Macman253

Okay, seeing as how I cant really come up with more for Malus I am putting him on the back burner. Frankly I find more fun in creating story arcs for the rest of you to develop in so coming up with one character can be odd lol. I have been sitting on the Thalmor Vamp threat and haven't pursued it but the budding Markarth situation has peeked my interest, but Markarth isn't the only hold in revolt. Whiterun is soon to run into problems within. Malus is a great character but I will be tuning him out soon after I finish this story arc for him and in return I'll be introducing a new character that I can write for because of his epic story lol. Mind you I have written this character before but for a short story that I wrote in highschool and I came across the story not to long ago. I felt the character would do well in Skyrim so I bring you Helgrim Stout-Heart, that and we have a serious lack of Nord Werewolf Warriors... Name: Helgrim Stout-Heart Race: Nord (Werewolf) Description: Burly and Tall, bright red hair and green eyes. Wears woad blue warpaint on his face, his left eye is damaged and he is blind in it, has a scar running across his left eye. Armor: Mercenary Armor, Band Of Akavir (See Immersive Armors Mod by Hothtrooper) Weapons: Akaviri Katana, hand-to-hand and a crossbow with steel bolts. Equipment: Camping gear, various potions, food and water, his horse. Companion: His faithful warhorse, Horse. Meeko, a malamute husky. (again another mod, I prefer him as a husky) History: Helgrim was raised in Whiterun up until his twelfth year when his father being a soldier in the legion went away to fight in The Great War, his mother and him went along. It was in the battle-camps that Helgrim earned the name Stout-Heart because of his staunch dedication to the ways of war. He learned Imperial battle tactics and history aswell as swordplay. After four years he marched alongside the Legion in defense of the Imperial City, the battle tore the city apart and the Aldmeri Dominion won the war. His father perished in the battle, now a young man he fled to Hammerfell where he became a mercenary. There he joined a The Fighters Guild, on a mission to clear out an ancient Akaviri Fortress of bandits he was caved in and separated from his companions. Unable to escape he survived by eating the mushrooms that grew on the walls and survived the dangers of the darkness. For three days he delved deep into the expansive fortress and discovered the Walls Of War, murals that depicted the training arts the Akaviri warriors learned in unarmed and swordplay. By examining these arts he learned them, after five months of being sealed within he was able to escape. He left with a Akaviri Saber and the Band Of Akavir, a leather crown that gave its wearer potent resistances to the elements. After returning to the Fighters Guild a legend he maintained his practices with the Akaviri Sword-Art of Vishiso, an ancient sword art that relies more on skill and concentration then force. A remodeled warrior he soon departed The Fighters Guild with a large satchel of Septims and loot, he wandered for some years before settling in High Rock as a nobles Bodyguard. The Noblemen was a honorable man but he was often targeted for assassination, Helgrim's reputation as a potent swordsmen followed him to High Rock and he was quickly hired, after a few years Helgrim departed High Rock. A vision brought by the Band Of Akavir called him to his homeland, the drums of war were stirring and he knew that his place would be there during this period.

It wasn't the one I thought it was, I think that when I downloaded it I didn't get the files that showed that animation. That is why he just stands there

I had it deleted but I undid the delete, lets try it that way

I might, I wouldn't know where to find it though... let me look for it.

For some reason when I ride a dragon it wont show me sitting on its neck I am just standing there, please send me a PM if you have a solution thank you. http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/16392_519095471475947_1144858055_n.jpg

