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Fire On The Mountain (A Skyrim Quest)

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Do'azda's Character Sheet
  • Informational
    • Name: Do'azda Khrimnin
    Race: Khajiit (Suthay-Raht)
    Gender: Female
    Age: 22
    Profession: Shaman
    Appearance/Description: She stands at a normal height for a Suthay-raht, that is to say, shorter than most men or mer, but not by too much. Her fur is a warm, rich orange, paler around her muzzle and down her neck, and her eyes are startlingly yellow. Her hair is braided, with rings that jangle faintly when she turns her head too fast. Her robes are basic, and worn from age, but have been fastidiously cleaned.
    Level: 7
    XP: 0/120

    Alchemy: 25
    Alteration: 5
    Archery: 5
    Block: 6
    Conjuration: 40
    Destruction: 5
    Enchanting: 5
    Heavy Armor: 5
    Illusion: 35
    Light Armor: 20
    Lock Picking: 1
    One-Handed: 21
    Pickpocket: 5
    Restoration: 15
    Smithing: 1
    Sneak: 20
    Speech: 27
    Survival: 13
    Two-Handed: 5

    They say it kills cats - Do'azda has few restraints on her inquisitive nature, asking whatever questions occur to her, paying little attention to whether this may be considered rude. Whatever else, at least Do'azda never finds herself regretting her failure to ask about something.

    Dancing the night away - Do'azda is a fine dancer in the Elsweyr style, where dances are not the slow, ritualised partnering of the Altmer, but instead are a whirling piece of performance art, with the dancer's emotions informing the dance more than any practiced steps. Do'azda can feel the music in her bones, and can dance to only a drumbeat.

    In the shadow of the moon - Do'azda was blessed even as she began her journey to become a shaman. A priestess of Azurah, the Mistress of Dusk and Dawn, favoured daughter of Fadomai, received a vision. Azurah's light shines favourable upon her.

    Tangled Tails--Do'azda has had flings before, "Tangled Tails" as the euphemism goes, and she's willing to engage in casual relationships or 'one-night marriages' if the opportunity arises.

    Racial Perks--

    Claws--She has very wicked claws indeed.
    Darksight--She can see incredibly well in the dark.

    Skill Perks--

    Conjuring Efficiency (10): Do'zada knows how to be careful with her Magicka without losing any power when she's Conjuring, and can use such magic more freely and easier when fighting or in other circumstances. (Cojuration)

    Mystic Binding (20): Do'azda gains skill at creating bound weapons of magic, so that she is never without her arms no matter what. She also becomes more skilled at creating bound objects of all types, and begins to study that which might allow one to bind a soul into a gem. (Conjuration)

    Haggling 1 (0): Everything in Skyrim is far more expensive, and so Do'azda should probably try to figure out how to make do with what little gold she has. (Speech)

    Insight (20): One of the key elements of persuasion is knowing what would convince someone. Do'azda now knows how to evaluate what kinds of arguments and reasoning would convince different people if she spends enough time to get a feeling for how they think. (Speech)

    Agile Defender (10): Armor is often hard to get used to, so figuring out how to move with light armor so as to reduce how bad a hit is is something you can only learn by doing… and Do'azda has begun to 'do.' (Light Armour)

    Rahjin Perks

    Laughter-Silvered Wings (Level 5): A flying companion does not simply owe its speed to its physical form, but the strength of its spirit, and so it tends to be faster and more manuverable than its terrestrial version, harder to hit, and a greater predator of the sky.

    (Next at Level 8)

