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dragonhaven
Name: chesca
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cries
Contact: AIM: punchingturtles Plurk:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
oglops
Other Characters Played: Little Flopsy
Character: The (Female, Bosmer) Dragonborn - Lorsyl
Series: The Elder Scrolls V - Skyrim
Age: Elves live longer lives than humans, though TES is unclear on just how much longer. Because of this, I’m not going to give a specific age in years for Lorsyl unless I absolutely need to! By bosmer standards, she’s fresh into adulthood.
History: ”You will push the world harder than it pushes back.”
Before Lorsyl was born, the province of Valenwood became part of the Aldmeri dominion. Its native people, the Bosmer, were poorly organized as they lived largely solitary lives in the wood. Little communication existed that could not be tampered with by the Thalmor, the government of the dominion. Because of this, the Thalmor were able to effectively turn the bosmer into a race of servants, even conducting great purges of the Bosmer without anyone knowing much. Lorsyl was born in the great travelling tree city of Falinesti as another Bosmer, destined to serve her Altmer masters as every other Bosmer child was.
When she was very young, an old friend of her fathers came to them in desperation - he had been taken prisoner by the Thalmor and escaped, but needed a place to hide. The family took him in, and Lorsyl met the man she came to call her ‘uncle’. He told her about how his family had been murdered, and how he had been hurt so badly during his imprisonment that he had lost the use of one of his arms. Perhaps it was her dragon soul. Perhaps she would have been just as fearless without it. But young as she was, Lorsyl began to tell anyone who would listen what was happening, how this was wrong and how they could fight it. She endured first ridicule, then threats and then beatings, putting her family in grave danger and forcing them to kick her uncle out, and continued to preach ‘this is wrong and we need to fight’ until, barely old enough to understand what was happening, she was forced to leave the city and go into hiding.
Her uncle, who had since joined a small, disorganized militia group, took her in. She was an errand girl at first, hunting for food, darning clothes and brewing Rotmeth (meat booze) for her new family. Her uncle made every effort to keep her away from the actual fighting, finding a greater and greater range of non-combat errands for her to run as she grew older, but it was a hopeless endeavour. She had always needed to train in case the worst happened, and after an incident in which it almost did, she became determined to be strong and hurt others more than they could hurt her.
And she managed. Perhaps, again, it was her dragon soul. She’d always been a very capable hunter and her skill with a bow, traps and using the environment as a weapon served her well. But it couldn’t last. The Thalmor’s agents were too competent, they were bound to lose eventually. After falling into a trap, their group suffered many casualties. Lorsyl’s uncle was among them, and Lorsyl herself was once again forced into hiding, this time forced into exile from her beloved Valenwood.
She travelled north, to the province of Skyrim. Skyrim was currently ravaged by civil war, and she believed that she could use this chaos to hide from the Thalmor. Unfortunately she fell into a trap set for Ulfric Stormcloak, a rebel and king-killer. She was mistaken for one of Ulfric’s men and sentenced to death. And then, when her neck was, quite literally, on the chopping block, a dragon attacked.
A fucking dragon. Her execution was interrupted by a children’s story. But you take miracles when you get them, so she used this opportunity to escape with one of Ulfric’s men. She saved his life and, in return, he asked his sister to allow her to hide in her home. Grateful for the aid, Lorsyl offered to make sure that news of the dragon attack made it to the Jarl once it became clear that she hadn’t been followed. A task awaited her when she made it there, as she was now the closest thing that the hold of Whiterun had to an expert on dragons. She returned from this errand to find the place in a state of panic - another dragon had been spotted, and it was approaching the city.
Lorsyl was essentially drafted - they needed all the strong arms they could find - and sent out to try to drive the dragon away from civilians. After a long, difficult battle, she and the hold’s guard managed to kill it. Before it died, it called her ‘Dovahkiin’.
And then she absorbed its soul. This was new!
The guards were natives of Skyrim, Nords. They knew the stories of their homeland better than Lorsyl did and recognized what she had done. They told her that she was dragonborn and, after some coaxing, she managed to demonstrate the power she apparently had. She was capable, without training, of speaking the language of dragons - Thu’um, meaning “voice”. Dragons do not breathe fire, they shout it. They are capable, essentially, of creating fire by demanding it exist, and their fiercest battles are battles of words - the party with the strongest argument is capable of persuading the most power to manifest. And, apparently, being dragonborn gave her a rather unique way of learning dragon language as well as a way to kill dragons permanently.
