Me wants to join.
Name: Diores Silvers
Race: Imperial
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Affliction(s): None
Birthplace: Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil
Current Residence: N/A, on the road
Affiliation: None
Occupation: Mercenary / Vigilante
Major Skills: Infiltration (Lockpicking/Sneak - Adept), Archery (Expert)
Minor Skills: Melee Combat (Two-handed - Apprentice), Bartering (Speechcraft - Apprentice),
Wooing (Speechcraft - Expert?)
Inventory:
• Ertragen - Oaken longbow reinforced with steel on the grip and both ends of the bow - used for blocking and striking. A few scorched marks on the wooden parts of it.
• Iron dagger - usually for utility purposes.
• Black leather vest over light, civilian clothing; black leather boots; black leather gauntlets.
• Utility belt that holds his dagger and a small bag that holds coins and a few potions.
Bio:
• Family - Both diseased, died during a bandit raid when Diores was 7.
• Appearance - 5'7" tall. Wavy, jet black, shoulder length hair usually tied in a pony tail. Slightly gaunt facial structure with pronounced cheeks and jaw. Hooded, golden eyes. Pale olive skin tone. Light and toned body build.
• Personality: Confident and level-headed. Often enjoying company with those who possess the same freedom such as he - not held back by laws - although most of the time, the company he enjoys ends up being imprisoned or dead. Having a soft spot for the less-fortunate, he forgoes profit and would help them to the best of his abilities, he often feeling small regret once he realizes his purse is empty by the end of his favor-giving.
Spirited and carefree, he often encourages his companions to share a laugh or be merry with him when such times occur.
A self-proclaimed ladies' man, he aims to please any womenfolk he encounters and is quick to brush-off men in favor for the females.
• Likes - Women, bows, hunting, gold, having a good time
• Dislikes - Stiff people, undead, necromancers, lending gold, cramped spaces
• History:
Born from a poor family in Cheydinhal, Diores experienced hard work at an early age. Poaching and traveling from one city to another to trade, he picked up skills that he saw where necessary the day he reached adulthood.
He lived out in the wilderness only a few years after losing his parents to a group of bandits. Feeling that the law was too slow to move on its own feet, he took it upon himself to venture into a business where the authority stops and law couldn't help it when he reaches proper age.
After years of honing his skills, he became a vigilante; taking in criminal scum without reward. Soon after realizing that there is a need to profit from his "job", he started to alternate between helping the poor and the rich in order to have his own needs satiated.
• RP Sample:
The woods were quiet as the night was, its inhabitants going back to their homes nonchalantly after doing their business during the day. Although, a rather strange activity is happening deeper in the forested areas, animals run - fleeing - away from a certain spot. Trees that surround the area hold charred scars, the grassy ground littered with smoking dents.
"Imps. Why is it always imps?" said Diores as he run as fast as he could, chasing vile, winged creatures that are dragging a helpless woman away from civilized lands. The wicked creatures hurling balls of fire towards his direction, every time they do, the woman's fear growing exponentially. Diores drew his bowstring and aimed for one of the imps, releasing his hold on the string and letting the arrow fly towards its target. The imp fell as the arrow pierced its back, releasing its grip on the woman's arm. The other imp begun to struggle as the shared weight became all its own. Diores didn't hesitate for one moment to draw and release another shot, killing the other imp as the arrow pierced its neck.
He quickly ran for the woman, helping her up on her wobbly legs. "You'll be alright, milady. The vile spawns of darkness are gone." Diores helped her stand still, parting away locks of her brown hair to get a better look on her face. And on that moment did he realize that the innocent woman he risked getting burned for was not as helpless as he thought to be. With a grim smile forming across her pale face, the intentions of the woman became more clear as he feels a hot - almost scalding - aura in her hands.
Diores lifted his bow, grabbing it with both hands, and swung it overhead. The conjurer lifted her hands and released gouts of flames from them, burning the frail wooden structure of his bow. Taken aback from the sudden change of pace, he failed to notice the bolt of fire that struck his chest, sending him reeling away from the conjurer. "This is starting to become a bad day." he said, shaking himself off the pain. Diores picked himself up, gripping the lightly charred remains of his bow in both hands, and charging forward - very far from what he usually does.