#torsten cruel-sea

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Here I am once again, but this time I have been tagged by the beautiful and talented @tallmatcha. <3 What are we doing? The usual...poking my "idiots" with a stick and seeing what happens. I'd like to tag @oblivions-dawn @sneaksandsweets @blossom-adventures @rose-like-the-phoenix @elder-dragon-reposes @nerevar-quote-and-star. As per usual, no pressure, but I would love to see what chaos you're all up to. <3

Snippet:

The next days slowly trickle into weeks, and as the frosts set in, they reach out with their spindly fingers to permanently freeze the grounds surrounding Windhelm. However, even as the temperatures fall, time steadily marches forward. It is the one thing that the biting Winters of Eastmarch cannot detain with their unrelenting chill. As such, none but the strongest and most determined survive as each living thing finds its own way to continue growing in any way that it can. The only other option is to be snuffed out, buried under the cold snow drifts to perish bitterly without a trace. Truly thriving in these climates is not for the faint-hearted; it is a conscious choice in defiance of the elements, and time is the most unyielding of them all.

Despite this, Ulfric and Dahlia are far more determined. They will not bend, and they will not bow to anyone. 

Since returning to the Palace and resuming their day-to-day responsibilities as the Jarl and Lady of Windhelm, both of them have barely stopped to sleep. Collectively, they have been a flurry of movement between calling council meetings, writing correspondences, and checking on the progress of rebuilding Helgen.

Which brings them to their next duty: dealing with Torsten Cruel-Sea.

While he has proved himself to be a loyal follower, his enthusiasm towards the “navy” Ulfric has promised him is grating on the Jarl’s nerves. Day in and day out, he visits the Palace and stands in line graciously with the rest of the petitioners to give him an update on the progress, yet he has not provided the cargo ships he promised them.

“Torsten, please.” Ulfric has to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“The hulls are starting to come together and the bases seem to be quite solid. Wherever did you get the red cedar wood? That isn’t native—”

The Jarl begins to lift one of his clenched fists from the armrest of his throne, but his wife catches it in her own before it crashes back down into the stone. It would have only hurt him rather than signaling his displeasure to the oblivious Lord. 

[mukuuji]

Torsten Cruel-Sea

[skyrimmin-orcfreak]

[solarisdreamweavervt]

Edelweiss

What’s the origin of my name? That’s quite a story.

So it took me a long time to come up with a name that’s truly my own.

My first alias I remember using was XikT3 because I was a kid and was a fan of this minecraft series that was a copy of Shadow of Israphel by yogscast. It was called Wrecked and it was by Xeraingaming.

Later on I changed my name to King Ender because I watched a minecraft short story about the discovery of endermen.

Then I read Evangelion and became my hyperfixation for a few years. I called myself Eva Unit 04 based off of one of the mechs in the series. I changed the name because people thought I was a girl.

While racking my brain one time thinking of a new name, I was interested in history at the time and anime was still a big part of my interests. So I came up with the name “The Histaku Gamer” as a shortening of “Historic Otaku Gamer”

Then later on I became a vtuber and wanted a more traditional name. I was a Norse pagan at the time so I thought to be a Norseman vtuber and use a traditional sounding Norse name. So Torsten came from the character in Skyrim in windhelm named “Torsten Cruel-sea” also I looked up Norse names and liked the name Torsten which means “Thor’s Stone” and I was originally going to have the last name “Ragnarsson” but then I thought it was too generic and when you google it it’s only tv shows that come up. So I went with “Eriksson” instead for easier Japanese pronunciation. But now I’m thinking of changing it to something else but idk yet. That’s because when you look up Torsten Eriksson some bald white guy shows up.

But yeah! That’s a story on my names! Thanks so much for the ask!!! ^^

[ladydaedra]

The Next Move

Part: 7/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; may contain controversial themes