She was called to a great mountain called the Throat of the World, the birthplace of the sky, to learn more dragon words. She met an old religious order dedicated to finding inner peace through the Voice, the greybeards. Then, on a job for them, she met Delphine, one of the last surviving members of a group known as the Blades, warriors sworn to protect the dragonborn but long since torn apart by the Thalmor. They crashed a party, killed a lot of thalmor agents, rescued an old man and found a temple! Also learned that the world was going to end because of an EVIL DRAGON, who Lorsyl was DESTINED TO FIGHT.
...unfortunately he was kind of immortal.
With the guidance of the master of the greybeards, a significantly less evil dragon, Lorsyl hunted down a means of shouting him mortal. She used a plot device to glimpse into the past and learn the dragon words for the concepts of mortality and death - a concept that dragons do not understand. With this knowledge, she could essentially say that he was mortal until reality believed her.
And she immediately got a chance to try this out, because he immediately showed up to try to kill her. With the use of Dragonrend and the aid of her dragon mentor, she managed to defeat him but not kill him. He fled. The dragons brought her to the havens shortly after.
She also, before this, helped a group called the Companions slay a giant and followed them home. After speaking with their Harbinger, she joined them. After punching people for money (her favourite way of gaining money!), they sent her on an adventure to retrieve a plot device. On this adventure she learned that the companions, or at least their inner circle, were actually werewolves! She’s not spent much time with them since learning this, partly because turning into a beast is something with great, great cultural and personal importance to Lorsyl but mostly because there are dragons attacking and she only has so much time.
Canon Point: ...this is difficult to do with Skyrim so. Where she is in her various quests-
Main Quest: Immediately after driving Alduin away.
Companions: After being given the offer to become a werewolf, before accepting it.
Other: Killed Grelod, received the offer to join the dark brotherhood. Rejected it by killing Astrid. Has not yet reported it.
Has taken no sides in the civil war.
Has an incredibly high bounty in Haafingar Hold, from killing Thalmor agents to protect Malborn and Brelas.
Sided with the forsworn in The Forsworn Conspiracy.
Owns no property, married nobody, adopted no children.
Personality: ”Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood.”
The nature of dragons is to conquer, to destroy and dominate. The dragonborn is no different, even if she isn’t consciously aware of it. She’s driven and dedicated almost single-mindedly to achieving what she believes is just through whatever means she has at her disposal. She’s also very difficult to stop, sometimes seeming almost immune to pain and fear. Her sheer tenacity, her brutality and her apparent complete lack of a sense of caution have earned her a fearsome, bloody reputation in Skyrim. There’s a reason the bards like to sing ‘beware, beware, the dragonborn comes’. She’s not mighty, and doesn’t give the impression of being powerful. She’s not a bear, she’s something small that’s been backed into a corner and has nothing left to do but fight desperately. While she’s no stranger to running in screaming and waving pointy things if she has to, her battle tactics often betray a keen, efficient mind that her other actions tend to disguise very well. She’s good at problem solving when she needs to be and when ‘problem’ actually means ‘altmer’.
But she’s not fearless. Her own nature terrifies her - she knows full well that that desire to dominate and rule is what led to the Thalmor harming her people as much as they have, and that there’s only so long she can follow the same urges to crush those who oppose her without becoming just as despicable. She sees no place for herself in the future she wishes to create for her people. But she continues, because she fears powerlessness still more. It scares her to know that people are more capable of hurting those she cares about than she is to stop them. And more than either of those, she fears what she may well have to do. She is terrified of the Wild Hunt, an event her people can call when faced with great injustice, and of the terrifying prospect of having her soul irreversibly twisted into a non-sapient one - something that would happen if she called the hunt. But she’s willing to go through with it, if she has to. She’s already prepared to give her life fighting for a world that she’s not sure she can return to, becoming a monster is her greatest fear, but it’s something she’s willing to do if she must.
