Lonan is a breton hedge-sorcerer. He's lead a troubled life because of those things. He uses that pain to fuel a plan of vengeance and conquest. He won't stop until he sits on a throne fashioned on the backs of his enemies.
He grew up on the northern outskirts of Cyrodiil and in the Rift. His mother was a traveling healer of prodigious skill. His father, although breton, was never skilled in magic, but worked as an apothecary. He died of unknown causes when Lonan was a baby.
So Lonan grew up alone. His mother passed down her skill in magic to Lonan, although it manifested differently in him. Healing was not his talent, but the other areas of magic were. Most noticeably, he had an affinity with the powers of storms.
They were poor, and his mother had to use her healing to make enough money for them to get by. The villagers needed her, but did not trust her. They hated her magic, and were fearful of her son.
Lonan had only a few friends. His best friend was Lucius Aurelius, an imperial and son of a renowned Legion Battle Mage. Lucius was secretly jealous of Lonan, for he could not live up to his father's expectations and perform magic to his skill.
Years passed and Lonan's magic grew volatile. He accidentally caused much destruction with his storms. The villagers decided that this was a risk they could not take. They killed Lonan's mother and tried to kill him. He escaped, but not before he razed the village to the ground. Lucius took part in the riot, and Lonan never forgot. He was seventeen.
A year later, he sought refuge with a Nord girl of his age. She was kind to him and showed him much hospitality. They fell in love with one another eventually. However, she too was poor, and money was a necessity for her to live. Three altmer wizards claiming to be from the Psijic Order paid her for him. He slaughtered them with magic. Betrayed and enraged, he cursed with an Illusion spell to never feel the pangs of happiness again. She joined the Ebonheart Pact and he moved into an abandoned ruin in the woods, both seeking new lives.
No longer afraid of his power, Lonan developed his arcane skill. In time, it grew dark as he did. He vowed never to love and never to trust, only to hold the world in the hollow of his hand.
He lived in the woods for many years. The locals made much effort to not disturb him for fear of being hunted like his other aggressors. He became a shadow-cloaked sorcerer who moved silently through the woods. Some even thought him a myth.
He was finally driven out of his home when Molag Bal stole his soul, silenced his magic, and revealed that the three altmer wizards from before were actually of the Order of the Black Worm.
After retrieving it and slowly breaking the silencing spell, he has begun to hunt for a few people from his past. Namely, he tracks Lucius and Erika, the Nord girl. He thinks that he's located Lucius, living under an assumed name in the Gold Coast. He'll find out soon enough.
Edited by CrowInTheWood on July 19, 2016 10:12PM
Lonan of Dubh, Breton Hedge-Sorcerer-
"Monsters all, aren't we? The only difference being some of us are proud of our claws."
"Love only has one other name- Betrayal."
"Power. The prize that takes everything. Such a price we pay..."
Born 2E 545, Second Seed. I am a hatchling of the Kota-Vimleel tribe. Like most of my egg kin, I hatched Second Seed and joined the Shadowscales. I had three clutch-siblings i regularly played, trained, and spoke with. Two of them were Shadowscales with me, the other was not and grew up primarily with our tribe.
He was born 61 sunsets before me. That is rare and brought him a lot of attention. Some stated he was to be great and helpful, others that he was harmful and to be repelled. He stayed to himself and away from others. I seemed to be one of the few he spoke with. I respected his discipline and looked to him as a nassa. We only returned to our thtithil uxith tzel rarely and for short periods. Although my clutch-brother, who now goes by Ankhor Tree-Blood, was rarely spoken to compared to the others living with me, I knew him deeply.
I've always remembered a vision of myself hatching. As a growing hatchling, some nights i would visualize going out into the marsh and explore. Unlike the regular day or night imaginations we all may have, these were only visual and remained regardless of my will to change things within it. Around six or seven years after Thtithik helped us here, I was listening to Tree-Blood tell me about his last two months, and firmly learned my visions were of his life, literally. I did notice similarities throughout life, yet just gathered it was common for us Saxhleel to imagine such common tasks and scenarios, since we often may view images of things we may not have physically experienced.
I kept that awareness to myself and learned him well. He was more strict than he presented himself and was strongly interested in the Hist and all plant life. I respected him much, obviously, and almost had the experience of living two lives via my one way connection to him.
My twin clutch-brother, Haj-Eix, seemed to blend-in in any environment and would sometimes follow me and Tree-Blood on our marsh travels. He respected me like i respected Tree-Blood. He was always wearing gear that would assist in matching him to our environment and often seemed to measure points of view in an area well. Because we looked almost identical when young, he used that to divert attention away from him to me sometimes. I strongly disliked that, and in hind sight, should may addressed it more strongly at an earlier in life.
As we hatch, we suckle from the Hist. I was told my veins swelled, darkened and were pulsating. This same unique effect happened to Tree-Blood. This indicated a connection between us to the Thtithik's and Raj's and was something we discussed among each other when out on our walks.