Wordcount: 1886

~~~~~

Ayla walks through the gates of Windhelm, stopping momentarily as she looks around, studying everything in the area. The wind blows through her hair as she notes nothing notably different from the last time she visited months ago.

"This way, ma'am," the soldier says and heads off towards the Palace of Kings. As they walk, Ayla can feel the citizens of Windhelm's gaze on her, whispering that she is the Dragonborn and wondering why she is here. She looks to her left and sees a small crowd, watching her with curious eyes. It is no secret that her victory against Alduin has made her a renowned hero throughout all of Skyrim, making her a legend amongst the people.

She sends them a small smile before looking back at the looming palace ahead of her. She glances back at the city and an idea strikes her. She wants to walk Windhelm's streets, visit with its citizens, get to know them a bit more, "Sir, might you be so kind to let the Jarl know that I might be awhile," she says, stopping in her steps and the soldier turns to stare at her, "I wish to explore the city a bit. If he wishes to speak with me now and if it is as urgent as he says it is, he can find me in the city. Or he can wait until I return to the palace,"

But before the soldier can stop her, Ayla turns on her heel and walks back the way they came as a slight breeze blows. She walks down the steps, cloak flowing behind her as she stops there, glancing to her left and right, trying to decide where to go.

She ends up going to the left, knowing that is where the infamous Grey Quarter is. She wishes to see it for herself again, wondering if there were any improvements to the area housing the Dunmer. She walks down the set of steps leading to where the shops and tavern for the Dunmer and Argonians are located.

She smiles as a passing Argonian couple, who return the smile before turning completely, shocked when they recognize who she is. She can't help but smile to herself when she sees the people ahead of her slowly start recognizing her, "it can't be...the Dragonborn?" a Dunmer woman asks as she watches Ayla walk by, a few children hiding behind her, peering up at the Dragonborn.

Ayla stops and smiles at the woman before her gaze goes to the three children, who immediately retreat to hiding behind their mother's dress, "it's alright," Ayla says, bending down and sending the children a gentle smile, "I won't hurt you, I promise," one by one, the children reveal themselves. The eldest, a girl, gives Ayla a toothy grin as her younger brothers come to a stop beside her, "I'm here to help," Ayla adds, handing each child five septims.

"Ma'am, you didn't..." the mother goes to object as Ayla stands up again.

Ayla shakes her head, "I won't be bothered with the loss of fifteen septims, miss," she explains as the children giggle amongst themselves, eyes glued on the gold in their hands, "like I said, I am here to help in any way possible," the woman smiles at her before looking down at her children.

Ayla continues on her trek through the Grey Quarter, glancing up at the buildings and down at the streets. It's been a while since she has traversed these streets, but from what she remembers, they look better than they did before. The buildings that house the Dunmer and Argonians have received a touch-up, mainly to the structural part to keep them from falling. Random holes in the streets have been fixed, weeds popping out through the cracks have been removed.

Ulfric did keep his word. She was impressed, maybe the thought of losing the Dragonborn and two dragons as an ally was what pushed him. Ayla walks into a large, open area with a giant gate to her left that leads to the docks. To her right is another street leading back to the Palace of Kings.

She goes straight and turns left to walk up a flight of stairs to stop in a small courtyard surrounded by three houses. She takes a sharp left and walks down the street that has a large house to the left. If she remembers correctly, that is Aventus Aretino's house. She remembers Taliyah telling everyone the story of how she came to be a part of the Dark Brotherhood and how this little boy hired her to kill an old woman in Riften.

With a sigh, she continues forward, under the little walkway connecting it to the other half of the house and stops on a bridge, in front of a railing overlooking the Grey Quarter. From up here, it doesn't look as large as it feels down there. But it sure looks pretty cramped.

"When I went to Sovengard to fight Alduin," she starts, knowing that she has company, "I went knowing that I might die trying to defeat him. I...struggled with accepting the fact," she pauses as she watches Aaryah fly in the distance. A black dot in the vast snow-covered landscape surrounding Windhelm, "but as I stood, waiting for Alduin to arrive, I told myself that if it took me dying to save Skyrim from the World Eater, then so be it,"

She turns to look to her left to see Ulfric standing there, gaze on her. She takes a deep breath as she returns to watching Aaryah fly, "I think of it now," she pauses as Aaryah swoops down and lights something on fire before flying off again and coming back for another hit, "I will gladly lay my life down to rid Skyrim of the Thalmor. I would willingly die so I can ensure that my rebellion lives to fight another day," she then looks back at Ulfric as a gust of wind blows around them, "will you do the same?" she questions him.

Ayla studies his face for the few seconds it takes for him to answer. She notes how he is standing tall, gaze hardened as he looks at her, blue eyes scrutinizing her; sizing her up, "gladly," is his response and Ayla turns to look back at the dragon.

