Who Are You?

Rioghnan

LOL @Lightninvash

Lightninvash

@Rioghnan

ValVonSputz

I am Ashia Moonfall, Breton.

I do not know my full ancestry, as my mother was murdered on my day of birth and my father fled the same day. I have kept their journals and those, combined with the eyewitness account of my adopted parents, have given me some insight to my conception and my mother's death.

My mother, Yahra Xaraine, was a goddess among the cult she lead, Moonflower Cult. Her followers marveled at her sorcery. Due to their, sometimes inexplicable, adoration of her, some would say that she cast a spell on them that they could not ,and did not want to, break. These people would do anything for her and stayed by her side to harness any wisdom and love she would share. Her lust for adventure turned the cult into nomads, following her at every climb of a mountain and jump of a cliff.

My father, Leon Prado, was a leader in his own right. He was a master manipulator and worked his way into the cult. Known for his fierce fighting skills, honeyed words, and sharp wit, his acceptance was undeniable at first. He began to lead worship ceremonies; therefore, he quickly caught the attention of my mother, which she already had of his. Smitten, and blinded, she could not see the impending plight. Many of the members grew inquisitive of his frequent absences, so a spy was sent to keep watch. He was seen meeting with Dibella zealots, who were known to use blood magic to oppress anyone who defied the true gods. This information was given to my mother who would believe none of it and began to punish those who spoke out against her love.

A message intercepted by the spy spoke of blood magic being used during the conception of what would be my mother's only child. The intent of this ritual was to ensure this child, during birth, was to "pierce the heart and soul of the blaspheming witch." Furthermore, the child was to rise as a demon and put fear and discourse in the heart of her followers to ensure the demise of this faith. Assuming these messages were forged, my mother forced the spy out into the wilderness to die by the wolves. Others, who believed the spy was telling the truth, no longer found love for my mother. They planned to sabotage my birth and kill the remaining followers.

On the night of my birth, my father called on the high council to prepare the birthing ceremony. As my mother lay in labor, my father watched in anticipation of what would emerge. When I was born into the world with none but the wounds of labor done to my mother, he knew something had gone awry. Just after he fled to inform his cohorts, my mother's traitors stormed the camp dousing it in flame and cleansing it of the horror they believed was to come. Everyone was killed, save me. A couple, traveling not far behind, saw the whole ordeal unfold. They came to the wreckage after the others had fled. They saw me, lying there motionless. When they approached me, they noticed that only soot covered my body. I was not wounded from the flame. My hair was white, my eyes even more so.

Ashia = Ashen haired, born from ashes, cleansed by flame
Moonfall = Born underneath the moons and stars, the demise of the Moonflower Cult

My caregivers have seen the true effects of the intended curse, and have helped me tame the magic that flows within me. They tell me, "Use this gift to give blessings to others and to spite the purpose for which it was given". I do bless and heal my allies, but I use it as discipline for my foes.

Now, I travel in search of pieces of my past while taking contracts along the way. Revenge is a softer term for what I will do to those who have wronged my mother. As for my father, I haunt his dreams by night... to serve a precursor of what's to come.

RexDraco

Once known as the Emperors of the Marsh, their family were renowned raiders who conquered enemy camps and stole their riches, like the ancient tales of dragons hoarding gold. They were oft of Agacephs and Archeins, who later encouraged the slave trade due to their power and flight toward fortune. While a few of them, later, fought against the hold of their kin Dunmer continued to claim in Morrowind as 'ancestral rights', it had not stopped many members of the Salamandrus lines having slaves themselves. The family split into two distinct lines:

The Gah line and the Salamandrus line.

The Salamandrus line became known for their skills as thieves and assassins, the bloodline being known to occasionally produce Shadowscales. They were fanatic worshippers of Molab Bal and Sithis. The Gah line were often well-versed in the magical arts, having an affinity for it. The Gah line was also cursed by a mad mage after Gahrex attempted to steal the mad hermit mage's precious belonging. Barely avoiding the spell itself Gahrex was struck in her right eye. A curse would carry down all magically inclined born in her clutch which causes Gah-line members to be partially or completely blind in return for their ability with the magical arts.

As of current: Gahrex still grows in her temperament. Though still a raider at the core of her existence, she has learned to curb the majority of her habits under the watchful eyes of Pact Guards. She fishes to keep her mind off the harsh excess of living side by side to Dark Elves and being part of a world that only wanted her for her ability to hunt and kill. Sometimes she would sneak into the Mage's Guild and listen or allow the daggers of suspicious stares to follow her as she read through their library in her free time.

Xelrick

Hmm. Well my character story start in another dimensional plane with different Immortals that rule, yet similar to the Princes bound in Oblivion. Oddly I have created his story prior to knowing TES series, game Oblivion. I base him on a MUD game, played back in 1999.

Xelrick in this scenario, is the God of Chaos [Confusion, Discord, and sometimes Paradoxes]. He challenged the other Immortals to battle to take their role of the world, known as Icaria. He ended up defeated at hands of other Immortals and was cast into his own world, known as the Chaotic Realms.

From there he created 7 areas, within the 7 aspects of chaos. Fire, Ice, Wind, Earth, Lightning, Darkness...

From his central location of Chaos, he observed other dimensional planes, and witness events unfold across time in Nirn and Oblivion... He took a specific fascination to one of the Daedra Princes...

"Confusion...and Unpredictable madness...How it does soothe my power...power of the chicken pillar..." He said while witnessing a mage lose an island to the prince...
"Chaotikin pillar ... not chicken." his daughter, Althera tells him. (Althera was born to help him break out his realm. She is also known as the Queen of the Serpents, and wears only snakes as armor...)

He then witness a major event unfold of many warriors battle as chains clash down and souls ripped away from the land. He felt the overwhelming chaos that poured from it.
"This place known as Tamriel I shall claim the chaos from this world and draw it into Perfect Chaos...and I shall destroy everyone that gets in my way, even..." He banged his fist on his throne.

Althera look at him, 'You know you can't leave this place, remember..."

"Ah, but that where the fun begins." He hold his hand facing up and a small portal showed a Redguard battling swarms of Daedra before being defeated and taken to Coldharbour. "only a small fraction of my power needs to be contain and it seems a fine vessel as a position open for me..." A small chaotic flame emitted from his body and enter the portal and followed the Redguard's body.

"So you are are using another as a puppet again..." Althera looked disgusted at the thought.

---

Start Eso events...

