's claws held fast despite her efforts and at last Alkamel flew over the swirling, gaping portal in the midst of the vast pool. Suddenly she was released and was falling through the air, spiraling downward into the portal, hearing her friends shouting her name in despair. 

The transition was like night and day. As her body tumbled downward everything around her became dark and devoid of color and hope. She continued to fall, landing hard with a thud on the ground beneath her surrounded by a mass of daedra of varying kinds. Jo struggled to her feet, she wasn't about to stand down and just let herself be taken.

"FOR STENDARR!"

She cried with a guttural scream as her mace swung wildly, nearly flying from her grip as she over estimated and lost her balance, yet collided with the skull of a Clannfear. She bashed out with her shield, swiping aside a Scamp then spun to try slamming her mace into the face of a Matriarch. 

Yet a sudden blow to the back of her head caused her vision to flicker then darken. Her body went limp and pitched forward into the sea of daedra that set upon her now unconscious form. Her last thoughts were simply of her comrades. Had they survived? Did they escape or defeat the titan? Would they find her?

They would come for her. They had to.

She had to believe that. She had to hold on, to endure, to not give in.

Her friends would come. 

They, and Stendarr, would not abandon her.

Gives-Sage-Advice

Aliases: Sage
Age: Old
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Birth Sign: The Steed | Midyear/June
Occupation: Gardener/Alchemist, Retired "Shadowscale", Former Member of the Mage's and Fighter's Guilds
Backstory: 

Standard Inventory: Robes or leather armor, alchemical components, potions, staff, swords, coin, general provisions

Combat Skills: (racial skills)

Unarmed Fighting | Novice | 0

Dual Wielding (Swords) | Master | 3

Throwing Weapons | Adept | 2

Dodge | Adept | 2

Magical Skills: (racial skills)

Mysticism | Novice | 0

Restoration | Novice | 0

Destruction (Fire) | Adept | 2

General Skills: (racial skills) 

Alchemy | Master | 2

Athletics | Novice | 0

Lockpicking | Novice | 0

Acrobatics | Adept | 2

Bard (Storyteller) | Novice | 1

Diplomacy/Persuasion | Novice | 1

Hunting/Tracking | Adept | 2

Intimidate | Adept | 2

Nature Survival | Adept | 2

Resilience | Novice | 1

Stealth | Adept | 2

Streetwise | Novice | 1

Birth Sign Skills: (racial skills) 

Riding | Novice | 0

Beast Mastery | Novice | 0

Skill Points: 25/30

Character Flaws (10):

Absent-Minded | Though Sage wasn't always the most focused, he's gotten even more 'senile' in his old age

Addiction (Skooma) | Sage can hardly get through a day without his morning skooma

Aged | Sage is very old though still surprisingly spry when necessary

Aimless | Sage is a retired old man, he spends most his time simply tending to his garden and visiting with his old friend Eldure

Deep Sleeper | Sage can sleep like a log

Haunted | Sage is haunted by a spirit, they'd never met it life but Sage was harvesting alchemical plants at a graveyard and a dunmer ghost, Khayryn, believed he worked there and has haunted him since

Infertile | Sage can no longer sire children

Meddlesome | A bored old man, Sage is often sticking his nose into other people's business

Missing Eye | Sage's right eye was ripped out and in it's place is a simple, pale glass eye

Poor | Sage has very little to his name save his small home in Vvardenfell and his beloved garden

Istan & Isyra

Magical Communications

A fire crackled cheerily in the stone mantle of Istan's Breton home in Wayrest. The scholar sat at his desk, bent over a pile of scrolls yet again searching for the next clue in his continued research into the sanguinare disease. It was late, how late he wasn't sure but sleep was far from his mind and not wholly necessary for one such as himself. His focus was so intent on what he was reading he'd yet to notice the lodestone resting atop the mantle had begun to glow.

"Ah! There you are brother."

The sudden voice that filled the empty room stopped Istan's blood cold and in a moment of panic he leapt up and reached for his staff resting against the wall behind him. However reason set in and he paused to look back to the room scanning it slowly. His brown eyes settled on the mantle and the lodestone where a vague, transparent image of his sister could be seen projected from the stone. Istan scowled at the magical projection and grunted.

"And what do you want... sister." 

He inquired while he began tidying up the desk as he'd knocked off a few scrolls in his panic. 

"Come, come now brother dear, is that anyway to speak to your sister? It's been ages!"

Isyra replied in her usual sickly sweet tone, one Istan knew quite well. She often put on such a tone in hopes of putting her target off guard. For Istan it only made his skin crawl.

"Ages has it? What since you tried to kill me?" 

He retorted with a scoff as he picked up his staff and began circling the room, reinforcing the magical wards of his home. Isyra watched him from the projection and scoffed as she waved a hand dismissively appearing deeply wounded.

"Kill you!? I never tried to kill you brother. I was only trying to get you to see sense. You've been off on this, this... midlife crisis trip for far too long. And come now, if I knew where you were I wouldn't be reduced to contacting you through this ancient thing."

She gestured to the lodestone, one of the few things he'd kept when leaving the Sanctuary and the one thing they'd used to communicate with one another as children. Istan knew he likely should've rid himself of it long ago yet it still held some sentimental value, something Istan was usually lacking in. 

"Oh no, of course, trying to slit my throat with your claws was obviously just an accident."

He stated with a mocking tone as he finished up his warding. He heard Isyra's huff and turned to see her image looking quite peeved with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

"And why exactly are you bothering me now? I'm sure you have better things to do, someone to eat or some lives to ruin."

