Macman253

Markas and Fang followed the party in the rear. He whistled an endless tune and stayed quiet, observing the group dynamic. When they made camp he took Fang's saddle off, rubbed his back with a special oil into his fur to prevent sores. After he was finished he took his bow and a few arrows and went off to fetch their dinner, he came back sometime after the scuffle. He watched helplessly as Rhaine tended the wounded. He cooked the rabbit he had shot in silence and away from the group. The other Halfling began his songwork much to the anger of Amendale, Markas remained silent. Only speaking to Fang in whispered tones. He preferred Fang's company when others were angry, he had no real talent for settling harsh situations. After his meal he laid down away from the group on his bedroll, using Fang as a pillow. The hound's heavy breathing sending him off to sleep. He awoke the next morning to the smell of a delicious breakfast and his head in the dirt. He had noticed that Fang was waiting with all the patience he could muster by the campfire for his share of the spoils, his tail wagging fiercely and a big slobbery grin on his face. Markas dressed himself proper and came up beside the hound with a bowl in his hand. He leaned over the pot and inhaled. "Smells great." He said to Codswell as he dipped his bowl into the pot and set it down for Fang, the hound practically lunged towards the bowl and ate hungrily. Markas patted him and smiled as he collected a second bowl from his belongings and filled his own, sitting down on a nearby rock to eat in peace. "Master Ramses... how did you come about your camel?" He asked, engaging in proper conversation for the first time since he had joined the company. "He seems well tamed."

Bjorn's meal went down while the Monk and Archer make their speeches. When he hears the prospect of gold, of which his coin pouch was nearly empty and the prospect of lordly favor he stood with the ale mug in his hand, he took a drink and nearly heaved. He set the rotten ale aside as he wiped his lips with his arm and approached. "So long as you give me fair wage I will fight with you woman." He said to the redheaded woman as he came into the fold, his large axe in one giant hand.

Bjorn One-Eye stepped over the drunkard laying in the muddy and dung filled streets of Dhirim, he spat on the man as he walked by. Mostly out of spite for drunkards but also because he despised Swadians. The Nord pushed the door open with one large scarred hand as he ducked under the doorframe and stepped into the room. He towered over most folk, lending to his name which meant 'Bear' in the ancient tongue. Strapped to his back was a large bearded axe with a worn axe haft. He wore a chainmail coat covered with a bear fur cloak to keep his large frame warm. He noticed the red-headed woman in armor and donned with a sword. He smiled and shook his head lightly. He was accustomed to many things but he had seen few female blades-for-hire in his time. He turned and closed the door behind him before shaking his fur cloak loose of rainwater as he brushed passed the Knight and approached the bar. "Ale." He said as he dropped a few denars on the counter. "And a meal." He added before moving to the nearby table and setting his axe on the table next to him as he sat down.

Name: Bjorn One-Eye Gender: Male Age: Late Thirties Physical Description: Powerfully built, long brown hair, scarred torso with a missing right eye that is scarred over in a grotesque clump of scar tissue. Nation of Origin Kingdom Of The Nords Fighting Style Berzerker, two-handed long axe and hand to hand Equipment and Clothing: He wears light chainmail armor with large thick metal armbands, along his left arm is a series of gold armbands that he has earned from his years on the battlefield. Around his neck is a bone carving of a bear. He carries a long-hafted battle axe and sometimes a shield for use on an open battlefield, along with a dagger and a handaxe. Background: Bjorn was born into a warrior family, serving as Huscarl for a Jarl Ranulfsson for years, fighting in his personal bodyguard unit. It was during a battle with Swadia when Jarl Ranulfsson betrayed his fellow Nords and left them to die at the hands of the Swadians as prisoners. Later that night when the Swadian army made camp, Bjorn was able to slip his bonds, slice a guards throat and help free the few Nord survivors. They got their hands on some weapons and charged into the Lords tents, killing their way through the retinue to the traitorous Jarl. Once the tent was coated in blood, Bjorn and the Huscarls removed his head and tossed it into the privy before fleeing from the Swadians. They left Calradia for distant lands where they fought and died as mercenaries in unknown battles. Bjorn was the last of the Huscarls and returned to Calradia. Reason for Becoming an Adventurer: Wanderlust mostly, his revenge slated he lost all faith in anything but his axe. When his comrades were dead he began to fall into deep despair, he took to drink and swore an oath to the gods to remember the names of his fallen brethren and once again, serve an honorable Lord.

