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#and ive come too far and spent too much money on arrows to give up now
fatherramiro · 5 months
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why is the cazador boss fight such a nightmare its been 84 years (possibly seven attempts now) and that bastard keeps winning
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Of Mer and Men | Elder Scrolls Verse
I finally caved and made an Elder Scrolls verse for my lads on here. You’ll find all their profiles beneath the cut (if there is one.) I took a bit of creative liberty with the vampires in this as well, I hope that’s all right. 
Bilmae ‘Bill’ Golden-Smith 
Name: Bilmae ‘Bill’ Golden-Smith  
Age: Appears 31, but is over 800 in reality  
Birthday: 7th of Evening Star
Gender: Cis Male (he/him/his pronouns) 
Powers and Abilities: Resistance to disease, resistance to poison, harder to detect while sneaking, and illusion spells are more powerful than average, resistance to frost. Shadow abilities; creating tentacles made out of shadows, usually to grab/restrain an opponent, or do things like snap limbs. He can also leap an abnormally long distance and summon an orb of shadow that explodes into spikes. Battle Cry (Nord Ability) and a higher resistance to frost because of his Nord Heritage as well as his vampirism. 
Weaknesses: Fire, sunlight.
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual.
Race: Nord/Vampire
Faction: None (at the moment)
Current Residence: No fixed place of residence, wanders Tamriel. 
Mother: Gweene Golden-Smith (Deceased)
Father: Bilmae Golden-Smith. (Deceased) 
Height: 6’3" 
Weight: 200lbs 
Body Type: Mesomorph/Muscular 
Hair: Red, as is his beard. 
Eyes: Grey.
Skin: White 
Languages: Tamrielic, some of the Dragon Language, and Ayleidoon.
Distinguishing features: He has major burn scars on the right side of his abdomen, chest, part of his right arm, and just above his butt. A hunter managed to set him on fire. Luckily, before it could kill him, he managed to put himself out. That Hunter paid with her life.
If he doesn’t drink blood for a long time, he starts to age and look more monstrous/corpse-like. Drinking blood reverses this effect.
He has three scars on his chest that are either from arrows or crossbow bolts. They’re all under his left pec muscle. 
He has a birthmark on the back of his left hand that’s shaped like a crescent. He often jokes that it’s because one of his ancestors was a werewolf. 
Hobbies and Interests: Dancing, astronomy (might as well enjoy the stars if you’re nocturnal), origami, drawing, mythology (he has met some figures of myth, or so he claims), and smithing. He’s also pretty good at playing the lyre, the ocarina, and the accordion.
Occupation: No set occupation.
Skills: Smithing, Sneak, One-Handed Weapons, Illusion Magic, Light Armour, and Alteration 
Personality: He’s friendly, he’s confident, and he can be rather eccentric at times. He’s far from shy and he enjoys the company of others. He lives to entertain, laugh, spread laughter and merriment, and give and get validation.
However, he can come across as conceited, arrogant, a show-off, a bit of a large ham at times, and/or a little bit too full-on for some people. That said, he honestly doesn’t mean harm (not anymore at least) and if you’re his friend, he will kill for you and do what he can to keep you happy.
He’s usually quite hard to anger. He can laugh off most insults or even attempts to hurt him physically. However, if you do make him mad, it’s your funeral, or at least your mind’s. He does try to keep himself in check however. He has no plans to go back to the sadistic bastard that he used to be.
Basic Backstory: Starting out his life in Skyrim, Lord Bilmae Golden-Smith IV was the only survivor of the eleven children his parents gave birth to. His father was a lord and his mother was a blacksmith’s daughter who was married into the family.
Bilmae lived a fairly easy and unremarkable life with his loving mother, not-so-loving father, and a few servants. His father made sure he worked hard however, not wanting to hand him everything on a silver plate. That said, he was fairly well off, and spent his childhood and adult years getting ready to take on his father’s estate. On finding out his bloodline’s wealth and notoriety was founded on thievery, murder, extortion, and other crimes, he was not so willing to do so, but he was unsure of how to find a way out of it. 
However, at the age of 31 years old, he contracted Sanguinare Vampiris. He was infected on purpose, by a vampire who had lost his family to Bilmae’s legacy. Bilmae managed to hide the condition from his family, and when his parents died, dismissed his servants, left the estate to his distant cousins, and faked his death before going to wander.
