Introductions

[Preacher]

Evening all...

 

Been a while, about 12 months, thought I'd pop in and see how the old Barfly's doing...the adventures I've been on, the places I've seen, the people I've been...aah, but thats a story for another time...

 

*Just to let you know that if anyone is stuck on an RP or needs some ideas/background stories, I'm back for a good while now.*

 

*Raises glass* May the Barfly Stink for many years to come!

 

*Swiftly drains tankard and lobs it at a half-orc standing at the bar*

 

*Makes swift exit*

[Stampede]

Name: Stampede

Race: Nord

Gender: Male

Age: 40

 

Appearance: Heavily built with greying red hair. His battle attire consists of his customised Daedric suit of armour and full helm. The helm being his Deaths-Head mask, a fanged skull which completely possesses Stampede when worn and spirals him into an unstoppable bezerker frenzy when in battle.

 

Weapon of Choice: The mythical warhammer, Skullcrusher. His second choice would be his bare hands.

 

Personality Traits: Efficient and easy to work with. Will obey orders to the letter, provided the price is right. Well spoken and steeped in etiquette and lore.

 

Strengths: Single mindedness, merciless in combat with an insatiable blood lust. Able to blend into high society quite easily when out of his armour. This combined with his ability to tear a man's head off with strength alone, make him an ideal assassin.

 

Weaknesses: Single mindedness, he will ignore all other threats and allies in order to complete the task at hand. His need to inflict pain upon his enemies will often lead to putting himself at ridiculous risks in order to assert his dominance. Also has a weakness for fast women and effeminate men.

 

 

Background

 

Vinz also known as “Stampede”, “The Stampede”, “Thunderstick The Berserk” and “By the Gods please stop hitting me!” received most of his training in various penal colonies around Tamriel. He was born into a middle class family and celebrated his 13th birthday behind the bars of an Imperial lock up. His tutors found he excelled in his lessons...but was an uncontrollable menace upon the playground. He and his gang of “Peace-Makers” would seek out bullies and the ilk and beat them mercilessly. Oft times they would attack other children for the slightest fault...even talking in class would earn a broken jaw or some cracked ribs from Vinz and his cohorts.

 

Vinz was disgraced before reaching his 18th birthday after he accidentally killed one of his school going friends in a fist fight. He was thrown into his first real prison whereupon he established himself as a sort of “inner prison one man policing force” extorting and attacking other criminals. By the time he was in his mid twenties he had the deaths of more than thirty fellow prisoners behind his name. The courts were at a loss as what to do with him...so as a solution of sorts he was released into the Emperors legion of shock troops to lead a division against the encroaching hordes of Akavar. His ability to cause entire cohorts to flee in panic upon seeing him earned him the name Stampede. He proved infallible as a soldier...until an altercation led him to kill a superior officer...and several guardsmen who attempted to restrain him.

 

Although Stampede was in touch with all his senses, his behaviour lead him to be declared criminally insane, he was thrown into one the worst imperial dungeons in Tamriel. Draknor: a vast sprawling network of corridors and cells, where madmen and murderers had free reign, under the impassive watch of equally sadistic guardsmen. The horrors witnessed there and participated in by Stampede are best left to the imagination...though here he remained for almost 10 years...where the average survival rate of a prisoner was 3 at the most. It was not until an Imperial Pardon and a voyage to Morrowind that The Stampede was released upon the land once again.

Edited October 18, 2005 by Stampede

[Mercbird]

Introducing Mercurian

 

Race: Breton/Nord Halfbreed....and something...other...

Gender: Female

Age: Uncertain, appears twenty something

 

Appearance: Tall and slender, with the good life padding her belly somewhat. Nothing to look twice at, but on second glance suprisingly attractive, long dark hair with a witches silver streak and grey, carefull eyes with a memory of metal. Dressed in a non-descript dark robe with signs of hidden armour, just the way she likes it.