His confidence was slowly reasserting itself as he once again felt reassured his sibling truly hadn't discovered his location. 

"What? I have to have a reason now to want to speak to my big brother? I'm just lonely Istan dearie."

She stated in a whining tone which made Istan's lip curl. He scoffed as he settled back into his desk and purposely avoided looking at the mantle. 

"Oh? And here I thought you'd found some new friends to amuse yourself with..."

Istan hesitated and glanced fugitively up at the lodestone. He hadn't meant to let that slip and generally he was more careful, however his sister always seemed to throw him off his guard despite everything. Isyra beamed at him through the image and he knew she'd picked up on more than he'd wanted with that slip up.

"Ah ah ah... not spying on me now are you Istan? That's quite rude you know."

She grinned her usual fanged smile and casually examined her nails as she spoke.

"Yes... odd little group. Needed some help with some daedra or something. It's terribly funny, the poor saps are apparently friends of Dronie's. I can't imagine how that happened."

She giggled fiendishly whilst Istan just sighed in boredom. 

"I expect you've killed them already then hence this little interruption."

Isyra sneered and took on a mock tone of innocence. 

"What?! Kill them, why I'd ne- ah well yes, you're right I would."

She cackled to herself as Istan cringed, Isyra's laugh was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

"But no brother dear, as easily as it would be... did you know they actually sleep whilst in my presence? I mean, they just lie there like lumps for ages. I think the only one that might have the appropriate awareness is the cat. She, of course, is a sister so I would expect as much from her."

Isyra mused regaling her reluctant brother with the random steams of thought. 

"And surely they know I don't require sleep like the mortals do. What do they think I do all night I wonder?"

She inquired giving Istan an innocent glance. He shook his head as he ran a finger over the scroll on his desk and muttered back at her.

"Obviously out feeding I expect."

Isyra grinned and snapped her fingers as she nodded.

"Well naturally! I get hungry at night, though where they've been traipsing about the pickings are slim..."

She muttered with a disappointed tone. Istan scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

"As far as I know, you're always hungry."

Isyra raised a brow and smirked at him as she retorted. 

"From what I remember, you used to always be hungry too big brother."

Istan bit his lip, breaking the skin with one of his own fangs and grumbled. 

"Don't remind me. That life is behind me now."

He snapped but Isyra just laughed and wagged a finger at him scoldingly.

"Tsk, tsk now Isty. You can't deny your nature no matter how much you might think you want to. Don't worry brother dear, just let me come to you. I can fix it. We'll make it all better and you can come home. You know the others are getting restless at having a Speaker gone rogue. Really what would father think of all this running off? You know what they'll do if you don't come home soon. I'm trying to protect you!"

Istan bristled and ran a hand through his usually perfectly kept hair which was now damp from sweat. Quickly he rose from the desk and marched over to the mantle. With one hand he grasped the lodestone and glared at Isyra's image.

"No! No, Isyra, I can't keep living like this! Better they come and kill me themselves than to keep being the puppet of a bloodthirsty god and his undead bitch. Now. Leave. Me. Alone!"

Isyra's image looked shocked and scandalized right before Istan chucked the lodestone across the room and into the stone fireplace. The stone stopped glowing and Isyra's imaged flickered and blinked out leaving Istan to his own thoughts once more.

Personality Quirks, Habits & Other Notes, Facts & Tidbits

Isyra & Istan

- The twins do carry some noble blood, on their mother's side and were raised to understand the finer points of nobility and know how to behave in such company

- Have sizeable accounts from their long life and lucrative Brotherhood business, however they rarely share it

- Both have matching jeweled daggers bearing the Black Hand

- Both speak with a posh accent

- Their mother was a noble woman who performed the Black Sacrament to have her lecherous husband dispatched

- Their father carried our the deed and engaged in an illicit affair with their mother once the contract was complete

- She later died in childbirth after which their father spirited the twins away to be raised in the Brotherhood 

Istan

- Unlike his sister, Istan does not flaunt his vampire nature and does his best to hide it (though could likely being inferred if one knows his sister's vampire nature and that he's a Breton over a hundred and doesn't look a day over 20)

- He refrains from drinking human blood thus typically carries small alchemical vials of animal blood which he adds to Cyrodillic Brandy, his preferred poison, to help make the animal blood more palatable

- He occasionally eats regular food though of course, he's very picky and only tolerates the finest of meals

- Is a highly accomplished mage and overall scholar (aka nerd)

- He's studied a variety of topics and speaks several Tamrielian languages

- Though his own arrogance tends to get in the way, Istan does seek to 'better' himself, however he finds most of what other's consider 'good' or 'better' as trivial

- Has a general lack of empathy, largely due to his upbringing as he was never shown empathy himself

- However he does not take pleasure in killing as his sister does

- He condemns the practice of magic by those he deems 'less intelligent' and is much less reckless about the use of magic than his sister, but is often more casual about using more simplistic magic

- Quite enjoys opportunities to study something new as well as making new discoveries

- Likes to hear himself talk and is quick to jump at any chance of better 'educating' (aka lecturing) others when he deems they are wrong regarding pretty much any topic, but especially magic

- Is a high ranking member of the Mages Guild

- Istan's jeweled dagger, once his father's, also bears the ranking mark of Speaker

- Istan was the only twin to rise in the Brotherhood ranks becoming Silence under their father the Speaker, until Istan's hatred of their father got the better of him and he murdered his father; this fact is known only to Istan

- He was chosen to take his father's place as Speaker though has since abandoned his position and fled the Brotherhood, an act that has not been ignored

