GRO-LARGASHBUR, TAKMAUL

[Takmaul gro-Largashbur .]

Takmaul gro-Largashbur .

FULL NAME . Takmaul gro-Largashbur NICK NAMES . The Mauler, Dock-rat, Hits-Like-Bear. AGE & BIRTHDAY . 33, Second of Sun’s Height SPECIES . Orsimer OCCUPATION . Dock Hand and occasional Busy-body STORMCLOAK, IMPERIAL OR NEUTRAL? Anarchist GUILDS (IF APPLICABLE). Follower of Hircine WITCH, VAMPIRE OR WEREWOLF? (PUT N/A IF NONE) None SEXUAL ORIENTATION . Heterosexual CANON (IF APPLICABLE) . N/A

[atrb=border,0,true] Appearance Takmaul is an orc, a proud creature of large stature and odd facial construction with heightened bone ridges which makes them quickly distinguishable from the other races of Tamriel. There are few that don’t notice Takmaul when he walks by, he is a large male standing at six foot, two inches tall. As broad as he is tall, the orc is a thick wall of muscle appearing every bit of a warrior that his race is heralded to be. Both of his arms appear to be as thick as a normal man’s leg, full of muscle and lined with some veins showing that illustrate his strength; most of which has been gained from long years as a dock war coupled with his own intense regiments of exercise atop of it. Many refer to him as a living-suit of armor as hitting at any part of his body is like hitting a rock or a tree. Well-adorned with muscle and tall, it is no wonder that Takmaul scratches at the two-hundred and fifty pound mark. Much like many other orcs, his skin-tone is a pale-green making him appear like he is covered in ash at some points. The orcish warrior has a very noticeable facial construction as well. Instead of just his eyebrows illustrating the protuberances, which form in three very distinct upward spikes over each brow, Takmaul has an exaggerated jawline, making it seem much broader than it really should be; afterwards, he appears to have ‘bolts’ sticking out of his chin in four locations. Two of the bolts are located at the tip of his chin, giving it a sort of dagger like appearance, while the other two are the back of his jawbone, pushing outwards just a bit. Due to this, a ‘clever’ townsfolk call him shovel face, he thinks little of it. Aside from these protuberances, the male appears like most other male orcs, his tusks protrude from his mouth and stick out like upward fangs or a warthog’s tusks from his mouth. Meanwhile, the rest of his teeth appear unnaturally sharp for most bipedal creatures, making him appear brutish and animalistic. Over all of this though, is a short beard of jet-black hair, while the top of his head has been kept short, though he occasionally will allow for his hair to grow long enough to be braided into a tail in the back. The one sign of Takmaul’s sentience is his very bright eyes. The orbs are both of a greyish-blue coloration that give a slight twinkle when the light hits them. Generally speaking, they seem to have a bit of a glow about them gradually wavering over minute details, always gauging everything and everyone around him. Personality: Takmaul is not what you’d expect from an orc. The savage nature of the race has been downplayed over the years by his constant exposure to other mer races; having fled Langashbur from during his teenage years. It has been approximately sixteen years since he left the stronghold to create a name for himself, working as an adventurer and blade for hire for years. These various jobs and travels took him far over the years having traveled through Cyrodil and Morrowind for some time and seen a great deal of the world; he uses the experiences and methods that he has learned to better enamor himself with local populaces wherever he goes. His experiences are generally far above those who believe themselves to be even the most well-versed of diplomats; however, because of his formerly brutish nature, he has evolved his speech-craft and manipulative skills over these numerous years. While no master because of his species deficiencies, he knows enough to talk himself out of trouble by all, but the most…persistent of guards or officials. Generally speaking, Takmaul is intelligent and incredibly well versed in most lore; he knows enough of other people’s religions and the studies to pass himself off as a follower of that specific sect if he so desire. In reality though, the orc is a devote follower of the Daedra Hircine. Takmaul has dedicated to his life to the hunt and the ritual sacrifice of various pelts and prey to his God; once every two months, he departs into the wilderness to undergo a ritual hunt of various animals. Generally, he will only be gone for two to four days and will return with enough meat to last himself for a few weeks. Most people are unsure how he is such a well-versed hunter, as he never departs with anything more than a few basic supplies, namely water and jerky and an axe. Yet, he returns without fail every time with the