 

Weapon Of Choice: A Daedric Dai-Katana's hilt pokes its nose through her hair like a lover, her only apparrant excess.

 

Personality: Cautious and carefull, works from the background and avoids the limelight. Does not mind spending time scouting out an area before committing to action.Dislikes being pressed into a corner, and specialises in knowing a little of everything.

 

Strenghts: Once a descision has been made, all hell breaks loose and she'll throw herself into the situation with everything she's got.

 

Weaknesses: Her catious strategic approach, holds up the more impetuous types and makes her unsuitable as a team player, so she's learned to rely only on herself. Can be deceptive.

 

Occupation: Wherever her fancy takes her... she bores so easily...

 

 

 

Mercurian moves through the tap-room and takes a delicate sample of the Barfly stink, and looks curiously at the half-orc with a wet spot on his chest.

 

Noticing Stampede next to an Argonian female in green at the bar, she turns to him with relief and asks " What day is it today, I forgot, doesn't matter I suppose... do they serve a decent mead here?"

 

* takes a second look aroun and sighs*

 

" Two Argonians and a Nord, but ... long ago... an assasin?...and a...a... witchhunter!" *shudders* " Where is the Imeprial guard when you need them?"

*smiles a curiously gleaming smile*

[Stampede]

Stampede raises his eyebrows.

 

"I do not come here for the drinks, they are lacking...the patronage is what makes up for it. Worry not about counting the days...attempt rather, to make the days count."

[Mercbird]

Mercurian re-establishes her connection and raises the flin she opts for, in the absence of a decent brew, in acknowledgement of Stampede's sage advice, and checks her nose for brown spots

 

"Counting the days is only of import as I am awaiting a special occasion, I will release the awareness and soon become...Oblivious"

 

She favours him with another gleaming grin, knowing he's picturing her in the latest gear from the Metal Queen Boutique, and hastily signs the docket presented to her by an Imperial guard. All these reality checks.

 

"Also the curious presence and absence off people in this place confused my awareness of the moment, but that has passed now, and I'm dying for a tall tale...Tell me Nord where has your tallness taken you"

[Stampede]

*Stampede was pleased at the prospect of female company. Though many a bright eyed wood elf had submitted to his will in the Imperial Prisons...they proved to be a poor substitute.*

 

"I have been here and there, far and wide. I sent my Soul through the invisible, some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my soul return'd to me, And answer'd "I myself am Heav'n and Hell." ;)

 

A lecherous wink completes his poem.

[Mercbird]

A mercurial flash lights up the room as Mercurian throws her head back and... laughs out loud!

 

"Remember our vows Stampede, I'll not let you stamp your stamp all over me, silly beast!" pleased non the less to serve as temporary virtual inspiration to poetry, and that Stampede does not seem to be wearing his armour.

 

"Woodelf males sure are... fast and...effeminate aren't they..."

 

*Mercurian raises her eyebrows in turn*

 

Risking knowledge of Stampede's ten year stint in Draknor, and certain ... weaknesses...

[Stampede]

*Stampede takes out a wooden smoking pipe in the shape of a grinning goats head and begins stuffing it with rich smelling leaves.*

 

"Misery aquaints a man with strange bedfellows."

 

*He takes a deep drag.*

 

"Besides which, do we not all look the same in the dark?"

[Mercbird]

*Mercurian watches Stampede breathe smoke, and pats around for her skooma pipe, a gift from a Khajit*

 

" Most of us do *checks for brown spots again*...'cept me...my...uh...mercurial nature seems to... gleam...when heated. Makes thieving a problem, really"

 

*suddenly embarrased*

 

"Did I tell you I met a prince from Persia whom I could not get up a sandy rock but is better company than solitaire on an everwinter night?"

[Stampede]

"That reminds me of when I took a dungeon under siege in a deep dark enclave. We thought it was a temple, but it was truly a nest of vampires hiding behind a masquerade."