Post by Thorin battle-Rend . on Dec 21, 2012 23:30:47 GMT -8
THORIN BATTLE-REND
 FULL NAME . Thorin Battle-Rend NICK NAMES . None AGE & BIRTHDAY . 51 - 17th of Rain's hand SPECIES . Nord OCCUPATION . Jarl of Winterhold STORMCLOAK, IMPERIAL OR NEUTRAL? Stormcloak GUILDS (IF APPLICABLE). N/A WITCH, VAMPIRE OR WEREWOLF? (PUT N/A IF NONE) N/A SEXUAL ORIENTATION . Heterosexual CANON (IF APPLICABLE) . Nope! | [atrb=border,0,true] HISTORY Who am I you ask? Ahhh, to answer that, let’s go back in years. Let’s simply go back to the beginning. In the year E4 150, I was born to parents that cared very much for their two children. Myself and my older brother. Growing up we lacked for nothing since my father was the jarl of Winterhold. As such, we could have grown up quite spoiled by all means, but we didn’t. Just like any of the other men in the village, we had to earn our wages – and earn them we did. There had always been a friendly sibling rivalry between my elder brother and I. It was also known that he would take over the position of Jarl when my father either died or handed it over, and was never disputed. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about the position of Jarl. But despite never wanting the title of Jarl, that never stopped me from rising to every occasion on showing up my elder brother. If he did something good, I would set out to do it better, and vice versa. Our rivalry was more of a game than anything else, for I can still remember how much I loved my brother even now. Despite being nothing more than a game, it was still near and dear to our hearts however, and one might not have guessed that it was such. Growing up in Winterhold had its advantages and disadvantages, though I came to think of the town as my own personal play area. I knew every location inside and out – even including the college that my father viewed as an infernal place. My brother was the well behaved lad, I was the rogue. While he set off to make our parents proud, my temper continuously got the better of me. Let that not fool you though, for he could wield a blade with deadly accuracy. We both could really. Having been a man of war himself, our father was bound and determined that he would pass off to his children the ability to stay alive despite the violent country that Skyrim could be. And learn we did. We spent many of grueling hours standing in front of him, blades in hand while fending off his attacks and trying to achieve the upper hand. My brother took better to the bow and arrow, while I fancied myself the best at the use of a two handed sword. Whichever weapon we chose however, it seemed our father could always best us. Perhaps it was the constant whoopings we obtained that made us practice even more. And practice we did. It seemed that every waking hour not devoted to our learning the forge or doing whatever else was required of us was dedicated to learning to fight better. We both put our skills to different uses though. Aye, I was the scrappy one of the two of us. While my brother controlled his temper and his tongue, I had both a loose tongue and temper. Because of this it seemed I was constantly getting myself into trouble. Weekly someone would say something or do something to set me off, and before there was time to think, I’d jumped him and we were in the middle of a brawl. Usually they were fairly good natured brawls and once we’d beaten ourselves up a bit; we’d laugh and drink some mead. I got plenty of black eyes out of the deal, but I learned how to use my fists well. Ahh yes, boys will be boys. I was eighteen when I left. I’d always had a thirst for real adventure, and while my brother was content to simply rest in Winterhold and wait to become the next Jarl, I wanted to get out there. I wanted to see the world! And so, with my parents blessing, I left Winterhold – on a merchants vessel that would sail the seas to many various locations. For four years I sailed on that same ship. Eagerly I picked up the ways of the vessel, navigating, manning the ship, the merchant business and everything that had to do with it. Despite my lack of discipline, I lacked naught for a sharp eager mind. For that reason, I learned fast and climbed the ranks fast. After just four years I was first mate on the vessel that I had started out on. It had been four years since I had seen my family, and nearly a year since I had stepped foot on my birthland. The reason I did was far from pleasant. Even on a ship it didn’t take long for news of the Great War to reach us. As soon as I did hear about the War, I removed myself from the vessel I had spent the last four years on. Travel to Winterhold proved to be nothing of a challenge for me, and once I got back, I was welcomed with open arms. I had left a mere boy, but I had come back a man. I also learned that my elder brother had married while I was away, to a lovely woman, and I congratulated him on his success. The news quickly soured. My father confirmed what I had learned previously – the Great War was indeed underway. Faced with the option, I once more left my family in Winterhold and joined the ranks in the army to combat against the Elves that sought our land. Despite being seasoned in the use of my blade, I still had much to learn at that point. Sometimes I believe I only lived because of blind luck, not skill. I will admit I had a problem charging into situations that it might have not been wise to do so with. I did learn eventually, though I’ve never quite gotten good at holding myself back, or my temper. I was always the daring one, taking risks. Sometimes they worked out very well for myself or my squad, and sometimes not so much. However it was that I stayed alive, I managed to do just that. I spent two years of my life fighting in that brutal war alongside many fine nords. Some of them are my comrades and friends to this day – many died during those fierce battles that raged. At one point I was taken into custody for my antics on the battlefield. That wasn’t one of the better moments in my life, nor had it been one of the smartest decisions to do what I did. However, no matter how stupid my actions may have been to get myself captured, I did secure the escape of my comrades with the huge amount of hell I rose that managed to distract our enemies. And thus began the real war. I was interrogated by thalmor for days. Though it never led to any sort of real out and out torture that would leave my body mangled, they still worked me over a time or two. Thankfully I’d made a few buddies in the two years I’d shared blood and sweat with my comrades. So much so that they managed to break me free from the lower leveled prison cell that they had been holding me at. I couldn’t be more thankful for that. It was merely two months after that when the Great War ended. With a sense of pride, I started back for home. What met me when