Post by TAROS SHADOWBLADE . on Oct 2, 2012 21:59:25 GMT -8
taros shadowblade .
[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;] TAROS SHADOWBLADE. TAR . 28 ON THE 15TH OF MID YEAR . DUNMER . ASSASSIN . NEUTRAL DARK BROTHERHOOD N/A HETEROSEXUAL . N/A . |
[atrb=border,0,true]
ARMOR & WEAPONS .
Well, as many people may not think, I don't wear the usual 'dark brotherhood' attire, I don't feel as though it flatters me in the slightest. Sure, it's a good fit for my job, but I know that I can get the job done in anything else, so what's the point in wearing something I dislike? Technically you could say I still wear 'shrouded cloaks' but I have made it my own and added a few things to make it my own personal touch (You can see his armor here). You can say I'm craftsman of sorts, when it comes to my armor. For weapons, I always use daggers and I always double wield; two hands is better than one, I always say. My usual daggers are dragon priest daggers that I acquired during my early days as an adventurer, before I joined the brotherhood, of course. It's odd, it's as if they never go dull.
SKILLS ACQUIRED .
Throughout my time as an adventurer, I acquired many skills that I never though I would end up with in my arsenal. First off there is lockpicking, something I tended to do when I had run out of money and needed food or shelter. I can't tell you how many empty houses and inns I had sneaked into a stayed the night. Hell, I had even managed to break into one of the Jarl's longhouses! I'm also very good at sneaking, this is also something I had the learn, especially when I was travelling and, being the foolish young man I was, would walk right into a giant's camp. Dual wielding is another very heavy strong suit of mine that I take great pride in; of course there were times where I needed to fight for my life on the road and I always managed to become the victor, thanks to by daggers. Of course, this skill has only grown since I joined the brotherhood.
APPEARANCE .
Among the folk of Skyrim, I am darker than most. However, around my native people, my skin is quite light, so light that some elves have called me some sort of snow elf. Of course, my skin isn't white but it isn't the dark grey that all of my other kind sport. My eyes are still red; a deep, blood red that most people become immediately intimidated by when they look into them. This helps me a lot, especially when my victim isn't being completely compliant. My build is also a lot larger than most of my kind, my father was a bigger man as well, which is where I inherited it from. We don't really know how our bodies are the way they seem, but I'm not complaining. The more intimidating I look, the better. As for markings, I have a scar running down my left eye; I was lucky I didn't lose it - damn sabers. I don't usually wear paint, seeing as I feel like my hood hides enough of my face that it doesn't exactly make a difference.
BACKSTORY .
My native home of Morrowind was not where I was born; my parents had though that it would be better for me to be raised in Skyrim so they moved into the Grey Quarter in Windhelm. Life was far from luxurious but I never really knew the difference or the outside of Windhelm, for that matter. I grew up around nasty folk, but it was easy to adjust to and none of their remarks effected me - I knew elves were the superior race. Before I go on with that, let me explain, I'm nto a Thalmor in anyway, in fact they are sad excuses when it comes to elven kind. I'm not a Stormcloak but I can imagine why they would be so outraged, having someone come in a tell your people that you can't worship who you wish to. Blasphemy!
Moving on.
My father was a shop owner and my mother was a seamstress, the two of them not exactly bringing in much money to support us. Like most children of Skyrim (more specifically the Grey Quarter), I was put to work at a young age, first as a cooks apprentice at the Palace of the Kings. It was a fine job, but the chef didn't treat me well - always hitting me with that bloody spoon, he did. Left welts on me for weeks. But, it meant that I got the scraps as well as a few septims, which was just enough for us to get by.
My childhood life was quite boring, to be honest, nothing but working and playing with other children my age. We would play tag or hide and seek, something that I was very good at; none of the other children could ever find me. I had made good friends, friends that I thought I would have forever. How foolish I was, back then.
