Post by Bartello Ruuz on Jan 9, 2012 21:34:06 GMT -6
What's your Name?
Name: Bartello Ruuz
Nickname: None
Ah, I see. Tell me, what do you look like?
Age: 31
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Dark Brown
Height: 5'11”
Weight: 155 lbs approx
Picture:
Playby = Idris Elba
Tell Me About Yourself:
Homeland: Sentinel, Hammerfell
Personality: Bartello is a serious individual, rarely straying from his current objective for frivolity. Unusually for a Redguard, he is also quite cool-headed, rather than a tempestuous brawler, and as such takes his time on decisions and planning, something that has often kept him alive despite his borderline paranoia. At first, many people take his serious demeanour as being unfriendly, but more accurately he is just hard to get through to, hard to earn the trust of – When one does, he is a very amicable, and in fact rather just, person.
Likes: Quiet, The rush of combat, Wine, Having a job to do, although also the feeling after completing a task successfully.
Dislikes: Unnecessary bloodshed, Fear, Idle chit-chat, Argonians
Fears: His past catching up to him
Relationship status: Single
Gender Preference: Female
Skills:
Prefered Skill: Sneak
Secondary Skills: Illusion, Alteration, Pickpocket
Least Favored Skill: Alchemy
Weapons and Armor:
Light or Heavy Armor: Light
Armor type: Studded
One or Two handed weapon: One-Handed
Weapon: Iron Sword
Affiliation:
Affiliation: Currently none, formerly Dark Brotherhood
Tell Me About Your Past:
Bio/History: Born in the north-western city of Sentinel, Bartello's early childhood was far from poor. His father was a rich merchant, with many interests overseas, and as such they were treated well by the Empire. Their home was big, and young Bartello wanted for nothing - and indeed, he would probably have had a very different life if not for his father's untimely demise one day, when he accompanied one of his trading vessels to Summerset Isle and his ship was brought down in a freak storm. Immediately, the lives of Bartello and his mother changed, as his families belongings were seized by business partners and claimants to owed money, leaving them homeless and with only meagre savings and his father's lucky silver knife (Ironically, this was the only trip he had not taken it on) in a city ruled by the rich. Bartello was 7.
It didn't take long before he had to start helping his mother make ends meet, from their single room in a boarding house. While his mother tended bar to allow them a room and food, there was no money for luxury, or even new clothes, and so a young Bartello, of his own accord, decided to try his hand at thievery. It started small, of course – One day, as he walked the streets for lack of anything better to do, he noticed a man with a coin purse that was so loosely attached to his belt there was no way he would notice it gone, and simply yanked it off in passing, escaping unnoticed. From then on, over the next 5 or 6 years, Bartello managed to cobble together money for him and his mother to dress finely, and begin to save in order to leave a city designed purely for merchants.
This was, however, not to be. When Bartello was 13, and out scouring the streets for money, he heard a scream from an adjacent street, and a crowd forming around. As he was smaller than most of the adults, he managed to push his way forward, to see his mother crouched over, blood covering her hands and torso. Stabbed, bleeding out on the streets. No-one helping for fear of dirtying their hands. She died within minutes. A funeral was not held – There would be nobody else to attend. Bartello was told by guards in the following weeks that his mother had been killed by an Argonian by the name of Sharp-Scales, just one member of a company of murderers and thieves that were being hunted throughout Hamerfell to no success, known as the Tyrants of Flesh. How he had managed to get away from the guards was a mystery, apparently. Bartello never quite forgave the Empire that mistake.