---

So the Redguard every actions is being control by Xelrick and with Xelrick powers learns beyond the truth of the land Tamriel isn't Tamriel anymore but lands pieced together by some mad God's... (uhh starts with a Z... ) so he ventures outside the bounds and searches for clues as he collects the pieces of Chaos along the way...

Sheogorath vs. Xelrick (fun that was, between the two they battle it out with detailed confusion...and there was a giant chicken that destroyed a town...)

HypnoticChronic1

The Legend of Artanis Aiur

Chapter One

Artanis was born in the Altmer capital of Alinor into a moderately wealthy Altmer family with certain affinity for magical talent. Artanis grew up as any other Altmer did of his background tho even as a young child he seemed to exemplify a superior talent for the arcane and magical arts his parents taught him all they could but Artanis seemed to even surpass their own talent as his parents sat and contemplated what more they could teach their child they came to the realization that they would only hold him back and he need further superior training to develop his gift to its full potential on his 20th birthday they decided to bring him to the Mages Guild where his talents could be best put to use for the greater good of the Altmer needless to say Artanis was slightly hesitant to go yet excited to be able to obtain all knowledge the Mages Guild had to offer the first few months where a bit awkward for him as he mostly had his face buried in books while pouring thru these books he came across a passage about the Ayleids which sparked his interest desiring to learn more about this race of Mer he scoured the library for any slight reference to them while in the library in his 6th month of study one of the master mages by the name of Alvaris Narn took notice of his thirst for knowledge regarding the Ayleids and his drive to perfect his gift for magic decided to take Artanis as his pupil Artanis hesitantly accepted but unbeknownst to Artanis at the time Alvaris had prior interactions with a few of the Ayleid diaspora during his travels around Tamriel. 3 years into his tutoring by Alvaris he gained a wealth of knowledge regarding the arcane arts and the Ayleids confident that he had taught his pupil well enough Alvaris chose to take Artanis to Valenwood on a research mission to the Ilayas Ruins just outside of Velyn Harbor since these ruins had been explored relatively recently Alvaris felt it would be relatively safe needless to say was thrilled to hear this and accepted without hesitation while they traveled Alvaris continued to bequeath more knowledge of the Ayleids and of how at the peak of their civilization their magical talent and knowledge was envied all across Tamriel by both Men and Mer alike as they arrived at Velyn Harbor and ventured towards the ruins Artanis was shaking with anticipation of what he could find and learn in Ilayas as they approached the entrance and made their way down the flight of stairs to a room full of books and tomes Alvaris uttered a warning to Artanis advising him not to attempt any spells without being under his watchful eye Artanis being confident in his own abilities scoffed off the warning as they setup camp Artanis immediately dove into the treasure trove of knowledge at his finger tips while reading a certain tome with what Artanis translated as being a summon spirit spell the thought of speaking to a actual Ayleid excited Artanis to no end but Artanis knowing Alvaris would not let him cast such a spell while there kept it to himself later that night after Alvaris had fallen asleep Artanis crept off to a secluded part of the ruins to cast the spell almost being unable to contain himself as he began to recite the incantation energy began to swirl around him things seemed to be not right he started to feel as if the life was draining from his own body this was not like any other summoning spell he had cast in the past as the spell continued he came to the realization that he had translated the spell wrong and that it was in fact a soul tearing spell as his very soul was being ripped from his body memories of his life flooded into his mind with the last being the warning Alvaris had given him Alvaris feeling the power of the spell rushed to his pupils aid only to arrive as Artanis's corpse hit the floor awhile later Artanis awoke into a unknown place looking around trying to grasp what had just happened to him and where he had ended up after a few moments of contemplation to his utter shock and dismay Artanis realized he had ended up in Coldharbor. How will Artanis figure out a way to get back to the mortal, how will he be able to confront his master again, will he ever be able to reach the height of magical ability his gift had destined for him? all of which will be revealed in the next chapter.

Mojmir

guns of the navarone, superfly tnt ,and the man with the cigarettes!!!

newtinmpls

I wanted a Maormer, but I had to come up with some reason, some crisis of consience that would justify it....

So here are some initial thoughts.

Holding her staff high in both hands, she stood proudly next to her mentor as the two of them called wind and wave to crush the foolish drylander ships that prowled waters that should belong to none by the Maormer. Laughing aloud as crackles of static danced in her hair, she gestured slightly with the fingers or her right hand and lightning twined down from the sky to dance across a sail, and send shreds of smoking fabric spinning into the dusk.

In the distance she could see someone on the enemy craft was calling forth flame of some kind. Beside her, her mentor spoke a single word. The clouds darkened, and torrents of rain doused the foolish attempt.

She could feel power all around her, in the thrumming of her staff, the way the deck underfoot shifted with the waves, the wild energies in the air that wove her once braided hair into a sable corona. It was beautiful. Ahead, beyond the enemy ships, she could see the froth that marked where waves her people had conjured were slamming into shore. Teaching the beastmer and their kin proper respect for the lords of the sea.

When the last of the foriegn ships had been swept away, the fleet-commander signaled for the storm-callers to let the sea and sky return to calm. She did so only reluctantly. It had been wonderful. Beside her she could hear the sigh of regret as her mentor unwound his power from the skies and let the clouds begin to disperse.

Only then did she realize just how exhausted she was. She'd never been involved in a storm-calling of this magnitude, or one that had lasted so long.

As the exultation faded, she was aware that she was wet. And cold. And her eyes were wanting to close.

She was only dimly aware of one of the apprentices steering her to her assigned bedding.

She woke out of a heavy sleep, warmed by the charmed blanket that had been placed over her. The sounds of arguments and the smells of cooking told her that all was going well. She could hear Vriandil insisting that it wasn't too early in the day for springwine. She smiled to herself, and quickly untangled herself from hammok and bedding.

Her mentor looked her over quickly; he didn't seem particularly pleased, or displeased. Coverly looking around she didn't see any of the other Adept ranked Storm Callers, so she wondered was she first up? Or last?

"You have been assigned to scavenger duty." He informed her. The dryness of his tone told her that it was not his idea, and cautioned her against protest.

She swallowed her aggravation, and helped herself to a breakfast of roe-and-kelpweed. "What am I looking for?"

"Anything esoteric, including any dryland survivors that might be trainable, or potential threats." A short pause, a glance to the nearest military officer, and he added quietly. "Or potential gifts."

