Sᴋᴀᴅɪ Aʟʟ-Kɪɴᴅ

[ɪɢɴᴀᴛɪᴜs]

 •●• sᴋᴀᴅɪ ᴀʟʟ-ᴋɪɴᴅ •●•

 ʜᴏʟᴅ ғᴀsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs
 ғᴏʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ɢᴏ
 ʟɪғᴇ ɪs ᴀ ʙᴀʀʀᴇɴ ғɪᴇʟᴅ
 ғʀᴏᴢᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ sɴᴏᴡ. 
 — ʟᴀɴɢsᴛᴏɴ ʜᴜɢʜᴇs

 ● ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ●

● ғᴜʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ● Skadi All-Kind
● ʙʏɴᴀᴍᴇs ● "All-Kind," "Tender-Heart," "Witch of Windhelm," "Kind-Touch"

● ᴀɢᴇ ● 38
● ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ● 4E 163
● ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ● Windhelm, Skyrim

● ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ● Female
● sᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ● Heterosexual
● ᴍᴀʀɪᴛᴀʟ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs ● Widowed (Jorunn Twice-Honoured)

● ᴀғғɪʟɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ● Imperial Legion (currently), Stormcloaks (currently)
● ʀᴀɴᴋ ● Spy (Imperial Legion), Healer (Stormcloaks)

● sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs ● Men
● sᴜʙsᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs ● Nord

● sᴋɪʟʟs + ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs ● Skadi has dedicated years of training to have her skills where they are today. Having studied beneath the tutors of the College of Winterhold, she has only ever wanted to be a service of the people around her. This meant mastering the art of Restoration, and never was she prouder then when her Master told her he had nothing more to teach her. She is a non-combative at heart, and her skills largely reflect that.

Resist Frost, those of Nordic blood have a constant, 50% resistance to ice.

Battle Cry, once a day, a Nord can release a fearsome cry that staggers his opponent. It has a limited range of twelve feet.

Restoration (100), Skadi has spent much of her life learning how to ease the ailments of those around her. For her, there is no greater honour than healing the aches and pains of others, and takes great pride in her work. She does not discriminate, and if you need her healing touch, she will give it without complaint, no matter your race, age, gender, or affiliations.

Alchemy (75), while for the most part her alchemy skills are used for healing, Skadi does dabble in poisons. Taught to her by her mother, she never quite made the master alchemist her mother wished her to be, but her skills are far from novice. If you want a quality potion without the hefty price, chances are you'll buy from Skadi.

Speech (50), while she's not gifted with the slyest of tongues, Skadi has won over more than a few with her honeyed words. She may stumble upon them at times, but she's learned to smooth these moments over with easy grace.

Destruction (25), Skadi has never quite been suited to offensive combat, and prefers to avoid it to the best of her abilities. However, it would be foolish for her to swan through life without a few tricks up her sleeve. She's never been particularly gifted with destruction magic, but she knows the uses it can posses. More often than not, the few spells she knows are unstable when cast, as likely to hurt her as any opponent she may have.

 ● ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ●

● ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ● Though she is as tall as any Nord woman, Skadi carries herself with a grace and elegance that belies her larger size. Simply put, she largely appears smaller than she should be, exuding a frail and thin-boned air when she's naught but the opposite. For though she may appear delicate and fragile, she's velvet-wrapped steel, with a backbone that will let her bow to no man.

Skade has large, wide-set eyes set below a large, expressive brow. Her eyebrows are thin and carefully groomed, while the clear blue of her eyes are usually rimmed with a thick layer of kohl. When she was a young woman, she often felt self-conscious about her nose, which is rather large and dominates her face.

Skadi is always clean and well groomed. It is one of the few luxuries she grants herself, and is something she jealously guards. Woe be upon the individual who dares interrupt her morning ritual of pampering herself.

● ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ● Jessalyn Gilsig
○ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇxɪᴏɴ ○ Pale
○ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ ○ Blue
○ ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ ○ Brown
○ ʙᴜɪʟᴅ ○ Slim

 ● ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ●

● ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀssɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ● ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛғᴜʟ ● ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ● ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ● sʟʏ ● ᴡɪʟʟғᴜʟ ●

● ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀssɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ● If ever there was truly a sympathetic soul, Skadi would be it. She has dedicated her life to helping those who need it, treating everyone with the same, warm manner. There is nary a mean bone in the woman's body, though her big heart often blinds her to the true-character of others. In that way, she is naive. When she sees someone in distress, her kind nature often overpowers her sense of caution.

● ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛғᴜʟ ● Skadi could hardly be a successful spy if she could not lie. Though she will rarely lie to harm others, she will skillfully manipulate others to get what she needs from them. Whether it be information or their assistance, few can resist her sweetly spun lies.

● ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ● Mild in both temperament and speech, it would be difficult to imagine Skadi ever raising a hand in violence. She is gentle and sweet, soothing even the harshest of individuals with her tender words and touch.

● ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ● As a healer, Skadi has learned the patience is a virtue. Calmly composed even when wrists deep in a man's guts, she never rushes out of fear or blind faith. For her, slow and steady is the only way.

● sʟʏ ● Crafty as they come, Skadi possesses a wicked sharp cunning that has saved her life on more than a few occasions. Without honed skills to protect her life, Skadi has often relied on her shrewd wit to preserve her. Few have perceived the venom infusing her honeyed words.

● ᴡɪʟʟғᴜʟ ● On many, many occasions, Skadi has been likened to a mule. She will bow to no man, and has made this abundantly clear to any who may think otherwise. Skadi is willing to do whatever it takes to get things done, even if it means bludgeoning a few heads.

● ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ● There are few with hearts as large as Skadi's. With a kindness that knows no bounds, Skadi angers rarely and forgives quickly. It's just not within her nature to hold a grudge, though she certainly possesses the patience and sly wit needed to doing something about it. She is gentle, though should in no way be mistaken for timid. She has a will fit to match any man's, and isn't afraid to reveal it.

When idle or at work, Skadi can often be found humming or whistling. Having never been fond of long periods of silence, she usually takes it upon herself to fill them, usually with a bawdy tavern song. When deep in thought, she'll often tap her teeth or pull on her lip, sometimes curling the ends of her hair with a finger.

When Skadi isn't rushing about with her duties as a healer, she enjoys sewing and knitting. They're practical skills, and most of her clothing is made by her own hand. When she was younger, Skadi enjoyed nothing more than a good bit of dancing, though it's a fondness she's allowed to die down in her older years.

Skadi has a crippling fear of drowning, and will not even think of stepping on the ice in winter, no matter how you may assure her. She will idle on the shores of lakes and rivers, but will go no farther than her knees.

When she was a young woman, she fell from a horse and broke the fingers of her left hand. Though they've long since healed, much of the fingers of that hand are either stiff or difficult to move.

 ● ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ ●

● ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ● Skadi was the third-born daughter of a guard captain and his wife, and was the fifth child of their brood of nine. With six sisters and three brothers, there was hardly a moment of peace to be found in the crowded farmhouse they called home.

Not that she would have had it any other way. She loved nothing more than chasing her siblings about, the lot of them screaming like heathens and forging a path of chaos through the home. They nearly drove their mother mad, who could hardly find the time to brew potions and tend the farm, never mind chase a gaggle of children about.

Their father hardly helped. More often than not, he was the one who'd instigated the riot of children, before quietly slipping out the door to tend to his duties. More often than not, their mother wanted to murder the mischievous man, but thankfully, he'd completely captured her heart. Though it may have seemed otherwise, they loved each other deeply.

Skadi's mother taught all of her girls the secrecy of alchemy. In her mind, it was a sure way they could always provide for themselves, no matter what life may throw their way. Skadi and her eldest sister, Sigyn, were the only ones to truly take to the art, though. Sigyn would eventually leave for Markarth, where she would establish a mildly successful business as an alchemist.

Skadi was the only child in her family to show an affinity for the arcane. Her mother didn't approve, but her father had a rather colourful family, and was quick to introduce her to an uncle that had studied at the College of Winterhold. With his blessing, she would leave for the school at the tender age of seventeen, determined to learn all she could.

She studied for nearly seven years in the ancient halls, mastering the art of Restoration with a fierce determination. Long after most of her fellow students had moved on, Skadi stayed, pouring over musty tomes and pestering her teachers. When she finally moved on from the College, many were sad to see her go, though more than a few were silently relieved. Perhaps now they could get some peace and quiet.

