darkedge42392

Morgan wandered up from the rear of the group to see these deer tracks himself. He crouched down and gently touched them. The earth of the valley was soft and dark, and the prints left by the deer were smooth and clearly defined. They were fresh. At the mention of predators, he frowned and readjusted his weight on the balls of his feet, scanning the clearing with a quick eye. Nothing that he could see except the trail, tall grass, and the trees in the distance. "I do not want to get eaten by anything out here, especially since we're all fresh out of the Vault," he said, his deep voice rumbling as he trailed off as he was distracted by the feel of the cool breeze from the high peaks around him rustling the trees. His adrenaline from earlier had worn down into a quiet amazement at the world around him. He couldn't believe how alive he felt. And he sure as hell wasn't going to risk that feeling by being stupid.

Morgan could barely catch his breath as the view of the valley of Yosemite opened up before them. His amber eyes drank in the greenery, glad to see something so vibrant after the dreary white walls of the Vault. He was completely astounded. His customary half smile deepened into a full grin. He laughed again. He couldn't believe it! He was free! As the Evans' girl splashed her way into the water, Morgan wandered over and slid his hand into the rushing water. He laughed again. Such power! He could feel the weight of the water as it flew so freely over his hand and pushed it downstream. It was so different compared to the tepid and fine amounts of water that their showers consisted of. This, this was raw natural power. And it was cold! Morgan pulled his hand out of the water and chuckled. His hand was bright pink. He swept his eyes over the valley of Yosemite again. He couldn't believe the park had survived the onslaught of nuclear war so well. Everything was so alive. And the sky was so blue. Trees stretched for miles around, filling the bowl created between the tall peaks around them. The waterfall that they had come out from behind of rushed along in a river that went further into the wilderness as it wrapped around a jutting of rock in the distance. He wondered where it went. Morgan wiped his now cold hand off on his jumpsuit and wandered back over to the others. They were discussing which way they were going. The tall dark headed one named Lancer suggested that they needed a scout. Morgan smirked as he walked up. "If you want, Jess, I can scout ahead. I think I might be able to see what lies ahead. Besides, I need to stretch my legs," he chuckled. He brushed his hair back out of his eyes and grinned again. "Anyone want to pair up with me so I have some extra eyes I can use? No point in going alone and getting lost."

Morgan Dürer stood next to the side wall, toward the front of the group of youths. It was time. Vault 32 was opening. He was excited! He had been dreaming of this moment for weeks. Even though he knew of the horrible dangers on the outside of the Vault, he didn't care. He had been chomping at the bit for weeks for this day to arrive. It was time to leave this miserable confine of a prison and get out into the world! Morgan slipped his thumbs into the straps of his pack and allowed his ever present half smile to deepen a bit. His pack was heavy and full of supplies, but it didn't bother him at all. He flexed his broad, muscular shoulders, feeling the muscles tighten and ripple under the loose Vault 32 jumpsuit and the heavy bullet-resistant vest over it. Mentally, he checked over his gear once more. His pistol hung at his hip, and he carried three extra clips of ammunition in his belt. The survival knife he had been given hung opposite his pistol on his left hip, and a combat knife he had stolen was hung horizontally across the small of his back under his pack. He relaxed and took a long glance around. So many familiar faces. He had grown up with, or known of, most of the ones gathered here today. At the front was Jessica Springs. A rascal of a woman, and one who hadn't taken lightly to one of his playful jests last year. It had resulted in a few angry words and his now crooked nose. He wiggled his nostrils slightly at the memory. He had kept two black eyes for weeks after the fact. And it hadn't helped the Docs couldn't set his nose straight. Moving on, his eyes fell on Caden Grayson, a sharply lean bastard of a fellow with a soft featured face, who fatherlessness had tormented him throughout his time in the Vault. Morgan had always felt bad for the guy. Next, his eyes strayed to the Evans twins, who he knew only very little about, as they were among the youngest of those leaving the Vault. He laughed audibly as the Vault Door opened and sunlight flooded the chamber. Even though he was momentarily blinded, he kept laughing. The roar of the waterfall silenced him, or rather, it drowned him out. It was time! "Don't be scared of what you're leaving behind, everyone! Be scared of what we'll find!" Morgan laughed as he jogged out into the cave entrance behind the waterfall, basking in the natural light of the midday sun. He couldn't stop laughing. FINALLY! he thought. I'm free.