"Gift" was a designation that referred to someone who was not talented enough to be trainable, but had enough latent ability to be a powerful sacrifice. The more potential the 'gift' had, and the longer the sacrificial ritual went, and the more power the ritual would net. It would be a great honor to find such a one, and an even greater one to be taught to release and control that power.

She nodded.

She rode in a light skiff with three others, all low ranking crewmembers. She'd not been given any authority over them, nor they over her. It seemed the military and the storm-callers might still be at odds about how the chain of command was working. Or not working.

In any case, the morning smelled of sea. The wind was cool, and the sea was calm. All was peaceful.

As they approached the land, she could see great hulking sections of what had once been clunky drylander ships. They'd not stood a change against the storm-caller weavings. She felt proud of her guild, and her power.

The beach was scattered with detrius. Bits of ship, blown trees.

And bodies.

Well... of course there were bodies. This was a prelude to war, and enemies died in war.

She paced slowly along the beach. Pale skin, and bones broken when the ... man? mer? had been flung against a tree by the storm. Further up the hills she could see the broken remains of what must have been dwellings of some kind. The remains were on stilts of sorts. Well carved. Artistic. Sort of.

She'd been told these were savages.

PIcking her way uphill, she saw what looked like fur? Moving a largish section of palm, she saw a furry.. .cat-mer. It was holding a smaller being. A ... a baby? So what if it was a baby. That shouldn't make breakfast sit any less comfortably in her stomach.

The remains of enclosures, and the corpses of dead groups of animals. She didn't know what kind they were, but they had clearly been in some sort of herd or group.

A wailing cry caught her attention, and she picked her way through broken crates to find a small silver haired, wide-eyed mer child. A toddler. Their eyes met, and the little one held out arms in a gesture that clearly meant 'pick me up'.

She stepped foward. "Hello." She said cautiously in Altmeris.

"I want my mama." The little one said.

Hesitantly she said. "I'm ... new here. I don't know your mama."

brtomkin

A Breton Werewolf in Daggerfall

My name is Breana. I was born a Breton in Solitude, but I grew up on my family's isolated farm near Farrun. Actually, it was quite far from Farrun, but that was the closest city with a name on the map. My friends called me “The Mule” due to my enormous teeth (which I have luckily grown in to) and prodigious strength (for a lithe, teenage girl at least).

I lived a normal life, romping around with my friends. We had our own little adventure club - the motley crew. We always took up parts that were opposite to our talents... for a challenge you see. Maddock, a burly bosmer boy, who was already good with a bow, took up the battle axe and became our rock and protector. Inara, a tough, beautiful redguard, took up the arts of sorcery and fell in love with the pets she conjured. And me, who even though my mother spent her life preparing me to be a spiritualist and healer, was always happiest as a simple brawler. The only other children in the area, Sandpiper the dunmer, Shaky Boye the orc, and Corsaire, another breton girl, would join us for our adventures every now and then but they were only remotely interested in our fanciful adventures. We were thick as thieves for years.

Everything changed a little over a year ago. Maddock disappeared one night, then Inara, then Sandpiper and Corsaire. All of the youngest in our settlement were gone. Shaky and I were the last. He was a good bit older than I and we were never close... now I expect we never will be. You see, I disappeared, too. I cannot relate the events that led to me waking up in such an awful place. Perhaps I blocked it out.. and I am glad for it. It turns out that that place is quite possibly the most awful place in all of Nirn: the Wailing Prison.

Fatefully, I met a hero there. Her name was Lyris and she busted me out. I wish she had made it all the way out with me, but her loyalty to some wise old fool lead cost her her freedom. She freed this prophet fellow which resulted her re-imprisonment. Thanks to her, he and I escaped. I woke up some time later back in Tamriel in a small cottage in Daggerfall after some pirates pulled me from the sea. I hooked up with these pirates and found myself in the middle of some excellent adventures that could have been straight out of the script for one of my childhood fight cub adventures.

I eventually returned to Glenumbra where I found myself in the company and trust of some very important people. I won't say who, as I know you won't believe me and I can't stand being called a liar. I will only say that circumstances forced me to quickly develop my skills as an adventurer and a mercenary.

During my travels, I encountered many odd and frightening things and heard tell of even more outrageous stories. Sometimes I would hear of heroes that sounded eerily familiar: a bosmer doing uncanny heroics in the far west. And, to the distant south, a redguard who summons her own army at will. Alas, these must only be stories, right? My curiosity about the rumors and tales of werewolves and a shrine to Hircine somewhere in Bangkorai did eventually get the best of me. One night I forsook my assignment and just took off riding – through bandits and ghosts, trolls, ogres and daedra, and miles and miles of roads and paths – non-stop until I reached a lake in the middle of Bangkorai. From there I followed the sounds of the howling wolves and ended up on a small bank on the coast of the lake.

I was bitten within minutes. I did not go seeking the bite, only for adventure. But, curiously, I realized that it had always been my destiny to become a werewolf. So, I followed Hircine's instructions and embraced my future by slaying an enormous mammoth in my nascent werewolf form.

I somehow made it back to Glenumbra and became lost in my new existence, my re-birth. For weeks I roamed the countryside drunk on death and blood. I would be horrified with myself if it weren't for the fact that recently a large portion of the good country people that inhabited the Glenumbran countryside had fled and hid in fear. Leaving only the sort of creatures... man, beast, and spirit... that were in extreme need of extermination. I'm sure I took an innocent life or two, but I take comfort in knowing that those I mauled mostly deserved it. I admit I have become remarkably immune to the regrets of murder.

As time has passed, I have gained more control of my feral self. I can remember most of my actions and some of my thoughts and motivations. I can still only complete the most rudimentary of tasks while transformed, although it seems there is no end to the ways in which I can kill – tooth, claw, I have even take lives with nothing but a great, bellowing roar. I have evolved to a point where I would compare the experience to that of a state of intense, all-consuming rage. Little thought, some control, no hesitation... intoxicating power.

I have continued to take work and assignments across Glenumbra, now in Stormhaven, and soon elsewhere. I feel like I am doing something important. I expect that as I roam further abroad, I will become the subject of more and more of the tales being told at campfires, and in taverns, and maybe even in song all across Tamriel. Maybe someday I will listen to the visions of the prophet from the Wailing Prison and return to visit him in his so called Harborage.

I am alone now, but eventually I know someday I will find my pack – then things will really get interesting.

(This character became a werewolf at level 9 and I think I typed this up when she was around level 12. She is now level 41 and I am still having a blast with this character - my fifth alt - which is now my favorite character.)

