Post by reinhart on Dec 24, 2011 4:06:02 GMT -5
OOC
IGN: cardboardlion
Age: 24
Role-Play Exp.: More than I care to admit lol. Being a kid of the internet generation, I started RPing in AOL chat rooms on my (then speedy!) 56k modem, eventually working my way to various rp forums. Haven't RPed too much lately but to give you an idea of that time span, adds up to almost 8 years of rp experience.
Why Us: The most obvious and honest answer is I'm a huge TES fan and a fan of Skyrim as well. Also, I haven't yet had the opportunity to RP in minecraft and would love to try it out, needless to say I can more than follow the rules and hold my own in-game.
Time You Can Dedicate: Depends as I go to law school. Some days are better than worse, if I had to give an average, at least 5-8 hours a week, sometimes more, rarely less.
IC
Name: Reinhart Silver-Hilt
Race: Nord/Werewolf
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance: Tall and gruff with a stocky muscular build. Has deep green eyes, shaggy unkempt dark brown hair and full beard.
Fears: Arachnids, ranging from giant frostbite spiders to your every day house spider.
Personality: A man of few words, Reinhart prefers to keep to himself. He isn't known to have any friends or even acquaintances though his rough demeanor wears down and his lips loosen after a few too many mugs of mead.
Occupation: Blacksmith (specializing in the crafting of Silver weaponry and armor).
Skills: Armorer, One-handed, Heavy Armor, Block
RP Example (Add Dialogue):
The night air in the bog was thick with the soft green glow being emitted from the fungal spore pods. Reinhart could feel the cool perspiration building up on his forehead. His breathing was labored, he had spent the better part of the past two months searching for the beast and tonight he finally faced its cold yellow unforgiving eyes.
Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline coursed through his body, "You bastard! I will have him back!" A gleam of silver reflected in the moonlight off his blade as he unsheathed it. The werewolf let out a piercing howl, the deep scar running from the tip of its snout to the bottom of its lip glistening. Seemingly springing off its powerful hind legs, the beast lunged at Reinhart. Bared claws met cold silver as the two clashed. As the two struggled the beast suddenly recoiled, more likely due to the resilience of the sword rather than Reinhart's. Seeing his opportunity, Reinhart dashed forward, burying the blade deep in the beast's side. Reinhart let out a fearsome yell, "Skjyndor! Free yourself!"
The blade lay buried in the beast's side, 'He seems weakened, yet, nothing is happening...could the oracle have been wrong?' he thought to himself. Momentarily losing his footing, the beast overpowered him. His blade flew free as the cursed wolf pinned him down, powerful jaws now locked in his shoulder. "Not like this old friend, I promised if it came to this, only one of us would die tonight." With the last of his strength slowly fleeing his body, Reinhart gripped the hilt of his blade, running it straight through the beast's throat. He felt the pain in his shoulder subside. As his vision faded, he caught a glimpse of the werewolf's limp body lying immediately next to his, the exposed tip of the blade now glowing a deep red.
"The blood now courses through your veins. Come forward, for the endless hunt beckons my hound..." Reinhart startles awake in a cold sweat as the vision of the spear-wielding masked man fades. As he tries to sit up, the sharp pain in his shoulders shoots through his body. Immediately lying back down, he notices the torn bandages strewn across his shoulder, back and arms. The familiar scent of leather and fried fish fill the air as he looks around the small tent he now finds himself in. "Good, you're awake," says a sly Khajit, now hovering over him. "I've taken the liberty to keep that fine blade of yours, as well as 300 coins from you pouch as payment for my...services. No other thanks is required for saving your life."
Backstory: Reinhart Silver-Hilt comes from a long lineage of Nords skilled particularly in the extraction and production of silver ore. Encompassing the finest housewares to the most potent weaponry and protection against the undead and the mystical, Reinhart's customers range from nobles to werewolf and vampire hunters.
Never caring much for familial bonds, Reinhart had left the small village on the Eastern side of the continent and his family behind when he felt he had learned all he could from them. Slowly making his way West and building his renown and wealth as a silver smith, Reinhart eventually settled in Markath, a city where the ground itself is said to run deep with silver.
After a recent excursion to a the swamps North of Morthal, Reinhart has been withdrawn more than usual. Speaking sparingly and only as necessary, he hopes to keep the beast he now bottles inside him a secret from all, most of all, his customers.