"The bear is the symbol of leadership, strength, and courage," she starts, hearing him take a few steps towards her, stopping only when she looks over at him, "that is the banner of Windhelm and your rebellion," she pauses as she turns to her right and starts walking back the way she came, stopping only to make sure he is following, "you are the Jarl of Windhelm and right now, during this war, they need to feel safe and secure,"

"Are you saying they don't?" Ulfric asks as he walks beside her, glancing down at her as they turn the corner and walk past the gates to the city.

Ayla looks up at him before looking ahead again, "I'm saying that they don't know what is going on," she explains, returning a smile to Torsten Cruel-Sea, "they don't know how you are faring against the Empire and from simple rumor, they don't know about the alliance,"

"I don't want to drag them into this war,"

"A good excuse to keep the alliance a secret, but it doesn't assure them that they are safe," Ayla replies as they walk through the market. Ayla glances over at the group of people shopping and sees a few of them giving her and Ulfric confused glances, "if they knew that their Jarl agreed to an alliance with the Dragonborn and her dragons, I am sure they would be more...supportive of this war knowing that they are safe,"

"If I announce the alliance, the odds of both the Thalmor and the Empire finding out is pretty great," he reasons and looks over at the Dragonborn to see her shrug.

"They would have found out regardless when both our soldiers attack one or both of them," Ayla says as they return to the courtyard in front of the Palace of Kings. She turns to him, "now you asked me here to discuss something confidential,"

~

"The Jagged Crown," Galmar says, setting a heavy helmet, no crown, on the table in the war room of Windhelm, "retrieved by a group of Stormcloaks and ripped from the power-hungry hands of the Empire,"

Ayla studies the helmet, head tilted slightly as her index finger rubs her chin, brows furrowed in thought, "this is what you called me here for?" she questions, sparing Ulfric a glance then looking back at the crown, "a spiky helmet?"

Kharjo holds back a laugh while Ulfric sighs, arms crossed in front of his chest, "not just the crown, but the next step in the war," he explains and Ayla looks over at him, raising a single eyebrow and waiting for him to continue, "we plan to attack Windhelm,"

Ayla remains silent for a few moments, looking over at Kharjo, a million thoughts racing through her head. Whiterun. She remembers how Jarl Balgruuf aided her on her mission to stop Alduin. She would prefer not to attack his home, "and why are we attacking Whiterun?" she questions, meeting Ulfric's gaze head-on.

"A week ago I sent a soldier to take my ax to Balgruuf," he explains with a deep breath, "he sent the soldier back with the ax, meaning he has sided with the Empire," Ayla looks back at the crown, her thumbnail now running across her lower lip.

"From what I understand, Balgruuf has remained uninvolved with the war by not choosing a side," she starts, glancing at both Ulfric and Galmar, "why now? And why the Empire?"

Galmar chuckles, "that is a question you will have to ask him yourself,"

"Myself?"

"Whiterun will not be easy to take," Ulfric states, "with the whole Whiterun guard plus Imperial forces as well as Thalmor protecting the city, I doubt my army alone will make a big difference,"

"You need my army and dragons," Ayla says softly, mainly to herself.

"Precisely," Ulfric replies, his hard gaze on her, "without your help, we will not be able to take Whiterun,"

"It'll be the perfect time to reveal the alliance," Kharjo points out and Ayla can practically hear the smirk in his voice, "the Stormcloaks charging in to take Whiterun out of the Imperials grasp with the Dragonborn and her dragons fighting alongside them. Sounds like something out of a storybook,"

"So, Dragonborn, what is it?" Galmar asks and Ayla stares at the crown as she debates the risk level of this attack. No doubt there will be casualties, as there always is in war. But this will bring them one step closer to the fall of the Empire in Skyrim and closer to chasing the Thalmor out as well, tail between their legs.

Ayla smiles, looking up to meet Ulfric's gaze, "alright, I'm in. On one condition," she replies and waits a few seconds, "Jarl Bulgruuf isn't killed. He helped me on my quest to stop Alduin and I owe him big for that,"

She watches as Ulfric shares a glance at Galmar and the two nod, "deal," and with that, the war just started.

[the-hoarse-bard]

While exploring the rest of the Pelagius Wing for valuables, I found this bedroll and a set of wizards robes. Perhaps whoever these belonged to had something to do with that invisible daedra. The enchantment on them is some powerful stuff, so I took them. I remembered to return the key to the wing to the maids. I would hate for them to get in trouble for letting me in there.

While riding toward Riften, I heard a commotion off the side of the road, and decided to investigate. It was a group of Orcs fighting off what seemed to be a giant attack on their stronghold, Largashbur I would later learn. As I drew closer to investigate, an Orc dressed in robes, apparently the tribes wise woman, informed me that the giant attacks were becoming increasingly common due to their chieftain being under an enfeebling curse for displeasing Malacath. One of the warriors tried to drive me off, but the wise woman stopped her and asked me to bring her a bowl of troll fat and a daedra heart to break the curse. I didn’t promise anything, as daedra hearts aren’t exactly common, but I did say I would try. She thanked me and I rode on towards home.