He continues to travel around now, learning new things and trying new stuff to keep himself busy. He still drinks blood to sustain himself but he doesn’t kill unless it was someone he felt ‘deserved it’. He also kept up with all the changes in the world. He even adapted his speech as needed, keeping up with slang and staying savvy with the times.
Antonio Lombardi
Name: Antonio Lombardi (formerly Enriquo Giordano, as far as you’re concerned) 
Age: 38
Birthday: 8th of Last Seed 
Gender: Trans Male (he/him/his pronouns) 
Powers and Abilities: .Dragonskin ability to absorb magic. Natural higher resistance to magic. 
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual 
Race: Breton
Faction: College of Winterhold (sort of)
Current Residence: Has a home in High Rock, but travels.
Mother: Gertrude Giordano
Father: Benito Giordano
Siblings: Emily Giordano(Older sister) and Sophia Giordano (Younger sister)
Height: 6’2" 
Weight: 170lbs 
Body Type: Ectomorph
Hair: Black, shoulder-length, and slightly curly 
Eyes: Green.
Skin: Light brown 
Languages: Tamrielic, and some of the dragon language.
Distinguishing features: A benign mole underneath his left eye, and a slash scar across his cheek.
Due to scoliosis, his chest and back are slightly tilted to the side. This isn’t easy to see unless his shirt is off. It does cause him pain and also makes it harder for him to walk longer distances. 
He uses a cane to get around. He actually owns three canes; one has a sword hidden inside of it, another is extendable, and the last is a normal cane. He weaponised them after a bandit attacked him, causing the scar on his face.
He has habits of nodding his head, rhythmically tapping his foot or hand against the floor or the table, blinking at the same time as whoever he is speaking to, and gesturing with his hands while he talks.
He also has synaesthesia, seeing certain colours and shapes whenever he hears certain noises ‘connected’ to them. He also experiences smells on rarer occasions. 
Hobbies and Interests: His magic skills. He has dabbled in sleight of hand, misdirection, and mentalism (including hypnosis, which he uses his magic for), and he is very good at those too. 
He has also dabbled in Escapology, and is able to get out of most rope bindings, straightjackets, and pick locks. He also likes to read, cook, practise his tricks, and tend to plants.
Occupation: An administrator in a library and a stage magician. Currently working in Winterhold. 
Skills: Illusion magic, Speech, One-handed, Lock-picking, Sneak, Destruction Magic, and Conjuration. 
Personality: While he’s on stage, Antonio speaks with confidence, authority, and even some glee. 
Off-stage, he’s quiet, jaded, and very cynical. He prefers to just be left alone for the most part. He doesn’t have much faith in humanity. He also pretends to be a massive sceptic.
That said, he isn’t a complete asshole. He secretly has a lot of compassion and empathy for other people. He performs at orphanages and hospitals for free and donates a portion of his earnings to charity. 
If you can break past the guarded shell, you have someone a bit on the nicer side.
Basic Backstory: Antonio was born in Summerset to Benito and Gertrude.
He often found himself entertaining or at least occupying his own mind with various tasks. He also grew up in a strictly religious household, which he found himself hating as he grew older and it eventually put him off any kind of faith or servitude to the gods. He found himself interested in magic tricks and illusions after one of his neighbours showed him a few.
He started to teach himself when he was in teens and became very good at it, especially as he grew older. He also dabbled more in his Breton magicka, figuring out what else he could do with it. He also realised he was gay, much to his dismay. Even now, he keeps that firmly under wraps.
Eventually, at the age of 17, he had a falling out with his parents over his lack of religious belief. He went on a tirade on how their beliefs (or the fact that they hid behind them) were, in his words ‘a big steaming pile of shit’.
After being told his synaesthesia was a sign that he was being influenced by the daedra and he punched his father for it, he was essentially kicked out. Uncaring about that, he changed his name and went to High Rock to make a name for himself, remembering his mother’s stories of when she lived there. 
He started very small at first. He was able to find a place to stay. He worked as much as he could and performed his magic on the side. He was eventually invited to taverns and inns to perform and that got him attention and more money. He also witnessed a vampire feeding on a person, and this terrified him, but he remained determined to continue going and not let it get to him too much.
