Baroth Hermingfel
"A single chance is a galaxy of hope..."
NAME Baroth Hermingfel
AGE ? (looks 50)
BIRTH DATE 5th of Morning Star, Turdas.
BIRTH PLACE Atmora
BIRTH SIGN The Warrior
ORIGIN Nord
CLASS Knight
Honor and Loyalty. Sacrifice and Friendship. Being the purest of all fighters, the Knight is a mix of both Honor and Sacrifice. In battle, it is not anger or revenge that drives a knight but Honor and Loyalty to his comrades that pushes a Knight to continue the fight. Fighting with honorable weapons such as the sword and shield, the Knight is a fighter to be reckoned with. (Sorry guys, couldn't think of anything else for the Knight class)
GENDER Male
HEIGHT 5'5
WEIGHT 225 pounds
LATERALITY Left-Handed
SEXUALITY Straight
MARTIAL STATUS Single
HEALTH Well
AFFILIATION None
AFFLICTIONS Lycanthropy, Vampirism
RELIGION Nine Divines
PATRON DEITIES Talos, Shor, Stendarr
DIALOGUE COLOR
WhiteAPPEARANCE
HAIR Long and Dirty Blonde, hangs slightly past his shoulders. Well-groomed beard.
EYE COLOR Light brown
SKIN COLOR Fair-skinned like his kin; slightly pale due to his mixed diseases
BUILD Average
SCARS One across his chest
Physical Being a nord, Baroth has taned skin, like his kin. He has brown eyes and dirty blonde hair that reaches his shoulders. His frame is muscular and well kept, considering all he endured. His health is well, as he doesn't drink mead and wine that often. Overall, his phsique is in good shape and his body isn't yet useless.
PERSONALITY
POSITIVE TRAITS Humble, focused, mature, likable, kind, peaceful
NEGATIVE TRAITS anxious, naïve, skeptical
LIKES Meditating, sweet rolls, fresh fruit juice, dwemer technology, practicing sword skills
DISLIKES Arrogance, politics, being underestimated, extreme heat,
FEARS Spiders, caves, getting lost, failure, vampires, werewolves
ASPIRATIONS Help as many people as possible, see the world, recreate dwemer technology, strengthen his mind, body and spirit.
QUIRKS Shakes slightly when scared.
Baroth is a down-to-earth guy. All he asks is that you be yourself. Now, that goes without saying that he can’t stand arrogant, corrupt or evil folk. They don’t click well with him. Even so, he has the restraint to not outright lash out at them. In fact, it takes quite a bit for Baroth to get angry. He doesn’t have a temper but once he does get angry or upset, it takes a bit of time for him to finally cool off.
Although he’s naturally curious and wishes to explore and travel, Baroth can’t help but be afraid of the unknown. Skyrim is a dangerous place, riddled with strife and adversity. One wrong move could easily spell your death. However, this hasn’t completely stopped Baroth from pursuing his desire to travel.
COMBAT DIAGNOSTIC
SKILLS
Master
One-handed, Block, Heavy Armor
Expert
Two handed, Healing, Destruction
Adept
Other Magic Schools, Stealth Skills
Novice
Light armor, Archery, Lockpicking
GEAR
Steel armor set.
Steel Sword and shield.
Knapsack.
Ancient Atmoran Armor.
Ancient Atmoran Sword.
Variety of potions and scrolls (54 of each)
Assorted food and wine (15 of each)
HISTORY
Being born in the ravaged, worn-torn continent of Atmora, Baroth was doomed to die. If the War didn't kill you, the wildlife surely would. Wolves, bears, sabercats, horkers. Ancestors to the modern day wildlife gracing Skyrim's breath-taking landscapes. This land was to be both feared and respected, though it's inhabitants beg to differ. Blood is constantly spilled, brother turning on sister, sister turning on mother, Father turning on son. Baroth had lost his parents in this war, killed by a rather large regiment of soldiers, their house sacked and burned; he was left with nothing but the clothes on his back. So, determined to live past the war, Baroth found the hollowed-out tree stump his father made, took the iron gear within, and went on his way.