spoils of his hunt draped from his shoulders. His greatest victory to date was a hunt where he had to request the aid of a Khajiit caravan to freight in a bear that he had managed to slay. The beast had its belly torn asunder. To date, Takmaul continues to claim that there was another one, but it was too much for the Khajiit to bring up. Many find Takmaul to be a kind hearted-man who enjoys many of the same things that most Nords do. The orc enjoys a brawl, he loves his mead and most importantly, he finds amusement in a good joke from time to time; however, this is a façade on the part of Takmaul. The male holds to the savagery that his ancestors were renowned for, having developed into a psychopath over the course of his adventures; he cares little for human life and more for the advancement of his own clause. While able to perfectly attend to the day to day life of an average citizen, Takmaul takes a perverse pleasure in seeing others suffer. While perfectly able to make it appear that he cares and has empathy towards other, the ideal is completely foreign to him now; all he feels is disgust, his own personal happiness and the overwhelming desire to be more complete. Takmaul doesn’t know why, but he feels a part of himself is missing somewhere and that piece of himself will make him whole once again. Above everything else though, Takmaul has a superiority complex and an overwhelming desire to prove himself better than everyone else. While he has an utter hatred for all forms of magic and anyone who would dear steal from others due to his own warrior upbringing; Takmaul is not above dirty fighting in combat. He seeks to prove himself, faster, stronger, smarter and just outright better than all those that dear to challenge him; when there are no witnesses, he is unrelentingly brutal with his manner of execution, the barbs that he will let fly. He shows no remorse in his kills and in fact often has the opposite, a gleeful fascination with the blood that he spills. The orc has gone so far as to paint himself in the blood of his enemies, before for his own pleasure and to mark himself in Hircine’s symbols before embarking on a hunt. Believing himself to be one of Hircine’s most devote followers, Hircine is the one being that he swears fealty towards ignoring all other Daedra with the exception of Malacath whom he still regards as the creator of his race. Yet, Takmaul only truly feels right in the middle of a hunt, be it a hunt of another person or animal; he receives some odd calm and bliss that he can’t normally place. Chasing down vixen, wolves or caribou just oddly brings him to a state that provides him with the utmost bliss; a relief from the crazed ideals of murder and pillaging that often plague him. Instead, it is replaced with a focus and a soothing sense of everything being right in the world which remains until he finishes his sacrifice or preparing the animal for consumption. Equipment Armor: Takmaul is an unofficial berserker; he wears no armor when in combat preferring to go in as he is into the elements so that he may feel of the elements upon his flesh. Part of many of his rituals to Hircine is to go with as little as possible into the wilderness, taking only supplies of the utmost nature out with himself. In moments of privacy and within full-hunt, Takmaul only wears three pieces of equipment: hide armor with the top half of it torn away leaving his chest bare and exposed, a pair of fine black boots woven with wolf fur to increase the warmth they provide and lastly a mask crafted from a caribou’s head in order to mimic the image of Hircine. Few see Takmaul in this image and those that do, usually end up dead. Weapons Daedric Battleaxe Sometimes, you just need the best and the only way to have the best is to find those who are the best are everything. Daedra weaponry is the most resilient and powerful of any type of weapon in the known world beyond artifacts and those that have been enchanted. Takmaul is no stranger to powerful weapons or the idea superior craftsmanship. Takmaul does not know where the axe specifically originated from; however, what he does know is that he got the weapon after ‘liberating’ it from the hands of a rather feeble Redguard one night on the docks of Morrowind port. Needless to say, the Dunmer were more concerned with rebuilding their destroyed part of the world than they were with a dead Redguard. Takmaul still doesn’t know if an investigation was put forth; he was gone by morning. Takmaul allows no one to see or know that he possesses this weapon, it is his prized tool of hunting; he uses it only for the ritual and nothing else. If it is not in use, he has the weapon hidden away beneath the floor of his home. When leaving, he bundles the weapon in the same manner he does his great sword. Orcish Greatsword Home is where the heart is and many hearts