Post by nazir . on Nov 14, 2012 16:58:30 GMT -8
nazir .
 [style=width: 170px; height: 140px; background-color: 303030; text-align: justify; padding: 8 8 8 8px; line-height: 100%; color: 000000; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; center; padding: 10 10 10 10px; overflow: auto; border: 5px solid #c5c5c5;] NAZIR . NONE . 28 & 1ST OF FROSTFALL . REDGUARD . ASSASSIN . NEUTRAL . DARK BROTHERHOOD . N/A . ASEXUAL . CANON . |
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THE WARRIOR. master one-handed, archery, sneak, light armor. adept in smithing. heavy armor and two handed weapons are too bulky and obnoxious, not fit for an assassin of his caliber. he admires magic and enchanting, but has little aptitude for it.
the armor -- prefers his light weight hammerfell garb when 'off-duty', although he does own a set of shrouded armor.
the weapons -- a scimitar is his primary weapon - the very one he stole from his father. he also owns a glass bow, a prize from a mark, and an ebony dagger.
"excuse me?"
"what's you story, ah... nazir?"
"ah. that tale is long, and not too proud. what do you want to know, boy?"
"you're from hammerfell, yes?"
"naturally. and before you ask, i also had a mother and father, and we did indeed live in a house. in that house i learned to cook - from my father, you see, when i was young. i also learned how to strike hard when someone's most vulnerable. how to cut their throat from behind. my father had no chance."
"so you killed your father. why?"
"why does anyone do anything? because i wanted to. there was no one there to stop me, and he was, ah, in my way. he deserved it."
"what about your mother?"
"she was gone. happier. there was no more pain for her. nothing else to be said about it."
"so you... you came here, then?"
"not immediately. i... traveled a bit. found work protecting caravans - never took payment in coin. lost myself to the haze and the blood; took my job too seriously, and stopped caring who i killed. i would wander around the wilds, pass out, and wake up not knowing where the hell i was, or where i'd been. i was dying."
"and then?"
"the dark brotherhood. they took me in, saved me from myself. i've never looked back."
he didn't always hate his father. he always adored his mother. back in the blistering heat of hammerfell, family was important to him; in such a dangerous land, finding love and camaraderie wasn't easy. his father ruined that, so he ruined him. revenge solved everything.
he was always very relaxed. everything became a joke to him - dark and grim like the desert nights, as sharp as a rattler's tongue. travelling with the caravans gave him a new perspective: trust nobody. come in on the tails of the khajiit, and suddenly you're a drug addict, scum of the earth.
he became more relaxed, and more aggressive. he'd be wound up, raring to fight, when some innocent man wandered in the way. no danger. most weren't armed. he took them anyway; bathed his sword with their blood and collected his payment. blood money for bloody protection. black hands began appearing.
more caravans passed, came and went. the paths became more dangerous. everything and everyone was out to kill him. trust nobody, not even yourself. especially yourself. he fell, hard. certain death awaited.
death didn't take. pain, potions, whispers in the dark. black hands and shadowed faces, blurred and distant. re-awakening was rough. always dying, scared and aggressive. couldn't eat, sleep. slowly returned to nazir - everyone's big brother, the favored uncle. cooked for them, watched the family with interest. became one of them.
he never looks back.
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EMILY .
SEVENTEEN .
5EVR .
BARREL ROLLIN' .
[/center] [/style]SEVENTEEN .
5EVR .
BARREL ROLLIN' .