I stopped in by the flagon to turn in some stolen goods and get a stiff drink after the day I’ve had, and Delvin approached me with a special job that needed doing. In the time the Guild has been out of Windhelm, it seems another guild of thieves has attempted to take our place. Obviously, this can’t be allowed. Delvin pointed me towards the man who tipped him off, Torsten Cruel-Sea, for more info. It could wait until morning, so I finished up my drink and headed for home to get some rest.

I noticed one of the caravans set up outside the city as I was headed out, and remembered that I had heard Dro’marash was willing to teach his powers of persuasion to others. Feeling like I would need the help, I paid him a sack of gold and he gave me his advice on how to talk to people. It was fascinating, he surely is an expert at this. I thanked him before carrying on my way.

I found Torsten working the field at his farm. The reason he gave for working with the Guild was that these interlopers, a group of Altmer calling themselves the Summerset Shadows, had stolen a family heirloom from his daughters corpse. I had heard of the young girls death and offered my sympathies. Torsten then directed me to Niranye in Windhelm’s market. It seems she works for the culprits as a fence. Torsten claimed he had already had his pound of flesh from one of the Shadow’s men to get this information, and all he wanted from me was the amulet they had pinched. I told him I would do everything I could and headed to Niranye’s stall.

Niranye was a tough nut to crack, but some blade flashing got her talking. She claims the Shadows had nothing to do with the Cruel-Sea girl’s death and merely capitalized on being the first ones to come across her body. Niranye also informed me that she was formerly a Guild fence and the Shadows were keeping her under their thumb with threats of violence. I offered her protection from them and she jumped right back into our pockets. If there’s anything you can count on a fence for, it’s sleaze. Niranye also squealed about the Shadows hideout in a cave outside of town, which I made for next.

The two guards they had posted outside were utterly useless. Coming at me one at a time even though they had me outnumbered. One of them even had a mace that surely would’ve crushed more than a few bones if he’d managed to hit me with it.

The others were much more organized, but still not much of a challenge. Hard to believe these chumps could threaten anyone. I picked out their leader from the silver locked I had come to collect hanging around his neck. What kind of grim filthy bastard would just keep something like this and not sell it immediately? Not much of a head for this work on any of these cut-skin dunces. I wanted to send a message, so I stripped the leader bare and propped him up by the door. I found a piece of parchment, wrote “Isozeva” on it, and laid it over his crotch. “Short-tail” in Ta’agra. Most fitting thing I could think of after seeing him in the buff.

While clearing the place for valuables, I found their tacky banner. Hideous scrap of linen, so I burned it. Why on earth would a group of thieves want to apply a distinctive symbol to themselves? Ma’i wafiit.

I returned the amulet to Torsten and he was very grateful. In return for the job, he gave me a beautiful gold circlet set with a gleaming ruby. Straight away I could feel it was enchanted, but I would need some time to work out in what way. I took my leave after we shared a hearty laugh over the fate of the Shadows leader and shared an ale. I wished him luck with his farm and family, and set off back to Riften.

[witchblade]

@drag-on-dragoon​ *torsten cruel-sea voice* you’re not supposed to be in here :)

[khajiitclaws]

Obsessed with the video of Torsten Cruel-Sea saying “You’re not supposed to be in here” and then the game crashes

[deadhorse77]

g-d sometimes "funnies cord" is such an understatement... that fucking torsten cruel-sea post made me laugh so hard I made someone turn around and ask what was so funny. I'm shaking with laughter just thinking about it right now. Man

[myserie]

“I thought you were training recruits today, Galmar?”

Galmar glanced sidelong at him as the old Nord leaned over the wooden rails of the sparring ring. “I am, Ulfric,” he replied. “Can’t you see?”

Ulfric watched as two Nord boys, one he recognised as Torsten Cruel-Sea’s son Torvar, and the other as Galmar’s own grandson, Mycah, hacked at each other clumsily with wooden swords. They were young, and it was rare for any boy to have talent in the blade yet.

“I think they’re a bit young for our ranks,” Ulfric observed.

Galmar shrugged. “Mycah’s mother got fed up with waiting for my son to come home from his posting and asked me to start his training,” he said. “What brings you out here?”

“If I have to listen to Jorlief talk about taxes for one more moment I was going to feed him to the frost trolls,” Ulfric murmured. “I was told I could find the Dragonborn here?”

Galmar nodded over to the far ring. “He’s giving his son a thrashing,” he said. “The lad can’t even hold a sword properly.”

Ulfric patted his friend on the shoulder as Mycah took a sword to the side of his padded helmet, then moved over to the far side of the training area.