Markas chuckles, he looked at Fang and patted the hound on the head. "Alright pal... let's get going." He said as he stepped forward and gestured for the hound to follow. "My lady calls us once more." He added as he stepped through the doorway and departed for the stables, once there he placed a saddle on Fang's back and began to strap it on, Fang seemed not to notice the saddle on his back and appeared to pay more attention to the floor where some beetles were fighting over a ball of horse dung. The Halfling kicked it aside as he walked over to his saddle bags and quiver, inside the quiver was a short spear, a short horse-bow with quite a few arrows, tied to the saddle was a small buckler that acted as a shield for Markas. He strapped the saddlebags over Fang's rear end, making sure to leave room for his tail to wag freely, mostly because that is what it was doing at the moment and he didn't want to impede what was likely to be Fang's favorite bodily function... with the exception of eating. After he had strapped on the quiver he pulled a dagger from inside the bags, slid it into the sheath on his boot and strapped the shortsword to his belt.

Markas laughed loudly at the spectacle that went on in the tavern. Especially when one of them began collecting the stray hairs of his companion. "You are quite the funny lot." He said cheerfully before slipping off the human-sized chair and standing in the open floor. "I think I might accompany you all, I could do with abit of sea travel... Fang and I both are up for a good adventure." Said the Halfling with a wide smile as he fixed a stray hair by tucking it behind his ear, he stood with his hands on his hips, Fang sat beside him, his tail beating the wooden floor like a drum. "That is.. if you will have us?" He added, looking at Rhaine as he gestured to Fang and himself.

If I could like this... I would lol

Markas listened in as he ate, the party seemed to want to travel to the sea. He smiled at Fang, "Wanna go for a boat ride pal?" He asked the hound beside him, it's eyes fixed on his plate. Markas shook his head and leaned back after throwing the hound a strip of bacon. He wanted to go to the sea, he had never sailed on a ship before and it sounded like an interesting adventure. The Halfling realized his interest in this group was growing but he also noticed a hesitation among them, they seemed to have a slight morale shock. Fang gobbled the strip of bacon as Markas decided to follow this group, he had no real place to go nor any other reason to go there beyond his itchy feet. He wiped his lips with a handkerchief and leaned back in the chair as he listened in. Enjoying the group dynamic, he had not seen this kind of situation for sometime and it was becoming quiet the exciting affair to observe. He flipped a gold coin in the air and caught it as he watched, he kept weighing the pros and cons of this group. Noticing how they spoke with one another, it became a slight obsession on his part he had to admit to himself. As he watched he wondered if they were out for gold and glory or on some kind of mission. Their leader, Rhaine. Had begun to interested him. He had seen numerous leaders, good and bad and he had followed and wandered with both in his time but she was something different, she was driven by a purpose higher then wealth and fame. Markas had little interest in gold or fame, his interest was in adventure and stories to tell, it was in seeing new places and meeting people like this Rhaine and Ramses. He flipped the coin for the last time and caught it with a loud slap as it hit the palm of his hand, he begun to twitch nervously. His leg jumping up and down as he listened. He was nervous and it was strange to him. He wanted to stand up and offer his support but he knew that would be rude so he decided to wait until he could approach at an appropriate time.

