One Last War

By: Dirty Reid

Chapter 3: Meeting the New Neighbours

The lush forests of the Reach, as one of Ser Imry's bannermen called it, did an excellent job of concealing the small dirt path that the Florent party eventually led Hippolyta and her soldiers to. While the men rode to their front and sides an gave no indication that they wished to attack, Hippolyta had sent significant looks to General Fire-Eater, Darioth and Blackfire. The Praetorians' bodies were tensed and ready to defend themselves at a second's notice and like her Empress, Fire-Eater had a spell on the tip of her fingers.

At a decent canter with one stop for their mounts to drink from a small stream, their journey ate up two hours of time. The forests quickly gave way to grasslands, and perched before one of the softly curved mountains was Brightwater Keep. A thick stone wall surrounded the town, shielding the white-walled houses with wood and hay-thatched roofs from marauding brigands and dangerous wildlife. Behind the keep, a small river flowed peacefully, shielded by various trees heavy with fruit. Standing above the wall and houses, the grey-and-white-stoned seat of House Florent looked down upon the keep like a protective guardian. The standard flew from two flags atop the squared, crenelated tower.

One of the Florent men noticed the Empress gazing up at the tower silently. "Quite the beauty, isn't it?" He asked proudly. If he had expected an affirmation or a reverent nod from Hippolyta, her nonchalant shrug must have been extremely disappointing.

"It's quaint." She said. "I am reminded of the Whiterun of yesteryear." She answered candidly.

"Whiterun? Is that one of your cities?" Asked another Florent man.

"Indeed. It is situated on the planes in the middle of Skyrim, and today serves as a central hub for transport and trade in the province." Hippolyta sighed at the flood of memories. "In some way, Whiterun was where my ascension began."

"Your ascension?" Asked Imry, who had been listening intently to the Empress' words.

"Yes, but I shall say no more for now. If there is one thing you must know about me Ser Imry, it is that I detest repeating myself." And with that declaration, Hippolyta remained silent about her past as the band of bannermen led them through the front gates of Brightwater Keep. Their party drew stares from every corner of the lower district. Some were curious, others were interested, and others were suspicious. Hippolyta had to admit that they made for an odd group. There was the Empress, regal, impossibly tall in their eyes, with pointed ears and golden skin; General Fire-Eater, a still fair woman garbed in fine battle gear with an axe at her belt; Darioth, whose face and ears were even pointier than her own, and the colour of faded leather; and finally, Lena Blackfire, whose gender was unknowable, owing to her full suit of demonic Daedric armour and complement of weapons. None of the four Tamrielics paid the looks any mind as they rode through the keep and into the courtyard of the castle, whereupon they dismounted their rounceys and left them with a gaggle of awestruck stable boys. Hippolyta raised a thin eyebrow as Ser Imry quickly stood to bar their entry to Brightwater Keep proper.

"While you have shown no ill intent Your Grace, I still cannot allow you or your companions entry so heavily armed." He stated flatly. "I mean no offense."

Hippolyta was far too smart and experienced to believe that this 'rule' applied to everyone, but she privately admired his ability to conceal his emotions. Behind the iron curtain, she hid her own smirk at the knowledge of her foursome having spells and some of the best hand-to-hand skills in Tamriel to back them up. Wordlessly, she looked to Fire-Eater, Darioth and Blackfire with a nod. The three returned the gesture and set about removing their weapons. Fire-Eater's ebony axe with its golden filigree drew more than one appraising look. Darioth's golden-hued bow and arrows begot curiosity at their lack of weight, as well as his fine steel dagger. Finally, Blackfire's Daedric bow and daggers elicited trepidation at their eerily pulsing red inlays, as well as confusion about the empty quiver glowing with purple characters she handed over.

"What good is a bow with no arrows?" One of the men asked with amusement. No response came from the petite Praetorian, but the speaker felt his flesh crawl as those deep and empty sockets stared at him. His inability to see her expression meant all he could do was imagine what was going on under that helmet, and combined with the frankly frightening battlewear, his traitorous mind conjured quite a few eerie images.