Marrtha

I am known as Face of Melinda, for half of my face is the only thing those who used to know me recognize. I was told I was born a child from an Altmer father and a Breton mother. That I had gotten my scars when I blew up my home together with my parents to save them from torture. However, I did not save myself. With every passed moment of the torture my bloodlust and hatred grew. I grew weary of the world. And then I was sacrificed. I thought that by regaining my soul which was stripped off of me, I would regain my compassion, but it only filled me with even more rage. Devoid of any remorse, I pursue my own goals and interests. Full of passion at one moment and completely cold at the other, I manipulate people's minds to get where I want. But that is not the only thing I manipulate. The life energy, your blood and soul, are but mere toys to me. I siphon the life which some hold so dear, only to get where I need to get. I even made my own horse's soul burst. And when the night falls, I call upon the shooting stars to be able to make a wish. To wish this torture would end. To wish upon eternal peace and harmony, to wish upon someone who will stop this chaos inside of me. Unstable, volatile, and damaged, struggling to keep the beast inside of me asleep. But when the full moon rises, it wants to feast. The blood which I play with, it will now consume. What am I fighting for? Why is it that they call me Face of Melinda? Is half of my face the only thing they recognize? What do they know about me that I, myself, cannot find? I shall be set free.

lahnaboy

I am named Sandalf.. Some call me Sandalf the Pray because of my past as an Priest of Julianos. I am Breton Wizard (Templar) living in Morrowind because the land has unique Magic that i am interested to learn.

I dont care about the War but Mannimarco..from him i want to learn more.

My age is beyond my memory too much magic too much years of reseach old i am that i know. I remember forest's that were young when i walked there now they are old or just tales on a campfire.

I am not the most powerfull Wizard around but i dont care much about power or maybe my quest for seeking knowledge is just power i seek. Lores and tales are my trade just Like potions bring me septims knowledge brings me happines but much sadness too.

Anyway dont let Sandalf keep you too long after all i am just a old man with my staff.. If me meet someday lets smoke some good tobacco and tell tales until forest's are even older.

Sandalf the Pray.

DovresMalven

Dovres Malven was born 2E 487 in Suran, Vvardenfell, the son of an alchemist. His aptitude for painting was evident at an early age, leading to his admission into the Almsivi Academy of Arts in Mournhold at the age of 22.
Among his best-known early works are the illustrations he produced for The Book of Ashland Ballads (2E 509).
In Sun’s Height of 2E 512 the Mage’s Guild chose Malven to travel as a draftsman on an expedition through Morrowind to Cyrodiil, and on to the Topal Sea mapping shards of Aetherius. In Evening Star of that year the company of mages spent a grueling two weeks in Northern Black Marsh... Toward the end of the month, while traveling up the Niben by boat, Malven underwent a dramatic personality change, becoming despondent and increasingly aggressive. His condition was diagnosed to be Brain Fever.
On his return to Suran in the First Seed of 2E 513, Dovres' condition had worsened significantly, and it seemed his life would be cut short. At the same time, eruptions of political conflict began to flare up between House Hlaalu and House Dres regarding the northern immigration of Argonians, and Malven fled the turmoil. A companion from the Mage's Guild told Dovres of a way to possibly save him from Brain Fever, should he make his way to the Port town of Haven.
Having made a long trek through Cyrodiil and Valenwood, Malven finally arrived in Haven, where he continued to paint and search for the cure he was told of. It was here that many of his masterpieces were created, including his most celebrated painting, “Portrait of an Altmer Woman”, which he worked on between the 530th and 531st years of the Second Era. For the next few years, most of his works were executed on a small scale and featured protagonists whose eyes were fixed in a peculiar, unfocused stare that is understood as a depiction of Brain Fever and Skooma euphoria. Malven also produced many coastal scenes and landscapes during his seclusion in Haven.

RDMyers65b14_ESO

OK, a few of my lesser known characters.

ANTONIA CALLIUS
Born in the Imperial City some thirty years ago, Toni is the product of an Imperial father and a Redguard mother. Her father, like those of the Callius family before him have all been a part of the Dragonguard. Toni followed his footsteps. She did well, using her mixed heritage to her advantage as few expect a Redguard looking woman to be an Imperial agent. A year before the Soulburst, she had an affair with her direct superior, resulting in her daughter, Olivia who was born the same day as the anchors began to fall. Thus, Toni was not in Cloud Ruler Temple at the time. Her father was, and died fighting the Daedra. This has caused no end of guilt and the need for vengeance against the Daedra. Her mother is raising Olivia as Toni does her best to try to wipe out the Daedra. Of course, she is still following the orders that she had before... Fight well and try to find the Heir of Alessia. Only with a true heir can the dragonfires be relit and the Daedric threat be ended. Toni will fight for this to happen to the best of her ability (although it will be long after her death before the rightful Heir of Alessia is found in Tiber Septim).

ARYKA STENTOR
Aryka was born in a Dwemer ruin as her father is one of the mage guild's Dwemer researchers. She is half Nord and half Breton. Her mother, a Breton woman from Northpoint grew tired of being a researcher's wife and abandoned the family when Aryka was about five years old. Her father gave his daughter books on magic to read to keep her out of his way so he could research in peace. With the inate magic abilities of the Bretons and the early training that she received from the books, Aryka is a highly gifted young sorceress. At the age of fifteen, she ran away from her father and stole away on a ship bound for Northpoint. She has been trying to find her mother, but has only found her uncle (an NPC who is outside of Dorell Manor). She made her way to the Mages Guildhall in Shornhelm. She presented herself as an adult Journeyman mage, but the fact that she was a fifteen year old came to light. She has been apprenticed to one of the older mages, and some have given her the nickname 'Trouble' as she seems to be extremely good at finding it. She is rather impulsive and doesn't think things through. Although she had started out learning pyromancy, after an adventure in the Forth Sinus of Takubar, she has grown much more proficient with cryomancy. She loves anything Dwemer and is more knowledgeable than most due to her childhood. For her sixteenth birthday, she insisted on exploring one of the ruins in the Alik'r.