Name: Morgan Dürer Gender: Male Age: 24 Race: Caucasian (German) Karma (Alignment): Neutral (Chaotic) SPECIAL: Strength-8 Perception-5 Endurance-6 Charisma-4 Intelligence-7 Agility-6 Luck-4 Tag Skills: Melee Weapons, Unarmed, Guns (small) Interests/Ambitions: His family history, training, martial skills, Germanic history and art. Appearance: Morgan stands at 5'10" tall, and weighs a hefty 200 lbs of lean muscle. He has a long, gaunt face with wide cheeks, a wide mouth, and full lips. His nose is crooked, as it has been broken several times in the many fights he's had against bullies growing up. His hair is reddish brown and is kept cut fairly short. His eyes are hazel, and shine golden in bright light. Personality: Morgan is a likable guy, who goes out of his way to try to win a smile. He tends to be on the quiet side, though isn't afraid to speak up when he needs to. His voice is deep. He is quite the ladies man, and always enjoys seeing if he can get a woman to blush, whether intentionally or not. He usually has a slight half smile on his face, as if he was in on a joke and just waiting to tell it. Background: Morgan is the grandson of a three star general who made sure to claim a spot for himself. He settled down with a Lieutenant Colonel and had Morgan's mother, who was a military brat. She eventually settled down with one of the Vault's scientists, and had Morgan. He was given his father's last name, which was after the great Renaissance artist Albrect Dürer himself. Of course, his father encouraged Morgan's insatiable thirst to know about this artist, and Morgan eventually delved into art and history himself, to expand his knowledge. He also for a time tried to study Dürer's fighting manuscripts, but eventually put it aside as he didn't have the right tools to use the knowledge to his advantage. He joined the Vault's security force at 17, and has spent the last 7 years constantly training his body, ready for the day the Vault finally opens, and releases them out into the wilds.

Posting this on behalf of tokyobleach:

I'm perfectly fine with that. It gives a chance to further explore some lore we haven't covered yet. And talking to a Daedric Prince is not unheard of in my RPs. :P

I'm posting this character sheet on behalf of tokyobleach:

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock Varys nodded quietly at the Marczon's reply. He was genuinely surprised. He had not expected to see a descendant of one of Adrynn's former companions from so long ago ever. Though he was starting to think that perhaps Adrynn's tales of Azura's involvement in his life weren't so far fetched after all. "I'm not surprised you know the name of Adrynn Indarys then, Ser Marczon. He's a notable figure even in Morrowind, and especially House Redoran. He's done much in the time he's been alive," Varys said, allowing a small smile to cross his lips. "He is enjoying his retirement." With that, Varys agreed with Baltis on the point to get some rest. He retired to his room and tried to sleep. He didn't sleep well. The nightmares plagued even him, and eventually, he just lay in bed reciting the mantras of the Reclamations, lulling himself into a trance until dawn broke through his window. He rose, got dressed, and waited for the others downstairs, eating a simple fair of fresh bread and hard cheese, with a glass of ale. He brooded on his dreams the night before, hoping that he would be able to quickly find the source and put and end to it so everyone would be able to get their well deserved sleep. Katarin Maelle, Daggerfall, High Rock Katarin's fear of the huge Orc had lessened considerably when his humor started to appear. She laughed a bit in relief, glad she hadn't upset the giant of a mer. She joined the table and allowed herself to enjoy the night a bit, drinking a small amount of the wine to allow herself to sleep a bit better later. Finally, as everyone made their way to their rooms, Kat went to hers, still giggling at the prospect of maybe getting her own runes, though not carved into her teeth. The alcohol in her system allowed her to slip into quiet dreams. She awoke as she heard movement pass her door and rose herself, waiting downstairs with Varys as he ate his meal, taking a few bites out of a few pieces of toasted bread herself.