The landlord of the boarding house took pity on the boy and allowed him to stay in the room, provided he could bay a few septims each month. With the savings they had, it would not be a problem. For months, Bartello sulked in his room, rarely exiting the building, looking out the window endlessly as if he expected to see his mother's ghost walk down the street. What he did see one day, however, was far more shocking. A face he knew from the wanted poster he had studied. Bold as brass, Sharp-Scales walked down the street, nobody batting an eyelid at him in his finery, taking him for one of the rare Argonian merchants. Immediately, Bartello was down the stairs and into the street, cloak hastily wrapped around him, the silver knife his father had left to them in his belt. He followed the Argonian for a time, until he turned into a quiet street, with no-one around, and then pounced, running at him with the instincts only possessed by the Redguard, and leapt onto his back, stabbing repeatedly, not stopping, fighting against the struggling Argonian. He only stopped when a cool voice cut over the sound of breaking scale - “I think you'll find he died some minutes ago”.
Bartello froze and looked up. Before him stood a bearded Dunmer, dressed in black, sword in hand, looking at Bartello with puzzlement. In the conversation that followed, Bartello learned things – The man's name was Dram Marvani, he was a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, and he had been sent to kill Sharp-Scales by the family of one of the criminal group's other victims. Bartello explained why he had stolen the man's mark, and Dram explained that they did not take kindly to that – However, there was a way that Bartello could repay them if he came with Dram. Having nothing to lose ,Bartello agreed. He was taken to Gilane, a city in the South, and told to kill a man the Brotherhood had bound and gagged. He did, for fear of death. And from then on, Bartello was accepted into the Dark Brotherhood.
Immediately, he began training with Dram, and the head of their chapter, another Redguard called Cassius. Between them, they taught him how to become one with the night, and how to fight his opponents one-on-one like a true warrior should. He learned how to enter unnoticed, create carnage, and then leave again without distrubance. It took ten years, but when Bartello hit 23, he was one of the best assassins in Hammerfell – and all this with only the most minimal contracts, and mainly due to his young age and natural talents. It was at that age that he joined Dram in the one contract that would define his career – To hunt the remaining members of the Tyrants of Earth, now scattered, and kill them. It took a further 6 years to accomplish this, but accomplish they did, and they returned to the headquarters heroes, hailed as a great team. In that time, and in the ten years preceeding, Dram had come to replace Bartello's family, the closest thing to a father he could really remember, and his partner. A best friend.
It was as hock then, when Bartello was sent on his next contract alone. A simple one, some merchant in a big house just outside Gilane who had irritated the wrong people. At first it seemed like nothing to Bartello, but when he waiting in the garndens of the house that day for night to fall, he began to notice things. Like the wife who smiled lovingly at her husband when they spoke on the lawn. Like the children who ran to their daddy and embraced him, laughing as they did so. So like Bartello's father. His mother. Himself. At night, he climbed through the window into the man's room... and he couldn't kill him. After half an hour of looking he leapt back into the garden – where immediately he was pinned to the ground and slapped around the face by Dram. “What the hell are you doing?!”, the dunmer hissed at him, glaring at his face. “You get back up there, and you kill him!”.
Bartello struggled, setting himself free and standing. “Why? What has he ever done? He has a family, Dram.”
Dram sighed and shook his head. “He has to go. I'll do it if you can't, you can take the cre-”
“Nobody is going to kill him!” Bartello said, drawing his blade in a moment of madness. Bram looked at it, stunned.
“You want to... fight me, Bartello?”, he whispered. He shook his head a little, looked his friend in the eye, and made a face. “I can't deny you. The Dread Father demands his life by any means. If you resist it, you're out. And they'll hunt y-”. He did not finish his sentence. Before he could change his mind, Bartello had lopped his head off.
From then on, his whole life was running. For almost 2 years he roamed Hammerfell, reluctant to leave his home province, constantly pursued by Brotherhood agents, crossing swords with his former allies. Eventually, he realised his only was out was to flee the province. He setlled on Skyrim as the place they would be least likely to pursue him, what with the war going on. And so, unaffiliated armour hidden under a travelling cloak, with only his sword and a few pieces of gold, he entered via the West border of Skyrim, hoping to finally get away from his dark past...
Other:
Other Accounts: None as of yet
RP experience: Coming on 6 and a half years now of text based RP, as well as a few ventures into D&D and suchlike. And far too many RP video games to even begin to discuss. Can provide samples if needed.