have been pushed through the blade of this greatsword. A bloody soaked weapon that is used for combat whenever Takmaul is not hunting; it has seen thirteen years of unabashed cruelty and destruction. It has been washed and repainted with blood hundreds of times and shows the wear well. It has been cared for, as it is the last piece of Takmaul’s home that he carries. Everything else has either worn into nothing or simply been used and discarded. So, he cares for the blade, showing his last true sign of humanity by the constant cleaning and repair of the blade. Silver Sword You never know what you’ll come across when hunting, so it is always best to be prepared. Takmaul has seen his fair share of ghosts and other magical creatures who won’t be harmed unless hit with some manner of magical weapon or magic itself. As he despises these things, he takes heart in knowing that Daedric materials and Silver can do the job just as well. Takmaul took this particular silver weapon when escorting a hire through a cave infested with ghosts that the hire wanted removed. He shouldn’t have paid up-front. Iron-War Axe Takmaul likes Axes and this one was on sale. He bought it. Skills Hand to Hand Combat No one can say that Takmaul doesn’t know his way around a scrap. Anyone who has ever stepped into a fist fight with the Orc knows better than to do it again unless they are masochistic. The constant strain that is put on the Orc’s body on a near day to day basis has constructed a perfectly honed weapon of flesh; not to mention the years of training his family instilled into him and the self-training that he continues to undergo. As an expert brawler, only the most studied of martial artists stand a match against him in the ring; his large size and surprising speed in combat give him an edge. Combatants who have felt his punches claim it is like being struck with a hammer when he swings into you. Unarmored An orc can take a hit and keep on going, Takmaul improves upon this. Every other night, he fights in a ring and increases his bodies resistance to pain and wounds. His skin has hardened from years of constant abuse, callousing over and becoming desensitized to all but the absolute worst of pains. Blades will still cut him, arrows still pierce him and magic still burn him; however, it requires more than the usual amount of swinging power to deter him when he is on the prowl. Stabbing is the preferred method to take, as grazing him will do little more than piss him off. Speech Despite lacking empathy and having a complete and total disregard for life; Takmaul is a very potent speaker. He knows what to say and how to read people like the back of his hand, it is a talent that he has picked up after traveling around the globe and interacting with many others. Acting is now second nature to him and he can easily slip into the skin of a kinder person with ease. Due to his ability to act, he finds himself able to worm his way into other’s lives and persuade many with ease. Granted, he has more trouble with Khajiit and Argonians as he has experienced very little of their kind through his travels and their different facial constructions make them much harder to read. Two-handed Weapons Give Takmaul a two-handed weapon and he will show you what an art-form combat can be. There are no other words to describe what the orc can do with a two-handed weapon aside from gruesome, awe-inspiring and a complete work of art. He is a master of his craft when it comes to combat in this method; he fights in ways that make many think he is insane. Charging into combat and making his blade dance for glee about his opponent’s body and own weapon. Brute force meeting carefully planned feints and blows make this particular orc one of the heartiest of warriors and practitioners of the two-handed trade. One-handed Weapons Some things take more practice than others. These things are worth learning, but are sometimes the most frustrating and god-forsakenly annoying ideas that ever existed. This is how Takmaul feels about fighting with one-handed weapons or fighting with two at once. While he shows a high degree of aptitude with holding one-blade at a time; he feels awkward not firmly grasping a blade in both hands and getting ready to rend flesh from bone. Due to his lack of true mastery with one-handed weapons, fights much more defensively when holding one; waiting for counter attacks or simply getting into a lock with an opponent before over-powering them. Smithing Ironically enough, Takmaul knows next to nothing of the smithing craft. He knows how to repair a weapon and how to skin animals and turn them into usable pelts; however, beyond that he is clueless. The middle-aged orc is no more to make a dagger than he is to shoot the moon with an arrow, what he can do is transform animal skins and leather that he receives into trinkets and sow