Malus awoke a few hours later with a blade to his throat, the Dunmer that held the blade smiled. "Malus Arveno, good to see you brother..." He quipped, Malus smirked and tapped the tip of the dagger he had at the Dunmer's testicles lightly against his leg. "I see your still the best..." He added as he took the blade away and gave room for Malus to get to his feet. "Odryn, been sometime..." He said calmly as he stood. Odryn laughed and slapped Malus on the back. "Yeah, rumor was you were dead... When I heard about Rolff going missing from thin air I knew that was you. Sadly I am not here for reminiscing I have a job offer for you." He said quickly as he strolled over to the table and began sniffing the variety fruit and settled on a red apple. Malus' ear perked up at the offer, he longed for a mission. Hunting down the criminals and cutthroats of skyrim no longer challenged him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and listened. "Okay, what job offer is that...." He said, Odryn chuckled and turned, tossing him one of the apples. He tossed it quickly and straight for Malus' face but his reflexes were quick and he snatched it from the air. "Have you ever heard of The Brethren?" He said before biting into the crisp apple. Malus nodded, he knew of Markarth and its current rulers. Odryn saw this and continues, "The Silver-Blood family was ousted when the vampires took over and they fled to Solitude but in doing so they left something important behind." He explained as he paced back and forth across the floor in front of Malus. Malus hated vampires, not because they were difficult to kill but because they were so arrogant, he remembered getting a contract from the Imperial Army to assassinate a prominent member of The Brethren, while he was there all he heard was how the vampires would rise from the darkness and all that other talk. He never placed value on big talk. Odryn snapped his fingers to bring Malus back to their conversation when he realized Malus had tuned him out. "As I was saying, they left their eldest daughter Luvisa SIlver-Blood. They are moving her from Markarth to Whiterun and eventually into Cyrodiil. You will need to attack the caravan and get her to Solitude." He finished. Malus thought for a very long moment, weighing his odds and considering plans of attack before settling on the optimal one. "Ten thousand gold pieces... and I will need mercenaries." He said, his eyes locking with Oryn's. The Dunmer smiled wickedly, he knew Malus had a plan brewing in his head that would amaze the military tacticians today.

Malus stalked through the city streets, the town guard was roused to the chase earlier in the night. He knew they were rounding up every Dunmer that walked the city streets at night. He drew his hood over his face and concealed it with a mask, he slid his the dagger he clutched in his hand into the sheath at his lower back next to its already sheathed twin. The sounds of the guards calling to one another carried through the tight streets of Windhelm, they were closing in. Malus looked for a quick avenue of concealment but found none that was fitting, he looked up to see the Hjerim was well built and tall, the buildings were close together and one if they were dexterous enough could move along them. Malus smirked at the plan that was concocting in his mind as he took a great many steps back, planting his foot against the wall and dropping down to put his hands on the ground. He adopted the stance of a Ash-Runner, a sport he was excellent at in his youth. With a quick push from the wall he took off, his feet pounding the snow covered cobblestones as he ran faster then a Cliff Racer. His feet kicking up snow as he ran at his greatest speed towards the wall, his momentum helped him run up the side of the home and grasp the ledge on the second floor of the house. With that part done he pulled himself up and began to scale the side of the building freehanded. Malus was surprised at how easy this was, the feat seemed much greater in his mind but he moved gracefully and easily. His many years as a Street-Runner had paid off tonight but as he got a birds eye view he noticed the many torches of the city guard moving about the city. Searching for him and Rolff. He stopped to count them but they eventually became too many to count and too many to track so he continued on to the roof. From here he could move between the buildings with relative ease and they provided excellent placed to escape to. He took a running leap from the roof of Hjerim and landed on the roof of the house next door. Moving quickly he was able to return to the Grey Quarter and to his safehouse hidden there, The Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood in ancient days were once the same, The Morag Tong also had a number of safe places constructed around Skyrim for purposes unknown even to him but the main reason he came to Windhelm was because of the existence of this safehouse. The entrance was built into the wall behind memorial plaque that had long since faded away, if one touched the right runes the stone wall would slide away revealing the door behind it. When he arrived and found it to be safe he dropped down next to the plaque and touched the proper series of runes that opened the door, he double checked to see if it was clear and when he was comfortable he slipped inside with the door closing behind him. The place well warm and dry well kept and most of all, hidden. "Mephala be praised..." He said as he removed his hood and mask while walking down the entrance tunnel to the main room, hidden under the New Gnisis Cornerclub. Unknown to most but its original owner was a member of the Morag Tong and had built the club over the Safehouse to give fleeing members a place to stay and operate, yet no one came until Malus. They were all that was left of that ancient order of assassins. As he entered the crystal lights illuminated, revealing the furniture that filled the room. The ancient Dunmer rugs that laid across the floor and the arsenal of assassins tools and weapons that hung on the wall. This place was his home, originally it had racks of cots and places for them to sleep but he turned it into a home after the previous owner left it to him. A ladder in the corner of the room ran up to a hatch that lead to the cellar of the Cornerclub. Malus sighed as he removed his armor piece by piece, his body was tired and he walked over to his bed and flopped onto it, shutting his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly.