    Blur - Do'azda knows a spell to obscure her features at a distance, to render her indistinguishable from another Khajiit. Up close, it is almost pathetically ineffective, however.
    Clairvoyance - Do'azda is granted flashes of insight into the path to her goal by Azurah - the Goddess of Dawn and Dusk sees much of the land.
    Conjure Animal - Do'azda reaches onto Hircine's hunting ground and recalls the imprint of an animal which perished nearby to fight by her side
    Conjure Axe - Do'azda can create a hatchet from pure magic. It is too cumbersome for effective use in combat, but for cutting wood, it is more than adequate
    Bound Dagger--As she has learned how to better summon such things, she has figured out how to use a Bound Dagger.
    Courage - Do'azda uses magic to inspire in another the will to fight, though currently only to instill confidence in victory, not to cause conflict where none exists.
    Summon Familiar - Do'azda reaches into her own soul to bring forth her familiar, the falcon Rajhin. No mere shade, Rajhin remains with her until slain and can do far more than just fight, but cannot be summoned for a day and a night thereafter if killed.
    Fear - This spell pulls from the mind a fear that the target has, and creates from this the feeling of fear.
    Distraction - Creates sounds and sights on the edge of perception. Sights and sounds determined by the caster.
    Healing Wounds - The caster uses their magicka to seal the wounds of the target. All healing occurs in a single burst.
    Conjure Flame Atronach - Do'azda can call forth a spirit of Infernace, a being of fire, constrained in a form of iron.
    Flames - Do'azda can release a gout of fire from her palm, directly setting alight her foe, though only for so long as she feeds magicka to the fire.
    Lesser Ward - Do'azda can use her magic to create a shield of magical energy, blocking low level magical attacks, reducing high level magical attacks and mitigating the damage of physical attacks.

    Do'azda can make...

    Potion of Minor Healing - Bruises fade, cuts close, aching muscles relax, this potion provides a little relief from injuries. The first potion a young shaman will learn to brew.
    Potion of Suppress Disease - A potion which will suppress the symptoms of a disease for several days; oftentimes long enough for the body to get the cold or flu from its system. More serious or outright magical diseases will return with a vengeance once the potion's effects wear out, but it is a useful potion to know how to craft.

    FUS - Force
    WULD - Whirlwind

    FUS DAH--Force Push


    Gold Septim (365)
    Trail Rations (x4)
    Fine Rations
    A very nice dress for casual-formal occasions.
    A lovely dress in the gothic style, with an enchantment of illusory power woven into it.
    Iron Axe--An iron axe of low quality.
    Steel Axe - A steel axe of decent quality
    Iron Dagger--An iron dagger of mediocre quality.
    Mage Robes--Increase magical regeneration, but provides little protection, discouraging getting up close and personal.
    Leather Armor--Comfortable, lightweight armor, it counteracts the discouragement from getting up close, though as an extra layer it means it can get extra hot.
    Lunar Steel War Axe--An Axe which can, in the light of the moon, drink in the life-force of its victims and use it to restore that of its weilder.
    Steel Dagger (x2)--A well-worn but very useful steel dagger.
    Alchemical Kit--A very fine kit for the creation of potions. One careful owner.
    Stormcloak Token--A token from Ulfric Stormcloak himself...
    Underclothes--You know.
    One Powerful Enchanted Sword (Rusted)--A sword of unknown value, it has a rather potent and interesting enchantment attached to it.

    Spell Tome: Illumination--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. For such a minor spell it is probably only a few hours of reading to fully learn. This allows Do'azda to create a light in the darkness... less useful for a Khajiit, but still a spell of value.
    Spell Tome: Thieves Vision--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. For such a minor spell, it is probably only a few hours of reading to fully learn. This simple spell gives one slightly better night vision… but is also notable for being able to see writing hidden by weak illusions, and thus is commonly used by thieves trying to read the secret messages of other thieves.
    Spell Tome: Turn Undead--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. A spell of moderate difficulty, it will take several nights of reading to learn it. A spell technically of the "Restoration" school, which puts fear into nearby undead. When cast powerfully, burns them most terribly.
    Spell Tome: Sparks--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. For such a minor spell, it is probably only a few hours of reading to fully learn. Allows a mage to fire sparks of arcane lightning, sapping the magicka reserves of the target whilst also burning through their flesh.
    3 Doses of Frostbite Venom in Magicka bottles--Toxic and acidic to living flesh, it has little effect on the glass bottle.
    Healing Potion

    Troll Fat, other ingredients
    100 Septims
    3 gems of good quality.
    Troll Hide
    Troll Skull
    Troll Eyes x3
    Troll Claws

    A Handy Guide to Lockpicks: A book that should teach Do'azda all she wants to know about Lockpicks, and more. Each read will give +1 to Lockpicking, and it can be read thrice to wring out all possible knowledge from it. (2/3 reads remaining)
    Journal of a Potema Loyalist: A journal of some historical merit, belonging to one of Potema's most loyal supporters in her early years.
     
