Post by driftstorm on Jun 8, 2009 17:21:03 GMT -5
[Those from Tamriel Heroes proboard will recognize this. Yes, it is the same person.]
Name: Infelix Drest
Age: Looks to be in his late 30's.
Race: Dunmer
BirthSign: The Steed
Hair: Raven purple
Eyes: Red
Guild/Facion Part of: Apprentice of the Mages Guild
Armor/Clothing:
Aside from Infelix's repelling force spell, the wiry build of corded muscles across his agile body serves as a tough hide for him. Blades will obviously cut him, but there is still a slight resistance as the blade slices through the formible layer of his muscles. Maces and the likings may bruise him badly or crack a bone, but that's all depending one even hits him first. While Infelix sacrifices reliable protection, he gains nimble movement and a swift grace.
He prefers light, baggy pants which don't effect his martial arts on any large scale. It's often whatever fitting pants are around, but he's been wearing a pair of Huntsmen Leather Pants for a while now, along with a pair of Fur Gauntlets which have beast claws sticking out on the knuckles. No doubt bloodstained.
Due to being in the Mages' Guild, he still carries around a worn monk robe, which he finds to be the only bearable type of robe he can wear. This monk robe is seldom worn, being rather clean, which is how Infelix prefers it. The robe's main purpose is to present himself in SOME sort of professional manner to other guild mates. However, he absolutely refuses to wear shoes, in or out of the monk robe.
Only two other things that could count for apparel is a fang necklace, which is a twined wire with red beads and three fangs hanging on it. Any scholarly eye would note that one fang is that of a full grown werewolf, another of a large cat, and the last would appear to be a daedric tooth. The second item is a blindfold, it spans across his entire width of head, like a headband, but is partially tilted to a crook down over his left eye. Reasons are left vague, as Infelix himself only leaves it said as, "covering something nasty looking from an odd chanced scrap."
Appearance:
Infelix's hair sleeks down around his head straightly, almost mop-like, but a bit neater. His one visible eye is the typical Dunmer ashy red. Beneath the crooked blindfold, for those (un)fortunate enough, is no eyeball at all, surrounded by a series of scarring gashes. Just a black hole of grotesqueness for anyone (un)lucky enough to catch an enlightened glimpse into the hole.
His athletic body is a tan, dirty sort of brown. Rough travels have paid their toll on his body, toughening and callousing it, especially his feet and hands. He is also a bit taller than most Dunmer.
Personality:
Infelix is best described as nomadic and simple. He enjoys the aquired taste of nature over a city. Infelix is wary of richer folks, knowing they have little to no knowledge of what's beyond their manor or any intentions of caring for it. They simply can't understand his life, and he can't understand theirs. But Infelix rarely puts a deep trust in anyone, even his own race.
It's rather odd for such a knuckler to have such a philosphical view of thinking. It's almost as if he's a scholar in the body of a brute, especially with how he dresses.
Likes: A day spent confidently knowing he could have kicked any person in the face that he meets. Martial arts are a large focus in his life.
Dislikes: He doesn't particularly care for Nord, or cats.
Favourite Food: He can't resist baked potato.
Favourite Drink: Loves rum.
Weapon:
His body is a living weapon. Infelix, as a particularly self-set moral man, doesn't believe in using bows, blades, or maces. He feel they're unreliable, as they're not a part of him. A weapon is forged with it's limits already set, where as his body never knows limit of lethality.
Another reason is that he's fond of having a concealed weapon far more closer than his finger tips. At a desperate occasion, however, he may pick up what's ever lying around should his body or magic be unusable for whatever reason. He's reluctant, not stupid.
Powers/Magicka:
Infelix is adept with destruction magics, for the lack of a ranged weapon. His particular favorite type -and the only element he's professionally accomplished in- is fire, dancing around with it dangerously in bright waves of fiery hell. He is also familiar in restoration, but certainly not capable of doing much more than curing a cold, headache, or mending a broken bone over twenty minutes of repetitive healing. Mending lost appendages back on or purging serious diseases are far beyond his capabilities.