Malus stopped and turned to the fellow Dunmer, he looked into his eyes and spoke coldly, "If a Nord or anyone murders a Dunmer in retaliation for this crime... They too will vanish, I promise to make them fear the shadows. They leave the Dunmer alone, they can live happily but a Dunmer man or woman is murdered and no recompense is taken... I will take it." He vowed, the passion of his words radiated from him. He was tired of seeing his people abused by these self-important Nords. Not once has he seen a Nord do anything other then drink, brawl and hate. "I am not out to kill for pleasure, I have never taken a life of a person that didn't have it coming... But anyone that lays a knife to a woman because she would not allow him to defile her deserves the long death that awaits him." He said as he stood in the doorway, when he said his piece he slipped through and vanished into the darkness. It was only a few hours till daylight and he wanted to slip away before the Guard arrived and started asking questions.

Malus smiled at the Bretons approval of his methods, he loosened his hand from the dagger behind him and adopted a relaxed stance. "I used Beladonna and Deathbell mix with a touch of Canis Root..." He said, figuring she would know the virulent poison that mix would make. He gave and evil smirk, "Dosed him with enough of it to bring down a giant..." He added as he pulled down his mask to reveal his face to them, comfortable they weren't with the city guard. He did not trust Windhelm's city guard as far as he could throw one and he knew that in a heartbeat they would string up a Dunmer for a crime if they could. "You, relax I care not for your daughter's life or yours... Noone is paying me to kill you..." He said to the older Dunmer, he was callous and mean but he was not threatening. The man attempt at stealth was on par with Troll in his opinion, but to most it would have been enough. Malus' eyes were honed to see through darkness like daylight and that was the major reason he saw him, that and he didn't steady his breathing and his armor was not oiled to prevent the leather from rubbing against itself and making noise.

Malus stopped in the darkness, the moons light casting into the doorway. The young woman from earlier stood at the door aswell as a fellow Dunmer hiding in the shadows and a young Dunmer woman. Malus knew they were not here for him but he knew they were investigating the chase through the city. He calmly stepped into the light to reveal his features, his eyes locking onto each person in the room. The Morag Tong Hand tattooed on his forehead coming into view as he stepped into the light, he brought his bandana over the lower half of his face to help hide his identity. These people pursued out of concern but he noticed the young Breton woman carried various magical items so he guessed her for the mage, the Dunmer woman resembled the man hiding in the shadows and she smelled of new armor and weaponry, the older Dunmer in the corner interested Malus. He felt he had seen him before... but where he could not place. He stepped forward, further into the light. "I am fine.." He said, hiding his hand behind his back and grasping the dagger tucked into his belt. Malus watched them all in turn, noticing the older Dunmer eyeing him. He knew this man was a warrior and if a fight did break out he would be the biggest threat. Yet the Breton woman had an unknown assortment of spells that could potentially obliterate Malus, he seethed with anger at the predicament he was in because he got sloppy. Seeing no way out he decided to attempt to converse his way out.