For six months, Skadi was cast afloat. She wandered the Holds of Skyrim, flitting here and there like a bird looking for a place to roost. It was during a stay in Solitude that she met Jorunn, a quick-witted man serving in the Imperial Legion. It was hardly love at first sight, but they quickly became fast friends.

For years afterwards, even after they had wed, Jorunn had joked he had only befriended her so he could get free healing for all his scrapes and scratches. It would seem she was always fixing something of his, whether it be a broke nose or a scraped knee.

[ɪɢɴᴀᴛɪᴜs]

(cont.)

It was hardly the premises of a traditional wooing, but with each healed wound, the love between them grew. It was not long after her 26th year that they wed, much to the happiness of both their families. It was a good match, and it was easy to see the love and respect they held for one another.

Jorunn built them a home near the fringes of the village of Rorikstead. She was often alone in the small home, her husband touring the various parts of Skyrim in the name of the Imperial Legion. She did not enjoy being alone, so used to being surrounded by people, but she contented herself with healing the various ails of the villagers and drinking a good pint come evening.

Six years into their marriage, Jorunn would die by an infected wound inflicted by a passing band of disgruntled Nords. It was one of the first of many raids that would be carried out against Imperial patrols in the coming months. Unrest was beginning to stir in the belly of Skyrim.

Skadi grieved long and hard. It felt like half of her soul had been torn from her, and for nearly years she drifted in a sea of despair, cut from her safe harbour. It was during this time that Jorunn's old captain approached her, asking if she would honour his duties and do the Empire's work.

She agreed. It gave her purpose, and with it her head breached the surface, seeing the world around her for the first time in months. Skadi did not like what she saw. Tension ran thick, families tearing apart at the seams as one side took another. It was heart-wrenching. She was as proud of a Nord as any, keeping her Talos talisman close to her heart, but this was not the way they should go.

Travelling to Solitude at the old Captain's behest, Skadi was told in no uncertain terms what she could do for the Empire. Gather any information you can, they told her, and you could very well save the lives of many men and women.

Four months later, and she had sworn herself into the services of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. She was not a fighter, but it was easy to see the worth of a skilled healer in his gathering forces. When she wasn't being dispatched to various camps, she ran a small apothecary shop in the city of Windhelm, providing potions and ingredients at a discount for returning soldiers.

By her 36th year, the wounds of Jorunn's passing had largely healed. Though she still felt grief for her lost husband, she could now think fondly on the years she had with him.

Around this time, she had the pleasure of meeting Skoll Cruel-Spear. A great brute of a man, she had little respect for the lumbering oaf who so easily carried out Stormcloak justice. She'd heard many a rumour about his cruelty, and took great delight in slowly removing the arrows that prickled his hide.

As fate would have it, they would see much of each other in the coming years. Oftentimes it would end with terse disagreement, with each side stomping off, unwilling to admit that the either had been slightly right.

They would become unwilling friends, though friends they were. They rarely agreed on any subject, but they could often be found together in the evening, usually enjoying a good pint of ale.

It was growing difficult for Skadi to betray the trust of the Stormcloaks. While she knew them wrong on many points, they were also right on more than a few. She grew to care for the soldiers she cared for, and she knew with the information that she passed to the Imperials, more than a few were liable to die. But she would not bow in her duty, no matter how it broke her heart. She would count the graves after the war was done, and pay the required penance.

Skadi knows the moment that her feelings for Skoll breached easy friendship and turned into something more. Though she knew the tales of his cruelty were greatly exaggerated, she'd always thought him a rather amoral individual.

It had been a cold morn that she found him cuffed to the pillory, dressed in nothing but tunic and trousers. He'd been gone for nearly three weeks, scouting the borders and raiding Imperial patrols, and hadn't been due back for another two. He refused to tell her himself what happened, and so she tracked down his captain.

In no uncertain terms, the man told her Skoll was being punished for refusing his orders to attack an Imperial caravan that had come through from Morrowind. There had been refugees alongside the weary soldiers, women and children with no part in the war, and Skoll had proclaimed the order dishonourable.

Even with her insistent wheedling, it took four days to get Skoll released from the pillory. Since then, they've been a great deal closer than friends, though not quite lovers. Despite her attachments to the Stormcloaks, Skadi still sends detailed reports to the Imperial Legion monthly, under the guise of mailing letters to her sister in Markarth.

[dany]

[ Approved ]