- His primary goal is to find a cure for his vampirism and rid himself of the Brotherhood forever, and he wishes the same for his sister

Isyra

- Delights in everyone knowing what a monster she is

- If one hasn't figured out she's a vampire upon first meeting, they're likely her next meal

- Partakes of no mortal food or drink

- Is a blood connoisseur and only likes the best quality blood, specifically Altmer or infant blood

- She likes to document the blood she drinks from notable targets and rates them based on flavor, magical content and racial quality

- Enjoys regaling others with stories of her kills from all across Tamriel, there are few places she hasn't killed someone at some point in her life

- Will happily summon a deadra at the drop of a hat or raise a corpse just to watch their loved ones cringe

- Believes that pretty much everything can be solved with someone being eaten, a daedra being summoned or setting everything on fire

- Is as intelligent as her brother but never bothered with the lifelong study as he has, though she's well traveled and has picked up a variety of bits and pieces along the way and knows more about daedra that likely most of the Mages Guild

- Has never cared about increasing her rank in the Brotherhood though her lifelong service would seemingly qualify her, though her messy and chaotic means of dispatching her contracts isn't exactly leadership material

- Can restrain herself if she has to but much prefers leaving a lovely display of carnage behind wherever she goes

- Her primary 'duty' is to find her brother and drag him back to his proper place where he belongs

Istan Nytone

Age: Looks about 20, but is more like 120
Race: Breton/Vampire (Order)
Gender: Male
Birth Sign: The Shadow | Second Seed/May
Occupation: Former Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, Master Wizard of the Mages Guild

Backstory: Nytone Twins

Standard Inventory: Nice suit or robes, staff, jeweled dagger inscribed with the insignia of a Brotherhood Speaker, scrolls, potions, alchemical components, gold, vials of animal blood

Combat Skills: 

Staves | Adept | 2

1-Handed Weapons | Novice | 1

Magical Skills: (racial/vampire skills)

Alteration | Adept | 3

Conjuration | Novice | 0

Mysticism | Adept | 3

Restoration | Novice | 0

Destruction | Adept | 3

Illusion | Master | 5

Blood/Dark Magic | Novice | 2

General Skills: (racial/vampire skills)

Alchemy | Novice | 0

Diplomacy/Persuasion | Adept | 1

Detective/Empathic Accuracy | Adept | 2

Enchanting | Novice | 1

Resilience | Adept | 2

Scholar | Master | 3
Scribe | Master | 3

Noble | Novice | 1

Forgery | Novice | 1

Birth Sign Skills: 
Stealth | Novice | 0
Infiltration | Novice | 0

Skill Points: 33/35

Character Flaws (13):

Addiction (Blood) | As a vampire it is very difficult to resist the thirst for blood, yet Istan has come to despise his vampire nature thus fights to resist the urge to drink fresh, human blood

Contagious | Of course, as a vampire, Istan can pass on his curse if he so desires, though he would never dream of inflicting this torment on anyone else

Daedric Curse | Istan is a vampire and despises this curse that was forced upon him

Dark Secret | Istan, unlike his sister, does not reveal his vampire nature or his former brotherhood affiliation to anyone, though his darkest secret is one even his sister is unaware of, the fact that he was the one who killed their father

Insomnia | Istan doesn't sleep much as a vampire and rarely sleeps when he's not safe in his own home

Driving Goal | Istan seeks to rid himself of the vampiric curse and this is his primary focus, that and to also cure his sister of vampirism as well

Former Ranking | While Isyra's appetites make her a splendid assassin, Istan was always considered the finer of the two and took their father's place as Speaker after his, untimely demise, though now he has since abandoned the brotherhood and his position as Speaker, though of course leaving the brotherhood is no simple matter

Egotistical | Istan does think very highly of himself, he's well educated and quite skilled and made certain to learn as much as he could during his time as a vampire, thus he tends to be rather condescending of others he deems 'less intelligent'

Enemy | As he has abandoned his position of Speaker in the Brotherhood he's considered a pariah that needs to be silenced

Infertile | Naturally as a vampire Istan cannot father children

Paranoid | Istan is on the run from the Brotherhood and his sister thus he's rather quite paranoid about being discovered and tends to distrust everyone around him

Twisted Upbringing | Istan is the twin brother of Isyra, thus he too was raised in the Dark Brotherhood and forcibly turned into a vampire by his own family

Twitch | Istan is extremely fidgety and often mumbles to himself whenever he's caught up in something or avoiding something

Innate Powers:

Detect Life

Mist Form

Charm

Guaranteed Powers: 

Disease Immunity

Poison Immunity

Paralysis Immunity

Enhanced Speed

Enhanced Strength

Feeding Heals Damage

Night-Vision

Mandatory Flaws:

Fire Vulnerability (Moderate) | You have little to no natural resistance to fire and catch fire easily

Silver Vulnerability (Moderate) | You are weakened by silver or silver augmented weapons or restraints

Unnatural Healing | You cannot be healed by traditional medicine or restoration magic, and can only be mended by blood magic or necromancy

character sheet for potential Dark J'oann

Mine on the Switch is SW-7532-0272-0826

On the N3DS it's 4141-2998-0766

Mine's SW-7532-0272-0826

Currently trolling around in Pokemon Sword's DLC

Night Terror

"RUN!! J'OANN! RUUN!"

Her mother's screams made her blood run cold as a figure of shadow appeared behind the golden haired imperial. J'oann was just a girl once more, her body paralyzed in fear and eyes wide with terror. Her mother's hands shoved her back forcing the girl to snap out of it.