Malus turned the corner of the path that lead to the residential district. The area was tight like much of Windhelm, here the Nords resides into their Estate houses. Rolff could not live in one of these places but desperation forced him here, Malus watched as the panicking Nord kicked open the door to the abandoned home known as Hjeirm. Malus drew one of his daggers and flipped it across the back of his hand before catching it in a reversed grip. The wind began to kick up and the chill of Skyrim washed over him, his armor protected against much of it but the top of his face and his cut to the scalp hair and ears were still visible above the mask that covered the lower half of his face. When Rolff had gone inside Malus followed, the place was abandoned for some great time and had been so since the last owner died, a number of rumors circulated around the city as to the reasons of his mysterious death but none stuck. When Malus had entered the home was dark, no light and no sound. A place he could call home, he slunk into the shadows and waited. The hunt was far more pleasurable then the inevitable kill. He looked around to see the cellar door and smiled, he unstrung the chain and lock that bound it and left the door open. Tucking the lock and chain away, he walked over to wall next to the stairwell and slipped into the hidden door that lead to the second floor Study. Rolff walked quietly through the maze like mansion, the darkness shrouded nearly every aspect of the home. The only light from windows that shone through with moonlight. A loud creek of the wooden floorboards from behind him caused him to jump and whirl about, his dagger at the ready for whatever Daedra resided in the darkness. "Come on out Assassin! I'll rend yer' guts!" He cried out to the darkness, his threat fell on silent darkness. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, gently feeling his way with his toes as he did so. He walked as slow and quiet as a cat in a house of sleeping dogs. An eerie sense of dread lingering in his spine and neck, his dagger at the ready. The steps to the stairwell seemed to go on forever until finally, after what felt a long grueling hour he reached the top. The upper floor was divided into two rooms and a closet, most likely the guest bedrooms and study. He needed to hunker down here for the night or until his attacker was captured so he walked into the closest room. It was empty despite some furniture piled into the center of the very large room. The walls were covered with bookshelves and filled with old dusty and spiderwebbed tomes. He heard the floorboards creek at the bottom of the stairs and suddenly filled with fright he dashed into the study, placing his back to the far wall. After a grueling couple of minutes he decided it was his imagination and relaxed. He turned around only to see the dark red eyes of his attacker, the dunmer had followed him here and eluded him. "By the Nine!" He cried, this dunmer was no ordinary dark elf. "Get Back! I will kill you!" He cried, holding the dagger in his blood covered hand as he slowly walked backwards towards the door. The Dark Elf removed his mask to reveal his face, he took slow and calm steps after the Nord murderer. "Go ahead, kill me..." He said calmly, his voice harsh and gravelly. His demeanor calm and complacent, he was used to seeing foes like this and he was not at all uncomfortable. His eyes never left Rolff's, he watched with an almost feral gaze. Malus smiled as Rolff swung wildly at him with his dagger, no technique, no form or training. A subtle weapon, deadly in a proper assassins hands swung about like a club was unbearably insulting to him. Yet he accepted that Nords were no good except for swinging big weapons and thinking themselves superior. Malus side stepped the wild thrust and grabbed the Nords hand with an almost unseen grasp and twisted his hand, the nord cried out in pain as his wrist snapped with a loud crack and he dropped to his knees clutching his arm. Malus leaned in close and smiled wickedly, "Boo...." He said with a whisper. The Nord fell back in fear, his legs moving faster then his mind. He scrambled to his feet and out of the door. Not seeing the stairs as he ran nearly off them entirely, his foot slipped at the top step and he clattered down the stairs, groaning with pain at each step he landed on as he fell down the steps. He finally hit the floor with a loud thud and rested there for a moment, unsure if he was able to stand. Rolff could feel his body ache as he finally sat up, the Greyskin was nowhere in sight but in this house seeing a few feet past his feet was impossible. He sat on his rump, leaning back with his hands holding his torso up. His wrist was a bright blue from where the Dunmer broke it. He could not believe how fast the Dark Elf was, his mind retracting the events upstairs. He was now on the bottom floor but the sheer darkness made it impossible to see exactly where he was. He looked around for a window or an exit of some kind and noticed the door to the cellar was open, he glanced up the stairs to see if his attacker was there but it was empty so he decided to go down into the cellar. Malus calmly watched the Nord walk down into the cellar, little had he known about this house but the former tenant loved secret doors and Malus often worked here as the old man Housecarl, back when this place was a fullfledged estate. The man that lived here, Kurt Storm-Hammer inherited this house from his grandfather. The man kept a great many secrets and this house was built to help him escape any assassins. He knew the secret doors by heart and they had come in use for his little game of Chase The Nord, he calmly walked back into the study and over to the bookshelf. He traced his finger along several of the book and finally pulled one free from the shelf, the shelf then slid back into the wall and to the side to reveal a ladder that went directly to the cellar. Rolff entered the cellar quietly, fearing the assassin but when he realized it was just a one room basement he relaxed. Light came from the cellar doors across the cellar. It was the street level access from the outside, he hurriedly ran over to them but only found them to be bound by lock and chain. "By Ysmir!" He shouted at his misfortune, he turned and walked back towards the stairwell that lead to the first floor. As he did he felt a sharp pain across his shoulders, he yelped in agony as he fell over. His body stiff and unable to move. The soft sound of footsteps came from the darkness and the Assassin appeared, a wicked smile from his lips. His dagger coated in a green liquid mixed with blood. "I am Malus, you will die, but not tonight. The poison I have infected you with is one I made quiet sometime ago, I applied it to a mild paralytic so you could not move while I tell you this..." He said calmly as he wiped off his bloody dagger on Rolffs tunic. "What it does is slowly but assuredly it will kill you, takes a few days. Until then, you will puke and s#*! all over yourself. Your bones will break as your body begins to convulse... blood will leak from your every orifice and finally, after countless prayers for death your heart will give out and you will die... and no you will not go to Sovngarde." He said coldly, Malus walked to the top of the stairs and shut the cellar door. Rolff tried everything to yell for help but his mouth could not move and the grunts he made could barely be heard. Malus locked the cellar doors with the chain and lock he had originally taken and turned to leave the Manorhouse.