"Follow me, please." Ser Imry ordered, leading the group of four into the white stone castle. As the knight led them up through the lower levels of Brightwater Keep proper, the four Tamrielics drew no fewer looks of interest, curiosity or trepidation. Several flights and floors later, they entered a sunlit room with no less than twelve armed men bearing the sigil of House Florent In front of two large wooden doors presumably leading to a balcony, an intricate throne of an equally dark wood loomed atop a dais. Sitting the throne and wearing a deep red doublet with the twelve flowers and fox of his house on his breast was Alester Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep. By Hippolyta's estimate, he appeared to be in the region of sixty years of age. Despite such, he was well-groomed and still rather handsome. His salt-and-pepper hair fell in strings to his shoulders, connecting to a beard above his prominent ears. Eyes rimmed by wrinkled skin and the colour of rich soil gazed calmly down at the women and man before him. Having faced dozens, if not hundreds of lords and royals in her time, Hippolyta held his gaze easily.

"So you are the leader of the fleet of strangers landing on my shores." He stated evenly. His eyes roved over the four Tamrielics, lingering on the provocatively dressed Empress in hopes of provoking a reaction.

"And you are clearly Alester Florent, lord of Brightwater Keep." Hippolyta countered with a ghost of a smile to contrast the bold and harsh tone of her Empress voice. His blink and tightened lips must have meant Florent was taken off guard by the strength of her counter-statement. Perhaps he expected me to be ignorant of who he was, or be the first to give up footing. As he shot a quick glare at Imry and his eleven companions, Hippolyta pressed her advantage. "No doubt you want to know who we are and why we have sailed here."

"I would, in fact. Your ships have caused no small amount of panic along the shores, the Shield Islands and up the Mander." Florent said coolly. Hippolyta allowed a mild grimace.

"I do apologise, but after so long at sea, my people were eager to stand on solid ground again. It may not mean much now, but you have my word that we have not come to this land with ill intent." She cleared her throat. "I am Hippolyta Septim the First, Empress of Tamriel, Magister of the Great House Telvanni and former General of the Free Army of Tamriel." She said with a small nod. Florent and his attending court and servants went quiet upon learning that they were in the presence of a ruling monarch, even though the name of the country...

"I am unfamiliar with this 'Tamriel'." Florent admitted, the name rolling off his tongue oddly. Hippolyta nodded.

"Understandable. Few can venture to the other end of the globe, and even fewer can make it back to bring tales of lands unknown. To this day, most of Tamriel's populous still believes Westeros to be a myth, if they have even heard of it at all. Let it be known though, that it is a land as wondrous and diverse as its people." She extolled, gesturing for her company to continue with their introductions.

"I am Tonje Fire-Eater, born of the province Skyrim, and General of the Third Imperial Legion. 'Tis an honour to make your acquaintance, Lord Florent." Fire-Eater announced with a bow. Florent allowed a small smile before gazing at the two shorter figures in vastly different armours, both wearing half-capes with shields protecting crowns sewn in.

"Darioth is my name, Lord Florent. I am a ranger of the province Valenwood, and Praetorian Guard to Her Excellency Hippolyta Septim." The Bosmer waxed poetic as he was oft inclined to do, finishing with a flourishing bow.

"I am Lena Blackfire, alumnus of the College of Winterhold of Skyrim, expert battlemage and Praetorian Guard to Her Excellency." Blackfire said shortly, surprising many as a female voice came from behind the armour directly out of a story used to scare small children.

"You seem to place a great deal of faith in women to protect you, Your Excellency." Florent noted. He was about to say something else until Hippolyta cut him off.

"Twice has a disparaging comment been made in regards to the people of the Legion being women, or I myself being a leader. Let me make one thing abundantly clear to you Lord Florent: In Tamriel, there are no expectations placed upon anyone to confine themselves to a specific set of roles. We are from a different country, so why should it be unusual that we go about our lives differently?" She said harshly, slanted eyes narrowed into slits and her lips pressed together in a disapproving frown. It was a look she had honed over her long lifespan, and more than one person had shrank away in fear when she directed it at them. Alester Florent was no exception, as his eyes widened and he held up a hand placatingly.

"Apologies Your Excellency, I was... narrow-minded in my observations." He said by way of apology, taking up the honourific used by the Praetorians. Hippolyta's face did not budge. "I am an old man, and we of Westeros have been entrenched in our traditions for thousands of years. To have a company of warriors who hold dear values contrary to our own land upon our shores is quite jarring." He explained. Knowing that having deep-seated beliefs stirred abruptly could incite confusion, fear and anger, as she had experienced with the Nords of Skyrim and even herself, she let her severe look lessen just a mite.

"Well said, Lord Florent. But let us not talk of our entrenched beliefs any longer, lest our tongues grow hot enough that we might spit fire. No doubt you wish to know why I have come here and brought a Legion of troops with me." She stated before a small inhalation, preparing to deliver her cover.