Markas awoke to the sound of two men chatting in the hall. The Halfling snapped up straight, his hair was wild except for a part where Fang had licked him in the night and it was flat to the side of his head and sticking straight up like someone had poured glue in his hair. He got up, dunked his head in the wash basin to wake up and went about putting his clothes on. When he had finished that he heard a steady thumping sound coming from the bed, Fang had woken and was ready to go. Markas glanced to the saddle in the corner of the room, strapped to his was his riding bags, quiver and shield. He felt the road call to him, but he wanted to wait. This party of adventurers staying here might just be worth the wait. "Come on pal... let's get some breakfast." He said as he opened the door and stepped aside, the large hound barked loudly and clambered out of the room in a ruckus as he ran down the stairs into the main room ahead of the sleepy Halfling as he slipped his hair back and followed the hound. The room was full of the usual customers, two women sat together, and the two men in the hall that had awoken him were chatting. Markas moved to the bar and knocked on the wood counter. "Bacon and eggs... with some toast." He looked at the hound beside him, his tail beating the floor loudly in excitement. "Make that double the normal bacon." He said as he returned his gaze to the bartender and smiled. Knowing that he would end up sharing his meal with Fang he prepared. "And a pitcher of ale." He said as he walked away to the table in the corner of the room. He nodded to the ladies at the nearby table, "Ladies." he said with a slight bow and then fell into a chair, putting his feet up on the table and leaning his head back to close his eyes while he waited for his meal.

Markas chuckled, he drained the last of his ale in a large gulp and patted Codswell on the back as he climbed off the chair. "Have a good night lad." He said before whistling loudly, Fang jumped up with a loud resounding bark and followed Markas upstairs to the room he had rented earlier that day. He noticed a stranger entering his room when he followed him part way and walked into the Halfling sized room with a halfling sized bed, Fang jumped up onto the bed, practically covering the bed with his bulk. "What do you think you're doin'?" He asked the warhound, Fang barked at him in response. Markas stripped off his tunic, removed the dagger from his boot and nudged the large hound over and crawled into bed, placing the knife under his pillow. Fang laid his head on Markas' shoulder and they both closed their eyes. "You ain't a puppy anymore pal..." He said before falling asleep.

Markas waved farewell to the Genasi and approached the bar. Fang walking up beside him as he climbed onto a chair and waved the bartender over. "An ale if ya' will." He said to the man behind the bar as he listened in on the conversation between the other Halfling who called himself Codswell and the stranger from Baulder's Gate. His ale arrived not long after the stranger finished talking. Markas gripped it tight in his small fist and watched with joy. He began to chuckle when the Halfling invoked Tymora to aid him in finding adventurers. Tymora favored those who relied on luck and daring, she didn't help out of charity. You have to charge in to earn her favor, he would know, many of his fellow Outriders worshipped Tymora because they were mounted warriors and the charge was where they were best applied on a battlefield. "Master Codswell," Said Markas through a light smirk. "Tymora favors those who rely on luck, if you invoke her to intercede in your endeavors she will surely ignore you. Tymora favors the bold, those that take their futures into their own hands. Maybe the reason you have failed to find a group of adventurers is because you are not applying yourself correctly." Said the Outrider. Fang, the large warhound at his side laid down at his feet, dangling from his collar was a Tymoran Coin. Inked on the Halfling's neck was a pawprint, a symbol of the nomadic Halfling clans.

Markas nodded to the big burning man. "Aye, that I do." He remarked with a smile. Fang sauntered over after his meal was finished and sat down next to the Halfling. Markas patted the dog on the back between the shoulder blades, which rested at eye level with the young Outrider. A sound that came across like a hand slapping a slab of muscle, which from the look of the hound that is exactly the case. He extended his hand up for the Genasi to shake. "Markas Goblinsfoe." He said and nodded towards the large warhound. Hanging from the collar on his neck was a Tymoran coin. "..This 'ere is Fang." He added, "Outrider, wanderer and nomad. At your service." Markas was wearing a kilt as a cloak. Strapped to his hip was a shortsword and a parrying dagger was tied to his boot. Fang had scars over his body that Markas also bore, his jacket had no right sleeve the arm underneath had countless small scars. He appeared weatherbeaten and worn yet he had a warm smile on his face.