Haj-Eix and i were were called on for our naming day a with great anticipation. Two days before, i visualized Tree-Blood engaging some dunmer to free a captive Saxhleel and became captive himself. My request to go to the village to protect them from a dunmer attack was doubted, yet mildly investigated. They noticed him missing the next day, yet the rain made it hard to track and they already had time to reach the border.
I was named Kota-Sax-Blood which means "Black-Root(Hist)-Blood" because of the effect that occurred again, as i took in the Hist for the ceremony. Haj-Eix means "Hidden-Scales" which fits well for him and his chameleon style of living. Tree-Blood was absent, until the Akaviri Invasion. He came back with the term Tree-Blood as a reference to our similar effect of consuming the Hist. He missed his naming ceremony, so he named himself.
Many stars signs have passed until the my first vision from Tree-Blood. He was now a captive in a foreign land. Although I still gave took note of the visions to learn of that foreign land and culture, the bulk of my attention has shifted to the dark brotherhood evaluation process. Part of this process involved information reconnaissance.
On one of my first missions, I was sent to retrieve some info and return my a set day and time. I acquired the info ahead of schedule, and began my quick return, anticipating additional merit for the early accomplishment. In the act of my haste, i experienced something for the first time. i teleported forward a great distance. Unfortunately, the destination was in the mist of an enemy stronghold, and i was not yet skilled enough to battle or sneak my way out. I had to wait until an opportunity arose to depart.
By the time that occurred, i was late returning. to return late with the story of what occurred may have been accepted with a dislike, if not for what my brother did. At some point in time he did some act, posing as me. As a result as this, I was deemed a liar. They decided i disobeyed. Being that it was my first strike, i was an initiate, and i presented forgiveness, they allowed me to continue.
My magical abilities began to flair as i intern invested attention in training them. On day, unknowing to me, Haj-Eix dumped water on a sleeping initiate and somehow gave them the impression it was me. The following night, that same initiate got a water hose to spray me in my sleep. I happened to be visualizing Tree-Blood being assaulted and was tense as a result. The moment that water hit me, I raised up and my body became electrical. This electricity traveled along the water path and electrocuted the initiate to death. Killing a dark brotherhood initiate was fully unacceptable and i was put to suffer the Wratih of Sithis(Seth).
I barely survived, with the help of my recently acquired magical abilities, yet decided to return to the Kota-Vimleel and study Shadowscale and Saxhleel knowledge independently.
I returned to around the beginning of the khahaten flu. Those known as the Lilmothiit and the Kothringi were dying in quickly. Tree-Blood was receiving extra scrutiny, yet around 564 he escaped and i was introduced to dark skinned men called Ra'Gada or Redguards. Meanwhile, i engaged in a much more free exploration of our march as a byproduct of this flu. Although many died, i was pleased our tzel has less foreigners.
While vicariously learning the two-handed maul from Tree-Blood visions, I trained my area effect magical abilities in the now more barren marsh. I also learned much from Keshu the Black Fin, and traveled with her when i was able too. i trained, explored and freed slaves with her and her legion up until the Akaviri invasion when Tree-Blood returned.
Here we finally reunited for battle, and it was a great one. We devastated the foreigners and surprised the others. We returned to our village and began to share life stories, train and get Tree-Blood re-accustomed to our Saxhleel way of life.
It's been about seven cycles of the twelve seasons and something strange occurred. A large blast or burst occurred that was only heard by a few in our village. Over the next few days, my head began to hurt tremendously, my abilities seemed to be activating independent of my will and my Tree-Blood visions were occurring sporadically and at dangerous moments.
I need to rest now, since rest often heals thyself.
Stay Moist + Seth Salute
Edited by ankhor8 on April 6, 2017 2:55AM
Kota-Sax-Blood of True An-Xileel
Psn community page: An-Xileel
My main is a Khajiit called Littlewill (Not really lore friendly but that's what I call my first character in every game). He is as big as they come, but his bulk is muscle.
TL;DR: Been everywhere, done everything, all hail Razum-dar, screw Argonians.
He left his village to seek a life of adventure, at first he joined a pirate crew. A 'minor' disagreement occurred, and was to be settled with a brawl. However Khajiit have claws and so he gained the scars on his shoulder. During the fight blood rage overwhelmed him and he slew his opponent, who was favoured by the captain. He made his escape only just making it out with the fur on his tail.
He headed to Cyrodiil to ply himself as a mercenary. There he learnt all forms of combat, from restoration magic to dual wielding. On the battlefield he observed the feats of Dragonknights and copied them to become a Dragonknight himself. At Sejanus Outpost Argonian got a lucky swing at him whilst being skewered on Littlewill's greatsword, carving a gash across his left eye. He continued to fight in a blood rage until he dropped unconscious from blood loss. He was rescued by a Khajiit Templar healer, and once he was healed he headed back onto the battlefield, not to fight but to scavenge for a full set of heavy armour and a sword and shield, as he had learnt his listen that a Khajiit of his size is doomed to be hit in battle and so he should turn that to his advantage. And never again did he enter battle without a helm.