"I have traveled here so I might open relations with the ruler of Westeros and all sundry. Perhaps if the Nine are generous, we might have a trade treaty forged and signed whilst I am here. No doubt my people will find your wonders fascinating, and yours will find ours fascinating as well." She said with some small 'hope' injected into her voice. It seemed her answer was unexpected.

"That is all?" Ser Imry blurted. "With an army so large, one would have thought you came to conquer and plunder."

Hippolyta had to laugh. "The Third Legion and Fourth Fleet sail with me as protection from a land I know nothing about, and I have no interest in bringing a second kingdom of subjects half the world away under my rule, Ser Imry. To manage nine provinces and keep the peace among twelve million people is taxing enough." She said to the amusement of her fellows and the Florents. Alester actually smiled. Perhaps she had him convinced?

"I cannot speak for His Grace Robert Baratheon, but I for one would welcome a treaty with folk as interesting as yourself, Your Excellency. As clemency for my rather ill-thought welcome, I name you my guests and extend you both my hospitality and protection in the sight of the Seven. So long as you are beneath my roof, no harm shall befall you." He boldly proclaimed. "You and your subjects must be famished after such a long journey. If it please Your Excellency, I invite you to dine at my table this evening so that we might learn a little more about each other." He added. Surprised and just a little apprehensive of his change of heart, Hippolyta nodded with a small smile regardless.

"You honour us, Lord Florent. We accept your invitation, and in turn offer our thanks." She said with a nod. Fire-Eater, Darioth and Blackfire each gave a half bow in respect.

The supper laid before them was quite splendid. It was not on the level of the banquets served in the Imperial Palace, but Hippolyta would not dare make that comparison aloud, not when these men who had no reason to do so were giving her a chance. She likewise found herself as thirsty for knowledge as Alester, leading them to trade questions and answers as they supped on roasted boar, bowls of salad, deep brown bread and enough wine to drown a dozen men. Further down the table, Fire-Eater, Darioth and Blackfire- now with her helm removed, bearing her lightly-tanned face, vibrant green eyes and mahogany red hair- were holding court with the knights and squires and other family members of House Florent.

"Begging your pardon Your Excellency, but I have noticed that you look quite different from your subordinates, and even they do not look similar." Alester began cautiously. "Is this true with all residents of Tamriel?"

"It is, Lord Florent. As of now, Tamriel is home to ten distinct races, divided into three categories: Men, elves and beast-folk. General Fire-Eater is one example of a mannish race. She is a Nord, the people of Skyrim who revel in frost and combat. Few people can match the ferocity of an enraged Nord on the battlefield, and Tonje is no exception. Darioth is a Bosmer, a Wood Elf. Less cultured persons would call them 'Forest People'. They hail from the jungles of Valenwood, the most untamed province in Tamriel, having rejected the civilised world of our ancestors in favour of embracing nature. Millennia in the forests have moulded them into scouts and archers without peer. Lena is a mixed breed, born of a Bosmer father and a Nord mother. This blending of blood leaves her less hearty and hale than a Nord, and not as agile as a Bosmer, yet her spirit more than compensates for such." Hippolyta explained one at a time before taking a gulp of delicious wine.

"And you, Your Excellency?" Alester prompted gently.

"I am an Altmer, a High Elf. We are one of the oldest living races in Tamriel, and our influence is the foundation of the Empires both past and present. To this day, no other race can match us in terms of magickal aptitude." She said. To Alester's right, his wife Melara of House Crane frowned.

"You doubt my claims, Lady Florent." Hippolyta stated. "I assume that magick is not so prevalent here in Westeros?" As she asked, her left hand lit up with orange light. Alester and Melara flinched in alarm, but their expressions rapidly shifted to interest as a spare knife shot into the air and began floating towards Hippolyta. As the Empress caught the knife, the light in her palm shifted from orange to green. Glancing at the utensil intently, the green light in Hippolyta's hand began to crawl over it even as she tossed it into the air. After one rotation, she caught the transmuted knife. Where it had once been made of iron, gleaming gold now comprised it. Alester and Melara were flabbergasted.

"Such spells are only a fraction of my magickal skill." She stated, pushing the gold knife towards the husband and wife. As Alester inspected the knife, Melara found her voice.

"You assume correctly Your Excellency. Magick has never been common in Westeros, even before the dragons died out." She said.