SARAH OF SORROWS (Lady Sarah Marcus)
Born in the privilege of Colovian nobility, Sarah is the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. A gifted healer, she is the only surviving member of her lineage. The Marcus family was enobled when her how many greats grandfather fought bravely at the Battle of Pale Pass at the side of Reman Cyrodil. Left an orphan at the age of sixteen, she was sent to the Imperial City to her maternal uncle who was a priest in the Temple of the One. There she became a Priestess of Mara. She was outside of the city picking flowers for her wedding when the Imperial City fell to the Daedra. She managed to escape but nearly died at the hands of a vampire. Her friend who was with her at the time decided to try burn Sarah so she was not cursed to be undead, resulting in the terrible burn scars all along the right side of her face and body. The burn scars have caused Sarah to become a rather shy and reclusive woman who hides under a hood. She is rather bookish and has a heart of gold. In the more recent times, she has become a vessel to a Breton Baron with the sole purpose of gaining land. She is using the land to grow food for the war effort in Cyrodil, raising war horses and has built an orphanage for the few Cyrodilic orphans she has been able to locate. What little spare time she has is spent trying to root out and destroy all vampires.

hugememe

I am Octavienne Beau, formerly known as Vi Beau, and before that, Octavienne Beaulieu.

I was born on the 20th of Evening Star, 2E 560, to Sterling and Octavia Beaulieu. A noble Breton family of merchants that reside in Northpoint, I was raised in elegance and grace; to serve my future husband like any lady would. Magic came to me like I've known it for years, and I got better with age. It was everything a little girl could have wanted. By the age of nine, I was already arranged to marry a boy who was three years older than me. I had an image of my knight in shining armor, my future planned, what we'd name our children. Yet, that all come crashing down days after my tenth birthday.

My mother fell into mental sickness after I was born. Whether it was due to her near death, or the fact I kept her from having further children, but she needed something to keep her sane. I don't know the whole of the story, but she became addicted to Skooma years after my birth. It became so bad that she began to hallucinate, would shut herself in her room, and wouldn't dare speak to me or my father. As a curious little girl, I wandered down the corridors of our estate and found myself outside my mother's chambers. Maybe I should have knocked, or alerted the guards I was coming in, but it didn't dawn on my nine year old self. When I walked in, my mother became hysteric; screaming, shouting, throwing things. One item in particular: a dagger. It pierced my left ear, leaving an unmissable scar that reminds me of that frightening day every time I see my reflecting.

As soon as my father found out, he ignored his duties as a devot of Mara and a loving husband. He kicked out my mother, telling her never to come back to Northpoint as long as he lived. She did that, for a while. I hadn't seen her until months later, days after my tenth birthday. She climbed onto my balcony, knocking thrice and woke me. She told me that there was a place she wanted to take me, a vacation if you will. So, I packed and left with her. I wish I could tell my younger self to not follow my mother.

She took me to a village, Koeglin, not quite the vacation for a ten year old to imagine. But this was no vacation, this was a permanent home. My mother, sickened with the thought of revenge, had kidnapped me to get back at my father. She never told me this directly, but I've always thought so. She did her utter best to conceal our identities; she cut off my hair I'd been growing out since I could toddle, giving me an ugly and choppy short cut; any items that screamed noble were sold for coin that benefited mother's Skooma addiction, including the ruby necklace father had given me for my birthday; among all this, she shortened my name to Vi Beau, and hers to Tay Beau. That nickname haunts me to this day, and I wish to take no part in it any longer.

For years we worked as maids, farmers, servants. My mother even tried out tavern wenching for a spell, although that never lasted long. Having to earn money for her Skooma addiction and trying to get food in our bellies filled my soul with resent. I began to hate my mother, but another part of me loved her; she was my other half. However, I will never forgive her for taking me from my father. The abuse killed the little girl who dreamed of knights and nobility and magic and birthed a women who viewed the world in an pessimistic and negative way. Sometimes I wish that never happened.

When I hit twenty, I began thinking more and more about leaving. A part of me stayed, mother had no one else, and was drowning in debt. I was the only thing keeping her afloat. I also couldn't go back to Northpoint, my father had remarried and birthed new children, my resurfacing would cause tension that I wasn't ready for. This thought haunted me day and day, until one night I walked into the shack my mother and I inhabited for this time. In her cot, my mother seemed to be asleep. But, no. She was not. Death had taken her in her sleep. She was only thirty-six, and that was the only age she'd get to. After that, I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I had to get out of Stormhaven. Mother had debts, and now that she perished they'd go on to me.

I spent the next year bouncing around Daggerfall with whatever money I'd been saving over the ten years. To numb the loss of my mother, I took the company of men and women alike, trying to fill the empty void in my heart. It ended quickly, once I was accused of selling myself for money. It opened my eyes to what had become of me, and I quickly dropped that lifestyle.

Right now, I have no idea who I am. The girl of nobility, or the woman who gained blisters on her hands from scrubbing the floors of inns? That is up to me to find out and I fear that this question is keeping me from living my life.

(A more detailed version here)

LoreRiley

Tulius vi Nimok, Imperial Dragonknight
One of the few remaining survivers of the Nimok clan. Tulius was born into the Nimok clan, a clan who prospered in combat techniques and war tactics homed on Windhelm. Nimoks were your go-to people of danger was near. Nobody ever thought there downfall would happen until the Nimoks were assassinated by an unknown guild and all records of the Nimoks were lost. Except for a few Nimoks who were on bounties during the conflict. this all happened when Tulius was only 15. Tulius vowed revenge for his clan and spent the next 12 yrs training in the harsh realm of Coldharbour before escaping and joining the 3 banner war for the Ebonheart Pact at age 27. This is where he met his soon to be Breton wife Aryanna vi Nimok age 25(Formerly Known as Aryanna Strag) the Master Crafter and Sorcerer for the Pact during wartimes. They got married in an outdoor wedding in Davons watch. Aryanna currently lives in Riften supplying Tulius soth foods and armour for his journeys. Tullius is currently still fighting for the Pact and seeking knowledge about the assassination of his clan.

ankhor8

As a Saxhleel, i initially grew in the marsh. My first suckling of sap caused my veins to pulse grow and glow, hence the term (Kota-Sax-Blood)Tree-Blood. I was a natural alchemist with an inclination for combat. I left the protection of the pack to explore, harvest, and taste test plants. While out I saw a fellow scale skin being captured by elven slavers. My intent to help resulted in my capture.
After a year of survivng captivity in the elven border lands, I seized the opportunity to escape when a Ra-Gada pirate unit attacked the elven stronghold. I happened to harpoon a elven necromancer that summoned a dead pirate to attack the ship captain. As a result, she respected my presence on board. Being in/on the sea allowed me to once again develop my aquatic attributes and sparing with the Ra-Gada helped me train in armed combat. Ideally I prefer hand-to-claw combat with little to no gear, yet in this climate, i have mastered Heavy armor with a blunt two handed Hammer. For agile pleasure i switch to my poison and diseased dual wielded hammers.
ANKHOR was a title given to me by the Ra-Gada because of my ability to stay well rooted, stable and pivotal in principle as well as combat. MSF is an acronym for their sea clan. I have carried these as a sign of respect, while insuring they were always reminded of my firm allegiance to my hatch-ling brethren.
After two years of travelling, training and learning their ways, i returned to my people. Although my Hist connection had mostly dissolved over the three years, my bodies absorption and alignment to it, allowed me some degree of faintly hearing the whisper after years of rigorous effort to rekindle it.
I have always been for my Marsh scale skins. The fact that my departure from my homeland was not of my own choosing must be a factor in why i have been accepted among the greatest of our people, the An-Xileel. I will continue to represent our kin and work towards the continued prosperity of the Saxhleel above and before all others.