Garrett was leaning on a wooden sword like a cane, dressed in dark leathers and a rich wine coloured tunic. His son, Samuel, was struggling to hold a similar wooden sword one handed, and Ulfric noticed that the sword was banded in iron loops. It was obviously too heavy for the young boy to hold.

“You’re a hard man to find,” he said in lieu of a greeting. Garrett simply looked at him, but Samuel startled and dropped his sword as he turned around with wide eyes.

“King Ulfric!” He exclaimed, excited, eyes wide and bright with what Ulfric could only describe as hero worship.

He was surprised by the boy’s reaction to his presence. Samuel’s own father was the Last Dragonborn, a Companion and Master of the Thieves Guild. As well as a Thane of all nine of Skyrim’s holds.

“He’s not a king yet, Samuel,” Garrett said. “You still need to win the war to gain your crown, don’t you, my Jarl?”

Ulfric nodded. “Your father’s right, boy,” he agreed. “How long have you been training in the blade?”

Samuel knelt down and hefted his sword, his thin arm straining with it’s weight. Like his father, Samuel was small and lean, built for speed rather than power. His black hair was sheered close to his scalp, as was custom for young Imperial boys. “Since I was old enough to hold a dagger,” he said. “Father says I need to get stronger, so I can hit the other boys harder than they hit me.”

“Faster,” Garrett corrected. “So you can hit them faster. No use being stronger than your opponent when he’s got a battle axe and you’ve got a dagger.”

There was wisdom in that, and practicality. In the battle for Whiterun Ulfric had seen Garrett take on Nords twice as broad and half as tall as himself with nothing but a broken sword and half a shield.

“Can I see that?” He asked, holding his hand out for the sword, and Samuel placed it in his palm.

He almost grunted in surprise at the weight of it, but stopped the exclamation before it escaped his lips. The weapon could be better used as a war hammer, or a club, but despite the weight it was balanced. Not unlike a real sword.

“How would this train speed?” He asked.

“You get used to swinging a heavier weapon,” Garrett replied. “Put a lighter weapon in its place and you swing with the expectation of needing more force. Nord boys do weight training before they start weapons training, don’t they? This is the same.”

Ulfric frowned. “This is how the Imperials train their sons?” He asked.

Garrett smiled. “This is how I was trained,” was his reply.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Hello, hello! It's mid-week, and so you know what that means! WIP Wednesday! Here we go... @oblivions-dawn @sneaksandsweets @blossom-adventures @rose-like-the-phoenix @nerevar-quote-and-star and anyone else who would like to participate! <3

Taking that as their dismissal, the members start to get up from their seats and shuffle their way out of the Great Hall. A few of them glance back at the Jarl and his wife to tip their heads in respect, but none of them stay. It is just business as usual. While the council serves its purpose and Ulfric is cordial enough with them, none of them are truly friends. 

At these levels, it is oftentimes difficult to know who you can trust and who you can confide in, an unfortunate side effect of the position they find themselves in. If Dahlia was somewhat set apart for her status as the Dragonborn, it is even more so the case now. Power comes with consequences, and this is one of them. The higher she goes, the thinner and more isolated the air becomes.

She sighs heavily from her temporary seating arrangement, an ornate chair moved next to Ulfric on the dais, as she looks toward her husband. “Do they never stay?”

“Would you want them to?” He asks. “They are stuffy old men who would only have your ear in attempts to get what they want. For example, Lord Cruel-Sea might make it seem like he wants to be genuinely helpful, but at the same time, I guarantee that once we get to the docks, he will insist on building a navy, all under our name of course, but which would be lead by his family…and would line his pockets with septims.” 

Oh. 

Her face falls further, corners sinking from impassive neutral into a slight frown.

He looks at her sadly, as he knows intimately what she is feeling at the moment. It is the same way he felt when he became Jarl too many years ago. On one hand, he laments that he has chained her to this fate, but on the other, he is a selfish man and glad for her being there. It means that he does not have to spend his time alone anymore. She is the rare spot of brightness on his otherwise miserable days, even if he is a bit cross with her at the moment.

“Come,” Ulfric holds out a hand for her to take, “we can have breakfast in our room, and then we can go down to the docks and pretend to listen politely to Torsten’s plea before turning it down.”

She looks at his hand for a moment too long, and he goes to pull her to her feet. “I know exactly what you’re feeling, and I know that it can feel lonely.” He places a finger under her chin to tilt her head up to him. “But you’re not alone. Not now and not ever.”

[qethnehzul]

Dragon Priest HC II

ie: Ray’s collection of base info for the BASTARD SQUAD (from oldest to youngest)

Ahzidal

Male || 7′03″ / 2.21 m || 200 lbs / 90.7 kg Birth Name:  Bonranmirr || 29th of Frostfall, ME -241 || The Tower Lawful Evil || No Original Patron Dragon || Obtained Mask at 201 in ME -40 Questionable Sexuality || Questionable Romantic Inclination 221 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 221 at Death [Killed by Vahlok while trying to flee to warn Miraak that they’d been discovered]