Hippolyta had been about to eat a cut of boar when the word 'dragons' was uttered. She abruptly set her fork down and leveled her gaze at Melara, unable to conceal all of her interest.

"Dragons, you say." She drawled slowly. "What do you know of dragons, Lady Florent?" She asked.

"They were creatures originating from across the Narrow Sea, in Old Valyria to the far east. They were fire made flesh, with breath hot enough to melt stone and steel, and could grow large enough to swallow a mammoth whole." At this, Hippolyta blinked. While she had seen, spoken to and fought with many dragons, she had never seen one big enough to eat a mammoth in one bite. The largest dragon she had met was Lotvedgram, whose tremendous shadow struck fear into anyone who saw it, and could fit his jaws around a giant quite easily. Melara must not have seen her expression, for she continued.

"They were used as mounts by House Targaryen, allowing them to conquer and unite Westeros nearly three hundred years ago and bring forth a dynasty that lasted nearly as long. 'Twas said that they had dragon blood in their veins, which allowed them to tame the beasts." She elaborated. It was then that Melara saw the signs that Hippolyta was pondering something. "What troubles you Your Excellency?" She asked.

"What you say of these Targaryens is rather... disquieting, Lady Florent." She admitted. "To tame a dragon would require tremendous force of will, and if an entire family is granted this power..." Thoughts of Miraak flashed through her mind, making her wince as a stab wound just under her left breast tingled. "Do they still exercise this power through control of their vassals or enemies?" She asked. Alester and Melara shared a look.

"No record of any Targaryen controlling men exists Your Excellency, and even if it did, you needn't worry about them doing so, for their line died out nearly fifteen years ago." Alester reassured her. Hippolyta felt her shoulders unclench in relief upon knowing that she would not have to contend with one or more persons who could bend others to their will, in addition to the White Death and a Daedric Prince.

"You seem quite interested in the dragons and Targaryens Your Excellency." Alester observed. "Not to mention your knowledge of taming the beasts." He added. As Melara joined her husband in gazing at the Empress, she inwardly cursed herself for saying too much and fished about for how to allay the Florents' suspicions.

"... Let us say that I have always had a certain... interest in dragons and the associated lore. As I iterated before, Tamriel is much different from Westeros." She finally said before steering their conversation back to lighter topics. While wary, the Florents let the matter drop and began to ask about the provinces of Tamriel. They found that Cyrodiil, the province from which Hippolyta looked out on her subjects was much like the Reach. They likened King's Landing, the seat of the Seven Kingdoms' power to the Imperial City, but after describing Highgarden, the seat of House Tyrell, the Wardens of the South, they conceded that it was more akin to the heart of the Empire.

"Without a doubt, word of your arrival has reached the Tyrells. I would suggest that you make yourself known to them Your Excellency, lest they falsely presume your Legion to be hostile invaders." Alester stated, prompting a nod from Hippolyta before they continued. The Starks of Winterfell brought comparisons to the Nords, both for their heartiness and their reveling in the freezing north. The Lannisters, Wardens of the West, conjured images of crosses between the silver-tongued Imperials, the ambition of the Bretons and the slipperiness of the Khajiit. Oddly fitting, considering their standard was a lion. Of particular note was the Florents' interest in the Argonians and the Khajiit. To know of the existence of cats and lizards with the intelligence of man and the ability to walk on two legs must have been not dissimilar to being told an old children's fable was true. Continuing along the vein of fables, their subjects of worship eventually came to light.

"You worship a god with seven faces?" Hippolyta asked.

"Essentially, yes. Each face represents one or more aspects of the circle of life. And what can you tell us of your god or gods, Your Excellency?" Alester asked.

"While dependent upon what race you ask, the primary pantheon of the Empire revolves around the worship of the Aedra, or the Nine Divines. Each of these gods represent one or more aspects of life, much like your Seven." Hippolyta explained with a small grin. "Would you care to compare?"

"Of course. The Father is considered the most powerful of the Seven, the judge of the dead, and represents the virtues of justice and law. He is the subject of prayer to all whose sons or brothers or fathers are leaving to war, or to lords who must dispense with justice." He began. Hippolyta looked down in thought for a scant few seconds.

"Two of our Divines are comparable to the Father: First there is Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time. To we elves, he is known as Auri-El, King of the Aldmer. He represents endurance, invincibility and legitimacy. The second is Stendarr, the God of Mercy and Righteous Might. It was he who granted the first laws to men and elves, and is the patron of law-abiding citizens and the Legion." Hippolyta countered, motioning for Alester or Melara to continue.

