Post by Sorren Silver-Notch on Mar 17, 2012 15:15:41 GMT -5
Name: Sorren Silver-Notch
Nickname(s): Sori
Race: Nord
Occupation: Sellsword
Brief Description/Quote: "Go ahead and keep the payment, I don't need it. Your friendship is worth more than the gold."
Age: 25
Height: 6' 8"
Build: Like a brick, tall and wide, but with a round, sweet face.
Eye-color: Light grey-blue
Hair-Color: Strawberry blond
Major Scars/Tattoos/Brands: He has a long scar across his nose that has long since healed. He also has a scar that looks like a bear's jaw marks around his left thigh.
Art: (No drawing yet, some day.)
Personality: Sorren is, in all respects, a teddy bear. He is sweet, caring, helpful, funny, and everything you would expect someone who doesn't hit monsters with hammers to be. He holds all people in high regard, and unlike most Nords for the freedom of Skyrim, race has no impact on his opinion of a person. He is particularly fond of children and animals, and will often be seen playing alongside them when he isn't busy. He is welcoming to anyone he meets, and will work as hard as he can to make friends with them as quickly as possible. He loves to spend time at playhouses and in pubs, listening to music and dancing as well as his bulky frame allows.
Not everything in Skyrim is fun and games though, and Sorren is built to deal with even the toughest situations. He is a force to be reckoned with, and when innocents are at stake he does not let his friendly personality get the better of him. Even when he is victorious though, he never takes a life without trying to exhaust every other option, even opting to try and release attacking animals before slaying them.
Favorites
-Fav. Food: Honey nut treats
- Fav. Drink: Water
- Other Likes: Any food that is very fresh, good company, comedy, and a challenge.
Dislikes: Mistreatment of good people, general sadness, death
Fears: Spiders, centipedes, loss of any kind
Sexuality: Too naive to think about it
Relationship Status: Single
Other Characters they know and their relationship with them: Companions, he has met many in passing but few remember him.
Weapons/Armor/Skills
Weapon(s) Used: His family's dwarven warhammer, named Toothcracker
Armor Type: Usually wears steel armor, but he also has a set of wolf armor he only wears on special occasions.
Fighting Style: Heavy brawler
Combat Experience: High. He has fought the majority of his life; it's in his blood.
Strengths: Head on combat, fearless when faced by strong enemies, good at taking orders
Weaknesses: Entirely useless with magic, bad at forming his own plans and leading, far too trusting and willing to help anyone or give his enemies a second chance
Specialty: Two-handed combat
Preferred School of Magic: N/A
Magic Spells Known: N/A
Magic Spells Bought: N/A
Words of Power Known: N/A
Words of Power Bought: N/A
Affiliations
Factions: The Companions. (Technically, his political beliefs would make him a Stormcloak, but he refuses to get involved in wars and would fight for imperials just as easily if they needed his help.)
Biography
Homeland: Skyrim
History: Sorren was born into a well renowned family, despite their gruesome occupation. His father, Bjorgard Silver-Notch was a great were hunter, said to be a high ranking member of the Silver Hand, and an amazing warrior. He and his wife dedicated their lives to killing werebeasts of any kind, and Sorren was trained from a young age to follow in their footsteps. Though he was a little softer and sweeter than most boys of his age, he proved to be talented with all weapons and his father's hopes for him were high.
When Sorren reached his thirteenth birthday, his mother and father brought him along on his first hunt, not intended to fight but to prepare him for the harsh work he was born into. The pair had tracked an old Werebear to his den, and did not expect much of a fight. He was there as expected, and Sorren stood back and watched as the old man exploded into the monstrous beast, massive paws swinging at the two humans attacking him.
As they did battle, Sorren found his eyes drawn to the were's cave, and another pair of sharp blue eyes there. A young woman stood out of sight of the hunters, staring at Sorren with an expression of mixed terror and hatred. As the battle raged to the side, the woman charged, her body rippling and expanding into just as much of a monster as her father's, long yellow teeth bared and ready to strike. As the old bear fell, the two warriors turned in time to see their young son being dragged into the cave by his leg, the creature's teeth digging in as she tugged him along.
Sorren awoke a few days later in Rorikstead, far from his families forest home. They had left him only a simple note, explaining that if he proved to be uninfected, he could return. If not, they could not see him again. If he returned as a monster, they would have to slay him. Crushed, he remained there only until his wounds had healed, before making the journey to Whiterun. Tired and worried, he found himself staring at the Temple of Kynareth with too much fear to go inside and be told he was a monster. Feet heavy, he dragged himself instead to the Bannered Mare, where he sat quietly for what seemed like hours, thinking.
After some time, a mug of ale was set down in front of him, followed by a haggard looking man with a crooked smile. They talked for some time, about weapons and the forest and general things, Sorren relaxing as he finally felt as though he had a friend. The man offered him a bed for the night, and Sorren thanked him many times as he followed him to Jorrvaskr. Over a few days Sorren began to feel at home amongst the Companions, finding kinship with them and acceptance, no matter what he was or would become. Though as he grew older he found himself wandering, Jorrvaskr would always be a fixture to him, his only real home. He never gained the courage to visit his parents once again, but through his life and his training, he found the strength to forgive and forget.