Lastly, Infelix has only one protection spell. It's a summoned repelling force which will 'push back' blows like two identical magnetic forces trying to collide. It's not unusual for him to place it around his forearms, in makeshift of a shielding. There is a flaw with this repelling force, however. It deflects physical force effectively for a short while, but magicka breaks through it relatively easily after one shot. Shock magicka, however, goes right through the protection without even touching the shield.
Friends: None. His guildmates are business associates.
Girl/Boy Friend: None
Family: Back in Vvardenfell. His parents think he's long dead, or holed up far north, away from Vivec.
Residence:
Wherever suits him. Infelix is renowned among mountain men for dispatching bandit camps or undead infested ruins and sleeping there, but only for two nights. He never sleeps in the same place twice. In detail, he'll only rest in ruins of undeath in the day time or early evening, and after having made a fire with the bodies of the undead. Horrible smell, but one gets used to it. On an odd occasion, Infelix sleeps in cheap inns, but somewhat like his back wood country rules, he'll never sleep at the same inn within a week's period.
History/More Info:
Disclaimer: I have very little knowledge of Elder Scrolls lore to begin with. I've attempted to gather information on pieces which were required, but the lore is so huge that it's rather mind boggling to try getting what information I actually need. Infelix is a resident of Cyrodiil so inconveniently because at the last moment I found that I was far much more familiar with Oblivion than Morrowind. It doesn't help I no longer own Morrowind. I've tried to make due with his spite for the prophecies to help reason for such a giant leap across the continent
Infelix spent a good portion of his life around Vivec, the urban city afloat in the waters within the southern reigons of Vvardenfell. When Infelix was young, seeing all the false Nerevars rise up, he was particularly sick of the entire mess in truth, keeping to himself in the depths of the waterworks in his free time, ever so fond of his martial arts. But of course, they were never serious martial arts. Just the sort of pretend game that children always go on about. He longed to be like his busy father, leaping incredible lengths and almost flying like a cliffracer, or maiming beasts with his bare fists.
Little known to his rather uncaring scholar mother or dutiful monk father, he'd be proned to exploring the more dangerous parts of the waterworks, where he once found an argonian man's corpse floating through the waters, along with a book. Sadly enough, Infelix never knew how to read, nor does he to this day aside from arcane and daedric runes, seeing real reading as a luxury. But well enough told from the plethora of demonstration drawings in it which most of which weren't washed away, it held empty-handed combat instructions. Infelix treasured this book as much as he ever could, never telling a soul of it, fearing they may question how he got his hands on it, and he was a terrible liar. But, when his father had a free moment, he would compare the knowledge he got from the book to his father's techniques, who seemed to enjoy correcting his ignorant son repetitively.
This book was a bible to Infelix for years to come, and it became worn and frayed from being overlooked so much. He always pleaded to his mother to teach him how to read, but she was indefinately and continually busy with teaching those who actually paid for it. Besides, why did he ever need to know how to read more than numbers or his name? She knew all too well that he was never quite interested in the luxury of reading a book. Nonetheless, she didn't neglect his hunger for magicka on an odd occasion. Mainly she only taught him a few basic restoration and protection skills. Something useful he could build off of, if anything.
During the majority of Infelix's young adulthood, he'd been a bouncer in local taverns, as well for hired watchman work around several plantations and manors to the north of Vivec. His last job in that area was a bouncer of Desele's House of Earthly Delights in Suran. On several occasions, Infelix always had a chance to put his martial arts into work, but mostly just on stubborn drunks or slaves on revolt. He never asked for very much money early on in his career, being a nobody Dunmer who was trying to do an orc's job, but after one incident in Ules Manor which included two bandits and a wolf, his reputation got up a bit and wasn't your casual business enforcer for long. He was especially renowned for his lost eye during the same incident. His father was rather delighted to hear his son was actually making something of himself, and would often take him back under his wing to help fine tune his son's combat.
It was during the supposed reincarnation of the Nerevar did Infelix up and leave Morrowind. Particularly during when the apparent Nerevar liberated Dren's Plantation, which had basically been the last straw he had with all the Nerevar crap. He'd hardly got out of that with his life, and used the looted money from the plantation's remains to save up for a trip so he could finally get out of Vvardenfell for good. It obviously was no easy task, having to bribe every other guard due to lack of having no real business in in Cyrodiil. He'd often ask himself why Cyrodiil, but remind himself that it's that, Black Marsh, or Skyrim. The main land of Morrowind wasn't really in his tastes either. The only things he took with him were a sack of food, a canteen of clean water, and his beloved, worn book.