Inn to inn, tavern to tavern, Baroth traveled the countryside, constantly running from the war that was hot on his heels. It had been almost twenty years since his parents had been killed, and he had just barely survived. Until, at last, he came to it. When all hope had faded beyond recall or desire, he saw it. Gleaming in the distance, shining in the sun, a beacon of hope that warmed Baroth's ever-cold heart. Ysgramor's palace. He knew, being a fellow Nord, Ysgramor would surely help him. Give him supplies, food, rest, armor, a horse maybe. He was so joyed to see it, he almost shed a tear. Almost. Rumor had spread that a visionary, and anyone who desired to follow him, was sailing to the south, in hopes of finding a better life. It appeared he and Baroth were very much alike. As soon as he was done here, he could head over to the visionary and leave this cursed land for good. Hopefully.
When he began the long walk there, he heard a scream somewhere far behind him. It sounded like a woman. Going to investigate, he found a stone tower in the dense woods, shrouded in a hint of darkness and, death. Entering like the fool he was, and going down the long stairs and winding pathways as quiet as possible, he stumbled upon a sickening sight. Two men were undressing in front of a tied up princess, at least that's what one of them called her, and he knew exactly what they were gonna do. While the princess struggled to get loose, he quietly crept down the stairwell to the room she was located in, and killed both the men. As he finished the last man, he looked over at the princess. Her beauty was beyond detail. She seemed to have an aura of peace and tranquility about her that forced Baroth to stop dead in his tracks. Her eyes searched his ragged soul for hope, as she shed a single tear down her cheek. He was baffled at the mere sight of this woman, and could only stare into her eyes, looking for an answer to her beauty.
Suddenly, heavy, armored footsteps sounded behind him, and he could only turn to see a soldier ram him out a nearby window. His world spun wildly, the trees swinging this way and that, before he hit the ground. As the darkness cleared, he heard the princess' voice far off somewhere. "Stay right there, i'm coming to get you!" He heard her say, before his vision ultimately cleared up. Although The other man was dead, fallen on his neck, Baroth felt a sore spot on his waist. He sat up as the princess came running towards him and, surprisingly, her bonds had been cut. She must have been working on them while the bandits were preparing to, well, you know. She slowed in her run, covering her mouth with both hands cupped. "Oh no. Oh gods no..." He was curious to why she was so worried all of the sudden, and looked down at his bloody waist.
In the fall, he must have landed on a shard of glass, because he was bleeding out like there was no tomorrow. He reached down and grabbed the shard of glass, when the princess' soft, firm hand stopped him from pulling it out. "No. That will only accelerate the bleeding. Leave it until we get to the city. I have a horse not far from here. Can you stand?" Her heavenly, also firm voice asked him. "Yea....can you help me up?" He asked her, raising his hand up towards her. She nodded and met his hand, pulling him clear to his feet. Strong. Like any Nord woman. He put his arm on her shoulder and leaned on her as she led him through the dense woods to her horse. Unless he was mistaken somehow, that was a Destrier Horse, rarest of all horse breeds. How she got one, however, was not the question right now.
He mounted the steed after the princess and they rode off, towards the gold-diamond palace of Ysgramor. Nearing the city, however, Baroth started feeling woozy, a first sign he was going into an unconscious state from the bleeding. He had little time. And as the city's Gold-Diamond gates backed open, he slipped into unconsciousness and fell off the side of the horse. Awaking in the infirmary, Baroth immediately wanted to thank the princess for what she had done. But, like in any other infirmary, the nurse told him to stay put until he was all healed up. The princess, Joldi was her name as she told him, checked in from time to time, making sure he was alive and well. Ysgramor checked in as well, having only short time to talk but much to say.
Over the next ten years of stay at the palace, Baroth was well fed, well taken care of, and well supplied. Seasons came and went, holidays flew by, and the days crept on. Though, in these ten years, he developed a sort of, relationship, with Joldi. They would talk more, and hang around each other more, and sit in the gardens district, discussing the war and the visionary's ship. They both wanted to go, but needed only wait until Ysgramor was ready to go. Then they could both be together, get married, have children even. Speaking of children, he and Joldi had a child on the way. He kept insisting HE was a boy, and she kept saying SHE was a girl. But they never fought over it. He was soft then. Soft for her. Then, that one night rolled around. The night before his birthday.
