Malrun Sallis
Male Altmer from Loamhill
"Can't a mer rest five minutes without you rabble crawling all over him?"
[Level: 1 | Exp: 0/10] [Health: 4] [Magicka: 10]
Vital Statistics
"What do you mean you want my measurements?"
Birthsign: The Mage
Agility: 40
Endurance: 45
Intelligence: 55
Luck: 40
Personality: 40
Speed: 30
Strength: 30
Willpower: 40
Skills
"Anything you can do, I can do better. Then I'll feed you to a daedra."
Conjuration: 35
Destruction: 40
Alteration: 40
Restoration: 30
Light Armour: 25
Blade: 25
Sneak: 25
Heavy Armour: 5
Marksman: 5
Hand to Hand: 5
Athletics: 5
Acrobatics: 5
Security: 5
Mysticism: 20
Block: 5
Blunt: 5
Armourer: 5
Alchemy: 15
Illusion: 10
Speechcraft: 5
Mercantile: 5
Currently Equipped
"It's my stuff. Don't touch it unless you want to be my dinner."
Dark Shirt (Brown): +0 Armour
Monotone Linens (Tan): +0 Armour
Huntsman's Moccasins (Brown): +0 Armour
Thin Book: Summon Lesser Clannfear (+4)
Roll Statistics
"I suppose I'm not a lucky sort..."
(Racial) -3 Defense Bonus against Elemental Attacks
(Racial) Resist Disease: 75%
Acrobatics: 1 to 22
Alchemy: 1 to 39
Alteration: unavailable
Armourer: 1 to 29
Athletics: 1 to 22
Blade: unavailable
Blunt: 5 to 36
Conjuration: 5 to 63
Destruction: unavailable
Hand to Hand: 1 to 22
Illusion: unavailable
Marksman: unavailable
Mercantile: 1 to 27
Mysticism: unavailable
Restoration: unavailable
Security: 1 to 27
Sneak: 1 to 37
Speechcraft: 1 to 27
General Biography
"Why should you care? It's none of your damn business anyway."
Malrun was a typical, contributing, shop-owning member of society until one day he realised there was something missing in his life. When the epiphany hit him it was quite a shock, as they usually are. Except this one was completely shocking as his normally tidy little shop had apparently been ripped apart overnight.
As you could have guessed, his (former) home was in the Former Imperial City, where he presumed nothing bad every really happened. After all, this was the sacred city! The Imperials kept everything neat and tidy, and the rifraff out. Right?
Well, apparently somewhere along the line, he was wrong. It wasn't a sacred city, it was a damned one! What kind of god destroys the last survivor of their sacred-tied bloodline?
After the shock, Malrun took to being cranky, reclusive, and studying dark arts behind closed doors. No one really knew if he would ever become his righteous, pleasant self again, or even if he was dead or alive, mainly because they all too afraid of the answer. It had been months since anyone saw him. It was just safer to presume him dead.
Until one day in the middle of the night, when the rusted door finally opened and a perfectly normal-seeming Altmer stepped out of his home and into the dimly lit streets. With a small huff he started off toward Loamhill like he was in a daze, leaving the world he'd known for his entire life behind.
Male Altmer from Loamhill
"Can't a mer rest five minutes without you rabble crawling all over him?"
[Level: 1 | Exp: 0/10] [Health: 4] [Magicka: 10]
Vital Statistics
"What do you mean you want my measurements?"
Birthsign: The Mage
Agility: 40
Endurance: 45
Intelligence: 55
Luck: 40
Personality: 40
Speed: 30
Strength: 30
Willpower: 40
Skills
"Anything you can do, I can do better. Then I'll feed you to a daedra."
Conjuration: 35
Destruction: 40
Alteration: 40
Restoration: 30
Light Armour: 25
Blade: 25
Sneak: 25
Heavy Armour: 5
Marksman: 5
Hand to Hand: 5
Athletics: 5
Acrobatics: 5
Security: 5
Mysticism: 20
Block: 5
Blunt: 5
Armourer: 5
Alchemy: 15
Illusion: 10
Speechcraft: 5
Mercantile: 5
Currently Equipped
"It's my stuff. Don't touch it unless you want to be my dinner."
Dark Shirt (Brown): +0 Armour
Monotone Linens (Tan): +0 Armour
Huntsman's Moccasins (Brown): +0 Armour
Thin Book: Summon Lesser Clannfear (+4)
Roll Statistics
"I suppose I'm not a lucky sort..."
(Racial) -3 Defense Bonus against Elemental Attacks
(Racial) Resist Disease: 75%
Acrobatics: 1 to 22
Alchemy: 1 to 39
Alteration: unavailable
Armourer: 1 to 29
Athletics: 1 to 22
Blade: unavailable
Blunt: 5 to 36
Conjuration: 5 to 63
Destruction: unavailable
Hand to Hand: 1 to 22
Illusion: unavailable
Marksman: unavailable
Mercantile: 1 to 27
Mysticism: unavailable
Restoration: unavailable
Security: 1 to 27
Sneak: 1 to 37
Speechcraft: 1 to 27
General Biography
"Why should you care? It's none of your damn business anyway."
Malrun was a typical, contributing, shop-owning member of society until one day he realised there was something missing in his life. When the epiphany hit him it was quite a shock, as they usually are. Except this one was completely shocking as his normally tidy little shop had apparently been ripped apart overnight.
As you could have guessed, his (former) home was in the Former Imperial City, where he presumed nothing bad every really happened. After all, this was the sacred city! The Imperials kept everything neat and tidy, and the rifraff out. Right?
Well, apparently somewhere along the line, he was wrong. It wasn't a sacred city, it was a damned one! What kind of god destroys the last survivor of their sacred-tied bloodline?
After the shock, Malrun took to being cranky, reclusive, and studying dark arts behind closed doors. No one really knew if he would ever become his righteous, pleasant self again, or even if he was dead or alive, mainly because they all too afraid of the answer. It had been months since anyone saw him. It was just safer to presume him dead.
Until one day in the middle of the night, when the rusted door finally opened and a perfectly normal-seeming Altmer stepped out of his home and into the dimly lit streets. With a small huff he started off toward Loamhill like he was in a daze, leaving the world he'd known for his entire life behind.
