Post by Opinicus on Dec 9, 2012 2:42:24 GMT
Opinicus, Son of Eliel
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Species: Human Mix. Father Red Gaurd/ Mother Bretan
Birthplace: Cyridill
Current Residence: Skyrim (will update as I find his home naturaly)
Birthday: 2nd of frostfall 4 Era 174
Sexuality: Straight
Religion: Worships Meridia
Guardian Stone: Mages Stone
Faction: Has no faction
Faction Position: N/A
Superior Ability: Magic.
Two Strongest Abilities: Destruction. Alteration.
Strong Abilities One handed/Swords Prodominance. Restoration.
Weak Abilities: Illusion. Conjuration.
Other, if applicable: Enchanting. Alchemy. Blocking. Can also play the lute and flute.
Appearance: Opinicus' is a mixed race human. His mother, Tesa is a breton, and his father, Eliel, was a Red Gaurd. His mother's genenolagy clearly gave him the lions share of his features, as he is fair skined and his face is fairly breton in nature. His size was all Eliel however, and throughout his life, he was generally mistaken for a very large Nord. The only other noticable aspect that Opinicus' body had taken from his father, would be his hair. It is very dark, course and long. The most popular opinion is that it resembles a horses tail.
His face is lean, and stark. Opinicus doesn't have a friendly face, dispite his good attitude. His mother kept close watch over him and throughout his life he has not retained any heavy scaring. Other than being naturally tall, Opinicus is of solid stock. I see him as a cross between Conan (the new one) and Aeamir(karl urbans character) from lord of the rings.
Personality: Opinicus has had tunnel vision most of his life, due to his mother's driving force. The one thing he craves is acceptance and praise. He does not take rebuke well. He has tendancies to touch the world around him, if he can play with something, he will. Tinkering/reverse engeneering is one of his strong points. He is very smart, but he has little experiance, so his real world aplication remians untested. He dreams of glory secretly, though you'd be hard pressed to get him to admit it openly. He has spent virtually no time interacting with any general population, so he isn't very good with people.
Eliel was a strict Imperial Legate, and Opinicus carries some of his father's airs around with him. Though his father taught him disipline and hard work, his mother has also shown him power and reverance. Both his parents worshiped Meridia, and he fell into it unquestioningly. His strict sense of loyalty came from both his parents, and it is perhaps his most prodominant personality point. His word is everything to him, and his pride cannot be tarnished by braking his word, although to be honest, Opinicus does not easily hand his oath out.
Though his mother, and other teachers, impressed upon him the importance of understanding a wide array of magic, Opinicus has zero tolerance for the undead, therefore summuning spells tend to dissagree with him, and on this issue, he has been known to be somewhat combatitive.
Opinicus has little want to continue with study, he has grown weary of being instructed, and yearns to go into the world to prove himself. In his mind, he has never acomplished any worthy deed, and his magical instructers are vigilant reminders to him that his attitude is becoming more dangerous as he becomes more powerful. Even his father, prior to his death, and other Imperials have noted that Opinicus has become to preocupied as of late, and that has become too aroagant because of his natural talents.
History: This story actually begins with Opinicus father, though I will try to spend as little time on him as I can. Eliel began Opinicus down the road of an Imperial soldier from his youngest age. He was seven when his father began forcing swordplay at him, regardless of how well he was at it, and by the age of nine, he had moved on to sword and sheild combanations. Opinicus, or Nicus, spent his twighlight years in grooming to become an Imperial officer, just as his father before him, and his father's father before that. He learned to ride, care for, and break in the hardy horses of the north years before he could climb onto one without the aid of a stool. Nicus sprouted late in life, and it made his father nervouse for his son's fate, and for his own honor.
Eliel being a Red Gaurd, as well as a young Legate, was more than tough on his fair skinned child, determined to prove his son was superior to his brothers' 'untainted' children. You see Tesa, his wife, was a Bretan, and a powerful mage. Physically she was of small stature, and fair as any woman of the court. The couple, though madly in love with each other, were like the night and the day. However, her talent in magic was unquestionable, and it had curried favor for her from the royal family. His family dared not speak against her openly for fear of either her hand, or that of the Empress.
That's not to say that his family dissaproved of Tesa, all his family rather enjoyed her. It was Opinicus who was the outcast. As Nicus was so fair skinned, and had such bretish features, his extended family treated him as though he were adopted rather than blood-born. This never sat well with Eliel, thus, it became a thorn in Nicus' side for years to come as he was rasied harder than any other child in the Imperial capital.