When not fighting (so about 5% of the time, if that) she’s less brutal. The comparison to a small animal continues, because she’s cautious and inquisitive and largely concerned with food and likes climbing on things. She’s eager to make friends and help people, despite her caution, but she’s clearly poorly socialized even by the bizarre standards of the bosmer. She doesn’t quite seem to understand how conversations are supposed to go, interrupting a lot and butting into private conversations or wandering off while people are still talking to her. She’ll take things without asking or realizing it’s a problem. And she’ll climb on everything. None of it’s deliberately rude, she simply doesn’t know any better and has been raised in a group of people who were, for the most part, hostile toward the empire’s customs (read: what we’d consider good manners).
For all her rage and desire for bloodshed and for all the urges to crush and dominate that are part of her very soul, she seems innocent, more than anything else, in times of relative peace. Innocent in a very bloody way, certainly, she’ll still cheerfully offer to kill for people she likes over the smallest slight. But still innocent. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone who hasn’t hurt her, and wants to help and protect the people around her. She truly believes that the world can be changed for the better, even if she sees no place for herself in a better world. She likes giving gifts to people, even if those gifts tend to be lumps of meat or still bloody animal pelts, or charms made from the fingers of her enemies. She is kind and gentle to animals of all kinds, though thinks little of killing them for their meat or skin of she has to - she treats them with respect, and when she does kill them she takes care to do so painlessly.
And her faith is very important to her. She believes that she serves Y’ffre, the bones of the earth, whose body is the plants and trees. Her people swore to honour the Green Pact long ago, to live as carnivores and never harm plants and to never waste life. She is a cannibal, sworn to eat whatever she kills even when ‘what she kills’ is human or elf, and sees no problem with this. She also cannot use, consume or wear any items that use plants (her people usually only swear to honour the green pact within Valenwood, the land granted to them by Y’ffre, but Lorsyl is dead srs). She’s also illiterate, which I should probably mention somewhere and here seems the best place. She can read and write in the language of dragons but not in any of the languages of people. On a good day she can guess what road signs say and recognise her name or the names of people she knows when they’re written, but that’s recognizing the shape of the words rather than reading.
Skills and Abilities: ”Power. You have it, as do all dov. But power is inert without action and choice. What will you burn? What will you spare?”
Lorsyl was a soldier long, long before she was the dragonborn. She fights pragmatically, using stealth, traps and poisons when they’re available and whatever she has to hand when they’re not. She’ll make a dining fork into a dragon-killing weapon, if she has to (and this would be the only use she ever gets out of dining forks, with her table manners being as regrettable as they are). She favours a bow and dagger, usually, but it’s not uncommon to see her with her teeth around an enemy’s throat, clamping down until they stop moving.
She has a way with animals, as all her kind do. She speaks the language of beasts and can converse with (and command) animals. Like others of her kind, she’s lived her life in the treetops. Climbing things is second nature to her, and she is good with plants, though the green pact she’s sworn to her god prevents her from harvesting or using them.
(She also, in theory, has the ability to call an event known as the ‘wild hunt’, in which all of her kind are twisted into monsters with only one thought in their mind - justice. In the wild hunt, the changed bosmer charge unhindered by fear or pain or exhaustion and do not stop until their target is dead, at which point they immediately turn on each other. ...she isn’t going to do this for IC reasons, and even if she tried I’m going to say it’s probably impossible for her to do it in DH because it’s irreversible and permanent, but she may mention it in conversation so I figured I should cover it here)
And she’s the dragonborn, which comes with its own set of abilities. First and foremost, she can project her voice into a shout. Dragons don’t breathe fire, they tell fire to be by shouting, and Lorsyl shares this ability. A shout’s power varies depending on the number of words used - the more words she knows, the stronger the shout is (it’s a fire-fira-firaga kind of thing). Some shouts she can use all three words of, some she can only use two or one.
Shouts she can use are:
Unrelenting Force (FUS ROH DAH) - Your Voice is raw power, pushing aside anything - or anyone - who stands in your path.
Clear Skies (LOK VAH KOOR) - Skyrim itself yields before the Thu'um, as you clear away fog and inclement weather.
Dragonrend (JOOR ZAH FRUL) - Your Voice lashes out at a dragon's very soul, forcing the beast to land.
Throw Voice (ZEL MEY GUT) - The Thu'um is heard, but its source unknown, fooling those into seeking it out.
Whirlwind Sprint (WULD NAH) - The Thu'um rushes forward, carrying you in its wake with the speed of a tempest.