"RUN!"

She screamed again and J'oann began running though it felt as if she were running through sludge. Each step was agony and her progress was negligible. Darkness completely surrounded her and all she could see was her mother's face still screaming. Then suddenly her mother's eyes went dead and the darkness turned blood red.

"RUN..."

Her mother's lips moved silently as her ghostly figure fell towards J'oann. She passed through the girl and vanished from sight only the shadow behind her remaining. It continued coming straight for J'oann yet her body refused to respond unable to flee the rapidly approaching shadow. 

Suddenly the face of Darkened-Flame cut through the shadows. The khajiit's eyes were filled with malice and her claws dripped in blood. She held aloft a dagger and gave J'oann an evil grin.

"Friend J'oann..."

She whispered in a sinister voice of death as she lunged at the imperial. J'oann was still paralyzed unable to fend the khajiit off as she screamed and watched Darkened-Flame's dagger racing down toward her chest.

J'oann flew up from the bed a scream still in her throat and her eyes flew open to stare into the darkness of the tavern's small bedroom. Her body was drenched with sweat and her throat dry and hoarse. The young woman gripped the sweat soaked sheets of the bed and whipped her head around bleary eyed as she tried to gain her bearings.

"J-just a dream... just a dream... by Stendarr..." 

She murmured incoherently as she squeezed her eyes shut trying to block out that final image of Darkened-Flame's dagger about to pierce her heart.

Ja'Ro-dar & J'oann

First Encounter

It was an especially trying time for the young khajiit. After so many years of slavery it was difficult being able to be around people. Nothing of life was going the way he'd once imagined as a cub. And now he couldn't even look to his family for aid. Though his mother and siblings understood JR's violent murder of his father, the rest of Elswyer didn't. With almost two thirds of the continent looking for you, the khajiit had to remain hidden. And when approached by the Dark Brotherhood it was an obvious path for him to follow, even if he knew this path would likely never hold peace or happiness for him.

His time as a slave had taught him how to be a brutal and efficient killer. Though within the brotherhood, a certain subtly was often desired. Of course every killer had their own 'style' as it were but this gave JR the opportunity to hone his more natural talents of stealth and subterfuge. Initially JR had no desire to continue killing, but at this point it was his finest skill. Though he still cared greatly for his family, the pain of what he'd endured and the hatred for his father, had twisted his outlook on the world. JR had had to bury everything for so long, trying to dredge that back up seemed pointless. Better instead to simply let it stay buried and allow his calloused heart to remain so. 

The stoic, emotionless take certainly made the killing easier. Like any member of the Brotherhood he started off small. Kills for those peasants with petty squabbles that turned to them seeking death on each other. It wasn't terribly exciting work, the kills were easy but it gave JR time to learn what he was really capable of. It really wasn't long however until he was offered a higher ranking contract. This one from an Imperial noble. It was the first such contract he'd been allowed to take, a test of sorts to see how he performed. Better killers got better contracts which lead to higher ranks and so on. JR didn't exactly seek higher ranking but he did like the respect and fear that came with it.

JR had come to find that for almost everyone, no matter how low brow or high class, their reasons for performing the sacrament were practically the same. 'Oh my SO cheated on me, kill them and their lover', 'Oh this person is in a position I want for myself, kill them so I may have it', 'Oh this person got the last sweet roll at the bakery, kill them so they're no longer competition at the bakery', and even just 'I don't like this person's stupid face, kill them so I don't have to look at it anymore'. All of them were petty and all usually because of power, money, vanity or love. This job was much like that, some noble had a beef with another noble thus to really torture them, we'll kill the ones they love rather than just killing the person they actually hated. 

Of course JR wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, being his first important contract. He'd honed his stealth skills and his patience so he didn't rush things. JR followed his target through the streets, learning their habits, their routine, watching and waiting for an opening. It was weeks before he was ready to make his move. The target was leaving the city with only their teenaged daughter as a companion. No guards. This wasn't uncommon, the two seemed to enjoy a weekly ride out to the river just on the outskirts of the city where they'd have a picnic lunch and just enjoy one another's company. This was when they were most vulnerable, this was the best moment to strike.

JR let them get comfortable as he watched from the shadows. The girl hadn't been specifically mentioned on the sacrament but if she happened to be a casualty, so be it. It seemed even the noble had something of a heart to be unable to request a hit on a child. The khajiit allowed the pair to get settled, relax and let down their guard. Silent as death he slipped up behind them then stepped out from behind the tree they liked to sit under. This was the moment, the moment before death. JR didn't revel in it like some of his brethren. This was simply a job, just part of life. Death came for all and if it was to be at his hands so be it. 

The terror in the target's eyes, that was always something JR almost didn't expect. One would think that seeing death upon you would be a relief, that at last they could be rid of their suffering. People struggled so hard to hang on to life yet JR no longer could understand why. His family was out of reach and he had nothing but death to offer the world. There really wasn't much challenge in this contract, he did prefer a little bit of fight in his targets. If you're so scared of death then shouldn't you fight for life? But no matter, as soon as the target began to flee JR sprang into action.

The khajiit set upon them like a wild animal, swift and deadly. Their mounts had bolted, he'd seen to that, and they chose the river to attempt their escape. Why they would assume the water would be easier for them to traverse than the flat land he didn't understand. But it was of no matter to him. JR stopped at the water's edge and simply watched them struggle to cross. It wasn't the deepest river nor the widest, but these noble ladies were wearing heavy, elegant dresses that retained the water and dragged them down. JR remained where he was, still and silent, as he slipped a throwing knife into his claws. With a calculated and skilled throw the kahjiit released the blade and watched it lodge deep into his target's back.