Imperial war changed the life of Opinicus in a very real, and very radical way. Eliel was brought down by Orismer archers in the late spring of the 187th year of the 4th Era, and his mother, Tesa, was devestated. She forbid him to join the Imperial Gaurd even though he was to begin his career as an officer only two years later. Tesa used her influence in the royal court to see that he would never serve the legion, and thus he was denined what seemed to him his birthright.
Tesa began instructing Opinicus in the school of alteration when she finished her period of mourning, early in the winter of 88. Much to everyones surprise, Nicus developed his new practice with relative ease. He became very adept with the ability to levitate items, and his mother took great pleasure in instructing him in everything that she knew. Over the next fifteen years, Opinicus would learn a about the five schools of magic. Much to his mother's dismay, his primary interest was in destruction, she had allowed him to be tutored by mages of the court, and as a side-effect, he learned how to manipulate those around him to his will, as is custom of the political mages in Cyridill, who's tounges and lies were far more powerful than their bolts.
By last year, well over a decade of his life spent in the teachings of political mages, Opinicus started going backwards. He had grown far more powerful than one might expect in his condition. Be there was no reason for him to continue with magic, and his love for it had diminished emphatically. His favorite teacher, the High Elf Lasona of the Thalmor, took a special interest in him. It was she who taugh him to harness fire far beyond simple gouts of flames. She worked her skills heavily apon him to flush out his skills with fire and lightning. She also began to teach him about enchantments, and how they could have all sorts of usefull combinations. Tesa offered Lasona payment and crowns for getting her child back into his studies, but the High Elf declined for Opinicus' sake. For Tesa, that should have been the sign to pay closer attention. Alas, she did not see untill it was too late.
Through Lasona's skillfull hands, Nicus could now charge a spell of fire into a concentrated burst that, when it hit, would do far more than a simple washing of flames, it would burn like a superheated coal. If he charged it correctly, it would even explode! He learned how to cast lighting bolts that would sear a man to his core, and how to hold the lightings tips to the air, and make it jump from one target to another. She taught him alchemy, and potions, and the importance of things that grow. Nicus favored her greatly above all his other instructors, and rumors began to circulate. Tesa became wary of Lasona's doting on her son, and with a great deal of wisperings in her ear, worried of the time they spent alone in the last years.
Late in the two hundreath and second year of the fourth Era, Opinicus and Lasona dissapeared entirely for near of a week. Nicus came home telling of a trip to the forest where he showed rare herbs, and rich honey of taste his mother did not know. Lasona appeared a short time later, but she gave no excuses or reasons for her absence. Lasona even scolded her, when Tesa tried to question the high elf, sternly warning her to stay out of Thalmor affairs. Tesa implored her son to stay clear of the Thalmor harlot, and focus on his studies, but the more she pressed, the closer the two got. Opinicus had never known that such things in life could bring out such quality to living, and he began to lose interest in magic yet again. He tried to reason with his mother that he would serve the Empire far better in the courts, as she did, rather than waste away in libraries and towers.
His mother interceded for her son for a second time, determined to see him away from this life she had put him into. Tesa went the the Empress herself, and begged her to send away the Thalmor. The queen refused her, but offered instead a different solution. With Opinicus being such a powerful mage at such a young age, she recommended that he be enrolled at a mages college, perhaps one far away. Tesa agreed to this, and together, they picked the college the Empress' niece had attended years before, in Winterhold of Skyrim.
So it came to pass that Opinicus departed from his life yet again, at the tail end of the 202nd year, of the 4th Era. Despite everything, he was excited. While his mother had reveled in her desition, three nights before he was to leave, Lasona secretly met with Opinicus and told him that she would soon come for him in Skyrim. She encouraged him to stay vigilent, and to continue his studies. She told him of the powerful Archmage in the College of Winterhold, and how strong he would become under such tutleage.
Lasona shared her plan with him, that it required him to become far more powerful. He would have to master every Arcane Art. That in time, she would bring hime to a shrine in Skyrim, a place of anchent sacrifice, where she could plead with the deadric gods to extend Opinicus' life. Then they would not be parted. That night in secret, they gave each other their solemn oath, and consimated themselfs to each other. Lasona's oath was swarn on her firstborn daughter's life, that she would buy Opinicus' soul from the gods. And Opinicus swore that he would prepare her way, by mastering all he could find. With his spirits lifted, Nicus set off for Skyrim, to seek knowleage and glory. To seek his own life, far... far away from his families reach, never to return again.