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  • Informational
    • The Englanderish said:
    If it's any consolation I somewhat regret banding together since numbers-wise if the argonian voters had stayed solo it might've won. But alas, that's how it goes sometimes. A cold hard lesson in the uncaring harshness of democracy. :V
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Eh, it's a FPTP issue 🤷‍♀️

    Patak said:
    I don't know you, but I like your style.

    You have my axe telepathic murder sword !
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    The trick is to have a sword just big enough you can also use it to snowboard!

    RADICAL! 🕶️
     
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    Justice
  • Threadmarks
    • Justice (Character Creation, Part 2)

    Skyrim is a cold land, and a hard one. The wind cuts through her fur as easily as her rags, and she shivers.

    "What's wrong with him, huh?" The thief says, blithely disregarding the imperial soldier.

    "Watch your tongue!" The Stormcloak is angry now, and she turns her gaze away. The road is getting busy; people gather in clumps to watch the carts pass. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE High King."

    She does not know Ulfric Stormcloak, but she knows he opposes the empire. She knows he loves the Nords of Skyrim, and is loved in return. She knows what that means, for those who are not Nords, yet are of Skyrim. Her tail lashes involuntarily at the thought.

    He does not look so mighty, bound and gagged as he is.

    "Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm?" The thief splutters, "But you're the leader of the rebellion! If the Imperials have you… Gods, where are they taking us!"

    The Stormcloak smiles beatifically, leaning back. "I don't know where we're going. But Sovngarde awaits."

    The thief begins to panic, but she is more interested in looking up and down the track. The imperial soldiers marching alongside the carts look tense, their hands never far from their blades. The civilians around them are angry, but sullenly quiescent. There's a town looming just up ahead. Squat and ugly, dominated by a castle and ringed with a low greystone wall, it could never be mistaken for anything other than a garrison town. The imperial soldiers on the walls look more relaxed, more slovenly, than those escorting her, at least.

    "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The Stormcloak sounds almost content, even about to die as he is. As they all are. This is bad. Very bad.

    "General Tullius, sir! We got Ulfric, sir!" Her cart driver sounds happy. That makes one of them.

    "Good, good. The headsman is ready, let's get this over with." General Tullius is a man in his middle years, his armour gilded, atop a great black charger, looking for all the world like a hero of Imperial tales.

    "Look at him. General Tullius. Military Advisor to Jarl Torrygg's widow and Butcher of Shor's Stone. And it looks like there's a legate with him. Damned Bretons. Their troops are why we're in this mess." The Stormcloak keeps up a running commentary as they are led through the town. Perhaps he's more nervous than he claims? The townspeople are gathered in throngs along the sides of the road, with more coming in from the rest of the town as word spreads. Mostly they seem curious, though more than a few are openly joyous. Ulfric Stormcloak, captured. She is a Khajiit, and she knows little of Skyrim's war, but even she knows that the rebellion dies with Ulfric, more likely than not.

    "When I was a boy, garrisons like Helgan made me feel safe. Now I see them for what they are" The Stormcloak says, his tone dark.

    At least the wind dies down, once they're inside the walls. She'll take what victories she can get.

    The cart began to slow, the horses nickering their annoyance.

    "Get these prisoners out of the carts! Move it!" It's a woman's voice, sharp and abrasive. Some imperial soldier, her armour buffed to a rare shine.

    "End of the line, horse-thief." The Stormcloak isn't talking to her, but his tone - a sort of resigned good humour - inexplicably annoys her all the same. Who is he to feign as though he has done this sort of thing before? She can guarantee he has not been executed before.

    "Step towards the block when we call your name!" The Imperial calls, as the Khajiit joins the motley line of prisoners. Most of them are in Stormcloak uniforms, but the line is dotted with other prisoners, shivering in their rags. The scent of unwashed bodies is omnipresent, and it becomes clear that one of the others has befouled themself. She can taste her own fear, rising in her throat, but she quashes it. Perhaps a hundred people have gathered in the square, a substantial fraction of Helgan's population, and she will not embarrass herself in the last moments before death. Her tail dips between her legs, all the same.