Upon arrival into the province of Cyrodiil, Infelix had spent a long few months in the Valus Mountains. He's encountered things which have actually put his skills to the test, and many of which he'd have to fight for means of survival. He lived like an animal as his body adapted to these harsh conditions. The days were cold, and the food was scarce. Infelix always had doubts if the trip was actually worth it, freezing up in the mountains within empty caves. No longer could he train from his book either, having to had burn it for a fire on a deadly cold night.
It had been two months since he had contact with another person who wasn't trying to kill him. He always fought off outlaws, beasts, and worse. But like any mortal, he couldn't keep going like this. He wasn't cut out for living in the wilds like an animal. Three months after he arrived in the mountain range that did he encounter an Imperial huntsman who wandered into his cave. It was at that ricketedy aquaintence did he finally get out from the mountains, with the help from the huntsman. They'd went southwest out of the mountains, towards the Imperial Bridge Inn within the Nibenay Basin.
It was here the Imperial huntsman went his own way, having been thanked by Infelix. Infelix stayed around the Silverfish River for roughly three weeks or so, using the inn as a home base. The land down there was much more beautiful than the Valus Mountains, and had more edible plants and less aggressive creatures. There was, of course, an occasional thug at the inn when the Legion soldier had been on his other routes. Infelix, however, had plenty of experience in making sure they kept their distance.
His courage always swelled with each success. He no longer feared the edge of a sword or an arrow in his calf, and in whole, his fighting skill wasn't too shabby. The Dunmer innkeeper, Davela Hlaren, would usually lend one bed free to him for these reasons of protection. Very often a little help with his empty-handed combat too, since she's a trainer of it in her free time. As much as she could, at least, since Infelix had developed a series of bad habits in his unsupervised days of combat.
Time went on into the second week, and travelers went by, but one particular Altmer had stayed longer than the others. Infelix paid little attention to him, yes, but would on an odd occasion try to strike a conversation. They spoke of arcanes mainly, and the caves in the areas, but little else. But eventually, the Altmer asked him of assistance, seeing he'd been in the area for a bit longer. The Altmer had been doing facsinating research revolving around Welkynd Stones growing in caves. Infact, he'd even found them in a cave nearby, but lost his notes after being attacked, mainly by scamps and imps.
A glowing opportunity for Infelix, despite the risks. It was this task which got him on his feet and into the world. Infelix had faced death's ugly mug several times over in his course of time, but wasn't afraid to look at it again. The caves were full of the dirty bastards, but the imp's bones snapped so easily at close range, and the scamp's fireballs were hardly much more than small singes, thanks to his heritage. Upon returning the research notes, Infelix had told the Altmer he found the stones themselves mighty interesting, as well had so many questions about them. After having a stimulating conversation, the Altmer told him he should think about looking into the Mages' Guild on Cyrodiil. Not thick-skulled or void of magicka knowledge enough to be in the Fighters' Guild!
That suggestion led Infelix across the province, which through most of it had been during the Oblivion crisis. On occasion did he meet the soon-to-be Champion of Cyrodiil in the wilderness near Oblivion gates, who commonly had been assisting Legion soldiers shutting the vile gates down. Only once had Infelix ever gone into Oblivion out of curiousity, and wished he never had.
It was during the end of the crisis did Infelix finally get access into the Arcane University. He still remembers the fiery explosions and the avatar of Akatosh himself. A sight which stays with you for the rest of your life. But it is a drifting memory of inspiration, while Infelix spends his nights under the fruits of nature, and his days serving the Mages' Guild and learning under their care. But never once in his entire journey has he ever forgot his love for martial arts, and the inspiration his father set upon him.
It is in today's time that Infelix has grown a worthy tale as an upcoming empty-handed master. His road towards the balance of mastery in destructive magics and martial arts will be a long, but fulfilling, road.
Image/Picture:
Two ingame shots, pc mods for the kick and whatnot.
img222.imageshack.us/my.php?image=infelixbridgevj0.png
img184.imageshack.us/my.php?image=infelixbridge2ek5.png
[Waiting on admin/mod approval or disapproval.]