He watched his target's body pitch forward and the young daughter turn to catch her mother. Blood dripped down her back from where his blade had pierced her heart. The scream from the teen felt familiar and something, very faint, stirred within him. He watched the girl struggle under the dead weight of her mother's body until it dragged her down into the water. JR hesitated for a moment as their cries had managed to alert a passing patrol thus he knew time was short. Though JR knew it didn't matter whether the girl lived or died, she hadn't officially been a requested kill. The young khajiit really didn't understand why he did it, but he found himself leaping into the water and roughly dragging the girl from beneath the target's body. 

JR dumped her on the shore then vanished from sight allowing the Imperial patrol to find her where she lied. Whether it was the fact that JR understood something of what the girl felt, how in an instant her entire world had changed or the sort of hate and vengeance she would feel the rest of her life, something in him couldn't simply allow her to die. Still JR knew he'd have to be more careful. Getting caught would've been a mark against him on this contract and he'd certainly cut it close. Plus now there was a young woman out there who'd be out for his blood, whether she knew it was him or not. Yes, JR knew that one day J'oann would come calling.

Lady J'oann D'Arc

Crusader of Stendarr, Templar Healer, Religious Zealot

The only daughter of Lord and Lady D'Arc, J'oann was born and raised amongst the wealth and finery of the Imperial City. As a child she spent most of her time with private tutors teaching her everything she'd need to know to be a successful member of the Imperial nobility. J'oann was a gentle sort who was kind and generous to all she met. She was well educated but riding was her favorite of lessons. She was a natural born rider as well as a natural healer. Her tenderness and compassion shone as she was found to be quite gifted with Restoration magics, in fact when she got older she was expected to continue her studies with the Imperial branch of the mages guild. Fighting however wasn't a strong course of study for a young noble lady but she did learn enough to defend herself from her father's personal bodyguard. She was also rather fascinated with how one molded and crafted metals and wood into armor and shields though she wasn't taught such formally growing up. Life was fairly simple otherwise for young J'oann until things began to change in the midst of her teenage years. There was much upheaval in the days of Varen's Rebellion and it was during this time that everything J'oann knew would change forever. 

Her father was a supporter of Varen and though he kept his sympathies secret as best he could there were spies everywhere. Someone with a grudge against her family and loyal to Leovic decided now was the time to be rid of her family and thus the Black Sacrament was performed. J'oann and her mother had gone riding that day to their favorite picnic spot outside the city walls. Trouble was stirring certainly but for the time being no outright battles were being fought and it was believed to be safe enough outside the city walls. However that day would remain with J'oann forever. 

The assassin appeared from no where, like the shadow of death itself. Their access to their mounts was cut off thus they tired to flee over the river. The waters were higher than usual, it was the rainy season after all, but the khajiit assassin was much too fast. His dagger struck fast and true, stabbing J'oann's mother in the back. Young J'oann turned to try and help her mother but her body collapsed on the young girl and pushed her deep into the river. J'oann struggled against the weight, the water filling her lunges as she fought to reach the surface. All she could see was water, her mother's hair and blood. 

Yet strong hands soon yanked her from the brink of death as darkness had just begun to close over the girl's eyes. A passing patrol of Imperial Soliders had hear their cries and hurried to find J'oann lying unconscious on the riverbank, her mother's body drifting down stream. J'oann was whisked back to her family estate where she and her father mourned the loss of her mother. Ever since that day J'oann has been petrified of the water. After her mother's death, her father threw himself full into the service of Varen. He left his home in the Imperial City and took J'oann to the Chapel of Stendarr in Chorrol. There he left his daughter in the care of the priests while he went on to aid the fight to overthrow Leovic. Ultimately he lost his own life in this cause.

Thus J'oann spent the last of her teenage years being raised in the chapel. She spent much of the time learning about how to help others through restorative magic as well as with general medical knowledge. J'oann of course couldn't simply forget what had happened to her mother, or her father. She was taught she shouldn't be bitter about what had happened and trust that Stendarr would bring justice to those who'd harmed her and her family. She of course greatly desired to be the instrument of that justice and was eventually accepted to be trained as a Crusader of Stendarr. The priests taught her many other things as well covering many subjects including all they knew about daedra. J'oann knew her father's cause was just, that Leovic's betrayal of his people by allowing daedra worship had to be stopped and that her family gave their lives for said cause. She too would uphold their ideals and stamp out any signs of daedra that came across her path. But as the priests taught her she was also to show mercy to those who'd been lead astray and to heal those who could be saved. 

When she became an adult, J'oann set out to travel the lands and aid those she could. Much of Cyrodill was in turmoil now with the Three Banner's war being waged and remaining in Chorrol wasn't the best option. She crossed many paths in her travels until she began working with those of the Circle hoping to continue to bring peace and healing to those who needed it but also stamp out evil and darkness wherever it might be found.