    "Rumna of Skywatch, Thalmor spy." This from another imperial soldier, a broad-shouldered Nord with a large pad. His tone is flat, almost disinterested.

    She looks up the line with interest - a Thalmor spy? - as the crowds erupt into murmuring.

    Rumna is a tall altmer woman, standing straight and proud, despite her rags. "Would that I were a thalmor spy, imperial. Then, at least, my death would have meaning."

    "Towards the block, prisoner," The female Imperial says, her disbelief almost visible, how liberally it has been applied to those few words.

    Imperial soldiers up and down the line are calling out names, and the line shrinks to only a handful. The crowd is murmuring constantly, enough people speaking at once in hushed tones that it is impossible to discern conversations in particular.

    "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." The Imperial soldier has been so emotionless he could pass for Dwemer craft, but when he calls out this name, his fury bleeds into his words despite himself.

    "It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric." The stormcloak from your cart calls out as the Jarl passes you.

    He goes next, the stormcloak; Ralof of Riverwood. Only you and the horse thief remain, and he looks frantic.

    "Please! I'm not a rebel! Tell them I'm not a rebel!" The man is almost in tears, stepping towards the Imperial soldiers as he appeals to the Stormcloak prisoners.

    "Face your death with some dignity, thief." Ralof's tone is hard, and the thief wilts further.

    "Lokir of Rorikstead. Horse thief." The Imperial soldier's eyes have returned to the list, and he won't meet Lokir's eye.

    "No! You aren't the Jarl! You can't do this!" Lokir is crying in truth now, great ugly sobs between his words. He's off running before anyone can react, rushing a gap in the crowd. If he can reach the crowd, he can disappear.

    "Archers!" The female Imperial bellows.

    He doesn't make it to the crowd. Three arrows, one in the small of his back, one through the back of his ribcage, and one that almost dropped too low, catching him in the thigh.

    The crowd backs up in horror. He falls and doesn't get up, and a pair of Imperial soldiers go to check that he's dead and take away the body, hauling it to join all the others still to come, perhaps.

    "Anyone else feel like running?" Her voice is self satisfied, inflated by her heroic victory over the fleeing man in rags and bindings.

    "Wait, you there. The cat. Step forward."

    But who are you, really?


    Background


    [] A lonely hunter.

    Skills: You are skilled at survival and archery, and tend to wear light, flexible armor. You knew a little bit of Restoration for old injuries, and a little bit of dagger work--as well as how to gut and clean an animal. You are also decent at setting traps and cooking food.

    A Khajiit alone is a Khajiit that does not thrive. But under the faint light of the moon, the reflection of an Elsweyr that probably never existed, you have survived. You live up in northern Cyrodiil, and there are very few Khajiit around you, let alone ones you were at all close to. You're good at hunting for a young hand, but you have a lot left to learn and without friends in the northern hunting and trapping circles, you still catch enough to pay for your hovel out in the woods and any food you can't hunt up. One day, you simply strayed a little too far in chasing an animal… and now here you are. In a land that's even less welcoming than Cyrodiil is to Khajiit. Alone, and now about to be killed for nothing: that's Khajiit's life in a nutshell.

    But you're also a survivor. The heart is a lonely hunter, and if only there was more time you might have sighted and downed your prey.

    [] A Caravan guard.

    Skills: You are very good with a one-handed sword, and skilled at light armor. You know your way around a camp, but little more than that. You know how to block a hit, but prefer to push harder and faster if at all possible.

    Your mother fought for the wrong side. Which side was that? Why, the side of Elsweyr. She worked with the Rising when it began, and then when the Imperials used it as an excuse to conquer Elsweyr and try to make it a subject state, she took money from the Aldmeri to fight the Imperials. And then, when the Aldmeri were regaining ground, she took money from the Imperials to fight the Aldmeri. For this, everyone called her a bandit, and she was imprisoned after the war, kept alive while she was being tried and executed two years later.

    All this time, you have wanted to reclaim the honor and status that you once had. But in this new world, what honor is there? You became a Caravan guard. This is your second trade mission. The first was a boring one to Hammerfell, where you had little to do but practice your sword swinging and explore the market towns. This second one, though… it's ended very, very badly.