He heard a crash, like a vase being shattered, and he sat up in his bed. He decided he would investigate, after a moment of forethought, and quickly stood up to get dressed. He slipped into his casual midnight tunic (A.K.A Pajamas), And walked out of his room, into the hall, and towards the throne room door. After opening and closing the door, Baroth looked about the room. Recent signs of battle and struggle hung all over the room and Wuuthrad, Ysgramor's favored weapon, was embedded in the diamond floor. The feasting table normally found in the center of the room, was flipped, and the pair of guards found at the four doors of the room lay dead in heaps. Along with the guards, men garbed in black robes line the floor, no doubt Ysgramor's doing. The princess was on her knees in front of the steps leading to the throne, her hands were bound and her face wet from crying. Ysgramor was on his throne, a few scars and cuts but otherwise unharmed, his hands also bound.
Before Baroth could do anything, he felt a hard smack on the back of his head and he fell forward, unconscious. He woke to see his own hands bound, on his knees, with two robed men behind him a hands on his shoulders. Then, as he looked up, he saw it. A beast he'd never seen before. It was pale, though a little bit grey, it had wings similar to that of a bat, a massive, muscular physique, and sharp, long talons where his fingernails should be. The beast' voice was a deep, harsh whisper, warning Baroth of it's power. He spoke of how he needed Baroth for an experiment; a 'new breed' of Nightspawns. A hybrid.
"Usually", He explained, "The virus would kill the host within seconds, eliminating any chance of a hybrid. But since you are a middle aged man, you should be able to handle the process. I hope." He nodded to the two men behind Baroth, who stepped in front of him, both grinning ear to ear. One of them suddenly hurled over, like as if his stomach was aching. He bursted into a black flash of energy, and all that stood in his place was a black beast. It's body resembled that of a wolf, the head more than any other body part; the had black fur all over, long claws, sharp teeth, and the tail of a wolf, all at twice his original size. A beast to be reckoned with. "Begin." The pale beast said, before the black beast bit into his wrist. The other man bit into his wrist but didn't transform.
Almost immediately, Baroth felt the effects of the combined diseases. His sense felt at their height, yet he had no balance when he tried to stand. He fell on his side, his vision a blurry haze, as he watched the pale beast glide towards Joldi. He landed by her side, bending down to her neck, all the while, staring at Baroth. "Though this power does come at the cost of...." He grinned as Baroth knew what he was about to do. Joldi said nothing, only stared into Baroth's eyes, as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "....loss." He finished, biting into Joldi's neck, sucking the life out of her. Baroth couldn't move, couldn't stand, even breathing was hard. Ysgramor was, angry to put it lightly, and bursted past the few men in his way, heading straight to the pale beast himself.
The beast reacted quickly by dropping the princess, grabbing Ysgramor by the throat, and throwing him towards the western door. Just then, the doors bursted open, and the city guard poured in, taking a good score of the robed men before the battle began. Being heavily outnumbered, the pale beast turned to retreat, seeing it as his best option. Before he retreated however, he left eh the good people with a few words. "YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME!!! I AM ODMING!!! THE FIRST OF MANY!!! MILLIONS MORE SHALL WALK IN MY FOOTSTEPS!!! WE WILL MEET AGAIN, BAROTH." Before he flapped his wings, crashing through the ceiling and into the night sky.
Darkness took Baroth, and all around him was nothingness. He saw but one faint light in the distance, and like the fool he was, he ran for it. The closer he got to it, was the further away it seemed to go. Until, suddenly, when he was five feet away, it went out. He felt a hand wrap around his neck, raising him off his feet, and into the chilly air. Then, the light was right on top of him and he could see his attacker. It was the pale beast he saw earlier. "You can run. You can pretend you fight for good cause. You can become a knight even. But you will ALWAYS belong to me. You're mine now, Baroth Hermingfel. Now.....and for all eternity." He said, before slamming Baroth into the ground, waking him up.
The next day, Baroth awoke to the whole castle in a bustle. Maids were clearing out the kitchens, guards clearing out the barracks, and nurses clearing out the infirmaries. This was when Ysgramor called him to the throne room. He spoke of how the visionary was setting sail in a few days and that he was emptying the city so he could take as many people as possible to the new land to the south. Baroth apologized and apologized about Joldi, but Ysgramor simply shook his head and asked Baroth if he was going with them. He actually had the think about it, considering he kinda felt like he belonged here, but at the same time he wanted to get out of here. Let's face it, the answer is obvious. Baroth agreed to go with Ysgramor and the visionary, prepared to get out of this madness, like he promised himself so long ago. After packing his bags and getting his gear, he had only one more place to stop before he left. The Blacksmith' shop.