@Icy ready for a birth sign roll, please & thank you 

@Icy ready for a birth sign roll

Ja'Ro-dar

Aliases: JR, Jaro
Age: 30
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Male
Birth Sign: The Atronach | Sun's Dusk/November
Occupation: Brotherhood Silencer

Backstory: Ja'Ro-dar

Standard Inventory: Brotherhood leather armor, daggers, mask, alchemical components, potions, poisons, coin

Combat Skills: (racial skills)

Unarmed Fighting | Adept | 1

One-Handed Weapons | Master | 3
Throwing Weapons | Adept | 2

Dodge | Adept | 2

Parry | Novice | 1

Magical Skills: (racial skills)

Shadow Magic | Novice | 2

General Skills: (racial skills)

Acrobatics | Adept | 1

Athletics | Novice | 0 

Pickpocketing | Adept | 1 

Stealth | Master | 2

Infiltration | Novice | 1

Intimidate | Adept | 2

Lockpicking | Adept | 2

Resilience | Novice | 1

Streetwise | Adept | 2

Birth Sign Skills: (racial skills)

Alchemy | Master | 1
Provisioning | Novice | 0

Skill Points: 24/35

Character Flaws: (12)

Bounty | After brutally murdering his father in the Rimmen marketplace he's had a price on his head in his homeland, also after murdering several members of House Dres he also carries a bounty in Morrowind

Confrontational | Though he can't speak, his body language and overall attitude is extremely confrontational with any who rubs him the wrong way

Callous | He's grown cold and hard over the years since he's been a slave and has little regard for others

Dark Presence | His hiding of his face and being unable to speak plus his place as a Silencer gives him quite a sinister aura

Enemy | The grandmaster of House Dres is eager to get his hands on the escaped slave that took so many of his relative's lives

Escaped Target | On the night of his family's escape, Ja'Ro-dar did not have the opportunity to kill the grandmaster of House Dres and still desires his blood

Ex-Slave | He was enslaved with his family as a cub and still bears a brand for House Dres on his neck which he keeps concealed along with the rest of his face

Hatred | He absolutely loathes slavers and most Dunmer

Mute | In punishment for trying to escape his masters his tongue was cut out and he can no longer speak

Scarface | He bears several scars on his face the most predominate being the large slashes across his left eye where his father clawed him as a cub, this is another factor in him always wearing a mask

Vengeful | He desires vengeance against any of House Dres, whether they were involved in his slavery or not

Twisted Upbringing | He was beaten and abused as a cub then sold into slavery by his father

Ja'Ro-dar

Khajiit Assassin, Thief & Outcast

Little Ja'Ro-dar was born in Elsweyr like most of his kin. However he was not born into the tradition loving family home. Though his first few years of cubhood were uneventful, his mother doted on him, his father ignored him, too interested in gambling to much care about his kitten. Sometime before Ja'Ro-dar had reached ten years of age his father found himself deep in debt and was also heavily addicted to skooma. He'd started blaming all his problems on his mate and kittens, by this point Ja'Ro-dar had two younger siblings, his brother a Senche-raht, and baby sister an Alfiq. His fatherhad begun taking out his aggression on Ja'Ro-dar and his mother, both of which did everything they can to shield the younger kittens from their father's tempers. It was during one such temper that Ja'Ro-dar gained the scarring across his left eye. As Ja'Ro-dar's father continued to spiral he made a choice that would affect Ja'Ro-dar for the rest of his life. 

Ja'Ro-dar's father was well known in various gambling circles as he'd branched out farther and farther in order to find someone who'd take his bets. Fight rings was what he liked best to wager on. One such ring started up along the border of Elsweyr and the Black Marshes, Ja'Ro-dar's father managed to lose a large amount of coin on the fights and it wasn't long before the fight master and bookie, a Dunmer of House Dres, came calling wanting what he was owed. Of course Ja'Ro-dar's father had nothing to spare. Nothing besides his family. Turns out the bookie was also a slaver and the price of a fine looking khajiiti female, a good looking young khajiiti male, a young malleable Senche-raht and a unique little Alfiq, well that would easily cover the father's debts and more. It was this moment that Ja'Ro-dar would remember for the rest of his life.

Life as Ja'Ro-dar knew it ended that day. He, his mother, brother and sister were rounded up like cattle and subdued. It was quite rare for anyone outside of Elsweyr to get hold of a Senche-raht or Alfiq and their young age would make them easier to dominate. Ja'Ro-dar and his mother, though the more common Cathay, still had quite lovely markings and were strong and healthy. They were carted back to Kragenmoor in Stonefalls. There is where their lives of slavery would begin. His family was quickly divided up. His little sister was taken into the family home to be a pet and plaything to the children of House Dres. His brother was sent to the fields to serve as a beast of burden. His mother chosen for her looks would serve the ladies of the house. As for Ja'Ro-dar, when he wasn't working the field, he was taught to fight in the ring. Seven long years passed, Ja'Ro-dar grew hard and bitter as did his family which he had little contact with. At times he was at least able to work with his brother in the field but rarely if ever did he see his mother or sister unless they happened to be out with the children or ladies of the house. 

Their masters however made on dire mistake. They'd allowed Ja'Ro-dar to learn to fight. The young khajiit threw his wholeself into the art of dueling. He was vicious and merciless in the ring, and quickly became a favored fighter of his masters. As he got older he was able to travel some to fight in other locales, taking down all challengers. He became quite the local legend. However during these travels he had better opportunity to meet people. He just so happened to impress a member of the elusive Bal Molagmer. With their help Ja'Ro-dar began plotting to free his family from their Dres masters. 

After two years of planning they were ready. In the dead of night his friend from the Bal Molagmer slipped Ja'Ro-dar a pair of daggers and quickly and silently the young khajiit cut his way through the guard to the barns where his brother was kept. Once freed, his brother setup a distraction by burning the fields. Ja'Ro-dar's mother had managed to slip herself and Ja'Ro-dar's sister down to the lower kitchen. After breaking the lock his mother and sister fled to join his brother who had been told to carry them quickly from the property, Ja'Ro-dar would catch them up as he would be certain no one followed them. And Ja'Ro-dar made certain of this. Though the grandmaster was out and the majority of the family elsewhere, his direct masters still remained, asleep in their beds. As silent as death Ja'Ro-dar made his way through the great house cutting down all in his path. He was filled with a rage unlike any he'd known before and he would've slaughtered all who slept in that house had he not gotten careless.