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock - The Suckling Pig Varys quietly ate his meal and watched the Orc enter, keeping an eye on him. He was massive. Varys was impressed. It had been few times that he had seen an Orc beat a Nord in both size and height. When the Orc mentioned if they wanted to fight, Varys gave a small smile. "No thanks, Master Orc. We've already had our fill of brawling tonight," he said, taking a glance at his spear still resting against the wall closeby. He hoped he wouldn't need it. As everyone finished their meals, a sharp faced Breton commented on Varys's armor while sitting down nearby. "I'm not surprised, Breton. It's an armor unique to Morrowind. Though I'm surprised you know the name of the style, moreso than you do of the the type of armor," Varys said, eyeing the other man. "How do you know that name?" Katarin Maelle, Daggerfall, High Rock Katarin picked at her food, wondering whether to finish it or not. She was grateful that the Dunmer in bonemold had bought it for her, but her excitement earlier had turned to doubt. As the Orc arrived, her doubts increased. How would they go about this? How were they going to get there? Finally, as the Breton man sat down close to her, she grumbled and stood up. She made some excuse about needing some air while quickly stepping outside into the cool moist night. She took a long deep breath and tried not to roll her eyes in frustration at herself. She failed. It's okay Kat. This is what you wanted. This is what you were waiting for! she thought to herself. She loosened her ponytail and let her hair fall free for a moment. A headache had been building all night. She leaned back into the wall and brushed her hair back with her fingers. She took another deep breath, closed her eyes, and let her mind wander for a moment. Finally she shoved the doubts back into a tidy little box inside her mind, opened her eyes, put her hair back into a ponytail, and went back inside. "So tell me, Mister Orc. Who carved your tusks?" she asked, hoping to get on the friendly side of this massive mer, meanwhile kicking herself mentally for picking out an Orc's tusks as the first thing to comment on. She forced a shy smile and waited patiently.

Ok Auri. I'll take over for Kat in the mean time. When you can come back, by all means, you can have her back. :D

Welcome aboard Razor. :D

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock - The Suckling Pig Varys smiled, glad that those present had agreed to coming along. He leaned forward and returned the gold back to his bag. "As much as I would like to leave immediately, my Breton friend, I think we should wait and leave in the morning. I doubt any ships are leaving at dusk. Besides, the brawl at the last bar caused more than a few spilled dinners," he said, eyeing the barkeep. "Besides, you said that the food here was better," Varys said, directed toward Baltis. "I think we should all eat then settle in for the night, then leave at dawn," Varys said, hailing the barkeep. "In the meantime, eat a hearty dinner and try to get some sleep. Food is on me tonight."

http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120713192308/elderscrolls/images/a/a8/HighRockSmart.jpeg Here is a map I found of High Rock that everyone should reference if you wish. :D

Ok, I rewrote my last post to get the story moving along a bit faster. (thanks Auri) Everyone give it a read and let me know what you think, and please post! :D

Ok, anyone going to post? o.o

I edited my latest post because it sounded too cheesy to leave it as it is.

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock - The Suckling Pig Varys found a seat at the table offered by the other Dunmer, Baltis. For some reason, that name was tickling the back of his mind. It was familiar, though he didn't know where or why now of all times his mind decided to bring it up. He pushed it aside and momentarily studied the newest arrival to their little group of brawlers. She seemed fairly ordinary for a Breton woman, except the shine of her sharp green eyes. Even in the dim light of the tavern, they were bright and clear. He gave a small nod to her and leaned back his chair, resting it on the back two legs, while using his spear as a countermeasure to tipping all the way back. He rubbed his busted lip with his thumb and checked for blood. It was there, but drying quickly. He ran his tongue across his teeth to check for any loosening of them, but thankfully they were all still there. He was glad for that. His teeth were something he prized still keeping after his years of training. He let his chair back down onto its legs and smiled momentarily, the excitement of the fight returning at the mention of it from Baltis to his friend. "Well, always better to have a good thrashing to those who deserve it while remaining free to do it again, aye?" Varys said, chuckling. He rested his spear against the wall behind him and leaned forward, clasping his hands together and leaning on his elbows. "Though my question is this. What do we do now that we're all together?" He glanced around for a moment before continuing. "I was at that tavern because I had received summons from one of the nobles of this city, to hunt down a particular artifact and see it destroyed." He glanced around quickly. "That artifact is the reason why these nightmares are plaguing everyone here. I know you all know what I am saying. From Farrun to here in Daggerfall, and from Wayrest to Northpoint, I know that these nightmares have been occurring." Varys reached into his pack and pulled out the pamphlet of reports that Sir Michel had given him before laying them on the table. "I'm telling you all this because I unfortunately have no experience in this area, and being an outlander to High Rock, I do not know the terrain or enemies as much as I would like." He glanced between the two Bretons there. "That, and you were all so ready to help me defend a defenseless woman, and I hope that perhaps you may be willing to help me once more in this endeavor." Varys hoped his words would persuade these brave people to come with him. "I know that the nightmares are strongest in Wayrest, and most reports seem to say that Vaermina's temple is in the Wrothgarian Mountains to the north there. I'm going there tomorrow, and by the Three, I will see these accursed nightmares stopped." He reached one last time into his pack and pulled out the forward payment he had already been given by Sir Michel and dropped it on top of the report papers. "This is half of the due payment. The other half is to be given upon completion of the task. For those of you who seek coin, I'm willing to split the payment evenly if you take part." He let his eyes fall on Baltis and Ascienne here. "As for the others, any spoils or treasure we find are yours, as long as we can see this damned artifact destroyed." Varys leaned back into his chair and looked around the table one last time. "So what do you say? Who's coming with me?"

