The Scholar [PNPC]

Character Name: Markio Orimalsa

Nickname(s): The Scholar, as most people call him.

Race: Altmer.

Sex: Male.

Age: 21. No, not really. But it's rude to ask an old Elf his age.

Birthplace: Lillandril, Alinor.



Height: 6'9".

Weight: 184lbs, somewhat on the underwight side due to his advanced age.

Eye Color: Blue, and bright.

Hair Color: Soft grey, used to be bright blonde...

Hair Style: His hair's kept to a medium length, hanging low at the back but the sides clipped to the rear. Some sort of old style of wearing one's hair from Alinor. Far out of fashion now.

Facial Hair: Has grown a sizeable beard and moustache, although keeps his cheeks shaven.

Skin Color: Deep gold, enough Altmer to make a Thalmor jealous.

Build: Wrinkled and old, yet not bowed or hunched. The Scholar was a well muscled adventurer in his youth, some of that has wasted away. He looks like he's more capable than another Mer or Man of his age.

Distinguishing Features: The Scholar is a testament to the fortification of magic. A master of restoration magic, he's been able to keep his body going long past the time it should have collapsed in a heap. He bares the scars of his centuries of travel, old wounds and burn marks that pock his body. Tales each, but they never dampened the twinkle in his eye.



Profession: Author, Traveling Scholar, Adventurer.

Skills: Living a life on the road has given him the skills to survive almost anywhere, if only his body could keep up with him. He's also a dab hand at alchemy, he particularly likes some of the more strange concoctions from across Tamriel.

Magic: More than a Journeyman in almost every school of magic knowable, he's a scholar - he writes things from experience, so he must learn them first. He's particularly masterful at illusionary arts and restoration.

Training: Trained from an early age in the arts of Magic and Alchemy, The Scholar has taken a shine to these more intellectual arts. While through experience he's learnt how to wield a bladed weapon, he much prefers to defend himself with magic - blades wound too easily.

Other Abilities: Well he can look after himself, okay! Still can't bloody sew though, those damnable pinpricks.

Apparel: Typically wanders his tower in an old, teal, woolen robe. When out traveling will swap to a more suitable thick cloth of grey, with a leather and wool cloak pulled tight over his old bones.

Weaponry: Walks with a gnarled wooden staff these days, although is more than capable of using it as a focus for his magic.

Other Equipment: Hefts around a very old and very stained backpack filled with everything he needs to make survival gear when he goes on travel. Likes to make things as he walks, because he needs the most room in his backpack for the small mountain of books, notebooks, quills and inks of various colours that go with him.

Companions: Has no particular companions, but has a number of friends across the world that might help him on his journey.



Affiliation: Has no particular factional affiliations, ex-member of the Mage's Guild and keeps in contact with what few members survive... So very few. Has access to several institutes through associated friends. A small hamlet, Insebrook has grown up around his tower over the years. At first they were staff he'd hired to care for the grounds and certain levels of the tower while he was away, but as generations passed they began to take over for themselves. They farm the land, and he allows them - so long as they upkeep his little garden while they're at it and throw him some food every now and then. They are currently untaxed by the Count of Chorral, as a personal favour.

Religious Belief: Strangely, the Scholar has found no particular reverence for Aedra over Daedra in his travels. He knows they all exist and knows their power. He might ask forgivness or aid of any gods in his travels, dependant on region and situation he finds himself in. Has a particular fascination with Tava, the Yokudan Bird God, who he believes may be an associated amalgam of the god Y'ffre and an ancient Yokudan version of Kyne. He believes the "Lefihan" (or as most Scholars insist on calling them, Left-Handed Elves) brought Y'ffre with them to Yokuda where she intermingled with some ancient Yokudan god - which he also believes was some throwback to the Atmoran god that became Kyne. Really, it's all convoluted.

Sexual Preference: Bisexual, Pansexual, love is boundless so long as it's there. Just too old for it now.

Relationship Status: Widower.

Personality: The Scholar's... Well... Scholarly, to say the least. Capable of communicating fluently in a number of tongues, he comes across as friendly and affable - if a bit of a stubborn know-it-all. His most important asset is his mind, never has he come across a problem he couldn't talk or think his way out of. Has become a bit of a recluse in his old age, sticking to his little tower when not on expeditions.



Isn't there a book somewhere that can answer your questions about this? You've not bought one? Why? It's not like I rely on the royalties of those or anything...

Fine.

Well, I was born in the sunny islands of Alinor. Particularly, in a noble household of Lillandril. I'd like to tell you I was a rough little alpha male, but in fact I was a scrawny fifth son. Too scrawny, but very magically inclined. I was setting fire to my brother's beds by the age of five. Turns out my parents didn't appreciate of the damage, sent me off to study under Magister Giltaris. An old title, I know, but that's just how old this story is! You're lucky I can remember it all.

Anyway, I spent the best part of my youth locked up with the Magister. He was a member of the Mages Guild you see, ran a small academy for affluential magical nobles in the city. Most of them were cocksure blue bloods with little talent for magic but a hefty coin purse. Again, I'd like to say I wasn't as sure in my abilities but I certainly... Grew into my talents. By ten I was beating kids half my age over. By their age, I was challenging even the Magister. He could teach me no more, and he wasn't any hedge mage either. So I was sent off to the Arcane University - Cyrodiil.