Name: Infelix Drest
Age: Looks to be in his late 30's.
Race: Dunmer
BirthSign: The Steed
Hair: Raven purple
Eyes: Red
Guild/Facion Part of: Apprentice of the Mages Guild
Armor/Clothing:
Aside from Infelix's repelling force spell, the wiry build of corded muscles across his agile body serves as a tough hide for him. Blades will obviously cut him, but there is still a slight resistance as the blade slices through the formible layer of his muscles. Maces and the likings may bruise him badly or crack a bone, but that's all depending one even hits him first. While Infelix sacrifices reliable protection, he gains nimble movement and a swift grace.
He prefers light, baggy pants which don't effect his martial arts on any large scale. It's often whatever fitting pants are around, but he's been wearing a pair of Huntsmen Leather Pants for a while now, along with a pair of Fur Gauntlets which have beast claws sticking out on the knuckles. No doubt bloodstained.
Due to being in the Mages' Guild, he still carries around a worn monk robe, which he finds to be the only bearable type of robe he can wear. This monk robe is seldom worn, being rather clean, which is how Infelix prefers it. The robe's main purpose is to present himself in SOME sort of professional manner to other guild mates. However, he absolutely refuses to wear shoes, in or out of the monk robe.
Only two other things that could count for apparel is a fang necklace, which is a twined wire with red beads and three fangs hanging on it. Any scholarly eye would note that one fang is that of a full grown werewolf, another of a large cat, and the last would appear to be a daedric tooth. The second item is a blindfold, it spans across his entire width of head, like a headband, but is partially tilted to a crook down over his left eye. Reasons are left vague, as Infelix himself only leaves it said as, "covering something nasty looking from an odd chanced scrap."
Appearance:
Infelix's hair sleeks down around his head straightly, almost mop-like, but a bit neater. His one visible eye is the typical Dunmer ashy red. Beneath the crooked blindfold, for those (un)fortunate enough, is no eyeball at all, surrounded by a series of scarring gashes. Just a black hole of grotesqueness for anyone (un)lucky enough to catch an enlightened glimpse into the hole.
His athletic body is a tan, dirty sort of brown. Rough travels have paid their toll on his body, toughening and callousing it, especially his feet and hands. He is also a bit taller than most Dunmer.
Personality:
Infelix is best described as nomadic and simple. He enjoys the aquired taste of nature over a city. Infelix is wary of richer folks, knowing they have little to no knowledge of what's beyond their manor or any intentions of caring for it. They simply can't understand his life, and he can't understand theirs. But Infelix rarely puts a deep trust in anyone, even his own race.
It's rather odd for such a knuckler to have such a philosphical view of thinking. It's almost as if he's a scholar in the body of a brute, especially with how he dresses.
Likes: A day spent confidently knowing he could have kicked any person in the face that he meets. Martial arts are a large focus in his life.
Dislikes: He doesn't particularly care for Nord, or cats.
Favourite Food: He can't resist baked potato.
Favourite Drink: Loves rum.
Weapon:
His body is a living weapon. Infelix, as a particularly self-set moral man, doesn't believe in using bows, blades, or maces. He feel they're unreliable, as they're not a part of him. A weapon is forged with it's limits already set, where as his body never knows limit of lethality.
Another reason is that he's fond of having a concealed weapon far more closer than his finger tips. At a desperate occasion, however, he may pick up what's ever lying around should his body or magic be unusable for whatever reason. He's reluctant, not stupid.
Powers/Magicka:
Infelix is adept with destruction magics, for the lack of a ranged weapon. His particular favorite type -and the only element he's professionally accomplished in- is fire, dancing around with it dangerously in bright waves of fiery hell. He is also familiar in restoration, but certainly not capable of doing much more than curing a cold, headache, or mending a broken bone over twenty minutes of repetitive healing. Mending lost appendages back on or purging serious diseases are far beyond his capabilities.
Lastly, Infelix has only one protection spell. It's a summoned repelling force which will 'push back' blows like two identical magnetic forces trying to collide. It's not unusual for him to place it around his forearms, in makeshift of a shielding. There is a flaw with this repelling force, however. It deflects physical force effectively for a short while, but magicka breaks through it relatively easily after one shot. Shock magicka, however, goes right through the protection without even touching the shield.