Roleplay Sample:
Jason emerged in his imaginary world running. He didn't have time to figure out why, but he knew if he didn't keep moving forward, and get away, he would be forced back to that, That island. Here, here is where the answers were. And here is where he'd stay.
The road ahead was filled with people, nothing like he'd ever seen, but as familiar as if he could recall every detail. A younger world, still yearning to come into its own. Jason could see signs above shops and bricks hanging out against the walls around him. Shops selling merchandise of metal, and of cloth, and leeches. The renaissance of Italy. Many shouts came from behind. His legs groaned, his arms strained, his lungs burned, but he pushed on. The sword was coming, he remembered, the same sword that had killed him six times now.
The narrow path was opening, it was going to end. For at the end of it was a waist high wall, followed by a drop straight down, maybe twenty feet. His feet began to give way. Jason remembered the sword. This time was different, this time he wanted past, he wanted to get away. He forced his feet, he forced his nerve, Jason got to the wall, and jumped up the lip of the rail, then jumped off in faith that everything would be all right if only he got past the sword. He fell only twenty feet, but it seemed like a hundred. His body twisted in the air, and he turned to see the ground behind him rushing up!
The impact was brutal, but not as bad as he might have imagined. His body ironically landed atop a merchant’s awning. He rolled off the thick canvas to the hard pavement below, stone and mortar worn smooth from time and sandals. The guards stood at the rail above yelling a call to arms. More guards came pushing through the crowd, forcing their way to him bellowing out orders. One was very pale, and seemed to be the leader. Jason didn't know what to do, and again, as with the sword, and the unnatural fight he’d had with himself back on that beach, the world began to disperse. He let go, let go of doubt, and of his actions.
Then, before he realized what had happened, the young runner had the sword at his hip pulled out, and he lashed out at the first guard in sight, his sword panging uselessly off the guards armor. He turned again, and ran. This was familiar, he knew this place. It was Roma, his home. He turned down a short alley between a warehouse and a forge and got to the end of it without as much as two strides. Once at the end, he instinctively ran up the wall a step, then caught a notch in the wall under his right foot, and pushed off. Twisting in air, he grabbed a beam that would have been out of reach if he hadn't gotten that extra little boost.
He held on tight, pulling himself up onto a support brace, for a walkway above, it must have connected two roofs. His hands felt natural as he reached out and clasped the bottom of a rail, and pulled himself up onto the walkway. He tried to stay calm, but the guards were already shouting that he was back above them, and his original four pursuers were after him. He pushed a lady out of his way, turning his eyes back in front of himself, only to catch the chest of another man, and the two of them fell together. There was no time to apologize, the guards were now upon him, weapons drawn. He backed up with his hands, and rolled to his right. Using his knee, he lifted himself and ran for a nearby well.
It was the Well of Ulisa, not known for its pure water, but then, which was? How he knew that it had only been here for three years, he did not know. But the knowledge was there, suddenly, and accurately. He knew there were two benches, each adjacent to a separate inside edge of another wall. And that again, it was a drop. Only this time, the drop was too far to survive. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name.
The four pursuers were at him. He turned round in time to see them run up, covering all directions. Drawing his blade to guard, the runner faced his pursuers. A soldier to his left attacked high from his sword hand, bringing down a force that would surely have cut to the bone. Bringing a shunt to bear with his saber, the two swords collided with a metallic scream. He had broken the attack far too close to his own vital organs, and took note of the feeling when the two blades scraped through the block, chipping the away at edges of themselves. Leaving just a few more notches to the history of iron. Alas, his pursuit had ended, and at length, he was no closer to salvation now, than at his deadly sword of six.
"Dear God, help me." He whispered.
A man walked forward from the crowd one foot in front of the other. He walked in plain sight of the runner, but behind the guards. He wore white robes, with a single glinting steel spaulder armoring his left shoulder. It was richly ordained with designs of flames and feathers. Over each forearm were bracers of the same metal, again designs of eagles and broken triangles. The fabric was thick, and looked to have many seems, the same could be said for his cape, worn over his left arm, under the armor. When the sun hit him full on, the design of the robes blended so well, you might not see the armor at all. A hood covered his head, casting an omniscient shadow across his face. Deep red broke the dull of white at his collar, under his cape, at his belt, a sash under a sash, and at his flanks. To simply walk, this may well have been the most impressive man one could see.