Rimfrost

http://www.teso-rp.com/forum/m/9324623/viewthread/25067042-magister-neriilron-athare

SatanicSister

Might contain spoilers.

I'm a young nord woman mostly known as Satanic Sister. I have never been a good writer,, so bear with me, as I tell you the short story of my family.

I was born near Ivarstead in a small household that was run by my parents Halbart and Hilde. My mother died during childbirth (that's why I'm called Satanic Sister) and my father was left with my older sister Anne Claire and me. Although I never got along with Anne, we still helped our father together as much as we could.

I was still very young, maybe 4 or 5, when my father remarried and my stepmother, who was a high elf from Auridon, gave birth to my little sister Auridania - named after my stepmother's homeland. I grew close to Auridania. She was the kind of sister I always wanted to have. Even Anne, though she did not approve of our father's new marriage, liked our little sister. For the next 10 years we were a happy family. But then everything changed...

My father was killed by bandits and although my stepmother had nothing to do with it, she was blamed by some local nords for plotting the whole attack. She was then told to leave Skyrim or else they would "take the justice into their hands". So she took her daughter Auridania and with the help of our loyal khajiit servant Ra'Hsad, she fled from Skyrim. Me and Anne were left alone.

Anne was already 18 and decided to join the army. I still remember how she just walked out of the door and didn't even say goodbye to me. I was still only 15 and despite my efforts to keep the whole household afloat, I couldn't manage it all alone. A year later I got engaged to a nice young man and we were supposed to marry as soon as I got 18. That was a mistake - he turned out to be a worm cultist and together with his companions, he killed me.

So, I ended up in Coldharbour and with the help of Lyris and the Prophet, I escaped that foul place. I started a totally new life, helping others in need. It took some time but eventually I went back to my home and took my revenge on the worm cultists there. Soon after that I ended up in Coldharbour again, this time in the Hollow City. I searched for the survivors and among them, I also got to know Angof the Undying. Despite his terrible form, I soon fell in love with him. And now, although we can never be together, I know I can never love anyone else as much as I love him.

Krainor1974

I never tried RP but had some interest listening to some zone chats but always liked making a background story for characters just to make em feel a bit more real:

Name: Krainor Blackthorne.

Birthplace: Rumored to have been somewhere east of Wayrest destroyed during a night raid.

Race: Imperial/Redguard, Vampire.

Class: Nightblade.

Age: 41.

Birthstone: Tower.

Patron God: Nocturnal.

Bio:
The child of a Imperial father and Redguard mother, His parents brutally murdered during a raid on there farm thought to have been highly suspicious due to the farm being the only property attacked by the raiders.
Krainor the only known survivor was found at the age of five three days later by a kahjit trade caravan transporting goods from Wayrest and on there way back home. The caravan came across a old hunter named Jax Blackthorne and asked if he could take the child and see him safely to a town or city. Jax decided to adopt and raise Krainor as his own son training him to hunt, track and live off the land all skills he would need to survive.
Life as a hunter was hard always on the move and never staying in one area to long. Krainor over the years learned all Jax had to teach becoming a highly skilled hunter. One night as Jax laid taking his last breaths of life he confessed to Krainor the truth about there lives together and asked his forgiveness for not telling him sooner. Krainor consoled his father and ensured him there's no need to ask forgiveness and stood by his side to the end. Now alone he goes out into the world looking for a trace of his background and some answers. Part Imperial and part Redguard he's a outcast in search of his family history. Having no clues to his past he has taken the family name of the old hunter who raised him, Blackthorne. Several years later now at the age of 41 he is now highly skilled in his trade and has traveled extensively, one night during a heavy winter storm he came across a old mine looking for shelter and stumbled across a small group of vampires within the mine. He was able to fend off and kill the vampires but was bitten during the battle. As the changes began he fought off the craving and urges to kill. Realizing the benefits from his emerging vampire side and learning to quickly master them while controlling his urges. He now travels helping those he comes across and making friends and allies during his adventures. During his travels he has made several friends and enemies such as The Order from Cyrodiil and Glenmoril Wyrd from Iliac Bay. Both see him as a threat as he has cleared several covens throughout Taneriel with his allies.
In his travels he has come across both mortals and immortals who have suffered great loss and were in need of guidance and purpose. Along with his closest friends and allies he has formed the Darkwatch Tavern who in there travels across the Daggerfall Covenant arrived in Rivenspire and the NorthPoint Valley which were under invasion. They fought in the battle defending NorthPoint and were a Invited to settle in the valley.

JustSnilloc

Jub the Swift is a male Orc in his middle years who has managed to retain some of his youthful vigor. Long before his soul was stolen by Mannimarco, he was a child who loved to run in the mountains of Wrothgar. One day, whilst running down a familiar mountain path, he was captured by slave traders, and the young orc was stolen away from his homeland, forced to work at a plantation. A few decades of scars and hard labor led up to Jub's eventual freedom only to lose his soul in the process. Thus began his quest to reclaim his lost soul.

Jub the Swift ran across the lands in an attempt to acquire true freedom. None could match his speed, but it took time to hone his skills in battle. He even took up various crafts as a means to support himself. He had been on many quests by the time that he was able to reclaim his soul, and after divine intervention, he was whole once more.

Looking to the stars, Jub the Swift decided to continue his adventures in the land that he once called home, Wrothgar.

Pheefs

Oalthea Grey, breton Field Alchemist, at your service.

SO.... its all well and fine to order up the rare tomes from the bookseller and get an education in the comfort of the Guild Hall in Wayrest, but sooner or later you have to get out there for yourself.
If you are lucky (like I was) you end up having the time of your life.

