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Member
Likes Given: 153
Likes Received: 244
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Khajiit
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Name: Sylven
Surname: Vedralu
Title: Fire-heart
Age: 473 years
Height: 6, 2 feet
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: A tall slender Dunmer with crimson red eyes that glint with pure malice, long oaken-brown hair that hangs in a single braid his skin is as with most Dunmer ashen grey, he is most often clad either in his suit of bonemould armour or his suit of ornate ebony armour that has been in his family for several hundred years.
Birthsign: The ritual
Sigil: Sylven uses the sign of the great house Redoran which consists of a ash hopper on a brown background.
Great house: Redoran
Personality: Sylven is sadistic cruel and sarcastic to those he meets, deeming all those who haven’t proven themselves unworthy to exist and should be dealt with as such. One of the other streaks in his personality is pride for such pride tends to come from being a member of the house Redoran, pride for his greater house and of his family.
Skills/Strengths: Sylven is a master spell sword and diplomat, having been taught by some of the best Redoran has to offer.
Weaknesses: Sylven’s real weakness is his inability to use a bow effectively, having never needed to know of such trivial things and his lack of finesse when using blunt weapons another of his flaws is his hate of having to work with others.
Build: Tall and slender an uncommon build for someone who travels Tamriel.
Loves: The arcane arts, books, solace and keen edged swords.
Hates: Outsiders and those he deems unworthy.
Religion: Worships the temple and to an extent Magnus.
Political view: Sylven is strongly against the Aldmeri Dominion as he sees it as an amalgamation of idiots and sees the dagger fall covenant as doomed to fail in its futile attempts.
Best memory: Learning magic and his first magical duel.
Equipment: A sliver sword gifted from his farther and his magically enchanted suit of Bonemould armour.
Worst memory: Seeing his brother eaten by Daeroth an act which Sylven and his family have struggled to get over.
Story/Backstory: Sylven was born In Blacklight in the north-western part of the ash covered land of Morrowind near to the homeland of the Nords.
Sylven’s farther was Relamus Arendu a powerful wizard that was head of his family. Sylven’s mother was Alaves Andrethi she was gifted in alchemy and to an extent healing and restorative magic, he has also a sister named Nadene.
At the age of four Sylven started his training in magic and to degree swordplay in the great halls of Redoran. Those who taught him took note of his, exception skills for he would get top grades from the staunchest of Redoran’s teachers in every line of magic barring the
ways of illusion and in the way of bladed weapons.
At the age of sixteen Sylven was called to the grand mage of Redoran who was a harsh stubborn old Dunmer that was widely regarded as one of the most powerful mages in the whole of the Redoran house. Sylven was eventually brought forth as the apprentice of the aged wizard there he found his skills tested to their limits but never faltering. His favourite part of the tutoring was learning of the ancients particularly the Dwemer which the young Sylven found fascinating.
But peace would not last. One weekend when Sylven was only twenty four years old he found that a great host of Imperials commanded by an insane leader named Oriton was marching upon Redoran, a breakdown of communications had left them Imperial army without messenger’s and with the last message they got stating for them to attack, somewhere near Redoran in the Northern province of Skyrim but when the Imperials made their way to Morrowind…all hell broke loose.
Sylven rushed down to the courtyards only to see chaos, Redoran’s army versus the might of an Imperial battalion and it was not going well. When he had reached the courtyard he found the remnants of Redoran's army in full retreat most of the once great force lying dead in pools of their own blood.
Stricken with grief Sylven sought out the remainder of Redoran’s forces finding them under command of the blunt weapons master a Dunmer who Sylven thought to be nothing more than an idiot, taking command from his incapable ‘’superior’’ Sylven had his forces launch a full-scale counter attack against the exhausted Imperial battalion catching them off guard and completely defenceless the ensuring battle was…drowned with blood not of the Dunmer but of the Imperial’s.
During the counter attack Sylven had re-arranged the forces composition completely mages and their archer escorts were to seek out high ground whilst serried ranks of bonemould clad spearmen and blades men were ordered into cohorts each commanded by a capable leader the attack was ready all they needed was the right moment to strike at their quarry.
The counter assault was short and slicked with blood at the battles
climax Sylven was at the front leading a small cabal of wizards he had formed, dousing the Imperial’s with flame searing flesh from bone and sending icy spikes the size of spears precise and methodically onto those he deemed the leaders of the Imperial’s squads.
But no matter how many men were lost or how many officers were killed as long as the enemy general still stood the enemy had a small form of hope, a hope Sylven was determined to destroy. Spotting the Imperial general his elite unit of praetorian guards poised around him slaying those of Redoran with contempt ease, Sylven his anger reaching new heights as members of his house were killed using his hate and malice like his mentor had taught him Sylven channelled this into a orb of crackling lightning pointing his arms at the praetorians Sylven launched the orb the explosive spell hitting the unit square on killing all of the Imperials…but still the general stood his face half-missing from the blast of pure arcane energy the remnants of which were twisted into a snarl of pure unwavering hate.
Unsheathing his blade Sylven taunted the Imperial into a personal combat, of which the human gladly agreed upon. Stepping into the rough ovular shape of the court yard the bodies of both sides piled around them the screams of the dying cut out by the sound of blades clashing the smell of burnt flesh assaulting the nostrils of all, the Imperial slashed at Slyven narrowly missing the Dunmer’s throat in return Sylven stabbed his sword deep into the human’s chest the blade re- appearing out of Oriton’s cloth covered back having punctured the human’s lungs and causing severe bleeding; falling to the floor with a wordless gargle blood pouring from his mouth his face set in shock and fear.
As an act of pure spite Sylven decapitated Oriton lifting his head high as to show the Imperials that the forces of the great house Redoran were not to be trifled with.
The battle was done the remnants of the Imperial force was routed and were falling back presumably to Cyrodill their homeland Sylven still wasn’t happy, packing his things he left his home and journeyed to see the lands of Tamriel and hopefully restore the gap left in his heart made by the near total destruction of his house.
Vlos Hithern!
The Blood Coven!
Va Khaj Dar!
The council of Arcanea!
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The following 2 users Like ragnar-ice blood's post:
Alucardeo, Archmage Alator
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