A few weeks back, Baroth had put in a small request for a set of Atmoran Armor. Back then, It was quite the common gear, though only the richest could afford it, it was WELL worth the coin. Considering it gave far more protection than any steel armor ever could, and was two times lighter, it was an obvious choice. He'd need it if he was to make it across the Sea of Ghosts, and beyond the horizon. After picking up his armor set, he collected a few rewards he'd earned over the years around the city, leaving him with alot of con but nowhere to spend it. Then, the journey to the ship. It took the entire city the rest of the day to clear out and three whole days to get to the ship's location, after that, they were off. To the unknown, the south. New land, new hope, new life.
Along the ship ride, Baroth met an Atmoran in particular who said he was destined for something better than this. His name was Eliphas. He said that there was power he could tap that he'd usually only be able to dream about. He said that he deserved better than this Nordic way of life, and with that, eternal power, instead of one-time glory. The way the man spoke of power sounded almost, unnatural, like as if he were dealing with beings far beyond power of himself. Baroth dismissed himself from the conversation, convinced Eliphas was mad, and tried his best to forget about it. After all, what power could possibly be eternal?
After a perilous journey, the ships touched ground in modern day Skyrim, a snowy province of icy peaks, snow, mud, breath-taking mountains, and mighty rivers. But as they soon discovered, the province was already occupied by mer, or Snow Elves, and was thus named Mereth, in honor of them. As his fellow Atmorans grew and prospered alongside the Snow Elves, Baroth took to the mountains and caves. He was eager to explore the new land and make sure it was safe, aside from the nature life and wildlife. Upon studying one of the caves, Baroth saw a faint, glowing light at the far end of the cave. Going to investigate, and breaking down the brittle cave wall, Baroth stumbled upon a city of gold and stone. A fort of pure genius. Occupied by by a race that he soon recognized as, Dwemer.
Masterminds of crafting and smithing, the Dwemer were the most technologically sophisticated race of mortals, as Baroth found out early on. Their ability to breath life into an inorganic object simply baffled Baroth, and he was sure it would amaze his brothers and sister's back on the surface. And the one thing that really stood out about the Dwemer, was their ability to telepathically communicate. They taught Baroth this ability over the years it took to gain their trust and prepare the ceremony. He also came to meet many brilliantly minded Dwemer in his time underground. Fhelzhadm was one of them, he had a son too that worked on an amazing contraption know as the Aetherium Forge. He made so many amazingly advanced weapons, it practically rivaled the gods. Fhelzhadm was a council man on the first council, a group of the smartest Dwemer and Chimer, all gathered to plan wars and battle strategies. Over the next few years, Baroth dug deep into the Dwemer culture and lifestyle, intrigued by the way they lived. The Chimer, a newly formed splinter group of Altmer who worshiped their Daedric Gods openly, had arrived in various Dwemer forts around Tamriel. And, just like the Dwemer, they scorned and mocked the new group of mer. When Baroth fore saw a bloody war coming, he caught news of something else. Something closer to him than the Dwemer.
He had heard his kin had built their first city, Saarthal, and were living in relative peace with the Snow Elves. Until one night. The Snow Elves had slaugthered and murdered everyone in Saarthal. Everyone but Ysgramor and his two sons, Yngol and Ylgar. Dropping the Dwemer business for now, Baroth joined them on the journey back to Atmora for more help. Five hundred companions heard their story and joined them to journey back to Mereth. Once there, they drove the Snow Elves out of their own land and forced them to spread, cutting down their numbers significantly. They named the land, Skyrim. This war would be known as The Return. A few days after The Return, Baroth returned to the underground fort and continued his living amongst the Dwemer. Ysgramor wished him luck and bid him farewell with a pat on the shoulder and a hug. He named Baroth, True-Shield, in honor of his service in The Return and named him his first shield brother.
While he'd been gone, the remaining Falmer turned to the Dwemer for help, and were made slaves. The Dwemer, however, had tricked them and a generation later, the Falmer were blind. As the Snow Elves went blind, the war heated up in Morrowind, fighting over differences of religion and reason. The Dwemer preferred reason to faith, and thus, despised the ways of the Chimer. On the other hand, The Chimer were staunch Daedra worshipers, and despised the Dwemer for their reason and mockery. It seemed all out war was inevitable, but the Dwemer soon found themselves in an unlikely alliance with the Chimer. Nordic warriors had invaded Morrowind and they called for reinforcements. As the war approached, Baroth left once again, taking it as his chance to finally rank up on his melee skills and maybe even build his own house.