Other Accounts: Longshanks
RP Experience: Bout 7 years
Nickname(s): Sori
Race: Nord
Occupation: Sellsword
Brief Description/Quote: "Go ahead and keep the payment, I don't need it. Your friendship is worth more than the gold."
Age: 25
Height: 6' 8"
Build: Like a brick, tall and wide, but with a round, sweet face.
Eye-color: Light grey-blue
Hair-Color: Strawberry blond
Major Scars/Tattoos/Brands: He has a long scar across his nose that has long since healed. He also has a scar that looks like a bear's jaw marks around his left thigh.
Art: (No drawing yet, some day.)
Personality: Sorren is, in all respects, a teddy bear. He is sweet, caring, helpful, funny, and everything you would expect someone who doesn't hit monsters with hammers to be. He holds all people in high regard, and unlike most Nords for the freedom of Skyrim, race has no impact on his opinion of a person. He is particularly fond of children and animals, and will often be seen playing alongside them when he isn't busy. He is welcoming to anyone he meets, and will work as hard as he can to make friends with them as quickly as possible. He loves to spend time at playhouses and in pubs, listening to music and dancing as well as his bulky frame allows.
Not everything in Skyrim is fun and games though, and Sorren is built to deal with even the toughest situations. He is a force to be reckoned with, and when innocents are at stake he does not let his friendly personality get the better of him. Even when he is victorious though, he never takes a life without trying to exhaust every other option, even opting to try and release attacking animals before slaying them.
Favorites
-Fav. Food: Honey nut treats
- Fav. Drink: Water
- Other Likes: Any food that is very fresh, good company, comedy, and a challenge.
Dislikes: Mistreatment of good people, general sadness, death
Fears: Spiders, centipedes, loss of any kind
Sexuality: Too naive to think about it
Relationship Status: Single
Other Characters they know and their relationship with them: Companions, he has met many in passing but few remember him.
Weapons/Armor/Skills
Weapon(s) Used: His family's dwarven warhammer, named Toothcracker
Armor Type: Usually wears steel armor, but he also has a set of wolf armor he only wears on special occasions.
Fighting Style: Heavy brawler
Combat Experience: High. He has fought the majority of his life; it's in his blood.
Strengths: Head on combat, fearless when faced by strong enemies, good at taking orders
Weaknesses: Entirely useless with magic, bad at forming his own plans and leading, far too trusting and willing to help anyone or give his enemies a second chance
Specialty: Two-handed combat
Preferred School of Magic: N/A
Magic Spells Known: N/A
Magic Spells Bought: N/A
Words of Power Known: N/A
Words of Power Bought: N/A
Affiliations
Factions: The Companions. (Technically, his political beliefs would make him a Stormcloak, but he refuses to get involved in wars and would fight for imperials just as easily if they needed his help.)
Biography
Homeland: Skyrim
History: Sorren was born into a well renowned family, despite their gruesome occupation. His father, Bjorgard Silver-Notch was a great were hunter, said to be a high ranking member of the Silver Hand, and an amazing warrior. He and his wife dedicated their lives to killing werebeasts of any kind, and Sorren was trained from a young age to follow in their footsteps. Though he was a little softer and sweeter than most boys of his age, he proved to be talented with all weapons and his father's hopes for him were high.
When Sorren reached his thirteenth birthday, his mother and father brought him along on his first hunt, not intended to fight but to prepare him for the harsh work he was born into. The pair had tracked an old Werebear to his den, and did not expect much of a fight. He was there as expected, and Sorren stood back and watched as the old man exploded into the monstrous beast, massive paws swinging at the two humans attacking him.
As they did battle, Sorren found his eyes drawn to the were's cave, and another pair of sharp blue eyes there. A young woman stood out of sight of the hunters, staring at Sorren with an expression of mixed terror and hatred. As the battle raged to the side, the woman charged, her body rippling and expanding into just as much of a monster as her father's, long yellow teeth bared and ready to strike. As the old bear fell, the two warriors turned in time to see their young son being dragged into the cave by his leg, the creature's teeth digging in as she tugged him along.
Sorren awoke a few days later in Rorikstead, far from his families forest home. They had left him only a simple note, explaining that if he proved to be uninfected, he could return. If not, they could not see him again. If he returned as a monster, they would have to slay him. Crushed, he remained there only until his wounds had healed, before making the journey to Whiterun. Tired and worried, he found himself staring at the Temple of Kynareth with too much fear to go inside and be told he was a monster. Feet heavy, he dragged himself instead to the Bannered Mare, where he sat quietly for what seemed like hours, thinking.
After some time, a mug of ale was set down in front of him, followed by a haggard looking man with a crooked smile. They talked for some time, about weapons and the forest and general things, Sorren relaxing as he finally felt as though he had a friend. The man offered him a bed for the night, and Sorren thanked him many times as he followed him to Jorrvaskr. Over a few days Sorren began to feel at home amongst the Companions, finding kinship with them and acceptance, no matter what he was or would become. Though as he grew older he found himself wandering, Jorrvaskr would always be a fixture to him, his only real home. He never gained the courage to visit his parents once again, but through his life and his training, he found the strength to forgive and forget.
Other Accounts: Longshanks
RP Experience: Bout 7 years