Fire Breath (YOL TOOR) - Inhale air, exhale flame, and behold the Thu'um as inferno.
Disarm (ZUN) - Shout defies steel, as you rip the weapon from an opponent's grasp.
Become Ethereal (FEIM) - The Thu'um reaches out to the Void, changing your form to one that cannot harm, or be harmed.
Aura Whisper (LAAS) - Your Voice is not a Shout, but a whisper, revealing the life forces of any and all.
Being dragonborn also means that she absorbs the souls of fallen dragons to become more powerful. I’ll contact a mod to see if this happens in DH (if it’s not cool, it can always be a case of her canon’s dragons being different). She doesn’t actually get a choice in this, it happens whenever a dragon dies.
First Person Sample:
Q+A, please!
Third Person Sample:
“Not much longer. You have helped. Thank you.”
She whispered gentle reassurances to the snake in its own tongue, hissing softly as its venom dripped into the bone bowl she held below its fangs. She was careful, of course, and reverent - she knew full well that a single bite could kill her in minutes - but the creature seemed content. The venom would prove invaluable - a few arrows coated with it should fell even a giant, given enough time.
Which was, conveniently enough, her plan for tomorrow morning. For now, she had set up camp in this cave. The sky was growing dark, and she would much sooner curl up under layers of bear hide than endure the bitter Skyrim nights. The Jarl would get his giant, but he wouldn’t get it tonight. Skyrim was not nearly as unforgiving, nor as beautiful, as her home, but it was colder and its bitter nights were just as deadly and deserved to be treated just as reverently as the snake in her hands. For her people or her woods, she would brave them. To protect skyrim’s people, she would brave them. For a Jarl or a King or whatever these men called themselves now, she would not.
“Payment.” She offered a dead shrew to the snake, allowing it to eat out of her hand no matter how close that meant allowing its fangs to come to her skin, and placed it down softly. Watching as it slithered away, she curled up beneath the hides she had carried all this way and then, once the snake was gone, stared out at the snow. She would miss watching it, even if she wouldn’t miss travelling through it. She missed Valenwood bitterly, but the snow was beautiful.
Personal Journal:
criesContact: AIM: punchingturtles Plurk:
Other Characters Played: Little Flopsy
Character: The (Female, Bosmer) Dragonborn - Lorsyl
Series: The Elder Scrolls V - Skyrim
Age: Elves live longer lives than humans, though TES is unclear on just how much longer. Because of this, I’m not going to give a specific age in years for Lorsyl unless I absolutely need to! By bosmer standards, she’s fresh into adulthood.
History: ”You will push the world harder than it pushes back.”
Before Lorsyl was born, the province of Valenwood became part of the Aldmeri dominion. Its native people, the Bosmer, were poorly organized as they lived largely solitary lives in the wood. Little communication existed that could not be tampered with by the Thalmor, the government of the dominion. Because of this, the Thalmor were able to effectively turn the bosmer into a race of servants, even conducting great purges of the Bosmer without anyone knowing much. Lorsyl was born in the great travelling tree city of Falinesti as another Bosmer, destined to serve her Altmer masters as every other Bosmer child was.
When she was very young, an old friend of her fathers came to them in desperation - he had been taken prisoner by the Thalmor and escaped, but needed a place to hide. The family took him in, and Lorsyl met the man she came to call her ‘uncle’. He told her about how his family had been murdered, and how he had been hurt so badly during his imprisonment that he had lost the use of one of his arms. Perhaps it was her dragon soul. Perhaps she would have been just as fearless without it. But young as she was, Lorsyl began to tell anyone who would listen what was happening, how this was wrong and how they could fight it. She endured first ridicule, then threats and then beatings, putting her family in grave danger and forcing them to kick her uncle out, and continued to preach ‘this is wrong and we need to fight’ until, barely old enough to understand what was happening, she was forced to leave the city and go into hiding.
Her uncle, who had since joined a small, disorganized militia group, took her in. She was an errand girl at first, hunting for food, darning clothes and brewing Rotmeth (meat booze) for her new family. Her uncle made every effort to keep her away from the actual fighting, finding a greater and greater range of non-combat errands for her to run as she grew older, but it was a hopeless endeavour. She had always needed to train in case the worst happened, and after an incident in which it almost did, she became determined to be strong and hurt others more than they could hurt her.