Markas Goblinsfoe sat in a corner of The Shifting Sands Tavern, he was a fairly lithe Halfling, his clothes were ratty and torn from years of travel. He sat with a once-fine-looking pair of calf-skin boots on the table as he nursed his third cup of ale. On his belly was a small plate of potatoes and beans which he ate with a wooden spoon. At his feet was a large warhound, a big black Mastiff with a long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth while his thick tail beat the wood legs of the chair behind him as he waited patiently for something from Markas' plate. The Halfling smiled and tossed him a small potato, the large hound ignored it and Markas chuckled. He lowered his mug and the dog began slurping the ale. "Cheers pal." He said to the hound as he drank, when the dog had finished he sniffed out the potato and Markas finished off his ale. He sat back in the chair, glad to be off his feet for the first time in weeks. As he sat back in the busy tavern he watched a Drow enter, and behind her a strange man with glowing tattoos. He smiled wide. "Don't see many Drow." He said as he looked closer, noticing she was somewhat different then the traditional Drow he had heard rumors of. He looked to Fang, "What do you think? Should we go introduce ourselves?" He said to the large black dog, Fang looked up at Markas for a second then fixed on his plate again and began to whine. Markas rolled his eyes and set the plate on the floor, "Bloody glutton." He said as he stood from his chair.

Jacks stood as the door prepared to open. He wore the traditional jumpsuit and a backpack slung over his shoulder along with a quiver of long arrows often used with bows. In his hands was a pre-war compound crossbow. The only one in the vault, He remembered when he chose the crossbow over a rifle he got looks but he knew that for hunting the crossbow would be a better choice. "Hopefully I didn't make a mistake." He thought as he checked the string again before sliding the sling over his shoulder and took his combat knife and tied it around his boot with the straps on the sheathe. His backpack had the usual rations, water and other assorted standard items but it also contained a pair of binoculars, a tomahawk he found in storage and some spare strings for his crossbow along with several sketch books and pencils. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair as the doors opened and sunlight bathed him for the first time. He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest and a wide smile formed across his face. He was finally free of that prison he was born in. As everyone stepped out into the wilderness he glanced back and watched the door close. "Goodbye." He said to himself before following his companions. He chuckled when the Evans girl jumped into the water and everyone panicked but he remained silent. As they conversed he removed his binoculars and scanned the treeline. No animals but the view was fantastic. Everything he thought the Outside would be like. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, enjoying the smell and the taste of the air. This was real air, not filtered and cleaned through scrubbers and processors and then pumped throughout the Vault. This came from the trees and smelled of earth. He felt the warmth of the sun overtake him. All the fear and stress and excitement died inside of him as he basked in the warmth. When the group decided to move he snapped out of it and then followed them. The trek didn't bother him, he mostly kept his eyes out as he walked on the flanks of the party. When they came across the stranger Jacks immediately drew his crossbow but kept it down until he saw the creature with him. He looked at it with wonder as he slowly shouldered his crossbow and removed his sketch pad from his backpack and a pencil and began drawing the creature. "Shes beautiful." He said as he frantically sketched the creature. One of his activities as a child was to draw pictures of animals in his books, it made him into a more then fair artist. He left his old sketches behind and took several fresh sketch pads with him, he planned to document every animal he saw.

Yeah, that was the intentional hook. He sees this glory in nature but the reality is vastly different. It will be interesting to roleplay.

Its more or less the wonder of it. He grew up hearing stories of the outside world, he wanted to see it and be apart of it. He likes the outdoors because he hates being indoors. It's what he wants. To him it's like being an astronaut. Going into space is a lifetime dream. For him, going outside is a lifetime dream. He is the kid that would always be outside every minute of sunlight and after dinner he would be camping in the backyard until he had to go to bed. A better explanation would be that it's his dream, every child has dreams. To be a firefighter or a soldier or a doctor he wants to go outside. Learn everything there is about the outside world, run barefoot and feel the dirt between his toes. Swim in a lake and breath fresh air. The prospect of the outside world kept him up at night imagining what it would be like and the animals he would see, he read stories about explorers and hunters and dreamed of accompanying them on their adventures. He is the kid that was always imagining things and reading books. When it came to his test he focused on aspects of survival, how to use a knife and spear because he knew that ammo would likely be scarce and at a young age he was gifted at sneaking, usually to steal food or a nuka cola before heading to his favorite place in the engineering deck so he could read his books by flashlight at night. That is why i said he likes the outdoors. Because to him there is no greater place to be.