Rolff and Angrenor ran from their pursuer, the Dark Elf would not give up. His breath was heavy and he was out of shape, he could feel a sense of dread course up his spine. Angrenor at his side was also breathing heavy, they were not the warriors they once were and their pursuer was like a Daedra, he would not relent his pursuit. The two nords turned a corner and were met with a tight stairwell between two buildings, barely enough for a large nord to walk through but Rolff and Angrenor ran up the stairs quickly. Gouts of warm breath spewing from their mouths as their lungs worked overtime to provide air for their worn out bodies. Angrenor glanced back in horror to see their pursuer was close behind them yet he was not running, he was calmly walking. He was toying with them like a cat toys with a mouse, the sudden realization that they were being hunted crept up his spine and filled his heart with pure fear. This feeling drove Angrenor on. Rolff reached the top of the stairs and ran through the main bazaar, he knocked over a young woman who was in his way and ran up the second level of stairs that went to the residential district, he looked around for some way to stop his pursuer then noticed the gate that barred off the bazaar from the residential district. He hurriedly ran through it and turned, Angrenor had fallen behind and just behind him stood their pursuer. He quickly grabbed the gate and shut it, sticking his knife into the hole and turning it to break the lock and shut the gate forever. Angrenor crashed into the iron gate, his eyes gazing into his friends. "Sorry brother..." He said before running away, Angrenor turned to face his attacker and just as he did the Elf had pinned him to the gate with a dagger to his throat, what amazed him was that he did not even know he was there. He moved like a ghost, this man was a killer. A cold hearted killer and the nord had angered him. He raised his hands to show he was unarmed, hoping to talk himself out of being killed. "I...I...I...Don't want trouble... It was Rolff, he did it." He whimpered, the could feel the cold burning hatred come from the elf. The Elf just glared into his eyes, not saying a word. "Why did you do it?" Asked the Elf, he gently pressed the dagger closer to his neck. The blade was made of a sharpened bone-like material that felt as cold as steel. His armor was of Dunmer make, being made of heavy leather made from a beast called a Netch. The Pursuer glared deep into his eyes, "We had a few rounds at the Candlehearth, Rolff wanted to go show the grey-skins a lesson and we found the girl. When Rolff grabbed her she slashed him with a dagger and he forced her to the ground..." He said, his eyes red with tears and fear. The Elf listened, his blade pressed close to the mans throat. "Then you raped and murdered her..." He finished, Angrenor nodded. "Please don't kill me, I'll turn myself in and go to jail I promise." Angrenor pleaded, he knew that even if he did the city guard wouldn't arrest him. They cared nothing for the Dark Elves. The city was a corrupt as it was snowy, anyone that was a nord and had gold could do anything here. Malus seethed with rage, he released the Nord and flipped the dagger around in his hand. "I won't kill you, but if I see you in The Grey Quarter again... You will disappear..." He threatened, the Nord shook his head and slipped past him as he ran home. Malus turned to see the woman on the ground, she was young and beautiful. His dark red eyes fixed on her, reading her. He locked with her eyes and deemed her not a threat then turned to the gate, it was shut permanently but it was not high. He slid the dagger into the sheath on his belt and took a few long steps back and turned to face the gate once more, he ran for the gate and just a few feet from it he leaped. Planting his foot on the stone wall and pushing off he flipped over the gate effortlessly and landed behind it. His natural elven grace and trained athleticism paid off, he had practiced Street-Running in his free time. Made it easy to get around Vivec in his early days with the Morag Tong. He walked up the stairs and stopped, he glanced over his shoulder at the woman and then continued on after his prey.