I got there was nothing that I had hoped for or expected. Weeks before the War had ended, our enemies had broken through and had overrun Winterhold. Despite them being driven back, my family had been killed. My mother…my father, my brother and his wife. All that I had remaining for family was the small child of my brother, hardly a year old then. I hadn’t known I had been an uncle until that moment, and now I was not only an uncle, but a father as well. Being the last of my family line, I took over being the Jarl of Winterhold. I didn’t know a damned thing about being a Jarl aside from watching my father be one for many years. As such, I had my own ideas about what a Jarl should act like act like. I had never quite gotten over that side of me that quickly rose to situations in anger and just as quickly turned to violence, but the years previous had tempered that somewhat. It was during this time shortly after this attack that I met my wife. Or rather…re-met my wife. Oh sure, I’d known her growing up, if you used the term loosely. All growing up she’d been a pain in my side. Six years younger than me, she was nearly more than any man could hope to handle. She had her opinions, and had always had them. Damned if she wasn’t the most opinionated woman I’ve ever known. That hadn’t changed much from when we were kids and she would try to weasel into our games and pretend that she could do anything the boys could. And strangely, she had proved herself many times, besting most with her skills in the bow, and outwitting many more. What had changed? The years I had been away had given her an opportunity to grow as well. While she had been nothing to look at as an annoying child, she now had the attention of most men in the town. But like always, she knew what she wanted – I just didn’t know it yet. Why she wanted me, an ornery son of a bitch, I’ll never know, but apparently she did. And despite how annoying she had been as a young child, I found myself under that same trance as the others. She led me on a chase, that was for sure, but a year later we were married. She’s a spitfire alright, but damned if it isn’t refreshing to have a woman that would stand beside you even under the worst of circumstances. To this day she’s the only one that can charm me out of any foul mood I might get in. She took to my young nephew like a duck to water too. Raised him like her own boy, loved him just as much as she could possibly love her own child. She bore me three fine sons of our own in the years we’ve been married, as well as a two daughters as beautiful as their mother – one kind and adorable, while the other is just as obstinate. Their order in age goes as following. The oldest, my brothers child, is 28. My next child, Rosalind, is twenty four. After that come her two brothers, twenty two and twenty. My youngest children are twins, daughter and son at the age of eighteen. Damn if the youngest girl isn't just as obstinate as her mother. The years since the war have been good to us, even with a few problems here and there. What more could a man want than what I have? The war looming however, has cast a shadow on the times. In light of the war and what the previous one did to my family, I cannot fathom how any true child of the sky could join the side of the Imperials. I’m a supporter of Ulfric Stormcloak, and I would spit in the face of death before I joined any side with Thalmor in control. KEY SKILLS Two handed - Thorin has always went with out and out combat, and is highly skilled in the use of a two handed weapon, usually in the form of a greatsword, though he's also used axes and hammers before. Block - Along with having strong but slower weapons is the need to be able to block quicker attacks. Thorin has become very good over the years at blocking attacks from more agile and quick enemies. Smithing - His time as a soldier and well before that really have done him good in this area. Thorin can work his way around a forge very well and still does most of his own work in this area, rather than trusting anyone else to do it. Heavy Armor - If you're going to have a heavy weapon, you need some heavy armor to back it up and keep yourself safe. Thorin is no different. What he doesn't manage to block, his heavy armor protects him from. How do you think he's survived with all the stupid stunts he's pulled? PERSONALITY Quick tempered - Thorin's always had a bit of a hard time with controlling his temper. He's quick to flare up and not that easy to calm down once he's actually angry. In his younger days many comments would be followed up by a fist fight. Though he's slowed down a bit now, he's still quick to get a rise out of, and will still follow through with a good brawl. Sometimes you just need a brawl! Wild - Despite being Jarl for years now, Thorin's never quite tamed the rugged side of himself. He loves the land through Skyrim and would be just as at home camping out under the trees in the snow as he would be in his longhouse while in a soft bed. His wife however, doesn't so much like the idea so much, so they stay living in the longhouse. Sometimes though, you've got to step away from running a town and just live a little bit, so he takes his bow and goes hunting with his boys, or trapping, or just generally trekking through the mountains around Winterhold. Ornery old cuss - Thorin can definitely be a cranky man. Though his family usually gets the better side (Or perhaps they just understand him more) a lot of people - especially those he doesn't respect or dislikes, usually get the ornery side of Thorin. The one person that can normally get him out of these moods is his wife. That smile can still charm the ogre right out of him. Loyal - Thorin may be many things, but disloyal isn't one of them. If he finds a cause is good, he'll fight to death over that cause. If you're his friend, he'll do anything he needs to in order to insure you're safe. He'd go through hell and high water for anyone that he deems as a friend. Quick witted - Don't let his ornery nature fool you, Thorin has a sense for wit and can carry on plenty of banter - if you're the right person. WEAPONS AND ARMOR Glass Greatsword - Due to his normal usage of the two handed greatswords, Thorin keeps his glass greatsword around if he needs to fight. One might think him just an old man, but he's an old man that's seen plenty of battles and lived through them all. Hunting Bow - Though he's never claimed to be a perfect shot by any means, Thorin can handle a bow and if he needs to, will definitely use it. Nordic Carved Armor - Thorin wears heavy armor to help fend off the blows he cannot avoid with his slower weaponry. Like his sword, Thorin made the armor himself. |
ALIAS . Taiya!
AGE . 18
YEARS ROLEPLAYING . 5
HOW YOU FOUND US . The internet mayne
AGE . 18
YEARS ROLEPLAYING . 5
HOW YOU FOUND US . The internet mayne