    But you're a survivor from a survivor race, one that has endured centuries of misery fighting for the right to see the sun. Can you survive even this?


    [] A failed Battlemage.

    Skills: You are solid at using both a sword and a one-handed axe, and reasonably used to wearing heavy armor and moving around in it. You are mediocre at best at Restoration, and have but a faint skill at Alteration, but are solid at Destruction for someone not fully trained and have a little bit of skill at enchanting.

    Born in the Khajiit District in the Imperial City, you showed an aptitude for both the rough fighting of Khajiit children and magic, and so ultimately as a loyal Imperial citizen, you tried to become a Battlemage. In the aftermath of the war, the Empire was trying to recover its numbers, strength, and overall power, and so it was recruiting many apprentices. You had skill with magic, and skill with both a sword and a one-handed axe, but you lacked the 'right temperament' for it, and fell behind in some areas even as you excelled in others. All in all, it was not that surprising that you ultimately failed out… but it left your parents disappointed and your future suddenly unwritten.

    You worked around as a mercenary for a while, even working with the exclusive Fighters Guild, which had absurd standards for membership by that time… unless you knew someone inside the Guild. Ultimately, you decided to go North to try to get a fresh start. It was perhaps ill-timed, but the reports in Cyrodiil downplayed the civil war and its intensity quite a lot.

    Now, you're on the chopping block, and before you ever really accomplished anything. A little good at magic, a little good at fighting, and with your hands tied and no way to use any of those skills.

    [] A 'rogue' trader.

    Skill: You have some talent at surviving on your own, smithing, enchanting, defending yourself with a knife, and of course a decent amount of talent and talking to people… and even a little skill at sneaking around. You have a grab bag of abilities, a cat of all trades, including smithing and enchanting. But you've mastered none of them, not even remotely.

    Most caravan trips are subsidized nowaday, by families, houses, or the government itself as part of their attempt to bring wealth to Elsweyr and the Union. But there are some traders who reject that, whether out of patriotism or an attempt to get around the rules and regulations governing the smuggling of goods both legal (but duty-free) and illegal, or even just out of a loner's tendency.

    You were one such trader, operating on the shadow between legality and illegality. At long last you have stepped over the line and gotten smacked down. But instead of a fine or a dicey situation to flee from… you're facing death. You're young and footloose, as attached to the 'romance' of being a free trader as anything else, and yet now you face a most unromantic and brutal death, stripped of what goods and gold you have and led to the block.

    [] A young shaman.

    Skills: You are solidly trained as an apprentice in Alchemy, Illusions, and Conjurations, and know a solid smattering of other magic. You also have some survival and stealth skills, but your knowledge of a bow and dagger are both mediocre, by far your worst subjects before you came up to Skyrim.

    The magical traditions of Elsweyr are great, though often unknown outside of the Khajiit. All manner of Khajiit are strong in magic, including many that would be dismissed by Man and Mer as 'cats.' But it's a magical tradition that focuses on secrets and lies, on Illusion and Conjuration and careful alchemy, rather than on the more destructive and obvious methods. You are good for a novice, for someone half-trained and sent out in the world. As part of the traditions of such magical sages and shamans, you must journey throughout the world to serve the Khajiit living far from Elsweyr.

    And in Skyrim, there is a community of Khajiit on the outskirts of Whiterun that lack any magical protection and aid. It is your charge--a sacred charge no less--to aid them. Instead, traveling with a Caravan, you have run into a trap. You are now facing death surrounded on all sides by people who know not the magic you have. You regret every missed lesson, every half-trained element of your magics. If you'd known more, you could have just disappeared entirely.

    Devout and devoted and trapped, you stammer your name, more afraid than you've ever been in your life.

    [] An Ex-Thieves Guild Member

    Skills: You are good at sneaking, picking locks and pockets, and using a dagger. You're somewhat articulate and clever on your feet… but you're a city cat at heart, with all the downsides that brings. Still, you've won fights before… sometimes in unfortunate ways.

    Becoming world-famous was the best and worst thing that ever happened to the Thieves Guild of Cyrodiil. The tell-all book in the early days of the 4th Era exposed the nature of the mask and the power of the Thieves Guild, focusing on the heroic tale of the 'Secret Thief' of mystery. It ushered in an era both of far greater power and influence… but also infiltration and infighting. As the Empire decayed, the Thieves guild grew but also grew labyrinthine.