them into leather armor; however, anything dealing with the refining of metals is utterly foreign to him. History Takmaul was born into the Largashbur orcish stronghold thirty-three years ago and spent little more than half of his life-time under the tutelage of his family and other orcs in the area. Yet, Takmaul was never too keen on the idea of living permanently within the confines of the stronghold; he yearned for more, he yearned to see the world. Life was good aside from that aching desire, the young orc spent his days learning what he needed of the orc culture, how to defend himself and most importantly how to wield the weapons of the Orsimer people. Day after day was filled with combat training, time spent in exercise and study of Malacath along with other Daedra. As a child, the world outside of the Stronghold fascinated him, his hunting trips being the highlight of any day in which they occurred. Takmaul soon began to regard the walls of the stronghold as a prison and sought every available opportunity to flee from the sanctum and out into the wilderness. When he was a young man, there was nothing more he enjoyed than to run bare foot through the lands, feeling the dirt and earth beneath his toes. Takmaul believes that this bliss as a child later lead him to become a follower of Hircine in his early twenties; it was a special part of his childhood and it only amplified when the thrill of the hunt was poured into it as well. Years have gone by, but his enthrallment with the land and his bliss when in nature has not diminished an ounce. After living in the compound for sixteen years, Takmaul had, had enough. Still very empathetic at this point and worried about his parents; the Orc went to them and explained his situation. Both of them understood and gifted Takmaul the supplies he would need for his journey; providing him with the Orcish greatsword that had been his father’s pride for years. His mother provided him with fur armor to shield him from the cold and just like that; Takmaul was gone, never to be seen by either of them again. The orc vanished out into the early morning mists of First Rain and departed from Skyrim; his legs taking him as far as he could go. Traveling south was the first thing that he did, he ran and made his way over the mountains and into the lands of Cyrodil. By the time that he had managed the climb over the trails, the lone orc was cold, hungry and nearly dead on his feet; however, he pressed forward, eventually collapsing into an inn near the border. Takmaul was given a bed and food to recover from, because of his lack of money; he worked off his debts to the inn. Providing labor and acting as a beast of burden to help till the farmer’s land, along with caring for the animals that they kept; it was hard grueling work that last for a month. When it was done, the innkeeper sent him on his way, knowing that he had abused the orc and managed to make a hefty profit off of the labor that Takmaul had provided. Yet, the orc had no real concept of what the food in Cyrodil cost, nor how much a bed would; granted, he was more thankful for having his life saved than he was for being provided with a bed. Feeling refreshed and reequipped for his travels, Takmaul made his way through the land of Cyrodil exploring the nation of Imperials and finding his way through many twists and turns that the land provided for him. At the age of eighteen after spending two years wandering Cyrodil aimlessly and providing a sword-arm as a free-lance mercenary as he got more and more accustomed to the various races customs and cultures. Takmaul learned what it meant to be an imperial, a nord and one of the various other races of mer that existed around Tamriel; however, his relations with Khajiit and Argonians was sparing to say the least as racial tensions with the beast men were still powerful in Cyrodil making them unlikely to appear. What meetings he did share with the creatures were often awkward, especially the first where Takmaul screamed at a Khajiit was a very small werewolf trying to attack him; which then turned into a humorous spectacle of Takmaul chasing the Khajiit around with a very foul smelling piece of rotten meat that a nearby butcher had thrown out. He spent a week in prison after that. Shortly after his release from the imperial prison, Takmaul found himself short on funds and with no work coming in through his freelancing business; he found himself looking for a normal job. Having no skill with armor or weapon creation, he looked for other jobs that required strength. Seeing men working on the docks one day loading large crates onto ships, Takmaul figured it was the best option he had. Dock working would prove to be a perfect fit for him, it allowed him more time to communicate with those who had seen the world and further heightened his strength; the imperial docks