As he came closer, two more men in similar white came forward, each behind the outer most soldiers, each cupping a silent hand over their prey's mouth. With the smoothest of motions, they merely stretched their palms into the small of the back, and the soldiers simply fell away lifeless. It was fast, but somehow, it happened slowly. The man in white was so calm, that it was a shock to see such an outburst when he broke into motion. He smashed one of the remaining soldiers behind the kneecap with his right boot, sending the bones to the pavement, exerting a loud crack. No doubt to anyone, that the leg was now lame. The last solider to the right of the man turned with his torso, surprised to say the least. The guard's left arm was outstretched in defense from the runner, so that when he turned, it was neatly pointed at the white robed man. The robed man came to the right, and brought his arm up with stunning speed, straight to his elbow, up with his wrist, clawing the soldiers arm from the air. His left foot came around, and brought his whole body closer, throwing the fullest of force behind an open palmed attack against the soldier's ribs with his left hand. A short jerk could be seen going through the soldier. The robed man turned again with such speed as one could only imagine and smashed his fist into the collarbone of the broken guard at his feet.
When he finished, it was like a statuette. The robed man was paused at the killing blow. The kneeling soldier was fading on his knee. The two men turned on their heels even before their prey had finished falling. And the forth soldier was already in the afterlife, leaving his body to diminish when it lost balance. The most unbelievable display of perfection, he had ever witnessed.
The young man was a bit overwhelmed at the simple imposing walk of the white robed man as he stood straight, and regally strolled towards him. A walk that would seem more at home in a gallery of aristocracy. Not in a shallow pool of warm blood. The first time he spoke with him, it was as simple as it was complicated. He wasn’t sure how to address a man that could have as easily dispatched his life as he was taking those soft steps. With only a few moments to choose his response, he opted to take a knee, a showing of both respect, and submittal. The least aggressive response which seemed available.
“The time has come to reclaim Roma, join us and our cause.”
The man introduced himself with an open hand, an extension of friendship, and also a chance at revenge. But why choose in this manner? Why pick a stranger on a street, knowing nothing more than that he would stand up against guards? He pressed his concern.
“Mi scusi signore, but, who are you?” He asked.
“Mi chiamo Ezio Auditore de Firenze. What is your name il mio amico“
“Vitale Damato de Cordoba” It came as smoothly and easily as ‘Jason’ would have.
“Cordoba? Interesting, that is a great journey from here. How did you get so far from home?” Ezio asked with narrowed eyes. Not in suspicion, but a genuine interest. A man on the edge of information.
Vitale decided to be forthright. “Mi padre was a citizen of Cordoba when I was born, though I was raised here in Roma. Mi familia had no great wealth or ambition there. Mi padre was arrested for taking some of our neighbors livestock for us to eat. The next dawn, he was executed for heresy to the church. After this… mi madre fled here, to live with our uncle. I was raised only a few streets from this very well.” Vitale answered turning and gesturing down the narrow street. “This cause you speak of, will I be shown how to vanquish my enemies as you do?”
“And how to pick them.” Ezio answered. Not too quickly, but certainly without hesitation. It was fair to say Jason, or… Vitale, liked Ezio from the start. “We are working to liberate Roma from the Borgia who now reside here like a plague. As you aid this cause, you will learn more than simple violence.”
Vitale smiled as they walked. They were walking and chatting like he was already a recruit. Though, neither truly knew anything of the other, and there were still warm bodies bleeding out on the pavement behind them. Nonetheless, it actually felt… right. He maintained a steady smile, “I will join you Ezio Auditore. For I have long awaited the opportunity to join a cause larger than myself.”
Ezio stopped in the street and turned to face him. “Eccellenza Vitale, tomorrow morning then, meet me at the base of the Colle Palatino.
Vitale watched Ezio as he turned and strolled away into the crowd. He smiled thinly, yet with a warm heart. Again, he looked over the deceased not far from him and replayed the events of the afternoon. Interesting that Ezio asked for no reason as to his chase. The morning would bring many questions. Vitale burned with questions. He strode away to think.
Alias: Onas
Experience: Two years
Contact: Pm should be fine. Or you can message Terry Shananagins on Facebook. I won't friend you, but I will respond to all messages.
Read more:http://elderscrolls5.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=registration&action=display&thread=23#ixzz2EWDCrkQm