The New Gnisis Cornerclub was busy that night, the dark elf tavern was filled with music and song and the dunmer of The Grey Quarter seemed in good spirits despite the constant hassling from the local nords. The music was quick and easy, some elves danced with most conversed and drank. Malus Arveno sat in the far corner, in the darkness. His hand wrapped around a flagon of Bitter-Tea, he hated alcohol. He watched calmly his eyes watching faces and hands then darting to the exits. It was not long before the waitress, a pretty young Dunmer named Delana appeared with his food, he managed a slight smile and tossed her a gold piece in thanks for bringing it to him. His plate was covered in bits of steaming Mud-Crab, freshly boiled and waiting. He drew the wicked curved chitin dagger from his belt and sank the blade into the mud-crab carapace and pried it free to reveal the succulent boiled meat inside. He ate quietly, and alone. Most the locals knew of Malus and his reputation and offered him the respect, he was Morag Tong. To a Dunmer that is a great honor, he was the Last Master before its fall after the eruption of Red Mountain and the invasion of the Argonians. After sometime and his meal was done he got up, paid and left. He walked out into the bitter-chill of Windhelm, he hated this city and its ruler. Ulfric Stormcloak yet he rarely took sides in the war unless he was paid enough. The local nords often harassed the Dark Elves here but they knew to stay away from Malus, atleast some of them did. Rolff Stone-Fist was one such Nord, his brother was a high-ranking Stormcloak and he used his brothers station to get away with drunken behavior and harassing the Dark Elves and Argonians. On one such night as this Rolff was on the prowl with his friend and cohort Angrenor, they walked past Malus either not noticing him or not wishing to deal with him. Many years ago Rolff tried bullying Malus and Malus shattered his nose, since that day they have had bad-blood and Rolff has always stared daggers into Malus' back. Malus turned away and took a leisurely stroll through the Grey Quarter, at night this place was fairly peaceful and he often took late walks. The guards never patrol the Grey Quarter unless they were looking for bribes or to stir trouble but that was rarely nowadays. It was at the height of the moon that the calm of the Grey Quarter was shattered with an ear piercing scream, Malus whirled around. Daggers in his hands and he bolted to its source, it came from near the Cornerclub. His heart pounded as another scream filled the air, it was that of a woman. He dashed through the empty streets, bounded up stairways and hopped over fences and barriers like a cat running from a hound. He moved with expert grace and precision from his many years as an assassin and ashlander. He arrived at the Cornerclub to see a grisly scene, the young barmaid laid on the ground. Her clothing ripped clean from her naked body and a large Nordic dagger sticking from her chest. Blood was everywhere and it appears she had been assaulted, Malus knelt down beside her to check her pulse and she was gone. "Azura watch over you..." He said softly, he stood with the dagger in his hand. A large fist etched into the pommel. The symbol of the Stone-Fist clan, Malus growled in rage. Rolff had gone too far this time, he looked around in the freshly fallen snow and found their tracks. Angrenor and Rolff had departed for home, Malus dug his toes into the snow and pursued. Drawing the red scarf over his face as he did so.

Geralt departed with Athelle, they arrived to the dungeon where the prisoner was being held. The young high-elf seemed nervous but he kept his races signature calm sense, even under Geralt's piercing gaze. Sophie approached and sat back in the corner to watch, she despised vampires and their thralls. Seeing how the Altmer reacted was enough to convince her this elf was involved. Geralt calmly walked up to the raven haired altmer, "What is your name?" He asked, the nervous high elf looked around, trying to find an exit. Once he realized there was none he relented. "Velaco..." He replied, Geralt could smell the fear coming from him. It was sweet, his heart pounded heavily in his chest. He was not lying but he was certainly nervous. "Why so agitated? You are not the Vampire... your heart beats too fast and your blood is warm." Geralt spoke calmly, he walked over to the table where Sophie just laid out a variety of interrogation tools, all made of silver. He lightly ran his fingers over the variety of blades, prods and other wicked tools. He stopped on a curved silver dagger and pulled it free of the leather satchel they were in. "But then again..." He said as he approached the Altmer, he quickly grabbed his wrist and turned it over to reveal a brand with a reversed star of Merida. "He's a thrall, I do not know this symbol off the top of my head..." He thought as he peered at it, Vampires marked their thralls with brands on the wrist. That way if another Vampire drained him or turned him he would have to answer to the Thralls owner. Vampires used thralls to guard their coffins during the daylight and act as mediators and servants when the Vampire could not attend to their business. Geralt pressed the Thralls hand to the table and sunk the dagger into the center of his hand with a quick and clean strike, pinning it to the table. The Altmer howled in pain and began to whimper, "TELL ME WHO IS YOUR MASTER!" He yelled, slightly twisting the blade. The Altmer begged incoherently as the blade twisted in his hand. When Geralt let up on the blade the Thrall regained his senses somewhat. He found the words to speak as he breathed heavily, "His name is Teclion, that is all I know..." He said, Geralt looked at the brand once more. "What clan is the brand of?" He asked, the Altmer looked at the mark, as if deciding to continue answering. He turned his head to Geralt and spoke, "The brand is our masters way of insulting Merida, he is a devotee of Mehrunes Dagon... he and his cult... The Mythic Dawn.." Geralt's heart sank, he knew the Mythic Dawn was a cult of daedra worshippers that nearly destroyed Tamriel by opening the gates of Oblivion. He looked to Sophie, her face was white and a look of shock on her face. "Where are they?" He commanded, the Altmer jerked in shock at the sudden outburst. "All I know is that I get my orders from a Darkblade named Delos." He said, Geralt growled in hate and turned to Athelle. "Take me to him..." He commanded, a look of complete rage on his face. If the Mythic Dawn were truly back things were far worse then a simple Vampire hunt. His questions to himself were why with the Thalmor and why now, after nearly two hundred years.