We all learned archery growing up, to keep the young ones busy and entertained and because once every few years the spiders hatched too big a brood, and that Frostfall they would come down the mountains into town looking for food. A game we played turned real one day, that's how the jokes went anyway...
except for me, well that day it was still a game, but better than that (or worse depending on your point of view) it was the best day ever, chasing across the rooftops and firing down into the street the arrow that saved a friend, and laughing as he looked up on the porch roof to see who fired it.

& it should come as no surprise to anyone one who's met me that when I got to school as a novitiate I was also found to have an aptitude for Destruction Magic. but those stories about how I burnt down half the Guild are malicious lies! ...it was only half of one room, a window, the door, a little scorching in the hallway.
No surprise either that since I left for my research I haven't been back except to visit briefly, if it hadn't been magickal flames that smelled of lavender & cucumbers I don't think they would have let me stay at all.

A surprise murderous scamp, me juggling colored fireballs at the time, it was almost predictable.
& that everyone, is the reason they discourage Practicals in the residential wing!

You can't blame a person for their involuntary reactions can you?
...and really, isn't it better.. even preferred that if you are going to get into dangerous situations for Dangerous Situations to be exciting and fun, and considered the perfect moment for a bit of witty banter?
I have my sample kit, and my vicious wit, a campfire and a field laboratory and mostly I'm loving it.

Other than an incident wherein I might have lost my soul...
The old Captured & Murdered & Imprisoned & Resurrected & Escaped story, I don't like to talk about it.
...but anyway, other than that inconvenient episode of incarceration I have to admit that Yes, I love the adventure.

The smell of old books, the gleam of dwarven gears, a bugloss in bloom in the setting sun, these are dark times for the world ...and it just makes me feel alive!
Maybe I should feel guilty about that, but I haven't managed it yet.

SeventhWarlock

"Alessia" Vidomina (Cheydinhalius), Imperial Nightblade

Born in Cheydinhal to a family of merchants. Showing an obvious innate magical talent from an early age, she learned how to use it to help her family business in less than honest ways. She could trick customers into believing that they bought more than they did. After much nagging from her behalf, her father agreed to send her to the Academy in the Imperial city before the war broke out.

It was there the young Vidomina started developing her political beliefs, centred around her hatred for the Mer. Having been subject to abuse at the Academy from Mer students, the young Vidomina Cheydinhalius atarted to hate their kind (especially Bosmer, who she regards as blasphemous and savage). The fate of the Imperial city at the hands of an Altmer was more than prof for her of their evil ways.

Studying the fate of the Alessian rebellion, she came to believe that the people of Cyrodiil were singled out by Akatosh through Saint Alessia, being given a mandate to drive out the Mer that applies to this day, and applies (in her mind), not only to Cyrodiil itself but to bordering regions such as Valenwood as well. In fact, according to Alessia, nearly all of Tamriel's civilization can be attributed to the Imperials, one indivisible nation united through the brilliance of the Nibenean mind and the might of the Colovian sword.

Vidomina took the name "Alessia" to reflect her beliefs. Despite no prof of her ever having graduated at the Academy, Alessia often vocally and proudly boasts about being a "Scholar of Imperial History", a claim she uses to legitimize her own chauvinistic and overly nationalistic beliefs.

As she fled back to her native Cheydinhal, her father and brother had died, participating in the rebellion against the Imperial Legion. Furious, she took up arms with the Pact and swore to fight the Reman Empire and all other Mer constructs whenever possible. Alessia believes that outside of Cyrodiil, the Imperial race is being subjected to a genocide by the lesser races, who want to hide the hide the fact that Cyrodilic civilisation is the driving force behind all of Man's accomplishments. Imperials across Tamriel must work to establish a Third Empire founded upon the Alessian doctrines, consisting of all historical Imperial land, including places in which the Imperial race are in the minority due to the genocide conducted against them by the lesser races.

For her, the Daggerfall Covenant is no option for patriotic imperials, although she is more interested in fighting the Dominion. According to Alessia, the Bretons, and by extension the Reachmen, are Imperials whose ancestors were subject to *** and indoctrination by the filthy Mer enslavers. A *** son does not inherit his fathers house if there are legitimate offspring left. In Alessia's view, these people must be reintegrated into Cyrodilic civilisation.

Despite her chauvinist beliefs, she developed a certain amount of respect for the Dunmer, having been exiled from the rest of the Mer-kin because of their rejection of their savage ways. Today she actually mostly lives in Mournhold, Morrowind, but frequently ventures home to Cheydinhal, joining defences against the Legion and the Dominion. Some claim that she also dabbles into alls ors of criminal activities, fencing, dark magic and occultism, although she is quick to stress that she is devoted to Akatosh and the divines. Few have ever seen her behind the mask, and ever will..

Gilvoth

HabOh wrote: »

I didn't put much thought into it until recently. Been playing since (console) release and I think I've decided to give my character a role/purpose.
Came up with a little something to give him more weight.

Trevon Isran always dreamed of seeing the edges of Tamriel.
Raised in a family of Redguard Mages, Trevon became an adept within the realm of magic. He would use his nearly infinite powers as parlor tricks to turn a quick coin. Once he earned his first gold, he became obsessed with wanting more. Trevon knew with coin, came power and he quickly tried trick after trick until he grew tired of being a performer. It was then that Trevon would turn to a life of crime and join the ranks of the Thieves Guild and Outlaws.

He soon got caught up in the wrong business and ended up a Soul Shriven under the thrall of Molag Bal. With the help of folks from the Ebonheart Pact, he escaped and is now free---back in the realm of Tamriel. Reluctant to help any further with this "save the world" plot, he joins forces with The Prophet and others within the ranks as he sees it as an opportunity to gain more gold.

---

Yadda, Yadda. That's all I have for now---just spit that out.
So basically, he's willing to help anyone for a price but he's generally a good guy at heart---since he's a healer.
He also has an obsession with becoming a Werewolf ever since he saw one rip a Hagraven in half.

ANYWAY. What are you guys playing as? Who are you and what's your story?

the 'interact" button should allow others to be able to read our autobiography the same way they can if adding us as a friend or trade or invite to groups.
i wish we could put this on our character and people can read it ingame.
the ability to put auto-biography on our characters has been a wish of mine since beta.

Andauril

Sajjan is the name of my Khajiit. She's of the Ohmes breed of Khajiit, which means that she looks quite a lot like a Bosmer (she's Bosmer in the Engine). She's just your average girl who tried to get around with some occasional criminal activity and taking every job she gets offered. She's nothing special, just a young traveller who hits the road every now and then and says she has no real home.