Squad Dad. Born in Atmora and married young, and moved to Saarthal after traveling overseas from his homeland. Studied under the elves for 15 years, and was the first human to master their magic as well as the magic of man. A nightmarishly talented mage and enchanter, still rivaled by few in 4E 201. Tired and somewhat distant, and had a habit of dad-ing on the younger priests. Not racist towards elves. Never stopped being bitter and hurt over the loss of his wife, Frildal, and his daughter, Thiades, but did not wish genocide on the snow elves. A wonderful mentor to the most magically inclined priests.  

Ruled over the region of modern-day Winterhold.

Otar [Mulaag]

Male || 7′05″ / 2.26 m || 182 lbs / 82.6 kg Birth Name: Otar || 8th of Sun’s Dawn, ME -92 || The Lover Chaotic Evil ||  Vikvothvzin [Wyrm] || Obtained Mask at 30 in ME - 62 Heterosexual || Heteroromantic 72 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 78 at Death [Imprisoned by Torsten and Saerek in his temple]

Originally a very honored and renounced warrior, and well respected king. Was not a priest before obtaining his mask, and became a priest due to his status and how beloved he was by his people. Was very level-headed and reasonable through most of his life, though by the time he reached 60 his mental health started to decline. Sort of went off the deep end and was largely just a grumpy, crazy old man by the end of the cult. Some sort of outside influence seems to be the cause, but nobody is quite sure what. Most priests had enough respect based off of how he had been to keep him around, but also just sort of ignored his mad ramblings. His mask name was Mulaag, but as he grew older he apparently forgot it, leading to everyone just calling him ‘Otar, the Mad’.

Ruled over the region of modern-day Markarth as far as the northern river border (Druadach Redoubt) and as far south as the river’s south most end (Old Hroldan)

Konahrik

Male || 6′10″ / 2.08 m || 215 lbs / 97.5 kg Birth Name: Bormim || 10th of Last Seed, ME - 82 || The Warrior Lawful Evil ||  Paarlostnok [Storm Dragon] || Obtained Mask at 23 in ME -59. Became head priest at 39 in ME -43. Asexual || Demiromantic 62 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 67 at Death [Killed in the siege on Bromjunaar during the Dragon War. Body was destroyed]

A super strict traditionalist. Known to be a talented warrior and a brilliant tactician, earning him respect of his fellow soldiers before he worked on ascending to priesthood. Headstrong and a natural-born leader, making him the obvious pick to replace the previous leader, Sot. Popular among the older priests, and much less popular among the younger ones because of his strict traditional views. Very distant as a individual and very uninterested in making personal relationships with others, which was often a teasing point by the younger priests. Very focused on what would be best for the cult.

Ruled over Bromjunaar and the very immediate surrounding territory, as well as the Throat of the World and t he very surrounding territory.

Morokei

Male || 6′04″ / 1.93 m || 122 lbs / 55.3 kg Birth Name: Heksirr || 29th of Rain’s Hand, ME -66 || The Mage Lawful Evil ||  Kunsusaan [Arctic Dragon] || Obtained Mask at  20 in ME -46 Demisexual || Demiromantic 46 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 51 at Death [Killed in the siege on Bromjunaar during the Dragon War. Buried in the Labyrinthian]

A very talented mage from a high-ranking priest family. Trained from his early childhood to harness his magic, and followed in the footsteps of the rest of his family in becoming a priest. Studied under Ahzidal, and was a very aggressive rival of Miraak’s. A close friend of Konahrik’s, and one of the few who knew about or was allowed to access the Eye of Magnus when it was discovered under Bromjunaar. Well respected among the priests, and was always out to improve himself and rise above his family members - and above Miraak. Often competed for Ahzidal’s favoritism, and was furious that Miraak got it.

Ruled over modern-day Whiterun to the east river and to Robber’s Gorge and the northern mountain range with Eldersblood Peak.

Rahgot

Male || 6′11″ / 2.11 m || 247 lbs / 112.0 kg Birth Name: Mogneir || 19th of Last Seed, ME -65 || The Warrior Neutral Evil ||  No Original Patron Dragon || Obtained Mask at 26 in ME -39 Heterosexual || Heteroromantic 45 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 204 at Death [Committed suicide via poison at Skorm Snow-Strider’s siege on Forelhost]

Rahgot spent most of his youth as a soldier. He was renowned for his skills on the battlefield, and was awarded a seat amongst the priests for his heroism. He wasn’t at all skilled in magic, but most certainly was the most skilled in physical combat of the last priests. Well known for having a very short fuse and for being quick to lash out, and known for striking anyone who displeased him - especially subordinates. Always was eager for aggressive plans, and usually agreed and sided with Otar and Konahrik on matters. Distrusted Ahzidal and Miraak particularly, and only trusted Morokei because he tended to side with Rahgot’s allies. Almost always shouted. One of the few priests who were married and had children - though his wife was deceased by the time he reached priesthood, and he wasn’t at all affectionate towards his children.

Ruled over modern-day Riften, excluding the eastern mountain range.

Dukaan [Okaaz]

