:Name:
Silgvar Star-Stone
:Race:
Nord
:Age:
34
:Description:
Age- 38
Height- 6"6
Weight- 221'lbs
Silgvar is a rather tall and broad chested nord with sun tanned skin. His complexion being somewhat fare compared to other people he may meet, aside from the multitude of scars and semi fresh injuries that litter a majority of his body and while he is on the bulky side. He lacks any real implication of fat or other indicators of lax health. His most telling scar is the raked claw marks that jut across the right side of his face, which make him rather easy to spot and identify.
:Equipment/Possessions:
Armor/Clothing/Worn
-Steel plate armor, no shoulders.
-Steel gauntlets.
-Thick leather pants/boots.
-Rawhide satchel.(one large pouch, four small.)
Weapons
-Great sword.
-Round steel shield.
-Steel battle axe
-Short bow/15 arrows.
Personal
-Silver choker
-Bone ring
-Mortar/Pestle
:Skills:
-One handed weapons, Shields, Two handed weapons.
-Alchemy(adept)
While it is strange that a nord of his upbringing can be so inclined to the use alchemy in ones day to day life, he does so fervently for the sake of his mothers teachings. Also seeing as he possesses a bow it is easy to say that he does possess the skill wield it in an effort for combat, however his current reserve for the bow is merely to catch his evening meal at most times.
Where Silgvar does manage to shine however is his proficiency in personal combat, be it with a sword, axe or any other weapon.
:Personality:
By all counts Silgvar is a dependable trustworthy man, but his last few years of isolation have left him weary of the grasp of humanity. He is eagerly able to accept difficult situations and able to understand with his own source of reasoning. But despite his this he is not quick to trust those he is unfamiliar with but is willing to converse freely and without restraint. With normal personality aside and his walls down however he can be as content and jovial as any nord, especially with a several pint's in him.
:History:
Silgvar Star-Stone
:Race:
Nord
:Age:
34
:Description:
Age- 38
Height- 6"6
Weight- 221'lbs
Silgvar is a rather tall and broad chested nord with sun tanned skin. His complexion being somewhat fare compared to other people he may meet, aside from the multitude of scars and semi fresh injuries that litter a majority of his body and while he is on the bulky side. He lacks any real implication of fat or other indicators of lax health. His most telling scar is the raked claw marks that jut across the right side of his face, which make him rather easy to spot and identify.
:Equipment/Possessions:
Armor/Clothing/Worn
-Steel plate armor, no shoulders.
-Steel gauntlets.
-Thick leather pants/boots.
-Rawhide satchel.(one large pouch, four small.)
Weapons
-Great sword.
-Round steel shield.
-Steel battle axe
-Short bow/15 arrows.
Personal
-Silver choker
-Bone ring
-Mortar/Pestle
:Skills:
-One handed weapons, Shields, Two handed weapons.
-Alchemy(adept)
While it is strange that a nord of his upbringing can be so inclined to the use alchemy in ones day to day life, he does so fervently for the sake of his mothers teachings. Also seeing as he possesses a bow it is easy to say that he does possess the skill wield it in an effort for combat, however his current reserve for the bow is merely to catch his evening meal at most times.
Where Silgvar does manage to shine however is his proficiency in personal combat, be it with a sword, axe or any other weapon.
:Personality:
By all counts Silgvar is a dependable trustworthy man, but his last few years of isolation have left him weary of the grasp of humanity. He is eagerly able to accept difficult situations and able to understand with his own source of reasoning. But despite his this he is not quick to trust those he is unfamiliar with but is willing to converse freely and without restraint. With normal personality aside and his walls down however he can be as content and jovial as any nord, especially with a several pint's in him.
:History:
Not a true nord in the sense of the term Silgvar was not born in Skyrim but in the outskirts of Cyrodiil with his mother (Imla) and his father (Thulgan). The two parring had left skyrim during the early years of the conflicts that took place within The Reach. His mother being formerly of the Forsworn and his father being and former soldier. He deserted and she excommunicated herself so they both could run and live their lives freely. Not long after they settled around the province of Anvil they were gifted with Silgvar and it was there the couple decided to raise him to the best of their ability. Thulgan being a former soldier and sailor set to leading a life within the ranks of Anvil's wayfaring community and Imla chose to continue her duties as an herbalist and soothsayer when the time came for it. She would spend her time helping the people with her remedies and raising Silgvar while Thulgan was off to sea for the time required.
Tlead to Silgvar being raised by her and and receiving her ways in teaching for the first 12 years of his life, which added his father not long after he was able to retire from sailing with a deep pocket and join the guard as a means to keep busy. The two loved him deeply and showed that such a life could work despite how rocky and off aligned their pairing was. Until the day came that Imla never returned from picking her wild herbs which caused worry with father and son. They eventually came into contact with a group of silver hand that were found hunting their way across Cyrodiil and with some exchanges they found that Imla was in the presence of several known lycanthrope's finding that she was being used to barter protection across the boarders. Upon hearing this Thulgan and Silgvar who was 16 at the time, chose to give chase along with the small group of Silver Hand militia.
They tracked and fought on for five years after that, looking in cave and town alike until finally coming back to Thulgan's homeland of Skyrim.
The time had been long and hard for them, Silgvar was no longer a teen but a man and was able to hold his own in combat. Even going to surpass his father and many other members of the Silver Hand. Knowing now that his mother must be dead, he was filled with nothing more then the drive to make any Werewolf pay for his loss and the day with that chance came. Hunting them to a former orc stronghold that sat far south to the very reaches of Skyrim itself. It was one of the largest gatherings the Silver Hand brought together to fight the Lycanthrope menace and for good reason. The leader of the pack was known as White Fang and was by far the largest of the werewolf's encountered so far. It was there that the Silver Hand and the pack fought meeting each other head on and forcing bloody combat. The fighting traversed the whole hillside around the stronghold before breaching its newly made walls.
Near the end it was only Silgvar, his father, and only two dozen Silver Hand members left that managed to breach the inner walls. Thulgan was cut down shortly after that as they fought their way into the long house taking several of the beast with him, many of which were feral from the blood that had been shed. It was up to Silgvar to take them deeper and so he did, breaching in and finding their leader White Fang ready and waiting. What commenced was a short rapid conflict of sword and claw, blood and bone. White fang managed to gouge a hole in Silgvars side and rake him across the face, nearly blinding him in the process. But in the same act he ran the beast through as it fell upon him.
So there he lay with the werewolf on his gripping him tightly by the shoulder and him wrenching his sword through its chest. Only to have it release its grip as if a realization had overtaken it. Unable to resist the beast strength he was forced to drink its own life for some unseen purpose. As he could feel its curse seeping through the edge of his will he felt White Fang release him entirely as it pulled his blade free and slumped to the side. Silgvar could feel his body churning like a deep well as he watched through dimming eyes as the creature retook human form. Only to realize that as his consciousness slipped away that his mothers lifeless eyes were looking back at him.
He awoke several days later in a field outside Markarth, nearly naked and missing the memories of the last few hours.
Returning to the battlefield to reclaim both his parents, he buried them next to one another on a hill top over looking the stronghold and vowed to himself as he left them that he would never partake succumb to the curse that took his mother from him.