He built his house somewhere in what is now known as Falkreath Hold, though it burned down many centuries ago, he eventually built another in central Skyrim, near where Whiterun would be built. Sixteen years passed, and Baroth had mastered his sword, shield and heavy armor skills. He Eventually made his way back to the underground fort and found that the war had ended a week ago and had ended with a prosperous peace. Both groups had found an unprecedented prosperity. A Golden Age, but not for everyone. A group of Dwemer refused to join the first council because of their strong hatred for the Chimer. Their leader hurled a hammer across Tamriel and settled where it landed. He named the land Volenfell which later translated to, Hammerfell. Meanwhile below the icy surface of Skyrim, the tension between the Dwemer and their Falmer slaves grew significantly. After generations of enslavement, the Falmer were instigating a rebellion of their own, planning to put their masters to the sword. They called it the War Of The Crag. It lasted decades and decades, a tireless conflict. But it's what happened in those decades that matters.
During the war, Baroth served as a sort of negotiator for both sides. Laurius, a slave of Fhelzhadm, was leader of the operations and battles of the Falmer. Baroth did everything he could to convince Laurius to not attack the Dwemer. But he simply said, "Oh Baroth.....if only you were in my shoes. Then you'd understand." Baroth eventually gave up, focusing on something else that was FAR more important. The Tonal Architect Lord Kagrenac of the Dwemer constructed Kagrenac's tools to harness the powers of The Heart of Lorkhan. It was an artifact found under Red Mountain, harnessing the powers within would bring about unfathomable power. Kagrenac planned on using it to assit his kin in ascend to godhood in the form of Anumidium. Anumidium was their Brass god, a Massive, brass Centurion built by Kagrenac.
Baroth focused all his energy on stopping the Dwemer from using the powerful artifact, but he did not heed. He and his house were strong about using it and nothing Baroth said could convince them. It appears that the Chimer disagreed with Kagrenac also, and wished to stop them. So, Baroth attended the a small meeting in Dwemereth, the Dwemer's capitol city and, on that very day, the first council was shattered, and Baroth barely drafted an agreement letter. He was confident that it would work, but when he was walking to get it sent, he noticed the entire race had vanished. This left him with many questions, but no answers. Eventually, Baroth rejoined his kin above the Dwemer. He missed alot. Only by heading to the nearest library, did Baroth find out what happened.
A dragon war passed and his kin were murdered by the thousands. The Dragons, along with the help of Kyne, taught the mortals the Thu'um. So, the Nords fought back and eventually killed most of the Scaled beasts, the rest fled to remote areas. Those gifted with the Voice were known as Dragonborn. Lord Harlad, long descendant of the Legendary Ysgramor, took the throne, and centuries later, Vrage the gifted led a conquest upon all other provinces. But the conquest and the Empire ended when King Borgas, the last of Ysgramor's line, was killed during battle. So, without a leader, the empire soon fell to the elves. Later, a man named Reman Cyrodiil ushered in the second empire. But he was assassinated by a member of the Morag Tong. In the third era, a man by that name Tiber Septim and his legionnaires ushered in the third era. Talos, Tiber Septim, was the new emperor and the first mortal to ascend to godhood.
Now, stranded in the Fourth Era, Baroth looked for purpose, cause. He found it in the form of an organization known as the Knights Of Shadow. It was a non-profit guild that operated purely in favor of the people of Skyrim. He stayed in this guild until he rooted out their true purpose, Daedric Worship. Once he found out, his fellow friends that he called brother and sister tried to kill him. After defeating the guild's members, Baroth quickly and quite painfully ended their leader's life. After that, he left and joined the companions where he learned most of the skills he knows now. He stayed there for a few decades before splitting off and traveling Tamriel to see what he missed. When he got back, he decided he would be a free lance knight, help any and all who needed it, sparing none who worshiped the Daedra and other evil spirits. He sees the war as yet another conflict they will over come. Day by day, month by month, year by year, the war will end, eventually. One side or the other, someone will win eventually.
(This is a better more upgraded CC for Baroth.)
(Baroth's Atmoran Armor.)
One thing though, since this rp is in the 2nd many of the things in his back story would have not yet occurred, right? 
Nov 28, 2016 1:57:01 GMT -6
Nov 28, 2016 1:57:01 GMT -6