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock Varys nodded in agreement with the other Dunmer's words. Leaving would be a wise idea. The high of the fight had worn off and he realized how his face ached now. He glanced to Adrynn, who had finished his wine in the aftermath of the brawl. The older Dunmer was leaning against the bar, his cup hanging loosely in his hand. He smiled and nodded to the door. "Get going, Varys. I do believe you've found your opportunity," Adrynn said, a smile peeking through his beard. "I'll stay here and help with the clean up." Varys started to reply, perhaps to beseech Adrynn to accompany him still, but nodded and gathered his cloak from the table. He went back to the barkeep, tossed him a handful of septims from his coinpurse, and retrieved his weapons from behind the bar. He quickly belted his sword around his waist and slid his knife into his boot, before grabbing his spear and heading for the door. Adrynn's voice brought him up short though. "Do keep me informed, Varys. I'll be around if you need some advice," Adrynn chuckled, sipping on another glass of wine. Varys nodded quietly and made his way out the door. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, though Varys found the smooth cobblestones a harrowing distraction as he stepped onto them and went skidding and fighting to keep his footing. He planted the butt of his spear into the ground and gingerly stepped forward, using his spear as a walking staff to make sure his feet didn't fly out from under him. He would have to find a cobbler soon to drive nails into his boots so he would have better footing. Taking each step with care, he followed the dark cloaked Dunmer from before, hoping that he perhaps had found the companions for his hunt.

Good to hear, Hyac. :thumbsup:

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock - Tavern Varys laughed in an adrenaline fueled high. The large Nord lass and her skinny Bosmer companion had joined the fray to help even the odds, and for the most part they were. Though now the whole tavern was going at it, with plates flying and bottles of ale being used as weapons. The sulking Breton he had noticed earlier had lost her cool and summoned a mountain lion and two swords. Though her cry for peace was quickly met with more fighting. Varys jumped to help the Bosmer, his dark hands finding purchase on the drunk Breton who had accosted the Wood Elf, slinging him face first into the wall. He turned and noticed Adrynn had made his way to the bar, gently shoving more people into the fight, a laugh on his lips as he sipped his wine. Varys dove back into the fray, kicking and shoving his way to where the serving wench had gone down, and noticed she had managed to hole herself into the corner, away from most of the brawling. Her eyes were like saucer plates, they were so wide with fear. "Don't worry, sera, this will be over before you know it," he said with a small wink, before turning back and getting a face full of fist again from one of the Nord sailors who just refused to go down. "I'll have yer head you stinking gray-skin!" the Nord bellowed, his breath stinking of alcohol. Varys did the only logical thing in reply of course. He punched the Nord right in the throat with a sharp jab, silencing his opponent's curses, before planting his boot firmly into the Nord's ribs. He laughed again. Oh how he loved to fight.

