RoseheadFeb 10, 2015Feb 10, 2015 at 01:59 AM
#1
_[biographical information]_
Full name:Ruin Flane
@manguy7157
Nicknames/Alias: Ruin, Flame
Occupation(s):Mercenary (at the moment)
Residence: none
Family:none
Friends: Alijham, Sycon
Romantic interest: nonsexual/bisexual (nonsexual as of now)
Language:Cyrodiilic
Birthplace:somewhere in greenshade
Hobbies:Killing daedra
Likes:killing daedra
Dislikes:talking about herself
Color:none
_____________________
_[physical outline]_
Species:Bosmer
Age:unknown (20s)
Sex:female
Height:medium (no exact measurement)
Weight:skinny
Eye Color:amber-yellow
Hair Color:black
Skin tone:light-tan/white
Build:thin but slightly muscular
Piercings:none
_[special details, appearance]_
generally were leathers and clothes of browns silvers and greys and a hood when outside or not inside for long
_____________________
_[combat information]_
Weapons:Daggers with sun damage (hurts daedra and undead moreso than normal, ooc are are stygian daggers)
Powers:Good combat skills
Ailments and Impairments:mentally weak
_____________________
_[history]_
[ a few torn journal pages sit behind the document]
I wasn't given the name I go by now, No, my name was some sort of elvish word for something I never cared about. But that doesn't matter, because my name is Ruin Flame. I was always intrigued by fire, especially in my dreams, dreams where there was only fire, reaching to the sky. But it too was ablaze. Now why I go by Ruin, there is quite a back story to that, more like all of my shattered life.
“As a child, I had parents. I wasn't orphaned at a cruelly young age, but I do blame myself for their deaths” ~Ruin, as she took another soul, corrupted enough to be her target
I never loved my parents, but life wasn't horrible at first. I was fed, learning things, doing as told, it was nice. But my parents grew impatient quickly, when I messed up, my mother's sharp tongue was ready to stab, and my fathers fists came right behind it. They were respected people, no one ever believed me when I told them such things, they thought I was just a trouble maker trying to get at my parents for no reason other than mischief. By the age of 8, things got worse. If I didn't do everything right, I wouldn't eat. If I didn't say please and thank you... well it wasn't much better. I started showing bruises so they dropped me out of school as to not raise attention. By 10 I was getting sick of it. Then one day I slept in and when I woke up without doing my chores, my mother told me she wished I wasn't born. My father followed up with a punch so hard I was knocked out.
When I woke up and was told to tend the garden outside, I went to do so. Then an I dea struck me, and I crept towards the dirt road. There was an adventurer who seemed to be in need of some repairs, when he took his armor off I grabbed his little dagger that he dropped. I hid it under my rough hide bedroll. That night, after my parents fell asleep I grabbed the dagger and walked up to their bed. I stood over my father, devilish smirk across my face, eyes of vengeance shaded as my ragged jet hair fell in front of them. I gripped the dagger tighter and felt the moon against my back, my long umbral shadow covering my parents. I tapped my father on the shoulder, so I could look into his eyes, so he could see who killed him. He looked at me, confused for a moment. Then, he realized what was happening, and I could see his life flash before his eyes, especially all the times he had hurt me. His face turned to one of regret, a perfect frame for his death, so I ripped his throat with that dagger, scarlet blood leaking out upon the hide sheets covering he bed, draining over to my mother's neck. The warm blood must have awakened her, for she felt her neck and then peered at her heand. Horrified, she looked over to see me with a bloody dagger, but before she could scream I let go of it and grasped her throat with both of my petite hands, not enough to choke her, but at least enough to silence her. Then I wrapped me arm around her throat, caught in my elbow, I watched her slowly fall into slumber and then stop living completely.
I do not regret killing them, it was quite enjoyable, I must say, killing your enemies. Following this, I will spare you the details, did what bosmers do to their fallen enemies. They starved me, every time something didn't go perfect I didn't eat, sometimes for weeks. I had silenced my mother, delivered a blow to my father he was on the verge of doing to me. And I uh, sparing it, right. And then I ran.
I did not run because I was scared. I just didn't want to live with skeletons in my closet, literally. The nearest town had a market place with a few stalls of food and leather items. I was able to steal, trade and bargain myself a backpack full of food and a few ointments in case worst came to worst. While on my way to a horse stable, I saw a man with lustrous Daggers, two. I asked him why they shined so brightly and he told me “They only shine to us, to daedra, they are their darkest day, full of flames to ignite them, burn them into the abyss they come from.” Of course, when he walked away with them holstered next to his potion pouches which pushed them toward his backside, I stole them. When I made it to the stable, they were saddling a horse for a noble, and grooming him in a “proper” fashion. The chance I got I jumped onto that horse and tried my hardest to not fall off. The horse ran right out of the small town. I still can't believe I didn't fall on the way out of the town, that being the first time I had rode a horse.