Name: Bartello Ruuz
Nickname: None
Ah, I see. Tell me, what do you look like?
Age: 31
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Dark Brown
Height: 5'11”
Weight: 155 lbs approx
Picture:
Playby = Idris Elba
Tell Me About Yourself:
Homeland: Sentinel, Hammerfell
Personality: Bartello is a serious individual, rarely straying from his current objective for frivolity. Unusually for a Redguard, he is also quite cool-headed, rather than a tempestuous brawler, and as such takes his time on decisions and planning, something that has often kept him alive despite his borderline paranoia. At first, many people take his serious demeanour as being unfriendly, but more accurately he is just hard to get through to, hard to earn the trust of – When one does, he is a very amicable, and in fact rather just, person.
Likes: Quiet, The rush of combat, Wine, Having a job to do, although also the feeling after completing a task successfully.
Dislikes: Unnecessary bloodshed, Fear, Idle chit-chat, Argonians
Fears: His past catching up to him
Relationship status: Single
Gender Preference: Female
Skills:
Prefered Skill: Sneak
Secondary Skills: Illusion, Alteration, Pickpocket
Least Favored Skill: Alchemy
Weapons and Armor:
Light or Heavy Armor: Light
Armor type: Studded
One or Two handed weapon: One-Handed
Weapon: Iron Sword
Affiliation:
Affiliation: Currently none, formerly Dark Brotherhood
Tell Me About Your Past:
Bio/History: Born in the north-western city of Sentinel, Bartello's early childhood was far from poor. His father was a rich merchant, with many interests overseas, and as such they were treated well by the Empire. Their home was big, and young Bartello wanted for nothing - and indeed, he would probably have had a very different life if not for his father's untimely demise one day, when he accompanied one of his trading vessels to Summerset Isle and his ship was brought down in a freak storm. Immediately, the lives of Bartello and his mother changed, as his families belongings were seized by business partners and claimants to owed money, leaving them homeless and with only meagre savings and his father's lucky silver knife (Ironically, this was the only trip he had not taken it on) in a city ruled by the rich. Bartello was 7.
It didn't take long before he had to start helping his mother make ends meet, from their single room in a boarding house. While his mother tended bar to allow them a room and food, there was no money for luxury, or even new clothes, and so a young Bartello, of his own accord, decided to try his hand at thievery. It started small, of course – One day, as he walked the streets for lack of anything better to do, he noticed a man with a coin purse that was so loosely attached to his belt there was no way he would notice it gone, and simply yanked it off in passing, escaping unnoticed. From then on, over the next 5 or 6 years, Bartello managed to cobble together money for him and his mother to dress finely, and begin to save in order to leave a city designed purely for merchants.
This was, however, not to be. When Bartello was 13, and out scouring the streets for money, he heard a scream from an adjacent street, and a crowd forming around. As he was smaller than most of the adults, he managed to push his way forward, to see his mother crouched over, blood covering her hands and torso. Stabbed, bleeding out on the streets. No-one helping for fear of dirtying their hands. She died within minutes. A funeral was not held – There would be nobody else to attend. Bartello was told by guards in the following weeks that his mother had been killed by an Argonian by the name of Sharp-Scales, just one member of a company of murderers and thieves that were being hunted throughout Hamerfell to no success, known as the Tyrants of Flesh. How he had managed to get away from the guards was a mystery, apparently. Bartello never quite forgave the Empire that mistake.
The landlord of the boarding house took pity on the boy and allowed him to stay in the room, provided he could bay a few septims each month. With the savings they had, it would not be a problem. For months, Bartello sulked in his room, rarely exiting the building, looking out the window endlessly as if he expected to see his mother's ghost walk down the street. What he did see one day, however, was far more shocking. A face he knew from the wanted poster he had studied. Bold as brass, Sharp-Scales walked down the street, nobody batting an eyelid at him in his finery, taking him for one of the rare Argonian merchants. Immediately, Bartello was down the stairs and into the street, cloak hastily wrapped around him, the silver knife his father had left to them in his belt. He followed the Argonian for a time, until he turned into a quiet street, with no-one around, and then pounced, running at him with the instincts only possessed by the Redguard, and leapt onto his back, stabbing repeatedly, not stopping, fighting against the struggling Argonian. He only stopped when a cool voice cut over the sound of breaking scale - “I think you'll find he died some minutes ago”.