    You were just a novice thief, still climbing her way up the ladder in Imperial City--the daughter of a refugee from the Rising, but quite disconnected from all of that--when something happened. Someone revealed the location of a major meeting, and dozens of Thieves were captured and sentenced to hard labor.

    Then, you were blamed. You had no way to fight the accusations, and when one of your friends came after you to try to get the 'truth' out of you, you fought back. Your claws found his throat almost entirely by accident. Any hope you had of explaining things then went out the window, and you fled for the north… and right into an Imperial trap.

    You've never been caught, so nobody knows who you are, and even the murder is probably… being dealt with by the Guild. But your attempt to escape their reach has ended very, very badly. The kind of deep shit your mother always said you'd end up in.

    [] A former Bandit

    Skills: Two-handed weapons, including heavy hammers, swords, and axes. Heavy armor. Survival skills. Negotiating the prices for loot. Blocking attacks. A very little healing magic, inexpert at this stage. You're also a solid blacksmith, though primarily in repairing your own goods.

    During the last War, irregulars were sent to Hammerfell to harass the shipping lanes and hopefully draw away Imperial Legions to protect Hammerfell. The Aldmeri gambit failed as the Empire left the people of Hammerfell to deal with it themselves while in the middle of a bitter civil war across the Alik'r Desert, so the Empire could continue pressing the Thalmor in Valenwood. After the war was over, though, at least some of these irregulars--including some loyalist Khajiit-- stuck around in Hammerfell as bandits.

    Including your father. You grew up into the trade as he did, but eventually you decided that perhaps you should change your ways and live a new life. Give up the old war, and an Aldmeri Union that had discarded these 'bandits' once the war came to an end… and yet Elsweyr was a land where you would have only been regarded as the daughter of a traitor and collaborator, and the Empire was not somewhere you wanted to be either. Leaving you with very few choices in the world. But Skyrim was worth a try, perhaps.

    And now you were caught by the Imperials at last, and not for anything you'd done at all.

    Sub-Races

    The Khajiit have many forms, based in part on the phase of the moon they were born in. Only some of them are common outside of Elsweyr, and only some of them fit in this Quest. Some wouldn't be there at all, others would have either not been arrested or probably been 'killed while resisting arrest.' But even with those eliminated, there was still…

    [] Ohmes-raht

    In posture and body language, the Ohmes-raht are more similar to Men than other Khajiit, and so Ohmes-raht will often serve as diplomats and liaisons with the empire. Diminutive in stature, Ohmes-raht are rarely considered by outsiders for martial positions, but this is not to say they are ineffective. More common in years gone past, they are now uncommonly seen outside of Elswehr unless serving as ambassadors and diplomats.

    [] Suthay-raht

    Suthay-raht are taller than Ohmes-raht, and move with a lithe grace, evocative of a cat in truth, even bipedal as they are. They are often considered to be more naturally stealthy than other khajiit, with the commensurate mistrust that this implies. They are, however, widely respected as an absolute terror to fight, flashing claws and snarling jaws.

    [] Cathay

    Cathay are the most common Khajiit in Cyrodiil and Skyrim. Of a size with men, their relative loss of poise compared with the suthay-raht is balanced out by their undeniable advantage in strength. Cathay are oft regarded by the world outside Elsweyr as the most martial of the "conventional" khajiit, and are generally seen as a step below Orcs in military prowess.

    The differences between the conventionally bipedal khajiit forms are less of a gulf than many think, and exist more in the minds of others than anywhere else.