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock After handing over all he had on the subject, along with a hefty starting sum of gold for the trouble, Sir Michel bid the two Dunmer farewell with a small bow and departed. Varys watched him go and suddenly wondered why he had agreed to take up the quest in the first place. He shook his head and glanced at Adrynn, who's weathered face was thoughtful behind his steepled fingers. "That was unexpected, though not surprising," Adrynn chuckled, his deep voice a comfort to the young Redoran. The older Dunmer sat back in his chair and gave him a long look. Varys shifted his weight from leg to leg, unsure of what to say. "Do you think I acted in haste?" Varys asked Adrynn, his brow creasing into a hard frown. "I think that it's up to you to see this little adventure through now, Varys," Adrynn said, standing up and running his fingers through his grey streaked black hair. The heavy red robes that the old Dunmer wore draped around his tall frame as he stood to his full height. "But come, let us think on these matters later. I'm hungry." Varys nodded and wrapped his heavy black wolfskin cloak around his lean frame, covering the Gah-Julan Bonemold armor for the most part. His weapons he had unfortunately had to surrender to the innkeeper before they were allowed to stay here, though he was glad for it. He didn't like lugging around the long spear he used for battle indoors. Especially in these small western buildings. Varys followed Adrynn downstairs into the main part of the tavern, keeping an ever watchful eye on the old Dunmer. His limp was getting worse, especially during these rainy days. Even though Adrynn would wave off any concern Varys showed about him, the young Redoran Guard did care for the grizzled old veteran. He was like a true father figure to him, even more so than his own father had been, who had only been concerned about politics among the Great Houses. They passed by several tables full of drunken Bretons, various adventurers, and the hardened workfolk of Daggerfall before finally finding a somewhat secluded table for themselves in the back. Varys sat with his back against the wall, draping his long cloak over the back of his chair. As the maid took their orders, he scanned the crowded tavern, and he noticed several of the adventurers he had taken note of earlier were situated close by. A tall Nord woman was merrily chattering with a lean Bosmer, apparently discussing about themselves. Meanwhile a sour looking Breton with soaked blond hair was quietly gazing out into the crowd herself, her face a warning against approaching. He nodded to her, while the maid returned with his and Adrynn's food. "Ah, hearty Breton food," the old Redoran said contentedly, digging into his stew of beef and vegetables. Varys allowed himself a smile. If there was one thing that could make the grouchy old Dunmer smile, it was food. Varys himself tucked into his bowl of stew of clams and pork in a thick broth. He had always loved clam stews, though he thought this might be the best he had tasted. Not surprisingly, considering how close the ocean was to the city. While enjoying his food, Varys noticed a tall and burly Nord, obviously already drunk, stumble into the tavern with several of his friends, laughing at some joke one had told. "Oi! Wench! Get me and my fellows here some mead!" the Nord yelled from the middle of the room. Several heads turned to the Nord before conversation went on as normal. One of the tavern maids shuffled the bunch of Nords to a table in a corner and took their orders. Varys finished his food, keeping an eye on the group of Nords in case they decided to cause trouble. "Well Varys, how are you going to go about your little adventure?" Adrynn asked quietly, as he sipped on his wine. Varys turned his attention back to Adrynn. "I'm going to go to where the nightmares are the worst, find the culprit, and either destroy it or get it taken to where it can be," he said simply. Adrynn nodded. "Sounds like a simple enough plan. I hope it goes well for you." "So you won't come with me, Adrynn?" Varys asked, despite knowing the answer already. The old Dunmer shook his head. "I told you when we left, that I would come with you only as far as here. Now it is up to you. You wanted an adventure so badly, so now it's up to you to get things going. I will help you as I can, but as I've said, my adventuring days are long behind me." Varys nodded, somewhat sadly. "Well, I'm sure something will happen-" he started. A sudden scream of outrage went up from the corner of the building. Varys' head snapped toward the sound. The drunken Nord had one of the serving maids in his meaty hands, his hands around her throat. His face was red with fury, his eyes bloodshot from his mead. "Ye stupid bloody wench! I told you I wanted steak, not this sliver of pork! I'll make you learn!" he yelled, while the maid clawed at his arms to let her go. Her face was slowly turning blue while she gasped for air. Before he knew it, Varys was across the room, leaping over tables and sending plates flying, his fury so great he couldn't think except for one phrase. I'm going to kill him. "Let her go, Nord!" Varys snapped, running forward and snapping a heavy kick into the side of the Nord's knee, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain and anger. Varys then elbowed into the inside of the Nord's arm at the joint, buckling it and releasing the serving girl, while grabbing the wrist of the same arm and a fistful of the Nord's greasy blond hair. He slammed the Nord's face into the side of the table as hard as he could, hearing the satisfactory crunch of wood on bone. He did it one more time for good measure, before kicking aside stunned and bloody Nord. He went to help up the serving girl who's face was slowly returning to a natural color before he felt hands snatching at his armor and the roar of anger behind him. He had forgotten about the drunkards companions. Well, this is going to hurt, Varys thought quickly before he was spun around and had a large fist slam into his face. He stumbled back and knocked over a few tables, before he stood up again and took stock of the four Nords who faced him. He spit out a bit of blood from his busted lip and grinned. Oh how he loved the challenge of a fight.