And she managed. Perhaps, again, it was her dragon soul. She’d always been a very capable hunter and her skill with a bow, traps and using the environment as a weapon served her well. But it couldn’t last. The Thalmor’s agents were too competent, they were bound to lose eventually. After falling into a trap, their group suffered many casualties. Lorsyl’s uncle was among them, and Lorsyl herself was once again forced into hiding, this time forced into exile from her beloved Valenwood.
She travelled north, to the province of Skyrim. Skyrim was currently ravaged by civil war, and she believed that she could use this chaos to hide from the Thalmor. Unfortunately she fell into a trap set for Ulfric Stormcloak, a rebel and king-killer. She was mistaken for one of Ulfric’s men and sentenced to death. And then, when her neck was, quite literally, on the chopping block, a dragon attacked.
A fucking dragon. Her execution was interrupted by a children’s story. But you take miracles when you get them, so she used this opportunity to escape with one of Ulfric’s men. She saved his life and, in return, he asked his sister to allow her to hide in her home. Grateful for the aid, Lorsyl offered to make sure that news of the dragon attack made it to the Jarl once it became clear that she hadn’t been followed. A task awaited her when she made it there, as she was now the closest thing that the hold of Whiterun had to an expert on dragons. She returned from this errand to find the place in a state of panic - another dragon had been spotted, and it was approaching the city.
Lorsyl was essentially drafted - they needed all the strong arms they could find - and sent out to try to drive the dragon away from civilians. After a long, difficult battle, she and the hold’s guard managed to kill it. Before it died, it called her ‘Dovahkiin’.
And then she absorbed its soul. This was new!
The guards were natives of Skyrim, Nords. They knew the stories of their homeland better than Lorsyl did and recognized what she had done. They told her that she was dragonborn and, after some coaxing, she managed to demonstrate the power she apparently had. She was capable, without training, of speaking the language of dragons - Thu’um, meaning “voice”. Dragons do not breathe fire, they shout it. They are capable, essentially, of creating fire by demanding it exist, and their fiercest battles are battles of words - the party with the strongest argument is capable of persuading the most power to manifest. And, apparently, being dragonborn gave her a rather unique way of learning dragon language as well as a way to kill dragons permanently.
She was called to a great mountain called the Throat of the World, the birthplace of the sky, to learn more dragon words. She met an old religious order dedicated to finding inner peace through the Voice, the greybeards. Then, on a job for them, she met Delphine, one of the last surviving members of a group known as the Blades, warriors sworn to protect the dragonborn but long since torn apart by the Thalmor. They crashed a party, killed a lot of thalmor agents, rescued an old man and found a temple! Also learned that the world was going to end because of an EVIL DRAGON, who Lorsyl was DESTINED TO FIGHT.
...unfortunately he was kind of immortal.
With the guidance of the master of the greybeards, a significantly less evil dragon, Lorsyl hunted down a means of shouting him mortal. She used a plot device to glimpse into the past and learn the dragon words for the concepts of mortality and death - a concept that dragons do not understand. With this knowledge, she could essentially say that he was mortal until reality believed her.
And she immediately got a chance to try this out, because he immediately showed up to try to kill her. With the use of Dragonrend and the aid of her dragon mentor, she managed to defeat him but not kill him. He fled. The dragons brought her to the havens shortly after.
She also, before this, helped a group called the Companions slay a giant and followed them home. After speaking with their Harbinger, she joined them. After punching people for money (her favourite way of gaining money!), they sent her on an adventure to retrieve a plot device. On this adventure she learned that the companions, or at least their inner circle, were actually werewolves! She’s not spent much time with them since learning this, partly because turning into a beast is something with great, great cultural and personal importance to Lorsyl but mostly because there are dragons attacking and she only has so much time.
Canon Point: ...this is difficult to do with Skyrim so. Where she is in her various quests-
Main Quest: Immediately after driving Alduin away.
Companions: After being given the offer to become a werewolf, before accepting it.
Other: Killed Grelod, received the offer to join the dark brotherhood. Rejected it by killing Astrid. Has not yet reported it.
Has taken no sides in the civil war.
Has an incredibly high bounty in Haafingar Hold, from killing Thalmor agents to protect Malborn and Brelas.