When he turned twenty, symptoms of his scoliosis started to become prominent, coming with pain and finding it harder to walk or run for longer distances. Luckily, this didn’t affect his magic shows too badly.
At the age of thirty, he started to wander to other places and live long term and do work. Where he officially became known as Lord Enigma when performing. He’s currently in Winterhold, helping in the Arcanium. 
Leofric Lawford
Name: Leofric Lawford 
Age: 35
Birthday: 10th of Rain’s Fall 
Gender: Cis Male (he/him/his pronouns) 
Powers and Abilities: Immune to Vampirism and most other diseases, Beast Form. Voice of the Emperor, and Imperial Luck. 
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual.
Race: Imperial/Werewolf 
Faction: Companions, also does bounty work and has affiliations with Dawnguard. 
Current Residence: Whiterun. 
Mother: Unknown. 
Father: Unknown.
Height: 6’5" 
Weight: 240lbs 
Body Type: Mesomorph/Muscular 
Hair: Light brown and slightly wavy
Eyes: Dark brown .
Skin: White 
Languages: Tamrielic, and Ayleidoon.
Distinguishing features: He has many many scars from his days of battling. He has a slight beard. It’s not as full as Bill’s, but it’s definitely fuller than basic stubble. 
He doesn’t smile very often. If you see him do it, take a picture; you’ll never see it again in your life otherwise.
He has dyslexia. It hasn’t been identified yet, so he’s been suffering in silence about it. He also has some slight shortsightedness, but makes up for that with his other skills.
Hobbies and Interests: Reading, raising butterflies, plants and botany (he also researches how to better weaponise them (such as by using sachets of herbs to cloak himself, or make oils and decoctions for better damage output) or heal with them, history, boxing, and surprisingly, painting. 
Occupation: Companion
Skills: Alchemy, creating potions and poisons alike, heavy armour, two-handed and one-handed weaponry, which he’s trained himself in since a very young age,blocking, and hand-to-hand combat. 
Personality: He is rather stoic, and guarded, but still kind, brave and benevolent.
Although a werewolf and harsh on criminals and other monsters, he has a soft spot for humans, pacifistic supernatural creatures of other species, and animals, rescuing them and treating them with a distant sort of kindness. He is also incredibly loyal to those he makes friends with. 
He also prefers to be fair in a fight, giving his opponents a fair chance to defend themselves and fight back. That said, he believes underhanded tactics can be a tool to use only when necessary. 
Basic Backstory: Leofric was born in Cyrodiil, and left at an orphanage soon after as a baby. He was looked after by his guardians and taught the skills he needed. It was believed he would simply become a member of the imperial watch when he was older.
However, he became fascinated by stories of the companions and what they did. He left the orphanage at the age of sixteen years old and honed his skills, eventually making his way to Skyrim.
He had already shown a lot of the qualities of the companions during his travels, and he had actually been noticed by some of the travelling ones. He was accepted after some trials and has been with them since. 
He eventually became a werewolf when with them as well, and has not regretted this choice. He sees this as a blessing and a privilege. 
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arcanakrp-blog · 7 years
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SONG MIJOO – THE EMPRESS. AGENT 03.
                                                  [ FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED ]
//: LOADING PROFILE: SONG MIJOO …
international age: 24 birthplace: seoul, south korea arcana: the empress team number: 1
//: LOADING MUTATION: WEAPONS PROFICIENCY …
application one: enhanced marksmanship — perhaps her personal favorite ability, this gives mijoo terrifyingly heightened accuracy with any projectile. she can quickly calculate where to aim based on environmental factors, how fast the target is moving, how far the target actually is, what the weight and speed of her weapon is, among other factors that may come into play. she, of course, still has to physically aim the weapon or projectile in that correctly calculated place, but with focus and the enhanced nature of the ability, it’s often not incredibly difficult to do so.
application two: weapon calling — this gives mijoo the ability to call weapons to her using nothing but her mind. the longer she has “bonded” with a weapon, the stronger the ability is. for example, she can call an enemy’s weapon out of their hand, pocket, wherever as long as it’s within her current vision. but if it’s her own weapon, one that she’s worn in, so to speak, she can call it without having visual of it as long as it’s relatively nearby (the stronger the bond, the farther it can be). though, of course, her weapons fly towards her in a normal throwing speed, so it’s more useful for her weapons to be closer to her when calling them, rather than being half a mile away.