Ok, I have the first post for the RP up. Give it a read and let me know what you think! Don't forget to post yourselves. :D And keep the character sheets coming.

Varys Sul, Daggerfall, High Rock Varys stood in the shadows of the makeshift conference room, his bright red eyes reflecting the lightning as it flashed through the closed windows. He was silently watching the meeting before him, studying the craggy faces of the old men as they quietly conversed. The room was small, and lit with only a few candles. The steady beat of the rain against the roof above was a calming lull for his racing mind. It had been a fortnight since they had arrived in Daggerfall, and nearly a month's travel before that since receiving the summons. He was glad they had finally arrived. A letter had arrived from a noble of Daggerfall, asking to see Varys' mentor, a renowned adventurer in his own time named Adrynn Indarys. The grizzled old mer had not wanted to go, tossing aside the letter as soon as he read it. Varys had read it himself, and insisted that his mentor heed the summons. After a lengthy conversation, which involved many angry scowls from Adrynn, the old Redoran had finally agreed to go. Now, here they were on the other side of Tamriel in a nondescript tavern, talking to the man who had sent the letter and summoned them. "So tell me again, Breton, why did you drag me across Tamriel again? Because the locals are having bad dreams?" Adrynn asked, his weathered face set in his customary hard scowl. "Why haven't you asked someone a little closer to home to take a look instead?" The aged Breton noble, Sir Michel Hawkford of House Direnni sighed and ran his fingers through his long beard. He hadn't expected the stories of how blunt this Dunmer was to be true. "The court has, Serjo," Sir Michel said, using the Dunmeri formal name, "but what the court has found is something that is a little, well, out of our reach. We were hoping you would be willing to take a look into these matters on behalf of the High King." Varys watched the muscle in Adrynn's jaw tighten. He knew well what was on the old Dunmer's mind. "Well then, tell me what you have found, Breton, so that I can give you my answer," Adrynn said sharply. Varys already knew what the answer was just in how Adrynn's body sat, in the tight strain of the fabric over the old mer's broad shoulders and the stiffness of his back. "The court has found this problem to be . . . Daedric in origin. We suspect that the Mistress of Nightmares is involved," Sir Michel said, a look of disgust on his face. "And, with your knowledge on the Daedra, we were hoping you might be able to advise us on a course of action to solve this dilemma so we can all get back to our lives. Varys shifted his gaze to the old Breton noble, taking in the deep circles under his eyes. It was obvious he was exhausted. He glanced back to Adrynn, waiting for the inevitable answer. "Vaermina," Adrynn said, spitting out the word. "I know her well. But what can I tell you that someone else here would not know?" "With your experience during the Oblivion Crisis and after it, it would help in any way," Sir Michel said, grimly. Varys watched the veins in Adrynn's forehead stand out. Similar thoughts were going flying through Varys's mind. The Skull of Corruption. "The only artifact that I know of that Vaermina uses to such effect is her Skull of Corruption. But from what I understand, it was cleansed from Nirn during the Stormcloak Rebellion several decades ago in Skyrim," Adrynn said. "Is it possible it has returned?" Sir Michel asked, going over questions asked dozens of times already in his mind. "Possible? Of course," Adrynn said, stroking his salt and pepper beard. He then shook his head. "But probable? No. Not yet at least. It takes several decades for an Artifact of that power to reappear in Nirn after being cleansed as it was." Sir Michel slumped in his chair, a defeated look on his face. "Yes, that is what our own people have told us. If not the Skull of Corruption, then what would be releasing Vaermina's terrors upon us?" Adrynn bowed his head in thought, a perplexed look on his face. "I do not know, Breton. But I cannot hunt for this item of Vaermina's. My adventuring days are behind me." Sir Michel hid his disappointment as well as he could. It was only to be expected, considering the life the mer before him had led. Varys shifted uncomfortably in the shadows before stepping forward into the light. His coppery hair was pulled back out of his face, and his dark ashen skin absorbed the candlelight. "I will take up the hunt for you, Ser Michel," Varys said, his voice low and quiet. "Just tell me where to start."

