My girl Sverker has to put up with a lot of characters I love but who have way too much energy
For some reason, I always picture Sanguine dressed with shitty pants and nothing else. In artworks he's almost always represented with a lavish yet slutty nightrobe or daedric armor. I go the hobo route. Naked, pissed drunk and ready to fuck shit up Sanguine.
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I was debating how to present this guy to everyone, but here is a small profile I made to introduce him and help you get to know him a little better:
Also, feel free to ask stuff for him, just be aware you might not get a straight answer.
Ciarán 🗡️
Name: Ciarán
Meaning: “little dark one”
Alias(es): The Black Knight, The Black Horseman
Pronouns: He/Him
Age: Unknown
Sexuality: Pansexual
Appearance: A tall, imposing figure. His armour seems to be made of a jet black metal, but it is not identifiable. He also wears a tattered black cloak made of similarly foreign material. He lacks a head, and there appears to be simply a blue wispy flame in its place that varies in shape and intensity.
Notable Features: His weapon of choice is a shining knightly sword, (also known as an arming sword) or at least it appears to be one. He also wields a whip made of a human spine, but it tends to rest at his hip if he finds no need for it.
Personality: He is a grim and pitiless executioner, not swayed by sympathy or remorse. Still, all contacts with this being have observed that he seems to follow a chivalrous code of honour, but not one bound by good or evil. He may choose not to harm an unsuspecting person if they cross his path, but still should not be provoked. His behaviour has actually been recorded as slightly eccentric, but that is not out of the ordinary for anomalous entities. Either way, he remains aloof and foreboding.
Fun Facts:
His horse’s name is Gormlaith. Although he may often act like a cold and merciless being, he seems to dote on her.
Her breed is difficult to place. It does not seem to be of a type still alive today.
He is typically ‘felt’ or heard before he is seen, and a thick mist often accompanies him and conceals him when it is needed.
Any sightings unrelated to a killing were usually reported near a graveyard or bog, or occasionally an abbey. Strangely, he seems to particularly prefer places blooming with life. Sometimes flowerbeds were found plucked in the morning.
The bonewhip’s purpose is not to kill. Although he is rather pragmatic, he uses it to lash out the eyes of anyone who sees him. He may spare their lives, simply because they were not his target, but they cannot be allowed to look upon him.
It seems that neither bullets nor blades can penetrate his armour. Many have tried and failed, but he is more or less an unstoppable force.
He should normally be holding his head, but it seems to have gone missing.
All victims whose bodies were recovered were found to be decapitated with a very clean slash. Most survivors were left blinded.
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Inigo shook Dar’sha who rubbed her eyes sleepily. The sun had just begun to rise, but the last few hours seemed like a blur. Where had they gone? What had they done? There was a stillness that spread over the land. “My friend, I had the strangest dream!” Inigo’s eyes were filled with excitement as he recalled a far away land - Sovngarde. “We were in the Nord land of the dead and you defeated Alduin! It was quite an adventure!”
Dar’sha’s pointed at Inigo as a toothy grin spread across her face. “It is true, this one was there, but so were you. We defeated Alduin, together.” Inigo scratched his head in disbelief. “We? We defeated Alduin and saved Skyrim? We did it, we did it!” His words trailed off to a little dance. Dar’sha laughed and sat up, looking at the view of the land and wondered where they would go next. Inigo plopped down next to her and pulled out a bottle of alto wine from his backpack, popping out the cork with his teeth. “To victory?” He started. Dar’sha nodded and grabbed the bottle. “And to friendship.”