application three: adoptive muscle memory (weaponry) — this gives mijoo the ability to watch and, literally, learn. she can not know what a weapon is even called, but if she watches someone else use it to its full ability, she’ll be able to mimic that usage down to the little intricacies. this is, however, also limited in that she can only learn what she sees. so if, for example, she only sees someone shoot a machine gun, she won’t learn how to reload it.
overall strengths and weaknesses:
— with regards to her enhanced marksmanship, while her calculations are precisely accurate and her aim perfectly in place, it’s still just that – a calculation. she can account for wind speed and target movement all she wants, but if something unaccounted for obstructs the path of her projectile in the split second between her launching the weapon and the target, there’s nothing she can do to prevent that. but when it works just right, it’s very satisfying and she enjoys trickshotting, such as reflecting a shot off walls or other surfaces, to show off a bit.
similarly, she enjoys using weapon calling in more abstract ways, treating knives like boomerangs to cut targets on the way back to her. or making flashy entrances by throwing guns at the target then calling them back just before they hit their face, catching them mid-air before aiming the barrel right at the target, a smile smug on her face. and okay, maybe that’s not entirely practical, but she enjoys doing it. at least, when it works out right.
just like with her enhanced marksmanship, her weapon calling can be obstructed relatively easily. her weapons travel back to her at normal throwing speeds, so if a target or anyone in the vicinity has good reaction speed, they can easily catch a weapon that she’s thrown or is on the way back to her. even more, weapon calling doesn’t give her superhuman strength of any form, so if she tries to call a large, heavy iron sledgehammer? it will still fly over to her no problem, but actually being able to carry and wield the thing is another question entirely.
and just the same applies to her adoptive muscle memory – she may be able to watch someone swing around that same heavy sledgehammer and learn how to do so, but that doesn’t mean she can actually hold the thing and carry out the learned actions. and if she runs out of arrows? bullets? well, she’s out of luck there because she has no ability to summon ammo out of thin air. but still, she can make a weapon out of anything if she tries hard enough.
//: LOADING HISTORY ..
PRE-MUTATION
i.
if life is a game, song mijoo was born a chess pawn.
in reality, she was a product of too much alcohol and a night full of mistakes. the first mistake being her mom deciding to leave her fiancé’s apartment in a fit of rage. the second, spending her night at a nightclub nursing a bottle of… vodka, was it? she could never remember. the third, going home with some guy that couldn’t keep his hands off her all night. the fourth and perhaps the most important, not using protection.
nine months and one lie to her fiancé later, song mijoo was born and her mother didn’t want her or the man she was supposed to marry. so she ran away. much later in life, mijoo’s father tells her that’s what her mom was best at anyway. running away. it was only a matter of when.
her father, on the other hand, was a man of many talents. but staying still was not one of them, either. no, his talents were of the deceptive kind. he was an actor. well, aspiring, struggling, and never called back after all his lackluster auditions, but an actor nonetheless. maybe he wasn’t meant for the stage, for cameras and scripted lines on stacks of paper, but on the streets? that was where he shined, able to muster trustworthy grins or sinister smirks, able to speak in busan satoori or english with no korean accent heavy on foreign words. he needed to make money somehow what with his minimum wage job at the movie theater useless and his botched auditions getting him nowhere. and so he was a conman, a thief, and mijoo was the perfect pawn to aid him.
ii.
a struggling, single father with a beautiful baby daughter just trying to get by. it was the perfect cover story for short scams or distractions, because for one who wouldn’t give him pity? and second, it wasn’t exactly a lie.
her father was well versed in half-truths, just one of the many skills of the trade that mijoo inevitably picked up herself.
she learned a lot of things from her father this way. how to cry on cue, or frown, or smile; how to slip her hand into someone’s pocket unnoticed, or shake someone’s hand and slide their watch off, or pick a basic lock with nothing but the bobby pin in her hair. she learned how to respond to ara, nayeon, mina, yoojoo, and a plethora of other names as if they were her own, sometimes wondering if one of those names was her mother’s. her father never would tell her.
