RaccoonismMar 17, 2015Mar 17, 2015 at 10:26 PM
#1
@Raccoonism
The Skinny: Volanare Gaeoth is an Altmer Templar who resided in his manor overlooking his family's once prosperous land; now a ghost town. Rather than disappearing into the mist, he has he has taken to reclaim his family’s notoriety by making a name for himself in the world through memorable and brash deeds. Will his families long dead rumors follow him?
Name: Volanare Gaeoth
Race: Altmer
Noticeable features: A tall gentleman, his features are both solid and formidable. His light golden hair neatly tied back into a short ponytail, bordered by cleanly shaven scalp. His eyes are two golden orbs.
On his lip rests a large, well kept mustache, clearly the pride of his face. Hidden under armor or clothing, his chest is marked with a terrible scar.
Weakness:
- Fire
-Fine liquor
-gold
- Vampires
- Has a fondness for necromancy
-Anything/one he see's as 'Unclean'
-Lovely woman
Strengths:
-Does well in combat
-Deception
-Charming
-Mustache
Likes:
-Alcohol
-Reading
-Dueling
-Admiring smith work of weapons
-Ladies
-The Divines
-Spilling blood
-Turnips
Dislikes:
-Low quality cloth against his skin.
-Criminals
-Vampires
-Vegetable dishes (Except turnips)
Back story:
The great estate of Gaeoth, a crumbling town of cobwebs, dust, and creeping mold. A grandiose manor, who's better days have long since past, sat lording over this empty dessicated land fittingly. Within it's musky walls, the alcohol stained fingertips of Volanare Gaeoth flip through an old tome. Last of the Gaeoth bloodline, heir to all the rats and centipedes that scurry about the ramshackle buildings.
It had been two decades since the passing of his father, the Lord Eraami Gaeoth by the villager's flames. Rumors surrounding the missing villagers had fanned accusations of foul murder and necromancy. Justice had been served, his father slain, denying such heresy until his final breath. So, much like vultures fleeing meat picked bones, the villagers dissipated over the years. Two decades later, and nothing remained, save for Volanare and his lone horse.
Book in hand, a wine bottle was thrown in a jubilant madness to shatter against the wall. Fingers twirled his luxuriously kept mustache, reclining in his oak chair, calmly muttering his plans to an audience of dust piles. "The fighter's guild awaits. Yes, there is no turning back now Ol' Volanare." His gloved hand swiping a dust caked corner of the desk clean, his grinning reflection noticeable in it's polished face. "Ah, time to polish clean the filth."
Forever leaving his forsaken land, the Altmer set off with his companion steed, Lady Tarel. Onward he would ride to reclaim his family's notoriety by making a name for himself.
Volanare Gaeoth, a man of virtue, sword stained with the blood of the unclean. What horror could possibly hide behind that magnificent mustached grin?
The Skinny: Volanare Gaeoth is an Altmer Templar who resided in his manor overlooking his family's once prosperous land; now a ghost town. Rather than disappearing into the mist, he has he has taken to reclaim his family’s notoriety by making a name for himself in the world through memorable and brash deeds. Will his families long dead rumors follow him?
Name: Volanare Gaeoth
Race: Altmer
Noticeable features: A tall gentleman, his features are both solid and formidable. His light golden hair neatly tied back into a short ponytail, bordered by cleanly shaven scalp. His eyes are two golden orbs.
On his lip rests a large, well kept mustache, clearly the pride of his face. Hidden under armor or clothing, his chest is marked with a terrible scar.
Weakness:
- Fire
-Fine liquor
-gold
- Vampires
- Has a fondness for necromancy
-Anything/one he see's as 'Unclean'
-Lovely woman
Strengths:
-Does well in combat
-Deception
-Charming
-Mustache
Likes:
-Alcohol
-Reading
-Dueling
-Admiring smith work of weapons
-Ladies
-The Divines
-Spilling blood
-Turnips
Dislikes:
-Low quality cloth against his skin.
-Criminals
-Vampires
-Vegetable dishes (Except turnips)
Back story:
The great estate of Gaeoth, a crumbling town of cobwebs, dust, and creeping mold. A grandiose manor, who's better days have long since past, sat lording over this empty dessicated land fittingly. Within it's musky walls, the alcohol stained fingertips of Volanare Gaeoth flip through an old tome. Last of the Gaeoth bloodline, heir to all the rats and centipedes that scurry about the ramshackle buildings.
It had been two decades since the passing of his father, the Lord Eraami Gaeoth by the villager's flames. Rumors surrounding the missing villagers had fanned accusations of foul murder and necromancy. Justice had been served, his father slain, denying such heresy until his final breath. So, much like vultures fleeing meat picked bones, the villagers dissipated over the years. Two decades later, and nothing remained, save for Volanare and his lone horse.
Book in hand, a wine bottle was thrown in a jubilant madness to shatter against the wall. Fingers twirled his luxuriously kept mustache, reclining in his oak chair, calmly muttering his plans to an audience of dust piles. "The fighter's guild awaits. Yes, there is no turning back now Ol' Volanare." His gloved hand swiping a dust caked corner of the desk clean, his grinning reflection noticeable in it's polished face. "Ah, time to polish clean the filth."
Forever leaving his forsaken land, the Altmer set off with his companion steed, Lady Tarel. Onward he would ride to reclaim his family's notoriety by making a name for himself.
Volanare Gaeoth, a man of virtue, sword stained with the blood of the unclean. What horror could possibly hide behind that magnificent mustached grin?
Edited Mar 17, 2015 at 10:27 PM by 0