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 Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 4:26 pm
xxxxxx
00.1 The Prologue
Character Name
xxNalvala Arelas
Alias
xxPhade
Current Age
xx25
Gender
xxFemale
Height
xx5'10''
Weight
xx165lbs
Faction
xxDark Brotherhood
Weapon
xxMehrunes Razor
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 4:27 pm
Likes
xx✔Gold ✔Plying her craft ✔Drinking ✔Silence ✔Strong women and men ✔Sex
Dislikes
xx✘People who don't keep their hands to themselves ✘Misogynists ✘Missing a mark ✘Being hot ✘Rats of the people variety ✘People addressing her by her real name
Personality
IRASCIBLEIf there is anything to know about Phade, it is that her fuse is short. Her tolerance for bullshit is nonexistent and her patience is not her best virtue. When things aren't done her way, there will be consequences. It is not in a person's best interest to provoke the volatile Dunmer.
SADISTICThere is a certain joy that Phade takes from forcing others to bend to her will by any means. She takes great pleasure in watching people squirm in her midst, whether or not they are friend or foe.
LOYALDespite her harshness, Phade is loyal to a fault. Once she has gained the trust of her comrades, and once she trusts them, she will remain by them as long as they continue to show those traits that she admired in the first place. However, once the trust is broken its gone and you'd best never let her see you again.
CUNNINGBeing in the position that she is in, it was important for her to develop the skills needed to persuade and appeal to potential victims. Phade has a habit of twisting intricate tales and lies, expertly navigating and uplifting her target to a position where they are putty in her hands. She is shrewd and manipulative and seemingly enjoys deceiving others.
COLD BLOODEDPhade is without warmth. There aren't any fond memories or moments of mercy. Her heart is as cold as her soul is dark. Do not expect compassion, even in the smallest of measurements.
History
xx Nalvala was born on a cool morning on the 2nd of Heartfire in Cheydiinhal some years ago. Her parents lived comfortably before her birth. Her father was steward to the Count and her mother was a seamstress. However, her birth nearly killed her mother. She was forced to close her shop and spent many months on bed rest. This forced her father to steal away from the Count on many occasions, causing him to eventually lose not only his title but the house in which they lived. From then on, the small family struggled greatly, having little to eat and barely a roof over their heads.
As she grew, it became evident that Nalvala was a handsome child with bright eyes and smooth skin. The locals would comment to her parents about how lovely she was and how well she would marry when she became of age. So much so that ideas sprouted inside her father’s greedy little head. Sure, he loved his daughter but without her birth, he and his wife would still be happy and content. The man was bitter about losing his job and his future.
One day, when Nalvala was ten years old, a group of traveling men and women passed through the town on their way to Morrowind. The group was filled with colorful characters with strange accents and bright colors. Persons of nearly every race made up this traveling party of performers and entertainers. Needless to say, Nalvala was mesmerized. One woman in particular, a Breton woman took interest in the little Dunmer girl. Although she was intrigued, Nalvala was always guarded. She never let them see that she was watching or amused by their antics, at least until the woman approached her. She asked if she’d like to go to one of their shows across the Jerall Mountains where they had tame exotic and tame sabrecats and even a shimmering unicorn! She knew of course that her family hadn’t the money to allow such a thing but much to her shock and awe, her father told her that she was going on a trip. He told her that she was allowed to go with the Breton woman to stay with her uncle. She would return when the troupe came back across the mountains just a few days later.
Nalvala, even though she had survived certain hardships, was still naïve. She didn’t realize that the reason why her mother had tears in her eyes when she said goodbye wasn’t because she’d miss her for a few days. It was because she would never see her again. In fact, it would be some time before Nalvala would return to Cyrodiil at all.
At first, things were amazing. Nalvala was entertained and enjoyed the shows, the people and especially the food and proper bed she was given. However, it would be short lived. The truth finally came out a few days after the group had settled in at Blacklight, one of Morrowind’s largest cities. It became evident soon after, that she didn’t have an uncle. The troupe too had become distant and the friendly Breton woman quickly turned into mean, nasty woman. A few days passed before Nalvala was pushed into the hands of older Dunmer with a gold front tooth and thin lips.
Immediately she was put to work; sweeping and scrubbing the floors, washing dishes and clothes. The first night, Nalvala didn’t sleep until the wee hours of the morning. This continued for months and eventually years. She came to the harsh realization that not only had she been sold, but she was sold into prostitution. The place she called home was a notorious brothel. The mistress of the house was a stern but understanding woman, but she did not appreciate slackers. With nowhere else to go and with no family or money, Nalvala had little choice.
Nalvala was not…put into the rotation until she was thirteen years old, eighteen if the guards ever asked, though they never did. It was not a life that she enjoyed or one that she was proud of. But she learned skills that would become very valuable to her once she made enough money to Morrowind and return to Cyrodiil. Nalvala was cunning and manipulative and she excelled in pulling information out of unsuspecting patrons. Her favorite visitors were the ones who only wanted someone to talk to. Not only did they tip her a generous sum, but they were never rude. The unsavory patrons however, greatly outnumbered the nice. Many a time she had to defend herself from someone who was too controlling or demanding and each time, she was punished. The mistress of the house would admonish her, reminding her that she was being paid for skills, not to disobey. Nalvala was disgusted. This would continue for some time, her bad encounters quickly out weighing the good.
On the eve of her 15th birthday, a familiar looking man entered the brothel. The older Dunmer looked remarkably close to her father. She bribed the girl who intended for him that night, wanting to speak to him. As fate would have it, the man was indeed her uncle. He had never received word of her trip or even had any knowledge of Nalvala, period. Disgusted and enraged, he promptly paid off Nalvala’s price and whisked her from the bunk house. Finally, things were looking up.