Male || 6′05″ / 1.96 m || 193 lbs / 87.5 kg Birth Name: Gol || 20th of Evening Star, ME -63 || The Thief True Neutral ||  Dokoorreyth [Ancient Dragon] || Obtained Mask at 27 in ME -36, renamed at 33 in ME -30 Heterosexual || Heteroromantic 43 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 43 at Death [Killed by Vahlok at Miraak’s temple while trying to defend it]

Dukaan spent his youth at sea on a fishing vessel owned by his father, though he would eventually turn to serving the temple after losing vision in his right eye in an accident. He was well respected amongst the masked priests until Dukaan’s refusal to sacrifice a innocent earned him the scorn of his patron dragon, Dokoorreyth. He was dropped to the bottom of the priest hierarchy and had his name changed to ‘Dukaan’ as punishment; something Dukaan never let down. The priests tended to ignore him after that, causing him to turn to Ahzidal and Miraak’s cause when he discovered it. He sought to see the dragons pay for, ultimately, for their unfair and cruel dictatorship.  

Ruled over the mouth of the river that runs through Windhelm and a stretch of land that has since sunk into the sea north east of Windhelm.

Miraak

Male || 6′09″ / 2.06 m || 224 lbs / 101.6 kg Birth Name: Vyr || Unknown, ME -60 || Unknown Lawful Evil ||  Zokgaaftu [Tempest Drake] || Obtained Mask at 18 in ME -42 Bisexual || Demiromantic 40 at his Betrayal || N/A

Miraak was found as a baby amidst the ruins of a burned village, the single survivor of the small settlement. He shifted ‘foster’ parents through the temple a few times before being left as a orphan until the age of 13, when he accidentally absorbed the soul of his village’s slain dragon patron. He was spared from sacrifice by Alduin himself, and was then taken in by the priests. He studied under Ahzidal, and was the youngest to be granted a position amongst the masked priests. He was a devout servant of the dragons until 26, when he first encountered Hermaeus Mora with Ahzidal. He was popular among the younger priests, though Otar and Rahgot never trusted him. His betrayal left deep resentment among the priests.

Was romantically involved with Krosis [Nonvul] for 7 years, which ended due to Miraak’s increasing seclusion in the years leading up to his betrayal of the cult and because of Zahkriisos’s interest in Miraak. Zahkriisos was interested in him, and while he didn’t turn her away, he did not share the same feelings. Had a fling or two with Hevnoraak.

Ruled over modern-day Solstheim, and is the cause of it being an island.

Nahkriin

Male || 6′06″ / 1.98 m || 235 lbs / 106.6 kg Birth Name: Skorreth || 2nd of Sun’s Height, ME -58 || The Apprentice Lawful Evil ||  Odstrunriik [Storm Dragon] ||  Obtained Mask at 25 in ME -33 Asexual || Aromantic 38 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 38 at Death [Sealed self in Skuldaafn for Alduin’s return after Alduin’s disappearance]

Nahkriin developed a bitter hatred for humans at a young age, between the treatment of his family by other townsfolk and his family’s ultimate death at the hands of bandits. He joined the temple explicitly to serve the dragons, and became well known for his absolute disdain and merciless attitude towards other people. He never visited other priests on his own, and was only seen in Skuldaafn or at meetings. He made his best effort to interact as little as possible with other humans. He generally disliked all the priests, but habitually sided with the older priests simply because their interests aligned most often with the dragon’s.

Ruled over the chain of mountains that make up Skyrim’s modern-day east border, and varying amounts of land on either side - including the basin around Bonestrewn Crest on the east side of the river fork.

Hevnoraak

Male || 6′05″ / 1.96 m || 162 lbs / 73.5 kg Birth Name: Matminald || 26th of Midyear, ME -55 || The Steed Chaotic Evil ||  Drundurdwiin [Nether Dragon] || Obtained Mask at 24 in ME -31 Bisexual || Aromantic 35 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 45 at Death [Drained his blood and sealed himself in Valthume to ascend to lichdom]

Hevnoraak was the only son of a very poor farming family. His mother passed early in his life, and he took to caring for his younger sisters. Known for causing trouble and lashing out, he was kicked out at 16, leaving him to fend for himself. He returned at his father’s death to save his sisters from debt collectors, leading to the death of his siblings and the collectors. Hevnoraak spent the next several years as a slave to the temple, during which he discovered his capacity to bend people to his will. He honed this and rapidly manipulated his way to a position in the masked council, killing one of the priests and ensuring that he was the one picked. Few priests trusted him, though he is unable to mind control any of the masked priests without help, but he became the backbone of the younger priest’s circle. Most priests kept Hevnoraak at arm’s length, fully aware of his severely sadistic and cruel nature, but he was not without his upsides. Hevnoraak was the most likely to snap back at Konahrik, and was often the one the other younger priests hid behind when it came to breaking Konahrik’s rules and traditions. If anyone was going to host a party or a leisurely gathering, it was him.

Had a fling or two with Miraak, and had flings with Vokun.

Ruled over modern-day Falkreath and up to his temple at Valthume.

Vokun

Male || 6′08″ / 2.03 m || 251 lbs / 113.9 kg Birth Name: Hilgaar || 30th of First Seed, ME -54 || The Lord Neutral Evil ||  Ereivurkrent [Dragon] || Obtained Mask at 25 in ME -29 Homosexual || Homoromantic 34 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 53 at Death [Killed by soldiers seeking to destroy the remains of the cult]

