AmpharosPlush’s Comments (group member since Dec 17, 2012)

AmpharosPlush’s comments from the Elder scrolls RP group.

Molren realized that heading to Windhelm wasn't a good idea, as it was easy to suspect. He started towards Morthal.

Arc continued into town, as he was there on personal buisness. He wanted to make sure none of these "Madstones" had made their way into the Winterhold economy. He started with the inn, and then moved on to the shop. After his investigations wielded no results, he decided it was time to return to the home of the Arc Guild.

Arc looked outward across the road. Molren was surrounded by the dead vigillants Arc had warned. Neither wished for trouble, so they simply walked by eachother, silently cursing the situation. Arc noticed a woman with the robes of an Arch-Mage starting upon the road.
"Arch-mage." He said in his deep voice, giving a small bow.

Name: Arc Wind

Age: 23

Species: Wood Elf

Subspecies: Werewolf

Personality: Arc is a quiet man, yet he knows when to speak, and how to use his words correctly. He's a strategist; he always knows his enemy and will always be assured that his plans are weaved correctly to defeat his opponent. He can be a little indecisive at times, but he's always spot on when he does decide.

Appearance: Red hair tied back in a ponytail, a stubbly beard. He has sharp features, expected of a young Bosmer.

Clothing: Elven armor enchanted with stamina regeneration, along with powerfully enchanted scaled beavers instead of Elven gauntlets.


Weapon/Power/Spell of choice: Gust, a bow enchanted with fire, specifically tailored to defeat Madknights.

Allies: The Arc Guild, all guilds based on good deeds.

Enemies: Madknights, specifically Molren Stoutheart, Dark Brotherhood, Thieves Guild.

Likes: Strategy, chess, wind, adrenalin. He also has a particular respect for those involved in magic.

Dislikes: Those who covort with inherently evil daedra, daedra, the undead, Molren Stoutheart, Madknights.

Extra: He lives in a cabin in Valenwood. He leads the Arc Guild, who have a sole purpose of stopping the Madknights. The Arc Guild base is located in a fort located on the edge between Whiterun hold and The Reach.

Molren looked at the sky. It was cloudy, as it tended to be in Skyrim. He felt the same cold he always did, but at least it wasn't the one that others felt in the north. He drew his sword back into it's scabbard and began upon the road to Cyrodill, where he intended to take a carriage to Black Marsh after he finished some buisness in the court of madness through the strange gate. Of course, this would be later upon his quest, and he decided that Windhelm would be his first stop, followed by Whiterun, and finally Falkreath. It was his intent to stop by Bruma on his way to the Imperial City, where he intended to buy a bit of Dunmer wine for his wife. Of course, the Arc Guild had other plans for him.

Molren awoke to a ruckus. The vigil was in the inn, looking.for daedra worshippers, and, most importantly, looking for him. Molren had no intent on fearing them. He grabbed his armor and blade and started walking out of his room. He intended to make killing them look like self defense. He started towards the door that lead outside, and the vigillants of Stendaar followed him. He kept walking, pretending to be unaware of them until he was far from Winterhold. He finally drew his blade.
"You've found me. Impressive." He uttered, his weapon at his side. The vigillants didn't wait in charging towards him. There were three, each holding a steel mace.
The first mace clinked against his armor causing not even a scratch. Molren countered the attack by slashing the first vigillant, and finished his work by killing the rest. He grabbed the potions and gold they had on them. He noted that one of them was still alive.
"They don't even think to try fire." Molren muttered, plunging his blade into the mans heart.

Molren walked towards the man running the bar and ordered garlic bread with the money he had taken out of his bank in Black Marsh. He enjoyed the irony of eating it and not dying, as he was a vampire. He asked the man for a room for the night and went to bed after changing into more comfortable clothing. He decided he would look for a coffin in the morning.

((Timeskip, anyone?))

Molren realized that this individual was like him, at another time, in another plane of existance. He decided it was time to head to the inn for food and rest, and perhaps see if there are any adventures worth reaping the next day.

"Hm. I would suggest that you don't make deals with Daedra, but I'm guilty of it myself." Molren responded. "Of course, I don't have much to show for it. It's more of a power, really. Very difficult to do." Molren looked at the dead dragon and ran his gauntlet across one of the remaining scales. "This is an elder, if I'm correct." He muttered.

"Impressive." Molren said, arriving at the dead dragon. Suddenly, the glint of dawnbreaker caught his eye. "What type of daedra did you create a pact with to get that weapon, I might ask?"

"Don't get cocky with a Madknight. I snap very easily." Molren said, remembering where he put the ironically named Dagger "Honor" in his bandolier.

Molren looked at Captor's hand, and then his own clawed gauntlet. "It's nice to meet you, Captor." He said.

"Well then. I suppose you haven't heard of me. No one in this place has, and rightfully so. My name is Molren. And yours?" Molren asked, spinning and orb of healing in his left hand.

Molren walked out from behind a nearby tree. Upon his back was Auriel's Bow, not his prefered weapon, but he was out slaughtering bunnies. "Bunnies slaughtered" was a statistic cherished by MadKnights, and that of Molren was disturbingly low.

"Dragon?" Molren asked, hearing the conversation. "I remember my days outside of the realm of the Arc Guild. I was dragonborn in my realm, before I came here to take care of other matters." He said, keeping his helmet on. "I'd be happy to help slay the beast."

Name: Molren Stoutheart

Age: Appearance of 35.

Race: Imperial

Subspecies: Vampire Lord of the Volkihar clan.

Personality: Molren may help people by doing errands for them, but in the end he's unpredictable and deadly. He has an incredible attachment to his wife, known as Brel Mar, and his best friend, known as Derky. He is also attached to his adopted son and daughter.

Appearance: Long, black hair, black warpaint and glowing orange eyes. He has a beard which is tied at the middle. His features are that of one who has killed many.

Clothing: Daedric armor with a lute on his back and a few bandoliers. His armor has been refined and enchanted by him.

Weapon/Power/Spell of choice: Dragonbone sword, sharpened to the peak of power and enchanted with ice. It is imbued with the power of the MadKnight Od Ruvaak. In his left hand he wields Close Wounds, an adept Restoration spell.

Allies: Brel Mar, Derky.

Enemies: The Arc Guild, the Sloads of Elsweyr, Worm King, Boethiah.

Likes: Sheogorath, brooms, skooma, sleeping tree sap, Argonian Bloodwine, Dark Elves.

Dislikes: Boethiah, guards, High Elves, Filthy Stormcloaks, Thalmor.