Sided with the forsworn in The Forsworn Conspiracy.
Owns no property, married nobody, adopted no children.
Personality: ”Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood.”
The nature of dragons is to conquer, to destroy and dominate. The dragonborn is no different, even if she isn’t consciously aware of it. She’s driven and dedicated almost single-mindedly to achieving what she believes is just through whatever means she has at her disposal. She’s also very difficult to stop, sometimes seeming almost immune to pain and fear. Her sheer tenacity, her brutality and her apparent complete lack of a sense of caution have earned her a fearsome, bloody reputation in Skyrim. There’s a reason the bards like to sing ‘beware, beware, the dragonborn comes’. She’s not mighty, and doesn’t give the impression of being powerful. She’s not a bear, she’s something small that’s been backed into a corner and has nothing left to do but fight desperately. While she’s no stranger to running in screaming and waving pointy things if she has to, her battle tactics often betray a keen, efficient mind that her other actions tend to disguise very well. She’s good at problem solving when she needs to be and when ‘problem’ actually means ‘altmer’.
But she’s not fearless. Her own nature terrifies her - she knows full well that that desire to dominate and rule is what led to the Thalmor harming her people as much as they have, and that there’s only so long she can follow the same urges to crush those who oppose her without becoming just as despicable. She sees no place for herself in the future she wishes to create for her people. But she continues, because she fears powerlessness still more. It scares her to know that people are more capable of hurting those she cares about than she is to stop them. And more than either of those, she fears what she may well have to do. She is terrified of the Wild Hunt, an event her people can call when faced with great injustice, and of the terrifying prospect of having her soul irreversibly twisted into a non-sapient one - something that would happen if she called the hunt. But she’s willing to go through with it, if she has to. She’s already prepared to give her life fighting for a world that she’s not sure she can return to, becoming a monster is her greatest fear, but it’s something she’s willing to do if she must.
When not fighting (so about 5% of the time, if that) she’s less brutal. The comparison to a small animal continues, because she’s cautious and inquisitive and largely concerned with food and likes climbing on things. She’s eager to make friends and help people, despite her caution, but she’s clearly poorly socialized even by the bizarre standards of the bosmer. She doesn’t quite seem to understand how conversations are supposed to go, interrupting a lot and butting into private conversations or wandering off while people are still talking to her. She’ll take things without asking or realizing it’s a problem. And she’ll climb on everything. None of it’s deliberately rude, she simply doesn’t know any better and has been raised in a group of people who were, for the most part, hostile toward the empire’s customs (read: what we’d consider good manners).
For all her rage and desire for bloodshed and for all the urges to crush and dominate that are part of her very soul, she seems innocent, more than anything else, in times of relative peace. Innocent in a very bloody way, certainly, she’ll still cheerfully offer to kill for people she likes over the smallest slight. But still innocent. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone who hasn’t hurt her, and wants to help and protect the people around her. She truly believes that the world can be changed for the better, even if she sees no place for herself in a better world. She likes giving gifts to people, even if those gifts tend to be lumps of meat or still bloody animal pelts, or charms made from the fingers of her enemies. She is kind and gentle to animals of all kinds, though thinks little of killing them for their meat or skin of she has to - she treats them with respect, and when she does kill them she takes care to do so painlessly.
And her faith is very important to her. She believes that she serves Y’ffre, the bones of the earth, whose body is the plants and trees. Her people swore to honour the Green Pact long ago, to live as carnivores and never harm plants and to never waste life. She is a cannibal, sworn to eat whatever she kills even when ‘what she kills’ is human or elf, and sees no problem with this. She also cannot use, consume or wear any items that use plants (her people usually only swear to honour the green pact within Valenwood, the land granted to them by Y’ffre, but Lorsyl is dead srs). She’s also illiterate, which I should probably mention somewhere and here seems the best place. She can read and write in the language of dragons but not in any of the languages of people. On a good day she can guess what road signs say and recognise her name or the names of people she knows when they’re written, but that’s recognizing the shape of the words rather than reading.
Skills and Abilities: ”Power. You have it, as do all dov. But power is inert without action and choice. What will you burn? What will you spare?”