His family had escaped but Ja'Ro-dar's raged fueled vengeance blinded him. The house was in an uproar and the guard quickly roused themselves. Ja'Ro-dar was quickly outnumbered though he fought tooth and claw. He was recaptured and chained in the dungeons for days. When the grandmaster returned to find the destruction Ja'Ro-dar had wrought he too was enraged. Ja'Ro-dar was beaten within an inch of his life. The grandmaster suspected he had to have had help thus as further punishment, he cut out Ja'Ro-dar's tongue. Still, he couldn't help but be impressed with the sheer ferocity of Ja'Ro-dar's escape attempt. If anything it would make his value as a fighter soar. High risk always brought a high reward and the bloodier the fight the better. However the grandmaster felt Kragenmoor was too insecure to hold a fighter like Ja'Ro-dar so he ultimately decided it would be best to sell him to House Telvanni. Ja'Ro-dar however had plans of his own.

Ja'Ro-dar had been nicking and unlocking things since he was a young khajiit and his skill had only grown as a slave. Though bound up in heavy chains and set in a prison cart bound for the coast for transportation to Vvardenfell. Ja'Ro-dar quietly pickpocketed the key for his shackles and when they were not far out from Devon's Watch he unlocked his shackles, used his claws and teeth to tear out the throats of his guards. Ja'Ro-dar quickly gathered up any of the pact armor that would fit him and quickly disguised himself, hiding his tail by wrapping it underneath his breastplate. He managed to slip into Devon's Watch and found refuge in the city's underground. There he made contact with another member of the Bal Molagmer who'd heard of the escape from Kragenmoor. With a little cunning and bribery, Ja'Ro-dar got himself smuggled aboard a ship bound for the port of Haven. 

At long last he was one step closer to home. Travel through Grahtwood was a breeze, though long due to his battered state. Ja'Ro-dar didn't dare stop however. The Bosmer weren't enemies but they weren't exactly allies at this point. After a few weeks of weary travel, Ja'Ro-dar was at last able to set foot once more on the warm sands of his home. He could hardly believe it. He immediately headed for home, hoping that the rest of his family had at least made it there. He really had no idea how far his mother, brother and sister had come or whether they'd even arrived back in Elsweyr. His Bal Molagmer friend was supposed to see them safely to the border but any number of things could've gone wrong. It had been nearly ten years since he'd set his sights on their small hovel outside the Stitches. However he found that the hovel had long since been abandoned. Discouraged Ja'Ro-dar traveled to the Stitches hoping to find word of his family's safe arrival. The small village didn't have much to offer but at least he could find a bed for the night. The next day things were looking up. A courier arrived bearing a message for him. His family was indeed safe and staying in Rimmen. 

Greatly relieved, Ja'Ro-dar set out immediately for Rimmen. Another week or so of travel by foot but it was a pleasant trip now that he was traipsing around his sandy homelands. Though he was just a boy when he left it just felt right being there. Ja'Ro-dar soon set eyes on the city and quickened his pace. The bustling town full of Khajiit was a grand sight for the young feline as he eagerly hurried through the crowd to the nearest inn where his family said they were staying. However a familiar voice from one of the nearby trading stands sent a chill down his spine. Ja'Ro-dar came to a sudden halt and turned his gaze toward a sight he had not anticipated seeing. An overweight older khajiit was bartering with one of the merchants and at his side, with one arm circling her waist, was a lovely young khajiit half his age and two identical little girls giggling excitedly as he passed them a few treats from the merchant. Ja'Ro-dar's heart felt as if it had stopped. It was his father, his father and a new family, looking quite healthy, well fed and happy. 

The inn door behind him had opened and his mother stepped out just in time to spot her son in the crowd. She smiled and called to him yet Ja'Ro-dar's mind had gone blank. All he could see was red and before he even realized what he was doing he charged through the crowd and was on top his father, knocking the female and girls aside. His mother immediately understood what was happening and rushed forward in a desperate attempt to stop him. Ja'Ro-dar was in a blind rage and likely couldn't be stopped even if he'd wanted to be. He couldn't cry out, couldn't yell or scream at the monster of a cat who'd sired him, he could only grunt and shriek with each swipe of his claws. Just as his mother managed to fight through the gathering crowd to his side he'd already shredded the male and torn open his throat. The bloodied body slumped to the ground and the life was gone from the old cat's eyes. Suddenly the world came into sharp focus once more and Ja'Ro-dar jerked back from his father's body. The crowd stared in horror completely unaware of the history between them and his two little half-sisters broke into horrified screams. 

Ja'Ro-dar staggered back and his mother quickly dragged him away before any could react. She knew the crowd would quickly turn into a mob for that. She hurried him into their room but knew he wouldn't be able to stay with them. After a brief reunion with his brother and sister, his mother hustled him out the back and into the underground refuge. It would no longer be safe for him in Elsweyr. His brief return home would have to be his last. They could heard the crowd calling for blood and the guard were searching vigilantly. Ja'Ro-dar was in shock yet part of him savored the blood on his claws. At long last the face that had haunted his nightmares was gone, just gone. He couldn't even muster any sympathy for his little half-sisters he would never know. He knew his mother, brother and sister understood yet they too were quite taken aback by his complete savagery. 