"The Mother is companion to the Father, and represents motherhood, love and nurturing. It is in the sight of these two faces that men and women are married." Melara said. Hippolyta smiled just a hint.

"Our Mother is Mara, the Goddess of love, the source of all compassion and giver of fertility. In her eyes are marriages performed and blessed." Hippolyta said.

"The Warrior represents valour, strength in battle and the protection of the innocent. Knights will always pray to him before a battle." Alester continued.

"Our counterpart is Talos, the God of War, and He who was once the mortal man Tiber Septim, Unifier of Tamriel and founder of the Third Empire." She would have continued had Alester not interjected.

"Septim? You claim to have the blood of a God?" He asked in disbelief.

"All elves can trace their lineage back to the Aldmer, who were once the Ehlnofey- the original Tamrielics- who are of the loins of the Aedra. But as to my having the blood of Talos, I highly doubt that I may claim him as an ancestor. What I have come to believe was that Akatosh saw fit to gift me with his blood as a necessary gift to stand firm against the many evils I have faced. I am a Septim by creation, not by bloodline." Hippolyta explained. "But that is simply my interpretation, and I fear that I may never know the truth about my connection to Talos. Returning to our original line of questioning, Tiber Septim became a god after conquering all of Tamriel, thus ending a centuries long war for control of the Ruby Throne, the seat of the Empire's power." She finished, lifting her hand and prompting the Florents to continue.

"Yes, well, where were we...? Oh yes! The Smith is the representation of crafting, commerce, work and creativity. He is prayed to by builders and smiths who must endeavour to complete their tasks." Melara restarted their comparison of their respective deities somewhat shakily, clearly not expecting the bombshell Hippolyta had just dropped.

"The Smith is akin to Zenithar, the God of wealth, labour and commerce. He is the patron of the honest worker, and his priests preach that through hard work and honest profit in place of war, peace will shine through." The Empress said.

"The Maiden is the aspect of beauty and virtuosity. Mothers will often pray to her to protect their children from the trials and tribulations of the world." Melara continued.

"While she does not represent virtuosity in the way you have wrought it to be, our counterpart is Dibella, the Goddess of beauty, women and passion. While similar to Mara, her worshippers often show their devotion to Dibella through art, the advent of women and acts of love and compassion, if you understand my meaning." Hippolyta said with a wink. Knowing exactly what the Empress was talking about, Melara turned pink and Alester fought to keep a smile from his face.

"The Crone is the aspect of wisdom and guidance. Maesters and pilgrims will often seek her aid if they desire to be led unto a clear path." He said.

"Julianos is our Divine facsimile, representing logic, wisdom and literature. He was originally incarnated in the Nordic religion as Jhunal, the father of language and mathematics. He has also been tied to magick, and as such is mostly revered by mages." Hippolyta riposted.

"And last is the Stranger. He is less favoured than the other Six, as he is the aspect of death and the unknown, although some outcasts or exiles deign to pray to him." Here Alester's face became grim, as though the Stranger would appear and enact his dark will for the man speaking ill of him.

"Ours is Arkay, son of Akatosh and Mara, the God of the cycle of life and death, burials and funeral rites. His blessing is sought for those souls who have passed from the mortal plane." Hippolyta looked up in thought as another less benevolent deity came to mind. "Although a more literal comparison would be Sithis. He is a primal force representative of the Void, the darkness from which all things that are spring from. He is known also as the Dread Father, patron of the order of assassins called the Dark Brotherhood, and as such is associated with death and murder." Hippolyta made a small grimace as she recalled her first encounter with a member of the bloodthirsty murderers. The blade had been coated in a poison that kept her wounds from healing, and had almost killed her.

"Our ninth Divine, whom I see you do not have a counterpart to, is Kynareth. She is the Goddess of the heavens, the wind, rain, and the one who taught mortals to speak. For her association with the weather, sailors often pray to her before a voyage." Hippolyta explained. For a moment, Alester and Melara were silent.

"It seems we are not so different after all." Melara said with a smile. "But earlier, you said that these Nine were the primary pantheon of the Empire. Are there more Gods worshipped throughout Tamriel?" She added.

"... In many ways, yes. Many other deities hold sway over the lives of Tamriel's denizens, not all of them good. There is another sect nearly as prominent as the court of the Nine, and embodies the chaos necessary to counteract the Aedra's order. Their followers are the cultists of the seventeen Daedric Princes." She said with a dark edge looming in her voice.