Great character sheets guys. :D Keep them coming. I'll try to get the first post going here soon.

Name: Varys Sul Race: Dunmer Gender: Male Age: 55 Appearance: Varys is average height for a Dunmer, around 5'8", and has a solid and lean frame of working muscle. He has a sharp, angled Dunmeri face, with long, shoulder length copper hair pulled back out of his face. He wears no facial hair. His dark ruby colored eyes are set deep into his skull, and reflect light as a dull red. He wears a red half moon checkered warpaint that goes from his hairline, across his right eye, and around to his right ear. He also wears three golden earrings in each ear. When it is cold enough, he wears a heavy black wolfskin cloak. Skills: Spear, Long Blade, Short Blade, Heavy Armor, Block, Athletics Equipment: Varys uses an eight foot steel winged spear, with the lugs or "wings" of the spear allowing himself to better parry other weapons with. The shaft of the spear is made of Skyrim's iconic Ironwood, with a hefty steel nub at the foot of the spear to allow for minor counterbalance. To backup his main weapon, he wears a steel longsword on his hip. He also carries a small knife in the top of his right boot. As a Redoran Guard, Varys wears the iconic Gah-Julan Bonemold armor of his Great House, though he rarely wears the helm anymore. He also carries a Bonemold Shield which he keeps strapped over his pack when not in use. Out of armor, he wears a simple linen jerkin and soft leather pants and boots. Homeland: Blacklight, Morrowind Personality: Varys is a cool and collected Dunmer, who many would consider cold, due to his usual lack of empathy for the other races of Tamriel. He cares little for the troubles of the outside world, and usually likes to be left alone, as he has witnessed the hardships and cruelty of the Nords to his own people in Windhelm, which left ashes in his mouth. He honors loyalty and honesty above any other traits, and despises those who would lie or cheat their ways out of their due consequences. For the most part, Varys is a calculating mer, with a penchant for being softspoken and having great a love of history and books. Background: Varys was born at the end of the Great War, which for the most part passed unnoticed in his small corner of Morrowind. He was inducted into the Redoran Guard when he was 17, and proceeded to excel his training and rose to be a shrewd and calculating guardsmen, enough so that he was chosen to be the personal guard of several Redoran Councilors for the next two and a half decades. Eventually, boring guard duty forced him to branch out and seek the training of a reclusive veteran of the Oblivion Crisis named Adrynn Indarys, who had shut himself away from the world and only wished to be left alone. But his exploits both before and during the Oblivion Crisis had piqued Varys's interest. The young Redoran Guard had taken it upon himself to pull the grizzled old mer out of his shell and fast became his friend, learning many things about the world through Adrynn's stories. He longed to see the far corners of the world that the old mer talked about, and soon after Adrynn returned from his last adventure, Varys was amazed to learn that Adrynn wanted him as his personal guard. Several years after the defeat of Alduin at the hands of the Dovahkiin, Adrynn and Varys traveled throughout Skyrim as envoys of House Redoran, where Varys was unfortunate to see the horrific conditions his fellow Dunmer lived in in Windhelm. This turned him very cold to Nords in general, as he couldn't believe how harsh the people where to those in need. Regardless of the fact, Varys continued to travel with Adrynn as they worked to better relations with the various provinces of Tamriel.