Lorsyl was a soldier long, long before she was the dragonborn. She fights pragmatically, using stealth, traps and poisons when they’re available and whatever she has to hand when they’re not. She’ll make a dining fork into a dragon-killing weapon, if she has to (and this would be the only use she ever gets out of dining forks, with her table manners being as regrettable as they are). She favours a bow and dagger, usually, but it’s not uncommon to see her with her teeth around an enemy’s throat, clamping down until they stop moving.
She has a way with animals, as all her kind do. She speaks the language of beasts and can converse with (and command) animals. Like others of her kind, she’s lived her life in the treetops. Climbing things is second nature to her, and she is good with plants, though the green pact she’s sworn to her god prevents her from harvesting or using them.
(She also, in theory, has the ability to call an event known as the ‘wild hunt’, in which all of her kind are twisted into monsters with only one thought in their mind - justice. In the wild hunt, the changed bosmer charge unhindered by fear or pain or exhaustion and do not stop until their target is dead, at which point they immediately turn on each other. ...she isn’t going to do this for IC reasons, and even if she tried I’m going to say it’s probably impossible for her to do it in DH because it’s irreversible and permanent, but she may mention it in conversation so I figured I should cover it here)
And she’s the dragonborn, which comes with its own set of abilities. First and foremost, she can project her voice into a shout. Dragons don’t breathe fire, they tell fire to be by shouting, and Lorsyl shares this ability. A shout’s power varies depending on the number of words used - the more words she knows, the stronger the shout is (it’s a fire-fira-firaga kind of thing). Some shouts she can use all three words of, some she can only use two or one.
Shouts she can use are:
Unrelenting Force (FUS ROH DAH) - Your Voice is raw power, pushing aside anything - or anyone - who stands in your path.
Clear Skies (LOK VAH KOOR) - Skyrim itself yields before the Thu'um, as you clear away fog and inclement weather.
Dragonrend (JOOR ZAH FRUL) - Your Voice lashes out at a dragon's very soul, forcing the beast to land.
Throw Voice (ZEL MEY GUT) - The Thu'um is heard, but its source unknown, fooling those into seeking it out.
Whirlwind Sprint (WULD NAH) - The Thu'um rushes forward, carrying you in its wake with the speed of a tempest.
Fire Breath (YOL TOOR) - Inhale air, exhale flame, and behold the Thu'um as inferno.
Disarm (ZUN) - Shout defies steel, as you rip the weapon from an opponent's grasp.
Become Ethereal (FEIM) - The Thu'um reaches out to the Void, changing your form to one that cannot harm, or be harmed.
Aura Whisper (LAAS) - Your Voice is not a Shout, but a whisper, revealing the life forces of any and all.
Being dragonborn also means that she absorbs the souls of fallen dragons to become more powerful. I’ll contact a mod to see if this happens in DH (if it’s not cool, it can always be a case of her canon’s dragons being different). She doesn’t actually get a choice in this, it happens whenever a dragon dies.
First Person Sample:
Q+A, please!
Third Person Sample:
“Not much longer. You have helped. Thank you.”
She whispered gentle reassurances to the snake in its own tongue, hissing softly as its venom dripped into the bone bowl she held below its fangs. She was careful, of course, and reverent - she knew full well that a single bite could kill her in minutes - but the creature seemed content. The venom would prove invaluable - a few arrows coated with it should fell even a giant, given enough time.
Which was, conveniently enough, her plan for tomorrow morning. For now, she had set up camp in this cave. The sky was growing dark, and she would much sooner curl up under layers of bear hide than endure the bitter Skyrim nights. The Jarl would get his giant, but he wouldn’t get it tonight. Skyrim was not nearly as unforgiving, nor as beautiful, as her home, but it was colder and its bitter nights were just as deadly and deserved to be treated just as reverently as the snake in her hands. For her people or her woods, she would brave them. To protect skyrim’s people, she would brave them. For a Jarl or a King or whatever these men called themselves now, she would not.
“Payment.” She offered a dead shrew to the snake, allowing it to eat out of her hand no matter how close that meant allowing its fangs to come to her skin, and placed it down softly. Watching as it slithered away, she curled up beneath the hides she had carried all this way and then, once the snake was gone, stared out at the snow. She would miss watching it, even if she wouldn’t miss travelling through it. She missed Valenwood bitterly, but the snow was beautiful.