My word, there was nothing like the Arcane University. You won't remember the Imperial City before the War hit. All gleaming and white. Like a sharp diamond in the middle of the Rumare. The Arcane University stood as a testament to the magical fortitude of the Empire. A center of learning for magic, alchemy and other mindful arts. I was young still, puberty had hit and I was... Well... Rebellious. Oh the fun we'd have in the sewers, practicing magic that was... Above our level. Strictly, some of it may have been illegal. You would never have heard me say this while the Guild was still around, but how can you have a word to say about the horrors of Necromancy without experiencing it first hand? Rats, of course, not people. But... I did dabble, in my youth, yes. I've not touched it since, even Giant Rats as primitive as they are can show the pain and suffering of being wrenched from the Eternal Sleep.

My studies took me across the various disciplines of the University and my parents just kept paying for my studies. Why have me back after so long? I'd merely cause problems... Wouldn't I...

. . .

Yes, studies. I had a particular fondness for history even in my youth. Before the University built its famed Orrery the room was requisitioned by the Imperial Historical Society and let me tell you I often slept in that room amongst the library of books and artefacts. I found myself exhausting their list of books and signing up to an expedition to the Ayleid ruins of Dyneon in the Colovian Highlands. It was remarkably intact, the University had just uncovered it in an excavationary survey and we were the first inside for... Well... Centuries.

The expedition was botched, dozens of undead and un-bound Daedra seethed from the ruins. The workmen fell quickly, and it was only through our combined magic that the ruins were sealed behind us. The University struck the ruins from the record, and buried its entrance.

Eventually I graduated... And I decided to travel, I wanted to see more placed like Dyneon, across the world. I've seen Ayleid ruins in Valenwood, ancient Yokudan tombs in the Alik'r, scaled the thousand steps to reach the Throat of the World in my youth. Even traveled to a number of the islands around our continent. I became an author, publishing books under my pseudonym. Some of the things I discuss in my books... Well, I make enemies with my words. Religious zealots, other magi and... Militant scholars.

But I always had one... Common thing in my life. I met a young woman in the University, an Altmer by the name of Ysilla. Oh my... She was beautiful... The prettiest girl you could imagine. Certainly tamed my fires while lighting my passion let me tell you! We were wed with Mara's blessing in her homeland of Daggerfell after a few years of traveling together. We decided to settle down in Alinor, in my family estate, whilst I worked on a series of books from the information I'd gathered. They were nowhere near as good as my current series... I also tried my hand at authoring a fictitious romance tale but... Alas... I am no good at making up stories, only telling old ones.

We'd travel on and off for the next few decades, seeing the world and I'd write more books while she led my expeditions. We were a good team... I miss her so... We never had a child, Hermaeus knows why. But as we grew older she... Wasn't as powerful a mage as I. While I could keep my body fit and strong with restoration magic, there wasn't much she could do on her own. I gave all I could spare to her, but eventually we retired from adventuring I decided I would see my end with her, living in a little manor we had bought in the shadow of the Crystal Tower - where we both found work. It was beautiful. Life was good. I was ready.

. . .

Then they came. Daedra. Pouring from the depths of Oblivion to burn the world I loved to the ground. My love died, when the Crystal Tower collapsed. My manor was crushed. My world...

No I don't want to say anymore of it. I saw too many die that day, over the days of the Oblivion Crisis. I left Alinor. I swore to never kill any sentient after that, too many people...

I stayed in the Imperial City for awhile, resigning myself to live out my days there with my books. It was in... 4E 40 when yet more death struck upon the city. Umbriel. Few remember it so clearly, the day the dead stormed the city streets. The day the world almost ended. It has been largely ignored in favour of the Great War by today's scholars. But I remember. I fought through against the hordes alongside the Legion that day. So much death...

But seeing people coming together, it gave me somewhat of a new lease of life. I decided to travel again, for the first time. I sold my house in the city to fund my expeditions. Eventually made enough from royalties and donations to buy a little plot of land up by Chorral... Over a certain Ayleid ruin the world had long forgotten. With the proceeds from that particular expedition and what remained of my family fortune I managed to fund the construction of a tower, fit for the Arch Mage - oh yes, that title's gone now too... He was important. It had a Chironasium, Lustratorium, Praxographical room... I've gathered collections of books in my time, I've got quite a sizeable library.

I hired staff to upkeep the place while I was gone, they built their own little huts that turned into houses. They looked after my alchemical gardens. Every time I'd come back there'd be something new to look at. It's remarkable to have seen it grow, but so sad when they all... Eventually pass. Of course there are sections of the tower off limits to them, and the ruins underneath are completely restricted - I actually block it off with wards these days.

The Great War passed by, but we managed to keep quite safe up in the Colovians. So secluded. I didn't get involved... Too much death.

Since the Great War the Dominion has banned my published work, I even heard the Thalmor have sent agents after me. Of course they've never gotten close, few know where I live. You won't tell anybody, I trust?