Crossbows mounted to arms are built for that purpose, they are designed to use the natural Hand-To-Eye Coordination for accurate close-range shots. If he needs longer range he can remove it and set it up as a normal Crossbow. The idea is that a closer range one can mount heavier bolts. That and its just plain cool...

I am going to be doing a second character (nevermind felix) here is his sheet for your guys approval. Name: Malus Arveno Race: Dark Elf Class: Ashlander/Bounty Hunter Description: He is tall and lithe from many years surviving in the great Ash Wastes of Morrowind. His face is heavily scarred from countless years fighting the Ash-Bandits that roam there, preying on villagers. He has the Morag Tong Hand tattooed on his forehead from his years as an Assassin. Personality: Cold and Calculating, he cared little for anyone other then his next hunt. He hunts down the many bandits of Skyrim for gold and sells his services as a mercenary to the highest bidder. Caring not for what faction or person he works for so long as they pay, he lives by three codes, "No Women and Children, Payment Up Front and Everybody Pays" Crossing him is a declaration of war in his book and he will go to any lengths to see that revenge is served. Armor: Light Chitin Armor (Morag Tong Variant), Various bandoliers of throwing knives and pouches across his chest and belt. Weapons: Twin Daggers at his hip, an Ashlander Arm-Crossbow strapped to his right arm. He also carried a magical telescoping staff and a variety of throwing weapons. Equipment: Healing potions, survival gear (camping gear, cooking tools and hunting tools) Manacles for prisoners and a large rucksack for bounty identifiers (Heads, Fingers Etc) Companion: Talyn, a hawk. Trained since it was a hatchling to hunt and track from the sky. Acting as his pet and companion. History: Malus was born in Morrowind, he was raised in a group of Ashlander's that roamed the great Ash Wastes until he was ten years old. It was then that his skooma addicted parents bartered him to a slaver for 150 gold coins and he became a slave. At first he worked hard labour until he was old enough to fight in the arenas that dotted the Ash Wastes, the remnants of upper Morrowind after the eruption of Red Mountain. It was in the arena that he found himself, the Blood-Pits honed his body and mind into that of a keen warrior and survivor. After he won his freedom he was approached by the Morag Tong, they offered him a place amongst them and he took it willingly. The Morag Tong turned him from brutal pit-warrior and survivor to the deadly assassin that he eventually became. When the Morag Tong fell he departed Morrowind forever, travelling as a refugee to Windhelm. There he resided in the Grey Quarter, working oddjobs until he was approached by a stout and quick-witted Wood Elf that recognized him from his arena days. The Wood Elf offered him a job as a Bounty Hunter, seeing it as a way to use his skills and make money he took to the trade. After ten years he became the most well-known and sought after bounty hunter in Skyrim, perhaps Tamriel.

As long as you have permission yes, I have seen it many times.

Interesting concept, I like... approved

Yeah the site has gone alittle wonky from the update, just delete them.

Interesting, I recommend you cut back on the spell-list. Too many spells and they get to be very powerful. In the actual Lore, most mages spend many years perfecting the use of a spell like Flames and Firebolt. So having That many destruction spells wouldn't make a lot of sense. Cut a few of them back to a more practical use like Flames, Firebolt, Frostbite, Lightning Bolt, Fire Rune, Chain Lightning. That way you have a good mix of spells when you need them. Other then that, Approved.

Take this from me, keep your posts detailed. Don't try and put too much in. A post should be a scene like in a film not half a film in a single post A post should look more like this, Jack walks into a bar, the crowd is fairly lively. The bartender eyes him from behind the bar as he cleans a mug, his greyed hair shining in the light. The locals seem not to notice, continuing their conversations and their drinking. He takes in the room, a young couple sits across the bar next to the window eating hamburgers and discussing their next stop on their vacation while and older gentlemen tells war stories to some young soldiers at the bar. Jack smiles and takes a seat at the bar across from the bartender, setting his duffle-bag down next to him. "I'll take a Miller draft..." He says as he rummages in his pocket for some cash. The bartender quietly pours the drink and slides it to Jacks hand. He nods in thanks and takes a long drink of the foamy beer. Its taste slightly tangy but with a sweet aftertaste. He grabs a handful of the peanuts in a dish next to him and pops them in his mouth as he watched the football game on the television overhead. The Colts and The Seahawks were playing, The Seahawks being his native team, they were winning currently, Jacks heart swelled with pride to see his team doing so well this season.