He spent the evening hiding in the refuge knowing he'd have to flee once more into likely through Cyrodiil. Yet in the dead of the night a silent figure approached him. They offered a simple parchment with a black hand depicted on it. Gold Coast was the only other thing written on the parchment and the figure vanished as quietly as it had appeared. With no other recourse, Ja'Ro-dar departed his homeland once more and made his way to the Gold Coast and answered the call of Sithis.

He found purpose in his service to Sithis but the sly khajiit also often partnered with the thieves guild enjoying a good heist now and again, often paring such heists with his contracted target. His friends from Bel Molagmer had inspired him to help himself and others to what those who deemed themselves 'better' had. He lived life as he desired, taking and killing whatever he pleased. As an assassin he rose quickly to the rank of Silencer became the personification of death itself, never allowing any to see his face and never speaking a word.

Known Associates:

Isyra & Istan Nytone - Fellow members of the Brotherhood

Aloie Saren

Aliases: Ally
Age: 16
Race: Khajiit (Cathay-raht)
Gender: Female
Birth Sign: The Shadow | Second Seed/May
Occupation: Farmer

Backstory: Aloie Saren

Standard Inventory: Simple farming attire, walking stick that doubles as a staff, potions, provisions, a few coins

Combat Skills: (racial skills)
Unarmed Fighting | Novice | 0
Staves | Novice | 1
Dodge | Novice | 1

Magical Skills: (racial skills)
Restoration | Novice | 2
Alteration | Novice | 2

General Skills: (racial skills) 
Acrobatics | Adept | 1
Alchemy | Novice | 0
Athletics | Master | 2
Pickpocketing | Novice | 0
Beast Mastery | Adept | 2
Brewer | Adept | 2
Chef | Master | 3
Mercantile | Novice | 1
Riding | Adept | 2
Tailoring | Adept | 2

Birth Sign Skills: (racial skills) 
Stealth | Adept | 0
Infiltration | Novice | 0

Skill Points: 21/30

Character Flaws (10):
Absent-Minded | Is easily distracted and usually daydreaming in her own little world
Aimless | Doesn't really have a plan beyond getting through the day, not unusual for a kid
Child | She's only sixteen and barely ever been outside of her father's farm in Vvardenfell
Deep Sleeper | Loves to sleep and has trouble waking up when she's supposed too
Naive | Still a kid with very little world experience
Pacifist | Hates fighting of any kind and gets scared and hides when a fight breaks out
Uneducated | Has had no formal education having grown up on the farm, her father taught her the basics for running a farm but that's all
Soft-Hearted | Absolutely can't stand to see anything in pain, she'll do everything she can to help but if it gets to be too much she'll try to get away from the situation
Shy | Is rather shy when first meeting people, but tends to open up the longer she's around someone

Nyctophobia (Mild) | She's always been rather fearful of dark places

Aloie Saren

The Big, Fluffy Cathay-raht

Aloie, though born of Khajiiti parents, was raised by a kindly Dunmer farmer. As a very young kitten, Aloie was traveling the seas with her smuggler,merchant parents. However during a terrible storm off the shores of Vvardenfell, the ship wrecked and in a desperate attempt to save their kitten, her parents made certain she made it to a life-raft. As is the usual protocol with a ship with too few life-rafts for everyone, it was women and children first. Aloie's father was forced to remain on the rapidly sinking ship and watch his mate and kitten drift away from him. Though it looked as though mother and daughter would survive, the life-raft itself too capsized to an aggressive wave. Aloie's mother gripped her kitten tightly to her and exhausted all her strength to make it to shore. But the fridge waters of the Sea of Ghosts were not kind to the jungle dwelling khajiit. Though they had made it to shore, Aloie's mother was too spent to pull herself and her kitten completely to shore. She managed to push Aloie just out of the water but she herself succumbed to the elements. Tiny Aloie was cold, scared and couldn't do more than lie in the sand yowling. She too would've been lost if it hadn't been for a passing Dunmer. 

The elderly farmer was searching the shore for mudcrabs when he spotted the orange mop of fur half buried in the sand and yowling pitifully. When he got to her she was half frozen and very weak. Without hesitation the old elf gathered her up and carried her further in land and quickly made her a fire. He removed his outer garment and removed all the wet clothing from the kitten wrapping her carefully in his shirt then held her close to his chest in front of the fire. He spent the better part of the day keeping her from freezing and when she was at last dry and sleeping quietly he carried her back home. 

The old Dunmer had seen the female khajiit that was lying in the water just inches from the kitten and correctly surmised that this must've been Aloie's mother. He was uncertain what to do, a Khajiiti slave could fetch him a good price, but as an old man who'd never married or had children of his own, this little ball of fur that had landed in his lap quickly stole his heart. He decided that if he couldn't find someone who would claim her she would stay with him. And he soon became the only family Aloie ever knew. 

Life was simple on the farm and Aloie grew up to be a very big, sweet, fluffy teenage khajiit. She adored her unconventional father and was a fine farmer. She was raised and treated as any Dunmer child thus had none of the usual Khajiit speech patterns or any understanding of a culture and belief system outside of that of the Dunmer. Even her name was given her by her Dunmer father as she was too young to recall the name her Khajiit parents had given her. She didn't much care though, content with life as it was. Yet one day, her father decided she ought to at least see her homeland at least once in her life. Though Aloie claimed she didn't care she decided to indulge her father. They packed up a few belongings and took a boat from Vivce as they set out for Elsweyr. Little did they know that after weeks of travel they would arrive just in time to be attacked by dragons.