Friends: None. His guildmates are business associates.
Girl/Boy Friend: None
Family: Back in Vvardenfell. His parents think he's long dead, or holed up far north, away from Vivec.
Residence:
Wherever suits him. Infelix is renowned among mountain men for dispatching bandit camps or undead infested ruins and sleeping there, but only for two nights. He never sleeps in the same place twice. In detail, he'll only rest in ruins of undeath in the day time or early evening, and after having made a fire with the bodies of the undead. Horrible smell, but one gets used to it. On an odd occasion, Infelix sleeps in cheap inns, but somewhat like his back wood country rules, he'll never sleep at the same inn within a week's period.
History/More Info:
Disclaimer: I have very little knowledge of Elder Scrolls lore to begin with. I've attempted to gather information on pieces which were required, but the lore is so huge that it's rather mind boggling to try getting what information I actually need. Infelix is a resident of Cyrodiil so inconveniently because at the last moment I found that I was far much more familiar with Oblivion than Morrowind. It doesn't help I no longer own Morrowind. I've tried to make due with his spite for the prophecies to help reason for such a giant leap across the continent
Infelix spent a good portion of his life around Vivec, the urban city afloat in the waters within the southern reigons of Vvardenfell. When Infelix was young, seeing all the false Nerevars rise up, he was particularly sick of the entire mess in truth, keeping to himself in the depths of the waterworks in his free time, ever so fond of his martial arts. But of course, they were never serious martial arts. Just the sort of pretend game that children always go on about. He longed to be like his busy father, leaping incredible lengths and almost flying like a cliffracer, or maiming beasts with his bare fists.
Little known to his rather uncaring scholar mother or dutiful monk father, he'd be proned to exploring the more dangerous parts of the waterworks, where he once found an argonian man's corpse floating through the waters, along with a book. Sadly enough, Infelix never knew how to read, nor does he to this day aside from arcane and daedric runes, seeing real reading as a luxury. But well enough told from the plethora of demonstration drawings in it which most of which weren't washed away, it held empty-handed combat instructions. Infelix treasured this book as much as he ever could, never telling a soul of it, fearing they may question how he got his hands on it, and he was a terrible liar. But, when his father had a free moment, he would compare the knowledge he got from the book to his father's techniques, who seemed to enjoy correcting his ignorant son repetitively.
This book was a bible to Infelix for years to come, and it became worn and frayed from being overlooked so much. He always pleaded to his mother to teach him how to read, but she was indefinately and continually busy with teaching those who actually paid for it. Besides, why did he ever need to know how to read more than numbers or his name? She knew all too well that he was never quite interested in the luxury of reading a book. Nonetheless, she didn't neglect his hunger for magicka on an odd occasion. Mainly she only taught him a few basic restoration and protection skills. Something useful he could build off of, if anything.
During the majority of Infelix's young adulthood, he'd been a bouncer in local taverns, as well for hired watchman work around several plantations and manors to the north of Vivec. His last job in that area was a bouncer of Desele's House of Earthly Delights in Suran. On several occasions, Infelix always had a chance to put his martial arts into work, but mostly just on stubborn drunks or slaves on revolt. He never asked for very much money early on in his career, being a nobody Dunmer who was trying to do an orc's job, but after one incident in Ules Manor which included two bandits and a wolf, his reputation got up a bit and wasn't your casual business enforcer for long. He was especially renowned for his lost eye during the same incident. His father was rather delighted to hear his son was actually making something of himself, and would often take him back under his wing to help fine tune his son's combat.
It was during the supposed reincarnation of the Nerevar did Infelix up and leave Morrowind. Particularly during when the apparent Nerevar liberated Dren's Plantation, which had basically been the last straw he had with all the Nerevar crap. He'd hardly got out of that with his life, and used the looted money from the plantation's remains to save up for a trip so he could finally get out of Vvardenfell for good. It obviously was no easy task, having to bribe every other guard due to lack of having no real business in in Cyrodiil. He'd often ask himself why Cyrodiil, but remind himself that it's that, Black Marsh, or Skyrim. The main land of Morrowind wasn't really in his tastes either. The only things he took with him were a sack of food, a canteen of clean water, and his beloved, worn book.
