NumeraiJul 27, 2015Jul 27, 2015 at 07:08 AM
#1
ESO ID: @Lielich
Character: Numerai Sarevus
Sex: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 20
Sign: The Tower
Physical Description:
A small tattooed figure bent gracefully over a frosty, yet still flowing stream in the middle of the night. Dipping hands into chilling waters, it calmly suffocates a bubbling water skin beneath the surface. He was a lean man of short stature near five and a half feet. Drawing the pouch to his lips he took a pull then perched upon the back of his calves, allowing leather bracers to balance against shin guards that were likewise a concoction of dark, padded hides and cheap lace. Pale blue irises peered over the rim of the vale eagerly awaiting the oncoming sunrise on the second of Frostfall; this would mark his birthday. A lingering ritual of his childhood floated through his chest like swarms of nostalgic butterflies that blotted out all other forms of thought. There he waited and watched... until the sky amassed an endless, creeping light that chased away the cold uncertainty of the terrace.
Morning revealed a number of tangled and curved tattoos that weaved symbols across the entirety of man's upper body. The ink paused for a moment, skipping the thin collar of his neck before continuing its assault with short, symmetrical streaks against his gaunt cheeks and thin brow before crossing a bridge belonging to broad nostrils that drew in an ambrosia of piney dew. The sides of his head were buzzed short with a jagged streak on each side that was razored even shorter. All else was left to grow in the shape of a mohawk before being funneled and twisted into a piece of cloth stitching that sprouted a short pony tail against the nape of his neck.
Background:
A distance cough made its way across the water. He swiveled his head to the left, contemplating his slumbering companion not far down stream. It had been two years since their glorious escape from a wicked ring of slavers and their indentured equity. He spat on the ground in memory of the travelling troupe that once fancied itself 'family' to the one sleeping not far from here, the one he himself now fancied.
Numerai recollected the first time he had seen her at a large annual cirque that often traveled to the Imperial City. His father brought him here once a year around his birth day despite being a consumptive wretch with an abusive nature. They would wake early in the morning and watch the sun rise before experiencing what he could only describe as the few joyful moments of his youth. Perhaps the father blamed the boy for the early loss of his wife or maybe she left him for his indignities. Either way the man never spoke of her and this was all the child came to know of such things.
Shaking away the bitterness he began to focus on the passage of time between each memorable sunrise. Remembering for a moment his origins and how the days had since leapt forward relentlessly. Fourteen years ago he saw his first performance. Three years later he began to pursue his passion. Two years later Numerai saw Mimora for the first time. In the years after he perfected his talents, enough to join the ranks of some of the finest performers in Tamriel but more importantly to take his place at her side.
Likes:
-Attention
-Profit
-Travel/Culture/Eclectic Influence
-Companionship
-Adventure
Dislikes:
-Authority
-Physical Conflict
-Imminent Danger/Near Death Experiences
-Hecklers
-Non-Tippers
Strengths:
-Flexible/Agile/Ambidexterous
-Charismatic
-Performing Arts/Sleight of Hand
-Fast Afoot
Weaknesses:
-Lack of Support for the War
-Conceited
-Coward
-Greedy
-Physically Weak
-Low lifestyle/Poor
Character: Numerai Sarevus
Sex: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 20
Sign: The Tower
Physical Description:
A small tattooed figure bent gracefully over a frosty, yet still flowing stream in the middle of the night. Dipping hands into chilling waters, it calmly suffocates a bubbling water skin beneath the surface. He was a lean man of short stature near five and a half feet. Drawing the pouch to his lips he took a pull then perched upon the back of his calves, allowing leather bracers to balance against shin guards that were likewise a concoction of dark, padded hides and cheap lace. Pale blue irises peered over the rim of the vale eagerly awaiting the oncoming sunrise on the second of Frostfall; this would mark his birthday. A lingering ritual of his childhood floated through his chest like swarms of nostalgic butterflies that blotted out all other forms of thought. There he waited and watched... until the sky amassed an endless, creeping light that chased away the cold uncertainty of the terrace.
Morning revealed a number of tangled and curved tattoos that weaved symbols across the entirety of man's upper body. The ink paused for a moment, skipping the thin collar of his neck before continuing its assault with short, symmetrical streaks against his gaunt cheeks and thin brow before crossing a bridge belonging to broad nostrils that drew in an ambrosia of piney dew. The sides of his head were buzzed short with a jagged streak on each side that was razored even shorter. All else was left to grow in the shape of a mohawk before being funneled and twisted into a piece of cloth stitching that sprouted a short pony tail against the nape of his neck.
Background:
A distance cough made its way across the water. He swiveled his head to the left, contemplating his slumbering companion not far down stream. It had been two years since their glorious escape from a wicked ring of slavers and their indentured equity. He spat on the ground in memory of the travelling troupe that once fancied itself 'family' to the one sleeping not far from here, the one he himself now fancied.
Numerai recollected the first time he had seen her at a large annual cirque that often traveled to the Imperial City. His father brought him here once a year around his birth day despite being a consumptive wretch with an abusive nature. They would wake early in the morning and watch the sun rise before experiencing what he could only describe as the few joyful moments of his youth. Perhaps the father blamed the boy for the early loss of his wife or maybe she left him for his indignities. Either way the man never spoke of her and this was all the child came to know of such things.
Shaking away the bitterness he began to focus on the passage of time between each memorable sunrise. Remembering for a moment his origins and how the days had since leapt forward relentlessly. Fourteen years ago he saw his first performance. Three years later he began to pursue his passion. Two years later Numerai saw Mimora for the first time. In the years after he perfected his talents, enough to join the ranks of some of the finest performers in Tamriel but more importantly to take his place at her side.
Likes:
-Attention
-Profit
-Travel/Culture/Eclectic Influence
-Companionship
-Adventure
Dislikes:
-Authority
-Physical Conflict
-Imminent Danger/Near Death Experiences
-Hecklers
-Non-Tippers
Strengths:
-Flexible/Agile/Ambidexterous
-Charismatic
-Performing Arts/Sleight of Hand
-Fast Afoot
Weaknesses:
-Lack of Support for the War
-Conceited
-Coward
-Greedy
-Physically Weak
-Low lifestyle/Poor
Edited Jul 28, 2015 at 12:54 AM by 0
Scavenger360Aug 08, 2015