When I was a teenager, the Jarl made me head chef, seeing as the one I had been working under had been murdered. Of course, I accepted - my family sure could have used the extra coin and the extra food. Throughout the two years of me being the Jarl's personal chef, I had been given respect and even some affection towards the Jarl and his other servants. It was the life I figured I would have until the day I had died, and I was fine with that.
Unfortunately, when I had reached adulthood and my father died from illness, I couldn't stay in Windhelm any longer. Everything I saw just reminded me of a memory of him and it hurt too much to stay. So, I packed my bags and headed out towards Whiterun, where I figured would be the best place for me to find new opportunities.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
When I thought that Windhelm had been bad about it's negativity towards Dark Elves, the people of Windhelm just seemed that much more prejudice. I had only stayed for a few months but even within those few months, every crime that a was committed, I was a suspect. It was very terrifying living there - so I left.
I kept jumping from city to city, making friends and even joining a party of people who were adventuring just as I was. We went through Labyrinthian and a lot more ruins that had cost a few of my fellow adventurers their lives in the process. That was when I had found my dragon priest daggers, my best find throughout my journeys. They got me through many times, not only for defense but helping to skin meat and cut through bone whenever I needed to eat.
For over five years I lived on the road, stopping from place to place get a good night's sleep and full belly. It was satisfying, but I knew there was only so much of Skyrim I could explore and eventually I would have seen everything; I had wondered what I would do then. Settle down? Find someone to call my own? I could hardly think of it.
Then my prayers were answered in the most unconventional way.
As I was walking the path from Roriksted to Falkreath, my party and I were ambushed by people in black hoods. Before I could even begin to defend myself, I was hit over the head with a rock and knocked unconscious. When I had awoke, I was in some sort of hut with my hands tied and five people in front of me. I could tell that none of them were my friends and I could have only assumed that the people we were ambushed by had killed them. My vision stable and my head finished spinning, the woman spoke to me, telling me that she was going to untie my wrists and that if I made any sudden moves to attack her, she would murder me. I complied and stayed docile, though I was definitely afraid. I had never been in a situation like this before.
Her explanation of the people in front of me was this: "One of these people has committed a crime, a murder. You must decide which is guilty. Whether you kill one or all, it does not matter, but you must kill, if you wish to live." She then threw me a sword and my heart began to pound in my head. I knew that I didn't want to die, but how could I kill someone if it wasn't defense? I picked up the sword and walked up towards the prisoners, one heavy foot in front of the other. Sweat was pouring down my face as I listened to each of them beg me not to kill them, telling me they were innocent.
I lifted the sword and brought it down hard in the center of the middle prisoner's head and I felt a life within me. It was terrifying and exciting all at the same time and I wanted to do it again.
In my hysteria I had managed to kill all five prisoners.
I don't regret it.
Apparently Astrid had seen promise in me and offered me to join the dark brotherhood. Gladly, I accepted. I anted to feel what I had when I had killed those people again and again. It was like a drug - I needed it and I still need it. Even after so many years of assassinating people, I yearn for the sight of blood flowing freely. It's exciting and relaxing.
I thought the brotherhood was all that I needed in life, until I met my soon-to-be wife Layla. I couldn't express how she had taken my breath away, it was mythical. It was obvious to me that she was already mine, even though I hadn't said a word to her yet - but I just knew. After introducing myself, I bid her farewell but sent her letters, telling her how I felt, how beautiful she was and how I wanted to make her mine. She obviously felt the same, seeing as she offered to come and live with me. At the time, I told her to stay in Dawnstar, that where I lived wasn't 'fitting' to say the least.
After I had purchased a house in Solitude, she moved in with me and before long we were married, completely and blissfully in love. Never have I told her of my dark secret, of my past and my current doings as an assassin. I tell her I'm a travelling merchant and she believes me, thank Stendarr. Alas, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, what with our first born on the way, I don't know if I can keep this from her for much longer. At the same time, I don't want to lose her.
[/td][/tr][/table]
CHARLIE .
NINETEEN .
NINE .
IAM THE ALMIGHT ADMIN .
[/center] [/style]NINETEEN .
NINE .
IAM THE ALMIGHT ADMIN .