Name: Jackson "Jacks" Carter Age: 17 Race: Caucasian Alignment: Neutral Good S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Strength: 5 Perception: 6 Endurance: 5 Charisma: 4 Intelligence: 6 Agility: 5 Luck: 5 Tag Skills: Melee Weapons, Survival, Sneak. Interests/Ambitions: Likes the outdoors, enjoys running and hunting and exploring the wilderness and animal watching. Appearance: Jacks is 6 feet tall, he has shaggy blonde hair and patchy stubble on his face which someday (When he's older) a beard may grow. He is of fair build, lithe from years of running about the Vault. He has a scar on his chin shaped like a jagged lightning bolt from where he tripped over a toolbox and landed on his face while running through the lower decks of the Vault. Personality: Jacks is young at heart, he is young and not quite sure of himself. He dislikes being inclosed in tight spaces and when he feels caged or cooped up he goes for a run, sometimes for hours. He spends a great amount of time learning about animals and the wilderness, finding a fascination with them and reading countless books on hunting and wilderness survival in preparation for the time outside of the vault. Jacks prides himself on being honest, sometimes he is too honest which puts him off of people quickly and because of such he prefers to observe the comings and goings of people and animals then to actually participate in activities, most would describe him as shy which would be a correct assumption by all standards. Background: Jacks is the grand-son of a nobel prize winning anthropologist and a well known zoologist. His parents were not so outgoing but as a child he often spent time with his grandparents and relished in their stories of the Old World and spent hours with his nose in various books they had brought with them on their respective fields. When he took the test he qualified as a scout and hunter. Knowing the future of his life he had doubts as to his place in the world outside, only have heard stories and read about it, but he turned those doubts into preparation and worked harder and harder in the upcoming months before the opening, finding the chance to see the outside world he read so much about a worthy future to have.

I tried all that, I got nowhere. Thanks for the help Prensa.

I am looking for a mod that puts the Biker goggles on the head as eyewear but it doesn't conflict with my Prewar Baseball cap. I am no good with nifskope so if someone can make this and upload it I would be grateful or if they could teach me the steps to do it myself. I cant find the nif for the Biker Goggles to use in Nifskope to edit it myself otherwise I would have. Thank you