Unused to wearing proper armour, and still recovering from injury, Littlewill and his newfound Templar friend turned their attention away from Cyrodiil to the many dark places of Tamriel. A strategy of sorts was made with Littlewill throwing himself into the fray, and the Templar staying back to heal him and hit the enemies with pot shots. In Grahtwood they were in a cave searching for treasure when they saw a peculiar sight. There was a tiny Bosmer without any pants on. This allowed for Littlewill and his Templar friend to observe that the Bosmer was in fact male, as all other evidence pointed to him being a her. The Bosmer proceeded to lick a red frog, then turn to a nearby tree and begin having a conversation with it. Unseen by the Bosmer a wolf was approaching him, getting ready to attack. The Bosmer obviously heard something, as he turned to the wolf and promptly turned into a wolf himself. One quick sweep and the wolf was decapitated. Then the dead wolf's body fell onto the foot of the no longer wolf, Bosmer, mortally wounding him. Luckily the Templar dabbled in Necromancy and had experimentally discovered a way to quickly and efficiently resurrect a person using a soul gem, provided they had only recently died. Conversation with the Bosmer revealed he was a Nightblade and had such a weak constitution that a stiff breeze could incapacitate him. Thus a beautiful friendship began.
The party of three heard wind of a new Queen of the Aldmeri Dominion, Queen Ayrenn, and that she was currently in Vulkhel Guard. And so, they meet on a street corner in Vulkhel Guard an Altmer Sorcerer proclaiming the superiority of the High Elves and the inferiority of everyone else. Littlewill and the Templar were going to ignore this complete prick but their pantless Nightblade friend had other ideas as he approached the Altmer and began sensually dancing in front of him. Upon noticing the group the Altmer immediately claimed leadership of the group, commanding them to follow him. Littlewill disagreed with this idea and so he threw his sword at the Altmer's head, only to have it bounce uselessly against a magic barrier. The Altmer, oblivious to the attempt on his life began walking done the street and the group followed solely for a chance to stick sharp objects into the Altmer where the sun doesn't shine.
And thus the group of four meet the magnificent Khajiit known as Razum-dar. The mere sight of him caused the Altmer to become less of a prick and the group bonded over their love of Razzle Dazzle, deciding to form a guild in his honour. Razum-dar Rooters was born. The group also discover they had a mutual wish for genocide of the Argonians.
One fateful night Littlewill was the target of a vampire for feeding. He noticed the vampire and instead of killing him, he asked for a bite as he was curious as to the powers of vampires. He had already experienced so much in his life there was little left to discover. This Littlewill became a vampire. Weeks past and he was even harder to kill than before, but then he realised the stupidity of using Dragonknight magic to breath fire when one is a vampire. Handy use of a frost staff soothed the pain, but the lesson was learned and he sought out a priest of Arkay. Penitence was given, and vampirism was cured. However one effect of vampirism still remained, his bestial nature had awoken. Confused as to what to do he remembered his tiny Bosmer friend, and so he became a werewolf. Now with an outlet for the beast within, and the Razum-dar Rooters regrouped and headed to Cyrodiil on their quest to eradicate the Argonians.
Another day, another deathtrap. PC | NA | CP: 690+ Main: Littlewill (50) - Khajiit Dragonknight Tank Alts:
Eyes are alert and aware, motions are poised and measured, appearance is road worn and disheveled...
Doer of Ugly and Dangerous Things
You know what’s hard? Being born to the mistress of the local lord, a wild and dangerous huntress of modest birth and questionable repute, instead of to the lord’s own highborn wife. Know what’s harder still? Being a damnsight smarter, tougher, and cleverer than your half-brothers and sisters, and knowin' that they know the whole damn town knows it too.
You know what’s easy though? Not caring a rat’s arse about any of it.
I left home on me 14th birthday with just a rusty knife, a homemade bow, and a tattered rucksack to my name to travel the world and make my name. Now five years gone I've been by turns a robber and a bravo, a soldier and a scout, an assassin and a spy, a poet and a lover, to name but a few. I've done service for Lords and Kings, Sorcerers and Priestesses, Spirits and Dragons, and I've never killed a man or beast or spirit who didn't either deserve his fate or at least known full-well he had placed his life at grave risk through the course of his own actions. I may be a killer, but I've never been a murderer.
Through all that though I've always traveled on me own - crossed many a lonely league with no one to mind my company other than my mount – and so it is that the prospect of finding a letter from one of me well writ companions-of-the-post fills me with such eager anticipation each time I ride into a town. Please feel full-indulged to add yourself to that roll.
Well Tempered Rogue Seeks Correspondents In Matters Regarding News Of The Road And The World, Accounts and Practical Advice Regarding Ones' Lives As They Attend To Adventure And Romance, and The Exchange Of Views On Matters Pertaining To History, Poetry, And Natural Philosophy. All are welcome.