After some crimes, falls and scrapes, I made it to Grahtwood from their I went a few places, stealing, but I needed a way to sustain myself. At the age of 11 I did all sorts of things, from being a lumberjack to selling myself out in Reaper's March. I must admit, it wasn't a good life, but that is what this is about; a ruined life.
After years of doing odd jobs I finally got out of the sad pathetic cycle I was going in. A man in Black armor I believed and now know is of a daedra's, and a cloak that seemed to be darker than the void asked if he could have me for a night, but when I walked away with him he whispered into my ear with a cold voice “I am not going to use you, like the rest of the men that pay for you.” I was scared, even more so when we walked into an abandoned house. Shivers ran up my spine and I quivered, my eyes shot around, looking for something to take my mind off of what may happen. My sight locked onto his weapon. Unlike his armor, his sword was Whiter than moonstone, and the hilt had feathered wings as guards, real wings. At the bottom of the hilt was a stone, a dark crimson in the center, but at the edges of this icosahedron (shape of a 20-sided die) twas a lighter scarlet color. The double-edged sword was white, but the snake of the blade (middle, implying it is made in nord fashion) had charcoal gray silver runes of a language unbeknownst to me, same color as the leather grip around the hilt. He walked us to a basement hatch of the khajiiti styled house. I hesitated as he gestured me to go on. Eventually I took I step down and he followed. As I entered I realized there was another down there, a man roughly dressed the same as the man who was behind me. When I hit the bottom step, he came more into view. His armor was seemingly daedric for the most part, but maybe a higher rank or something, and he to, was of normal Average hued skin, only he was maybe part nord, or imperial, to this day I still know not of his race.
[the pages end here, but a small piece of paper sits here, freshly inked]
I was trained by them then became a mercenary, I went back, and i joined with them once again for their cause that I now devote myself to. Unlike them, i do not wear the armor of my enemies as trophies but we all fight the same.
[the paper ends as well]
_____________________
_[personality]_
Kind to friends, reclusive,
Full name:Ruin Flane
@manguy7157
Nicknames/Alias: Ruin, Flame
Occupation(s):Mercenary (at the moment)
Residence: none
Family:none
Friends: Alijham, Sycon
Romantic interest: nonsexual/bisexual (nonsexual as of now)
Language:Cyrodiilic
Birthplace:somewhere in greenshade
Hobbies:Killing daedra
Likes:killing daedra
Dislikes:talking about herself
Color:none
_____________________
_[physical outline]_
Species:Bosmer
Age:unknown (20s)
Sex:female
Height:medium (no exact measurement)
Weight:skinny
Eye Color:amber-yellow
Hair Color:black
Skin tone:light-tan/white
Build:thin but slightly muscular
Piercings:none
_[special details, appearance]_
generally were leathers and clothes of browns silvers and greys and a hood when outside or not inside for long
_____________________
_[combat information]_
Weapons:Daggers with sun damage (hurts daedra and undead moreso than normal, ooc are are stygian daggers)
Powers:Good combat skills
Ailments and Impairments:mentally weak
_____________________
_[history]_
[ a few torn journal pages sit behind the document]
I wasn't given the name I go by now, No, my name was some sort of elvish word for something I never cared about. But that doesn't matter, because my name is Ruin Flame. I was always intrigued by fire, especially in my dreams, dreams where there was only fire, reaching to the sky. But it too was ablaze. Now why I go by Ruin, there is quite a back story to that, more like all of my shattered life.
“As a child, I had parents. I wasn't orphaned at a cruelly young age, but I do blame myself for their deaths” ~Ruin, as she took another soul, corrupted enough to be her target
I never loved my parents, but life wasn't horrible at first. I was fed, learning things, doing as told, it was nice. But my parents grew impatient quickly, when I messed up, my mother's sharp tongue was ready to stab, and my fathers fists came right behind it. They were respected people, no one ever believed me when I told them such things, they thought I was just a trouble maker trying to get at my parents for no reason other than mischief. By the age of 8, things got worse. If I didn't do everything right, I wouldn't eat. If I didn't say please and thank you... well it wasn't much better. I started showing bruises so they dropped me out of school as to not raise attention. By 10 I was getting sick of it. Then one day I slept in and when I woke up without doing my chores, my mother told me she wished I wasn't born. My father followed up with a punch so hard I was knocked out.