Kevlar1488

Back Story...

Hello, My name is Kevlar. I was found by a riverbed in the Providence of High Rock. Found and raised by my Orsimer parents, I knew I was different. Not because I was of Redguard. Something deeper. Shortly after my 16th birthday on a night much like this, the night of the full moon. I could feel it's power consume me. I passed out with an unprovoked rage that I couldn't control. The next morning I would up in a field covered in blood. What happened, what have I done, what am I.....

Anemonean

The Tale of Ahezzar the Thief (Posted this aswell in this part of the forum). This tale covers the backstory of two of my characters, Ahezzar "Lapis-Eye", a redguard thief and J'zar-Dar "Ten-Paw" a Khajiiti Renrija Krin. The thief travels Tamriel making coded maps of all her city's hot spots to steal from. its said he's the originator of "Shadow Marks" but that, as with many things in this chaotic world, is up for debate.

http://roguesfolio.tumblr.com/Story

I also have an RP character who is an Ordinator from Necrom. He's out on a long pilgrimage (taking a break form playing & RPing with him)
http://servantsofthetribunal.enjin.com/forum/m/11430427/viewthread/19346279-vasnya-indoril
This bio might be in a members only section of the forums, can't remember. If so, sorry!

Tryxus

.

CrowInTheWood

Lonan of Dubh. It was just Lonan before. It was Lonan when he was a young, pale skinned, raven haired Breton. He grew up on the northern outskirts of Cyrodil with his mother. His mother was a local healer, something she used to earn enough coin to make by with her child. However, the Nords of the village were fearful of her magic. Lonan was also skilled in magic, not unusual for a Breton, but the amount of power he had was strange. His talents came on quickly and forcefully. The villagers took notice of it, and decided to eliminate the risk. They managed to kill his mother, but Lonan escaped, not before razing the village to the ground. He was 17. Others tried to capture him, including mages who feared his talent, but he erased them all, one by one.

A year later, he took refuge with a young Nord woman of his age. She showed him hospitality and kindness. She called him her "Crow Prince". He believed he loved her. Later, she was approached by a group of Altmer wizards who claimed to be from the Psijic Order and told her they would give her a large amount of gold if she turned the boy over to them. They wished to silence his magic. Being very poor, she accepted their offer. Lonan slaughtered the trio in a battle of sorcery and cursed the girl to never feel the pangs of happiness again. She joined the Ebonheart pact and Lonan moved to an abandoned tower in the woods.

He decided to develop all of his power, but over the years it has become tainted with darkness. He hardened his heart and decided never to love, never to trust, only to hold the world in the hollow of his hand.

The years rolled by. He became known of Lonan of Dubh, a mysterious sorcerer who's magical prowess was rather unique. He was cold, collected, and ominous. Little drove him over the edge, but whatever or whoever did, he hunted mercilessly. Many avoided him and his wrath, including those within the mage community. However, the Daedric Princes took notice of the delectable combination of a dark heart and perilous magics. Some approached him, only to be turned away. He did not need them, nor did he want them. In a heated fight with Molag Bal, Lonan attempted to banish him. He nearly succeeded, but Molag Bal was too determined. The Daedric Prince revealed that he was the one who demanded the trio of wizards, who were of the Order of the Black Worm, to silence his magic so that Lonan would be forced to come to him for the power to dominate his enemies. Molag Bal silenced Lonan and stole his soul.

More incensed than ever, Lonan is slowly breaking the silencing spell and gaining back his power. Only this time, he's added one more task to his list of goals: eviscerate Mannimarco and defeat Molag Bal. In addition, he wonders if by joining the Daggerfall Covenant, he will gain both power and vengeance against his past betrayers. Up until the time that he returns to his old power, he remains undercover and inconspicuous to all those who might wish to eliminate him.

Ethromelb14_ESO

I'm playing as a sword master that is blind but uses a learned technique called the 'All-Sight'. He uses a unique fighting style via dual wielding that causes his swords to clash during certain movements, creating sparks of intense light that blinds his opponents, rendering them disoriented.

His All-Sight derives from his ability to see auras after creating a reverberation through the air with each exceptionally fast sword swing he performs.

The Order ( affiliated with the Moth Priests) forced the Sword Master to join as a child, and required all students to relinquish their sight in order to achieve ultimate awareness, and understanding of their opponents weaknesses. Kurai Michi, which means 'The Dark Way' only allows for there to ever be four warriors within The Order that practices the style art at any given time - but only one is permitted to engage in actual real combat. There is the Sifu that teaches all descendants, one male warrior and one female warrior that enter the Zen state to produce a child in the 'Kurai Michi' Dark Way. This type of offspring is considered to be, according to legend, the Ultimate Zen Warrior in a constant state of blind fury but unwavering nirvana in their way of living life.

The techniques used are:

The Silent Step- Foot placements similar to that of ninjitsu rendering the user soundless. Very useful in the dark.

The Light Edge- The swords are clashed together in a way that generates a powerful spark blinding and disorienting the foe.

The Indecisive Wind- Through quick movements the opponent feels the swords generated sword gust that deceptively touches them in one location while the sword actually comes from another direction bypassing defenses.

Nihan Zen- This is the ultimate next level of light edge. The blades become so hot that they cut through steel, and each swing produces a stream of scolding hot air that burns the opponent. This attack is impossible to block.

Darkrogue671

*facedesks*

Alright, I run an RP guild, and I have to say there are many in here that are just awesome and there are some in here that I just have to ask...... wut?

I have been RPing for 30 years, even ran a couple of D&D campaigns for GenCon a couple of years, and have been in RP in many MMO's and other games over the years. So, this comment is based upon experience.

The lore in this game is the same sheet of paper, the same foundation, essentially the same language we all speak in our RP. Creating new classes, new religions, new gods, new spells, etc., is basically speaking to other RPers in foreign language. While I can certainly appreciate the creativity aspect of these things being a writer myself, I would ask you: how are we to accept certain aspects of your character that are as outlandish as dragons in SWoTOR or stormtroopers in Middle-Earth? The lore is there and it is well established, created long before you thought of making your character and it deserves acknowledgement and respect.

Too many RPers these days (oh gawd, I feel like I'm shakin' mah rake!) focus on the flashy effects and the special anime powers and the unique things that make them stand out. The most powerful weapon you have to make your toon stand out is your RP, and you should really focus on that.

See you in game!