Vokun joined the cult young, a quiet servant who was rarely noticed. He became a important asset to his patron dragon and some of the higher priests because of how often he was ignored - he became very good at collecting information under other’s noses. This, ultimately, almost lead to his death. The discovery of another priest’s plans against the temple was brought to his attention, and ultimately Vokun’s involvement with its discovery caused the priest in question to attack him. Vokun nearly died and lost his right eye, but his devotion and skills were brought to light with the rest of the cult. This earned him a place among the priests, where he quickly settled into the background with the younger priests. He was not always thrilled to be breaking rules or going along with Hevnoraak’s shenanigans, but his voice was very frequently talked over. That said, he was often the voice of reason for the younger priests, and one of the few that could calm Hevnoraak without penalty.

Had flings with Hevnoraak and Krosis [Nonvul].

Ruled over modern-day Dawnstar and the marshland of Morthal to the river.

Zahkriisos

Female || 6′02″ / 1.88 m || 162 lbs / 73.41 kg Birth Name: Sval || 24th of Hearthfire, ME -54 || The Lady Lawful Evil ||  Mahkofus [Frost Dragon] || Obtained Mask at 25 in ME -29 Bisexual || Heteroromantic 34 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 34 at Death [Died protected Miraak’s temple]

Zahkrissos descended from a member of the 500 Companions, and had taken to the call of keeping Skyrim’s lands clear of Snow Elves. A talented warrior, she gained her position in the council after rampaging with a band of warriors across the countryside to clear lingering hoards of Snow Elves from Atmoran-controlled territory. She quickly became popular in the council, and was very outspoken. While she tended to agree with the older members, she most often sided with the others her age. She taught Miraak how to use the blade, and forced her way into their pact with Mora in search of power. She was often too happy to go along with Hevnoraak’s horrible plans, and was a little too straight forward in her desires for some of the other priests.

Had flings with Volsung, but was romantically interested in Miraak - though Miraak did not share the feelings. She did not reciprocate Volsung’s feelings towards her.

Ruled over a now-gone stretch of land that connected Solstheim to the mainland, before Miraak sundered and let the sea reclaim it in his fight with Vahlok.

Volsung

Female || 29 || 6′00″ / 1.83 m || 189 lbs / 85.8 kg Birth Name: Hiajifildr || 19th of Last Seed, ME -49 || The Warrior Neutral Evil ||  Draalliivgraag [Magma Dragon] || Obtained Mask at 22 in ME -27 Homosexual || Homoromantic 29 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 84 at Death [Dies protecting Volskygge from those seeking to remove the remains of the Dragon Cult]

Volsung was handed to the temple after showing astonishing magical prowess, and was mostly raised and tutored under the priests. She studied under Ahzidal as well, and took a shining to Miraak. Her and Hevnoraak particularly butted heads as Volsung was one of the few people who wouldn’t deal with his shit, but they were very frequently caught hanging around each other. She was second behind Miraak on Rahgot and Otar’s list of most hated priests, and she made it a point of proving herself to the others for what limited time there was before Miraak’s betrayal and the hard change in atmosphere.

Had flings with and feelings for Zahkriisos, but Zahkriisos did not reciprocate them.

Ruled over modern-day Solitude, the portion of modern-day Markarth north of the river, and the eastern most part of modern-day Morthal.

Krosis [Nonvul]

Male || 6′04″ / 1.93 m || 152 lbs / 68.9 kg Birth Name: Gyrrunmomth || 20th of Frostfall, ME -49 || The Tower Lawful Neutral || Gruthrathlir || Obtained Mask at 19 in ME -30, was renamed at 31 in ME -18 Bisexual || Biromantic 29 at Miraak’s Betrayal || 47 at Death [Dies protecting his followers while fleeing those hunting the Dragon Cult - his sarcophagus is dropped and abandoned on the top of Shearpoint instead of being buried]

Krosis ascended the ranks of the cult rapidly, deeply devoted to the religion and to his people. He was rather favored by his dragon patron, who even recommended him when the masked council sought a new member. Many of the priests saw him as too gentle and good-natured. He had a genuine interest in people’s well being and the relationship between man and dragons, and was too cheerful for some of the priests. He was a favorite for heckling by the younger priests, as far as Miraak would allow it. He was close to many of the younger priests anyways, and was often a voice of reason with Vokun. He was renamed from Nonvul to Krosis after his spiral of depression following Miraak’s betrayal.

Was romantically involved with Miraak for 7 years, until Miraak’s decreasing contact with him and Miraak did not turn away Zahkriisos’s very obvious advances. He had flings with Vokun after.

Ruled over the area south west of modern-day Windhelm, from Korvanjund in the west and the river’s border in the east, to the edge of the mountain range that contains the Throat of the World.

[orphanofkos]

i gave no reason to back this up, vibes only, but i feel like torsten cruel-sea would not pay his child supoprt

[thequeenofthewinter]

Dahlia (OC): Uh, morning boys! Lookin’ for me?

Dahlia: Also, Ulfric, um, could you please move out of the doorway, you’re worse than Lydia.