Name: Markas Goblinsfoe Race: Lightfoot Halfling Age: 22 Class: Ranger/Rogue/Halfling Outrider Alignment: CG Deity: Tymora Place of Origin: Faerun (Nomadic halfling clan) Appearance: Markas is about four feet tall, he has green eyes lightly tanned skin with shaggy dark brown hair that appears to not have been cut for several months. He wears it in a ponytail to keep it out of his face. He has a small scar on his chin and a few others on his body from his wandering. He is lithe and muscular from his travels and he has a pawprint tattoo on his neck. Fang, Markas' mount and companion is a large black Mastiff with a white spot on his chest and long droopy jowls and ears. He constantly slobbers and pants, he wears a thick leather collar with small studs imbedded in the leather. His saddle is custom made to fit Markas and it has saddlebags containing the bedroll, tent and other camping materials along with clothing and other odds and ends. Armor/Clothing: Wears a studded leather jerkin with a blue and green kilt that he has converted into a makeshift poncho. He wears leather greaves and tall riding boots with metal plates fastened to the shins to protect them when he is riding. He has metal bracers to protect his forearms and a longsleeved undershirt make of cotton. His shirt has various cloth patches that were hastily sewn on to repair rips and tears. Weapon: Shortbow, Shortsword and dagger in his boot along with a buckler (for him it's a shield) along with a short spear which he keeps along with his quiver on Fang's saddle. Magical Equipment: With the exception of his Tymoran coin which brings him good luck he possesses a Cloak Of Resistance made from an old adventurers prized Kilt which Markas fashioned into a poncho-like cloak. He has also mounted a bag of holding which he uses as saddlebags and an efficient quiver in which he keeps his bow, spear and arrows. Personality: Markas is at heart a child. He is young and brash, taken to riding into the enemy on the back of his Mastiff slashing with his sword or flanking and raining arrows into the enemy. He enjoys drinking and eating and carousing as much as any other halfling and boasts that he knows hundreds of drinking songs. He is well traveled and speaks several languages beyond Common, including Dwarvish, Orcish and even Sylvan. Markas has a tale for every scar (most often embellished into complete fabrication) and is a competent storyteller. Due to his wanderlust he often travels with trade caravans and pilgrims and it has given him a cheerful demeanor. He is a devotee of Tymora and his lucky gold coin is mounted on Fang's collar, something many Outriders did. He has an intense love of 'The Road' and often speaks of it like it were a woman, often remarking on it with nicknames like 'Bonny Lass' or 'Beautiful' but that does not stop him from whistling or winking at Halfling women he encounters. Markas prides himself on his cooking, he often forages for his own meals and takes vast pride in his own independence. Likes: Food, stories, songs and a good brawl. Dislikes: Authority, being tied down, being in one place for too long, Followers Of Beshaba, Goblins and Bandits. Fears: Losing his mount and best friend, Imprisonment and The Undead. Attitude Towards Strangers: Friendly, unless they look suspect in case of which he is friendly but cautious. Otherwise he is usually very open, often engaging in conversation with them. Attitude Towards Friends: Markas is very loyal to his friends, coming to their aid in battle and siding with them in arguments or disputes. Opinion Of The World: "Life is a journey, you never know where you are destined until you reach it. It's best to enjoy every mile and adventure along the roadway." History: Markas was born into a nomadic Lightfoot Halfling clan that traveled about Faerun. At a young age he dreamed of becoming an Outrider, the dog-mounted warriors and scouts of the clan. His father was one such Outrider and their Captain. He gave Fang, a Mastiff to Markas when he was of age to begin his training. Markas and Fang were inseparable during his youth, and when Fang had been properly trained and was large enough he and Markas quickly became one of the best warriors in the clan. Markas earned the name Goblinsfoe during an ambush in which he rallied the strewn out Outriders and lead a counterattack that broke the Goblin ranks and sent them fleeing. He left the clan not long after when he met a band of mercenaries. They spoke of their tales and the battles they fought. This made Markas and his victory over the Goblins seem small in comparison and asked to join them. They readily accepted and he parted ways with his clan and joined the Black Ravens mercenary company. It was the best time of his life and for five years he fought alongside them until the Black Ravens were betrayed and slaughtered in an ambush. Grimgor, the Half-Orc had sold them out to a group of bandits, Markas and Fang survived, but barely. They were discovered by a group of adventurers after the battle, they had witnessed the fight and took Markas and Fang to Temple Of Tymora where they were healed. When Markas came to he discovered that his saviors had vanished and he was left in the care of the priests. During his recovery he got close to the priests, many of them ex-adventurers and wanderers, they spoke of their lives and in the few months he stayed with them he came to love the wanderer way of life, a Human named Hurbald gave him his lucky Tymoran coin as a parting gift. It took another three months but Markas tracked down the outlaw Grimgor and in the dead of night he crept into the Half-Orc's camp, tied a rope around his feet and drug him back to the village to claim the bounty on the bandits head. Rid of the murdering Orc he took to wandering, encountering a variety of people and places and adventures, joining several trade caravans and pilgrims he plied his skills wherever he could but would move on shortly afterwards.

I am working on a mod that converts the Bound Bow spell into a lesser power. I am having issues getting it to dispel when I sheathe it, any solutions?

Thanks, don't know much about the Creation kit. How do I download it btw?

Its more of a personal thing. I don't use bows for more then just killing folk and I hate having a crap ton of stuff on my character. Having it as a quick shoot then unequip it and go in with sword and combat spell. I hated having my off hand used up by the spell when I am just going to drop a few bandits. It might not sound like it but having it as a lesser power would save time, cast, shoot, unequip. No lag time of having to select a new spell after casting for the bow when I can just use the lesser power, unequip the bow as I run to meet in melee and already have my sword and spell ready.

Is there anyway to convert the bound bow spell to a lesser power? Same goes with the bound greatweapon. They are twohanded so why bother with a casting it per normal. If there is anyway to make this possible let me know. Thank you.

I am looking for a simple sword mod, I always wanted my character to have a broken sword. Like, he carries it because it is a memento and he has sharpened it and keeps it the way it is despite it being broken. I would like it to be one handed, about half the length of a Skyforge sword and same stats but it has the Mehrunes razor enchantment and instead of a normal scabbard I was thinking like a fur lined one. I just wanted it to be a very nordic blade and have it named 'Luvisa' Message me for further details, I sorta have an idea for it's look but I have no sword I can really compare it to.