I would go with a single one, saves posting room for others. I usually divide them like this. --------------------------------------------------- Then post the next character on this side of the line.

Geralt smiled, "Warm flesh as nothing to do with it, Vampires are not undead by normal means... their skin is warm to the touch. The only way to openly see a Vampire is through sunlight. Sunlight reveals the creature." He said as he walked into the main courtyard, the sun retaining its authority in the sky. Its touch bearing down on everyone, he knew the vampire in question would have fed so the sun wouldn't do much good now but if they were to wait here for a day. The evidence would become clear, yet would cause many problems for them. He stopped in front of the officers as he walked up to them. Sophie standing next to Athelle, her hand drifting near her blade. "My name is Geralt Caeserius Vex, I have hunted and killed countless Vampires, Werewolves, Liches and Necromancers... I am a Dhamphir... my mother was raped by a Vampire and I was born from her womb, I tell you this because I know some of you are working for the Vampire or are the Vampire himself. I tell you this now, I will find you and all that conspire with it. I will slaughter the blood-sucker and leave the rest of you to the gentle hands of your Thalmor allies... Of which I know they have some very interesting techniques in extracting information and revenge." He said calmly, looking deep into each and every Altmer's eyes as he walks along, face to face and not backing down despite nearly every one of them being a foot and a half taller then him. Geralt knew if one decided to attack him, that action would be the last thing they ever did and he wanted them to know this. A slight cough came from the end of the line, and like a predator he zeroed in on him and watched. The young, raven haired High Elf was nervous. Unlike his brethren he wasn't staring at Geralt with a barely caged hate and anger but he was afraid. He knew who or where the Vampire was. Geralt turned to Athelle, he nodded towards the Officer as he approached and leaned in for a silent whisper. "The one on the end, bring him to a safe place for me to interrogate..." He said and turned to face the other Thalmor. He had no love for the Thalmor's practices, he hated them even more then he hated the Empire but his business was with the Vampire in their ranks not with their practices. He admired their strict codes and effectiveness in dealing with enemies but he did not approve of their choice in enemies.

Geralt took the Altmer's hand and nodded. He locked onto the Altmer's eyes, as if reading him like a book. He grasped the Altmer's hand and pricked him with a needle covered in blacked blood. He then watched as the Altmer retained control of his body. Assured that he was not a vampire he nodded. "It is good to see you, sorry for the test." He said, removing a vial of black liquid. "Dead Mans Blood, it paralyzes vampires..." He added. "Tell Valesco to send every officer to the courtyard. Tell them its for inspection..." He said in a commanding voice as Sophie dismounted and collected the luggage strapped to their horses.

Geralt and Sophie rode hard through the night and by midday their destination was in sight. Sophie rode well and she kept up with Deuce, a trait that would serve her well in her career. The sun beat down on him but since he had fed he did not feel as sick as he once did, feeding on that Nord had restored his strength and made him feel strong once again. He knew that despite this feeling the vampire they were tracking was an elite spy and infiltrator. Most likely a member of the Brethren and a Master Vampire. They rode quickly, it wasn't long before they trodded up to the main gates. The Altmer that stood before them was tall and attractive but, Geralt knew by his scent and the sound of his heart he was not like other Thalmor. He could sense the aura of confidence he projected, it was not tempered by zealotry or fanatical resolve, but by a calm and almost feminine demeanor. This man was someone that knew his place, he did not underestimate his opponents and that made him a deadly foe. Geralt slid off his horse and approached, the wind flapping his wild white hair. His hand rested on the hilt of the dagger in his belt, "I am Geralt Vex of the Dawnguard." He said, removing the letter and drawing back his sleeve to reveal the brand on his wrist. "This is my apprentice, Sophie Devereaux." He added, regarding the teenage Breton woman on horseback. Geralts black eyes took in the Darkblade, he knew full well of Darkblades and their renowned spellcraft and swordsmenship. His pupil-less eyes locking with the two Thalmor soldiers, both regarding him with disdain and they were willing to slaughter him if they got the chance, the Thalmor had gained a reputation as Elf-Supremacists, they regarded anyone but Mer as inferior. Geralt had seen many of their kind take the Blood Kiss willingly, he knew of their weakness for power and the vampire within their ranks would be an Altmer.