Bartello froze and looked up. Before him stood a bearded Dunmer, dressed in black, sword in hand, looking at Bartello with puzzlement. In the conversation that followed, Bartello learned things – The man's name was Dram Marvani, he was a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, and he had been sent to kill Sharp-Scales by the family of one of the criminal group's other victims. Bartello explained why he had stolen the man's mark, and Dram explained that they did not take kindly to that – However, there was a way that Bartello could repay them if he came with Dram. Having nothing to lose ,Bartello agreed. He was taken to Gilane, a city in the South, and told to kill a man the Brotherhood had bound and gagged. He did, for fear of death. And from then on, Bartello was accepted into the Dark Brotherhood.
Immediately, he began training with Dram, and the head of their chapter, another Redguard called Cassius. Between them, they taught him how to become one with the night, and how to fight his opponents one-on-one like a true warrior should. He learned how to enter unnoticed, create carnage, and then leave again without distrubance. It took ten years, but when Bartello hit 23, he was one of the best assassins in Hammerfell – and all this with only the most minimal contracts, and mainly due to his young age and natural talents. It was at that age that he joined Dram in the one contract that would define his career – To hunt the remaining members of the Tyrants of Earth, now scattered, and kill them. It took a further 6 years to accomplish this, but accomplish they did, and they returned to the headquarters heroes, hailed as a great team. In that time, and in the ten years preceeding, Dram had come to replace Bartello's family, the closest thing to a father he could really remember, and his partner. A best friend.
It was as hock then, when Bartello was sent on his next contract alone. A simple one, some merchant in a big house just outside Gilane who had irritated the wrong people. At first it seemed like nothing to Bartello, but when he waiting in the garndens of the house that day for night to fall, he began to notice things. Like the wife who smiled lovingly at her husband when they spoke on the lawn. Like the children who ran to their daddy and embraced him, laughing as they did so. So like Bartello's father. His mother. Himself. At night, he climbed through the window into the man's room... and he couldn't kill him. After half an hour of looking he leapt back into the garden – where immediately he was pinned to the ground and slapped around the face by Dram. “What the hell are you doing?!”, the dunmer hissed at him, glaring at his face. “You get back up there, and you kill him!”.
Bartello struggled, setting himself free and standing. “Why? What has he ever done? He has a family, Dram.”
Dram sighed and shook his head. “He has to go. I'll do it if you can't, you can take the cre-”
“Nobody is going to kill him!” Bartello said, drawing his blade in a moment of madness. Bram looked at it, stunned.
“You want to... fight me, Bartello?”, he whispered. He shook his head a little, looked his friend in the eye, and made a face. “I can't deny you. The Dread Father demands his life by any means. If you resist it, you're out. And they'll hunt y-”. He did not finish his sentence. Before he could change his mind, Bartello had lopped his head off.
From then on, his whole life was running. For almost 2 years he roamed Hammerfell, reluctant to leave his home province, constantly pursued by Brotherhood agents, crossing swords with his former allies. Eventually, he realised his only was out was to flee the province. He setlled on Skyrim as the place they would be least likely to pursue him, what with the war going on. And so, unaffiliated armour hidden under a travelling cloak, with only his sword and a few pieces of gold, he entered via the West border of Skyrim, hoping to finally get away from his dark past...
Other:
Other Accounts: None as of yet
RP experience: Coming on 6 and a half years now of text based RP, as well as a few ventures into D&D and suchlike. And far too many RP video games to even begin to discuss. Can provide samples if needed.