became his home for two years and at the age of twenty Takmaul had some secure income, albeit it small. As Takmaul approached the age of twenty-one his life seemed to be secure in the routine of loading and unloading trade vessels and other ships; fishing when there was spare time and doing little more than training. It was around this time that many of the other workers began to notice Takmaul’s time spent in training for combat. The years had increased his bulk and brawn making him appear like a mountain of a man and any brawls that happened to break out on docks were quickly broken up, namely with Takmaul throwing the two offenders into the water. After this occurring so often, some began to ask for Takmaul to compete in the arena claiming that he might be the next Grand-champion. Taking the flattery and the bait as some of the more vicious workers were trying to get him slaughter, Takmaul entered into the gladiator business. If he wasn’t down in the pits training or in the ring fighting, he was at the docks working like a madman or exercising in his won home. Life was a cycle of training, work and fighting and Takmaul loved every minute of it; he fought like a monster, using whatever weapon was given to him at the time. Not wanting to sully his family’s weapon, he started out using his fists and many, many opponents found themselves laying bloodied at his feet after their jaws had been broken. Takmaul became a popular gladiator amongst most of the imperial citizens, his particularly brutal method of execution and attack caused numerous citizens to amass a following behind him. As all duels were to the death, Takmaul is obviously undefeated; however, many attribute this to the orc never going above the rank of Myrmidon. Serving as a sort of right of passage for warriors, he kept the rank of warrior and those above it locked away for his two years of service to the arena. When he left, Takmaul left with a record of thirty-three fights, all of them but four won by decapitation of his opponents. The other four were matches that were fought only with fists. Takmaul’s retirement came after witnessing the death of the Grand champion, while merely an acquaintance; he respected his strength and fortitude and seeing his death made him realize just how dangerous his occupation was. Turning in his uniform, Takmaul used his a portion of his winnings to travel once more, taking a boat into Morrowind. Most of what happened in that region of the world remains a blur to the Orc; he remembers being almost constantly ill and despising most of his time spent there. It was during his time in Morrowind when he can remember something inside of him changing and his lust for the hunt growing into what it is today. The murder of the Redguard being his first remembered murder that was truly illegal; the Daedric axe he carries being a testament to the crime and his memento from it. Whatever happened in Morrowind that made him snap is a mystery even to himself; what he does know is that he never wants to return to the land again. Having contracted more diseases from the vile Cliffracers and rats that haunt that part of the world; he is more than happy to rest in Skyrim. Takmaul departed from Morrowind when he was twenty-eight and has remained in Skyrim’s Windhelm since he returned. The orc has returned his life of working docks and used the remainder of his Arena payments to buy a home in the dock district. Two years ago, Takmaul began to run an school for hand-to-hand where Argonians and Dunmer could settle their differences while being monitored and taught higher degrees of self-control. It started out small at first, just Takmaul and a few dockworkers would get together with a guards blessing and train with various wooden dummies are possibly hold sparing matches with each other. Overtime, rumors of the meetings reached the ears of some follow towns people and now the club has a good thirty members of various races. Yet, around nine months after the club was conceived, murders began to occur around Windhelm; many people who seemed to have no connection with one another would be found dead, either washed up along the shore after their blood had been let or half buried in the surrounding wilderness. Currently, the kill count is up to five people, two Dunmer, two Argonians and a single Nord. Takmaul has committed each of these murders, using the racial tensions between the three to push blame away from himself and using the social leeway of the club as a badge of his innocence as most lower rank guards know him do to this. Constantly playing the three off each other, the Orc is seen with little suspicion in regards to the murders as few think he would harm anyone outside of the ring.

ALIAS . Wingard

AGE . 20

YEARS ROLEPLAYING . 6

HOW YOU FOUND US . Lauren

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