"From the way you speak of these 'princes', descriptors such as demon Gods come to mind." Melara ventured, having heard the edge in Hippolyta's voice.

Hippolyta nodded and opened her mouth to begin a tale of darkness and manipulation, but the door to the dining hall banging open cut her monologue off at the neck. "A story for another day perhaps," she said quietly as a frantic page rushed into the room.

"Begging your pardon m'lord, but the beacon fires have come alight once more." He uttered breathlessly. Alester sighed.

"I thought I had already ordered word be sent out to the coast that the ships from the west were not sailing to plunder, boy." He said sternly. The page shook his head.

"It is not Her Excellency's ships that have caused the firs to be lit m'lord. Greenshield was the first to light their beacon m'lord." He explained.

Alester's eyes narrowed. "Ironmen." He snarled. Ignorant of what exactly he meant, Hippolyta fixed him with a mildly curious stare as she snapped her fingers loudly. Immediately, Fire-Eater and her Praetorians snapped their heads over to the Empress.

"Who are these ironmen that incite you to such a rage Lord Florent?" She asked.

"Bloody pirates is what they are." He spat. "Men of the Iron Islands to the far north. They follow the Old Way, which instructs them to only keep that which they reave and plunder, or loot from the corpses of men they slay." He explained, much to the disgust of the Tamrielics

"Fair guests, I apologise, but our supper must be cut short, lest these savages pillage the mouth of the Mander." He apologised with a bow. "Ser Imry, see our guests returned to their beach safely." He ordered. Imry bowed and made for the four, but Hippolyta held up her hand.

"That will not be necessary Ser Imry." She said firmly. "Lord Florent, if it please you, muster your finest archers and have them mount up. I shall have them take up spots on my ships to help destroy these ironmen." She said. The hall went quiet as the Florents digested exactly what the Empress had just offered.

"I beg your pardon Your Excellency?" Alester asked, unsure of whether he had heard Hippolyta correctly. "Why would you risk the lives of your men for people you do not know, much less care for?" He asked. Hippolyta, while put off at his presumption that she did not care for the Westerosi, grinned in a fashion absolutely feral.

"I mean to ingratiate myself and my subjects to the people of Westeros, lord Florent. What better way is there to forge a bond than by assisting you in destroying people who exploit the vulnerable and prevent the deaths of countless good men?" She asked as candidly as she could.

After he digested what had just been said, an equally savage grin lit up Alester Florent's face. "I am liking you more and more every minute, Your Excellency."

Ha ha, cliffhanger! I'm sorry about the lack of action that I promised, but it'll be in the next chapter! DON'T LYNCH ME!

Also, I apologise for the wait in between chapters two and three. I've been distracted by the Heists in GTA V, when I can actually get three other people to join my party, that is. If any of you want to make a couple of phat stackz with me, my Xbox One gamertag is Dirty Reidman. Hit me up, and please:

1) Tell me whether or not you liked this chapter

2) Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about this chapter

3) Tell me what you DIDN'T like about this chapter

4) Recommend a suitable improvement

BONUS: OC Submission

Dearest readers, I am in need of your help. As I wrote, Hippolyta Septim is sailing to Westeros with 6 000 Legionnaires, 100 Praetorian Guards and 800 sailors. I may be creative, but even I can't come up with that many new characters for some parts of the story featuring them. That's where you come in. If you wish to see a character of your creation appear in my story, please submit him/her with the following details:

Category of submission (Legionnaire or Praetorian or Sailor)

Character's name

Character's race (And place of birth) (NOTE: Mixed breeds are accepted)

Character's appearance (NOTE: The more creative you are with their appearance, the more likely I am to use them)

Character's Personality and Past (Growing up, previous experience, previous hardships, personality type and quirks, subject(s) of worship, etc.) (NOTE: The more creative you are with their personality, the more likely I am to use them)

Character's Attributes (Fighting style, armour/clothing choice, weapon(s) choice/magical talents. etc.) (Please be as creative as possible; do not simply adhere to the weapons seen in the Elder Scrolls series)

And finally, YOU MUST SUBMIT YOUR REQUESTS IN THE FORM OF A PRIVATE MESSAGE, OR THEY WILL NOT BE CONSIDERED. Submissions will be considered valid until April 28, any submitted afterwards will be rejected.

Divines smile upon you,

DR