Upon arrival into the province of Cyrodiil, Infelix had spent a long few months in the Valus Mountains. He's encountered things which have actually put his skills to the test, and many of which he'd have to fight for means of survival. He lived like an animal as his body adapted to these harsh conditions. The days were cold, and the food was scarce. Infelix always had doubts if the trip was actually worth it, freezing up in the mountains within empty caves. No longer could he train from his book either, having to had burn it for a fire on a deadly cold night.
It had been two months since he had contact with another person who wasn't trying to kill him. He always fought off outlaws, beasts, and worse. But like any mortal, he couldn't keep going like this. He wasn't cut out for living in the wilds like an animal. Three months after he arrived in the mountain range that did he encounter an Imperial huntsman who wandered into his cave. It was at that ricketedy aquaintence did he finally get out from the mountains, with the help from the huntsman. They'd went southwest out of the mountains, towards the Imperial Bridge Inn within the Nibenay Basin.
It was here the Imperial huntsman went his own way, having been thanked by Infelix. Infelix stayed around the Silverfish River for roughly three weeks or so, using the inn as a home base. The land down there was much more beautiful than the Valus Mountains, and had more edible plants and less aggressive creatures. There was, of course, an occasional thug at the inn when the Legion soldier had been on his other routes. Infelix, however, had plenty of experience in making sure they kept their distance.
His courage always swelled with each success. He no longer feared the edge of a sword or an arrow in his calf, and in whole, his fighting skill wasn't too shabby. The Dunmer innkeeper, Davela Hlaren, would usually lend one bed free to him for these reasons of protection. Very often a little help with his empty-handed combat too, since she's a trainer of it in her free time. As much as she could, at least, since Infelix had developed a series of bad habits in his unsupervised days of combat.
Time went on into the second week, and travelers went by, but one particular Altmer had stayed longer than the others. Infelix paid little attention to him, yes, but would on an odd occasion try to strike a conversation. They spoke of arcanes mainly, and the caves in the areas, but little else. But eventually, the Altmer asked him of assistance, seeing he'd been in the area for a bit longer. The Altmer had been doing facsinating research revolving around Welkynd Stones growing in caves. Infact, he'd even found them in a cave nearby, but lost his notes after being attacked, mainly by scamps and imps.
A glowing opportunity for Infelix, despite the risks. It was this task which got him on his feet and into the world. Infelix had faced death's ugly mug several times over in his course of time, but wasn't afraid to look at it again. The caves were full of the dirty bastards, but the imp's bones snapped so easily at close range, and the scamp's fireballs were hardly much more than small singes, thanks to his heritage. Upon returning the research notes, Infelix had told the Altmer he found the stones themselves mighty interesting, as well had so many questions about them. After having a stimulating conversation, the Altmer told him he should think about looking into the Mages' Guild on Cyrodiil. Not thick-skulled or void of magicka knowledge enough to be in the Fighters' Guild!
That suggestion led Infelix across the province, which through most of it had been during the Oblivion crisis. On occasion did he meet the soon-to-be Champion of Cyrodiil in the wilderness near Oblivion gates, who commonly had been assisting Legion soldiers shutting the vile gates down. Only once had Infelix ever gone into Oblivion out of curiousity, and wished he never had.
It was during the end of the crisis did Infelix finally get access into the Arcane University. He still remembers the fiery explosions and the avatar of Akatosh himself. A sight which stays with you for the rest of your life. But it is a drifting memory of inspiration, while Infelix spends his nights under the fruits of nature, and his days serving the Mages' Guild and learning under their care. But never once in his entire journey has he ever forgot his love for martial arts, and the inspiration his father set upon him.
It is in today's time that Infelix has grown a worthy tale as an upcoming empty-handed master. His road towards the balance of mastery in destructive magics and martial arts will be a long, but fulfilling, road.
Image/Picture:
Two ingame shots, pc mods for the kick and whatnot.
img222.imageshack.us/my.php?image=infelixbridgevj0.png
img184.imageshack.us/my.php?image=infelixbridge2ek5.png
[Waiting on admin/mod approval or disapproval.]