    Names

    Khajiit names function to define who they are, especially since the Khajiit tongue doesn't have first person pronouns, usually. How much a particular Khajiit uses third person often depends entirely on where they stand culturally and how much experience with Tamrilic and the outside world they have. So names matter! You can choose from any of the presets, or use the generator linked below. As well, for someone like the Hunter, they might have an 'Imperial' name, and for someone like the Thief they might go for something like a shadow name or a nickname. So you can be creative, but no, calling her Catra is not creative. :V

    Khajiit last names are a mixture of house names, and names that are given by deed. The former are generally pretty rare, and might mark an old family--though family glory can be quite faded by centuries. The latter are added to names: The Liar, The Swift, Oak-Heart, or more, and generally relate to their deeds. Of course, plenty of people give themselves such a last name and try to make people believe in it.

    https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/khajiit_names.php
    https://codexnomina.com/khajiit-names/


    [] Tsani Silverclaw
    [] Rinita Tabav
    [] Naahani the Swift
    [] Mkai Twiceborn
    [] Yameea Sharptongue
    [] Mahazi the Lame
    [] Sayya
    [] Ekapi Tripfoot
    [] Write-in, there's plentiful resources to look at, and you can also just make up either titles, names, or both. Nicknames are good too. Just give it some thought. We have a veto if needs be.


    *****

    TL AN: Please, plan vote!

    vM AN: More character creation, but hopefully it isn't too boring. We covered a bit more ground with the lore section this time. I'll echo @The Laurent - please vote by plan, it makes it much easier to tell what people want. We're allowing approval voting too.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X]Plan Best Utility Mage
    - [X] A young shaman.
    - [X] Suthay-raht
    - [X] Do'azda Kihrmnin
     
    [X] M'aiq Has Lores If You Have Coin
    -[X] A young shaman.
    -[X] Suthay-raht
    -[X] Satt'aiq the Liar (Satt'aiq the fourty-third, allegedly)

    Satt'aiq shares wisdom of the Khajiit as her father and grandparents and great grand-parents and beyond have before her. Many do not believe Satt'aiq's truths. None dispute Satt'aiq's alchemy or magical prowess.

    [edit] To pre-empt, no this is not a joke entry, this is genuinely what I want.
     
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    [X] Plan Literally Han Solo
    -[X] A 'rogue' trader.
    -[X] Ohmes-raht
    -[X] Write-in: Haniya the Orphan

    EDIT: bonus if this option is chosen, we would now be contractually obligated to adopt a Chewbacca as our partner in crime/parental figure
     
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    [X]Plan Best Utility Mage

    I love the idea of having a proper, respectable life before all the racist assholes made life terrible for us, and conjuration is fun. Plus if the QM is well studied in animism, a Shaman has a mountain of cool interactions available that aren't likely to come up for other backgrounds.
     
    [X] Plan Literally Han Solo
    -[X] A 'rogue' trader.
    -[X] Ohmes-raht
    -[X] Write-in: Haniya the Orphan

    Cat girl
     
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    The Englanderish said:
    [X] M'aiq Has Lores If You Have Coin
    -[X] A young shaman.
    -[X] Suthay-raht
    -[X] M'aiq the Liar (M'aiq the fourty-third, allegedly)

    M'aiq shares wisdom of the Khajiit as her father and grandparents and great grand-parents and beyond have before her. Many do not believe M'aiq's truths. None dispute M'aiq's alchemy or magical prowess.

    [edit] To pre-empt, no this is not a joke entry, this is genuinely what I want. Also interestingly M'aiq seems to entirely bypass Khajiit naming conventions.
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    "M'aiq" no, but "The Liar" is allowed as a title/surname/whatever.
     
    [x] Destruction is a perfectly valid school of magic
    -[x] A failed battlemage.
    -[x] Ohmes-raht
    -[x] Write-in: Shabani, Shasha for friends :V

    Really hesitated between "young shaman" and "failed battlemage", but ultimately I'll go with battlemage, because fireballs are fun, but also because that would sort of make our character an Imperial Legion washout.. and maaaybe for racially motivated reasons ? I'm not sure how exactly to parse the 'right temperament' issue but that was my assumption.

    So we'd have a "loyal imperial citizen" that's also an imperial legion washout, currently being slated for execution by said Empire for no legitimate reason, while in a province currently embroiled in civil war, and the faction that's fighting against our dear Empire thinks we're sub-human scum. I think it could be fun !

    Not really attached to the name tbh, there's plenty of good options for Khajiit.

    And after typing all this I'm just looking at the "young shaman" option tempting me. The traditional Khajiit magic, dealing with the treatment of Khajiit in Skyrim, it's really tempting me.. but I'll stick with battlemage. For now.
     
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