The young mer would quickly learn that her family was quite prominent in Morrowind. They were of House Telvanni and although most Dunmer of the House didn’t have ties to one another, her uncle happened to be surprising sentimental. He was knowledgeable and wise and began teaching Nalvala about various things. She found his mushroom house very strange, but the unexpected warmth and belonging she felt made her feel at home. Her uncle began teaching her the ways of magic, as nearly all Telvanni were adept mages. He explained to her that his brother, her father lost the wealth he once had after a tryst with a Nibense Imperial woman who stole all his fortunes and thus the reason why he ended up as steward to the Count. He taught her how to defend herself with sword and dagger and how carry herself as a woman with significant rank. She learned rather quickly.
A few short months later, her uncle had a visitor one night. It was late and if Nalvala hadn’t been tossing and turning, she wouldn’t have noticed. She heard hushed voices and then a creaking of floorboards followed by the familiar sound of a spell being readied. Throwing off her blankets, Nalvala ran to towards the foyer, only to find her uncle lying in pool of blood and strange robed man standing over him. Undeterred by her presence, the man straightened and exited swiftly. Running to her dying uncle, he uttered just two words; Morag Tong.
From what her uncle taught her about Morrowind, the Morag Tong was a group that was not to be trifled with. Although their practices were completely legal and acceptable in the eyes of the Tribunal, it didn’t ease the pain that came with his death. She became angry, infuriated that such a thing was allowed. But she didn’t spend long mourning. Nalvala secured her uncle’s vast wealth and started her hunt. For weeks she tracked, investigated and bought information about the assassin who killed her uncle. The girl had one chance and one opportunity to avenge him.
During a storm, said assassin took refuge inside a dimly, seedy inn along the coast. He was in plainclothes and completely unassuming but Nalvala knew better. She waited patiently for the right moment and when the opportunity arose, she snuck up behind him and slit his throat. It was a messy kill as there had been a witness she hadn’t seen. The woman screamed and Nalvala in a panic, ran. She hadn’t planned on what she would do after that and she cursed her immaturity. But with a near endless money pouch of septims, there was only one thing she could do; go back home.
Booking passage on a caravan back to Cyrodiil was easier than she thought. No one asked questions, no one even looked at her twice aside to ask her about the blood all over her shirt. Though, one sharp glare from the now hardened mer silenced them. The trip was slow and tedious but eventually she found herself back in Cheydinhal. Unfortunately, her family was nowhere to be found and no one knew where they were. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say even if she did find them, but she did know it wasn’t going to cordial.
The first night in town, Nalvala rented a room at Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, which for a young woman with fine, yet bloodstained clothes seemed suspicious. Someone must have alerted the guards for when she woke in the middle of the night, there were two of them knocking on her door. Nalvala knew that since she was underage, she could not live alone even if she had the septims. Undoubtedly they would have hauled her off and took her gold. But she had other plans. Having killed once, she saw no point in keeping her hands clean. The Dunmer invited them into her room, closed the door and offered them a pretty pout before killing them.
Once again, she escaped. This time, she headed northwest. Her goal was to cross the border into Skyrim. Not only did she murder two men, but she murdered two Imperial men. She knew of the hatred that the Fatherland had for the Imperials and despite the fact that they weren’t overly fond of Mer, Nalvala decided to take her chances. It took three days to get to the border and a thousand septims to cross it. Nalvala did not care.
When the carriage finally stopped, she found herself in Helgen. A small, cold town chock full of curious Nords. The girl found the closest inn, rented a room and slept for what felt like days.
Upon waking, Nalvala found herself in a place that was not her bed. Her head hurt and she was woozy. A voice caused her to sit bolt upright, gripping her head in pain. It belonged to a man bedecked in black and red leather. He stared at her from under a cowl, his words like velvet. The man propositioned her, telling her who he was and what he belonged to; The Dark Brotherhood. Nalvala knew her choice immediately. She knew that the Brotherhood was a staunch enemy for the Morag Tong and that was the only information she needed.
Years passed and Nalvala, now called Phade by the Listener, trained hard and fulfilled her contracts with aptness and haste. She found that not only did she enjoy killing, but she had a knack for it. The skills she picked up in the brothel were priceless, allowing her to ply her trade in a more sadistic fashion when the situation called for it. By eighteen she was infamous, having surpassed the Listener when he was the same age.
At twenty, the Listener had fallen ill from a case of brain rot contracted by a hagraven whilst on a job in the mountains. His death left the Brotherhood rattled and the Night Mother wasn’t speaking to anyone. One by one, assassins from across Tamriel came to receive her blessing and yet she did not speak. Thinking that nothing would happen, Phade approached the Night Mother’s coffin and knelt.
“You are the one. You are my Listener.”
From that moment, Phade lead the Brotherhood without question. The initiates and others wouldn’t defy the Night Mother after all and Phade was respected, even if she was distant.
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 4:28 pm
Weapon
xxMehrunes Razor
Character Skill Set
xxWeapon Skills
While proficient with sword and bow, Phade prefers using Mehrunes Razor above all else. It is rumored that the Bane of the Righteous was involved in the decimation of the Brotherhood some time ago, therefore it never leaves her sight.
xxMajor Skills
Sneak
One-Handed
Light Armor
xxRacial Skills
Ancestor's Wrath: Can summon a ring of protective fire that burns whatever it touches.
Resist Fire: Is resistant to fire
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 4:29 pm
Character Relationships
xx She hates everyone. Yes, even you. Though she tolerates and respects the members of the Brotherhood. Would even go so far as to say that she enjoys the camaraderie.
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