When I woke up and was told to tend the garden outside, I went to do so. Then an I dea struck me, and I crept towards the dirt road. There was an adventurer who seemed to be in need of some repairs, when he took his armor off I grabbed his little dagger that he dropped. I hid it under my rough hide bedroll. That night, after my parents fell asleep I grabbed the dagger and walked up to their bed. I stood over my father, devilish smirk across my face, eyes of vengeance shaded as my ragged jet hair fell in front of them. I gripped the dagger tighter and felt the moon against my back, my long umbral shadow covering my parents. I tapped my father on the shoulder, so I could look into his eyes, so he could see who killed him. He looked at me, confused for a moment. Then, he realized what was happening, and I could see his life flash before his eyes, especially all the times he had hurt me. His face turned to one of regret, a perfect frame for his death, so I ripped his throat with that dagger, scarlet blood leaking out upon the hide sheets covering he bed, draining over to my mother's neck. The warm blood must have awakened her, for she felt her neck and then peered at her heand. Horrified, she looked over to see me with a bloody dagger, but before she could scream I let go of it and grasped her throat with both of my petite hands, not enough to choke her, but at least enough to silence her. Then I wrapped me arm around her throat, caught in my elbow, I watched her slowly fall into slumber and then stop living completely.
I do not regret killing them, it was quite enjoyable, I must say, killing your enemies. Following this, I will spare you the details, did what bosmers do to their fallen enemies. They starved me, every time something didn't go perfect I didn't eat, sometimes for weeks. I had silenced my mother, delivered a blow to my father he was on the verge of doing to me. And I uh, sparing it, right. And then I ran.
I did not run because I was scared. I just didn't want to live with skeletons in my closet, literally. The nearest town had a market place with a few stalls of food and leather items. I was able to steal, trade and bargain myself a backpack full of food and a few ointments in case worst came to worst. While on my way to a horse stable, I saw a man with lustrous Daggers, two. I asked him why they shined so brightly and he told me “They only shine to us, to daedra, they are their darkest day, full of flames to ignite them, burn them into the abyss they come from.” Of course, when he walked away with them holstered next to his potion pouches which pushed them toward his backside, I stole them. When I made it to the stable, they were saddling a horse for a noble, and grooming him in a “proper” fashion. The chance I got I jumped onto that horse and tried my hardest to not fall off. The horse ran right out of the small town. I still can't believe I didn't fall on the way out of the town, that being the first time I had rode a horse.
After some crimes, falls and scrapes, I made it to Grahtwood from their I went a few places, stealing, but I needed a way to sustain myself. At the age of 11 I did all sorts of things, from being a lumberjack to selling myself out in Reaper's March. I must admit, it wasn't a good life, but that is what this is about; a ruined life.
After years of doing odd jobs I finally got out of the sad pathetic cycle I was going in. A man in Black armor I believed and now know is of a daedra's, and a cloak that seemed to be darker than the void asked if he could have me for a night, but when I walked away with him he whispered into my ear with a cold voice “I am not going to use you, like the rest of the men that pay for you.” I was scared, even more so when we walked into an abandoned house. Shivers ran up my spine and I quivered, my eyes shot around, looking for something to take my mind off of what may happen. My sight locked onto his weapon. Unlike his armor, his sword was Whiter than moonstone, and the hilt had feathered wings as guards, real wings. At the bottom of the hilt was a stone, a dark crimson in the center, but at the edges of this icosahedron (shape of a 20-sided die) twas a lighter scarlet color. The double-edged sword was white, but the snake of the blade (middle, implying it is made in nord fashion) had charcoal gray silver runes of a language unbeknownst to me, same color as the leather grip around the hilt. He walked us to a basement hatch of the khajiiti styled house. I hesitated as he gestured me to go on. Eventually I took I step down and he followed. As I entered I realized there was another down there, a man roughly dressed the same as the man who was behind me. When I hit the bottom step, he came more into view. His armor was seemingly daedric for the most part, but maybe a higher rank or something, and he to, was of normal Average hued skin, only he was maybe part nord, or imperial, to this day I still know not of his race.
[the pages end here, but a small piece of paper sits here, freshly inked]
I was trained by them then became a mercenary, I went back, and i joined with them once again for their cause that I now devote myself to. Unlike them, i do not wear the armor of my enemies as trophies but we all fight the same.
[the paper ends as well]
_____________________
_[personality]_
Kind to friends, reclusive,
BloodSniperXIFeb 16, 2015