IGN: cardboardlion
Age: 24
Role-Play Exp.: More than I care to admit lol. Being a kid of the internet generation, I started RPing in AOL chat rooms on my (then speedy!) 56k modem, eventually working my way to various rp forums. Haven't RPed too much lately but to give you an idea of that time span, adds up to almost 8 years of rp experience.
Why Us: The most obvious and honest answer is I'm a huge TES fan and a fan of Skyrim as well. Also, I haven't yet had the opportunity to RP in minecraft and would love to try it out, needless to say I can more than follow the rules and hold my own in-game.
Time You Can Dedicate: Depends as I go to law school. Some days are better than worse, if I had to give an average, at least 5-8 hours a week, sometimes more, rarely less.
IC
Name: Reinhart Silver-Hilt
Race: Nord/Werewolf
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance: Tall and gruff with a stocky muscular build. Has deep green eyes, shaggy unkempt dark brown hair and full beard.
Fears: Arachnids, ranging from giant frostbite spiders to your every day house spider.
Personality: A man of few words, Reinhart prefers to keep to himself. He isn't known to have any friends or even acquaintances though his rough demeanor wears down and his lips loosen after a few too many mugs of mead.
Occupation: Blacksmith (specializing in the crafting of Silver weaponry and armor).
Skills: Armorer, One-handed, Heavy Armor, Block
RP Example (Add Dialogue):
The night air in the bog was thick with the soft green glow being emitted from the fungal spore pods. Reinhart could feel the cool perspiration building up on his forehead. His breathing was labored, he had spent the better part of the past two months searching for the beast and tonight he finally faced its cold yellow unforgiving eyes.
Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline coursed through his body, "You bastard! I will have him back!" A gleam of silver reflected in the moonlight off his blade as he unsheathed it. The werewolf let out a piercing howl, the deep scar running from the tip of its snout to the bottom of its lip glistening. Seemingly springing off its powerful hind legs, the beast lunged at Reinhart. Bared claws met cold silver as the two clashed. As the two struggled the beast suddenly recoiled, more likely due to the resilience of the sword rather than Reinhart's. Seeing his opportunity, Reinhart dashed forward, burying the blade deep in the beast's side. Reinhart let out a fearsome yell, "Skjyndor! Free yourself!"
The blade lay buried in the beast's side, 'He seems weakened, yet, nothing is happening...could the oracle have been wrong?' he thought to himself. Momentarily losing his footing, the beast overpowered him. His blade flew free as the cursed wolf pinned him down, powerful jaws now locked in his shoulder. "Not like this old friend, I promised if it came to this, only one of us would die tonight." With the last of his strength slowly fleeing his body, Reinhart gripped the hilt of his blade, running it straight through the beast's throat. He felt the pain in his shoulder subside. As his vision faded, he caught a glimpse of the werewolf's limp body lying immediately next to his, the exposed tip of the blade now glowing a deep red.
"The blood now courses through your veins. Come forward, for the endless hunt beckons my hound..." Reinhart startles awake in a cold sweat as the vision of the spear-wielding masked man fades. As he tries to sit up, the sharp pain in his shoulders shoots through his body. Immediately lying back down, he notices the torn bandages strewn across his shoulder, back and arms. The familiar scent of leather and fried fish fill the air as he looks around the small tent he now finds himself in. "Good, you're awake," says a sly Khajit, now hovering over him. "I've taken the liberty to keep that fine blade of yours, as well as 300 coins from you pouch as payment for my...services. No other thanks is required for saving your life."
Backstory: Reinhart Silver-Hilt comes from a long lineage of Nords skilled particularly in the extraction and production of silver ore. Encompassing the finest housewares to the most potent weaponry and protection against the undead and the mystical, Reinhart's customers range from nobles to werewolf and vampire hunters.
Never caring much for familial bonds, Reinhart had left the small village on the Eastern side of the continent and his family behind when he felt he had learned all he could from them. Slowly making his way West and building his renown and wealth as a silver smith, Reinhart eventually settled in Markath, a city where the ground itself is said to run deep with silver.
After a recent excursion to a the swamps North of Morthal, Reinhart has been withdrawn more than usual. Speaking sparingly and only as necessary, he hopes to keep the beast he now bottles inside him a secret from all, most of all, his customers.