they lived in various apartments littered across seoul, moving often just to stay safe. she transferred often and never made any friends, but she attended school like any other girl her age. and instead of hagwons or other after school activities, she helped her dad grocery shop at food markets, a distraction with a cute smile to warm the hearts of the grandmas manning the stands, or when she grew older, a charmer who could convince them to give her freebies, heavy discounts. she trolled tourist and heavily populated streets, itaewon, insadong, myeongdong, hongdae, and came home with a backpack full of cash, watches, jewelry to pawn. her grades were nothing to write home about as a result, but that didn’t matter anyway. university, a career, living an honest life was never in her forecast when her father only taught her time and time again that there was always a shortcut to get what you want.
iii.
one of the most important lessons her father taught her, however, was that of betrayal.
at eighteen when she picked the wrong pocket and landed herself in handcuffs, her father never came when they called. and when she was released with nothing more than a warning because the victim had taken a sudden liking to her, he was no where to be found. not at their new apartment, not at their old one, not at his legal job, anywhere. much later, far removed from the incident, she assumed it was for his own safety. a single father with a minimum wage job, a thief of a daughter, and an apartment well above their means was sure to raise some flags, after all. but in the moment, all mijoo saw was red.
she learned long ago when he taught her how to make a smile seem genuine to always be wary of people. but she learned a lot more that day: to never trust anyone under any circumstances, how to hold a grudge, and that her mother wasn’t the only one good at running away.
iv.
she made do with that she had, got rid of her dad’s worthless possessions and pawned the rest. she stayed in seoul because it was all she ever knew, landed a job at the café below her apartment through charm alone, and spent her nights the only way she knew how: quiet giggles and a brush of her hand against some poor guy who would wake up the next morning with nothing in his wallet but his ID and a thank you note. she had burner phones for every name, one for eunsol, another for jiyeon, another for minhee, and more, some lasting longer than others, but never long enough to tie her down. at nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, it was her mission to search and destroy and maybe get some money, jewelry, whatever they would buy her while she was at it.
v.
but at twenty-two, a meteor shower came falling and her mission changed.
POST-MUTATION
vi.
her powers didn’t take very long to manifest. maybe one week after the forest and that odd meteor plagued her dreams, mijoo found herself waking up to a knife stuck in the wall beside her bed. instead of pulling it out, it fell off when she simply thought about it and came flying towards her. she ducked, of course, and it shattered the mirror behind her. but when she looked at the cracked glass, fingers carefully tracing the lines, she saw herself smiling back. small and genuine, just like father had taught her, but real like he could never muster.
it couldn’t have been more perfect, really. she always kept mace with her, a pocket knife too dangling with the rest of her keychains. it was a necessity when playing with emotions, after all, she never knew who could react violently. but now? well, she’d always been a bit reckless, readily putting herself in potentially dangerous situations, but having the power to call weapons to her at the ready, to almost never miss a shot? in mijoo’s mind, this was all a calling to throw all caution to the wind and make the world her oyster.
the compound had other plans for her, though.
vii.
maybe it was the time she hustled an entire pool hall out of their money while playing some darts, betting that rather than just getting boring bullseyes, she could split their darts with hers every time. or maybe it was the time she called a weapon out of her then-chef-boyfriend’s hand and held it at his neck for saying something about her new haircut (it was just a joke, she explained, she wasn’t actually going to cut skin). whatever it was, something alerted the arc right away and went to recruit her quickly, one of the very first to join.
she was reluctant at first, but they didn’t give her much of a choice anyway, and they’d promised her answers, told her of a third skill she wasn’t aware of that allowed her to simply watch and literally learn how to use weapons, won her over with a training ground to hone her new skills freely.
viii.
song mijoo was never loyal to anyone, to any place, always moving, always ready to drop someone at the drop of a hat. her father had broken her long before she had a chance to be put together, taught her how to be selfish, independent. but with the compound, with others who were like her, supernatural and strange, she felt like she had a purpose beyond getting money. she felt like she had some sort of makeshift family that would bail her out if she got in trouble – especially when they were grouped into teams, appointing her (and her partner) as some sort of leader.
it was a strange feeling at first, and she still mainly trusted herself first and foremost, struggling to trust all the new recruits as they came in one by one until they were twenty-six. but as months passed, the strange feeling dissipated and, at least tentatively, she learned to trust her team and the compound.
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