He is that which is an end. And he shall rise again.

NAME An-Venhir RACE Cyrod (Nibenese) GENDER Male
OCCUPATION Priest of Shezarr | Vigilante AGE 38 BIRTHSIGN The Ritual
EYES Green SKIN Dark Tan HAIR White (Dyed) HEIGHT 6" BUILD Broad

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Heralded by the clinking of chainmail and the song of Saintly charms swaying, the Priest of the Missing One's presence is oft not a cause of celebration. An omen who listens to Moon-Corpse-Song's and the lullabies of the Doom-Drum's distant pounding underneath his feet, led by the ghost whose domain is/was the beautiful suffering of Man. Underneath a river-newt leather hood emblazoned with a false Chim-el Adabal, he has marked his face with blackened wings and a burning star upon his forehead. A menacing appearance for one otherwise reserved until bid to rend. He speaks of remembering the Covenants, to remain vigilant, to embrace the pained currents of Ald Cyrod so it may grow stronger - their ancestors had suffered far longer, and reaped from it a liberation that echoed through the Eras.The Eight and Missing and their Saints are his guides, so he gives to the poor mercy and justice. Lordless lands find their forests adorned with the swinging corpses of reavers and deserters, their farmers armed and trained. Refugee caravans protected, the once faithless burn incense and chant a thousand-fold venerations in dedication to Saintly, totem and Hero cults. But many more simply reject the man for like his idol of devotion, he is heartless yet full of love for his fellow Man. He takes their wounds upon himself, suffering in their stead though allows the memory of their strife to be a prudent reminder. Passion that off puts the moderate, deviation that is chastised by the orthodox. And so he finds himself more often than not swaying under the moonlight, muttering liturgies to a Dead-God and a million spirits few care to remember as the moth's flutter about him to show him the way.The mystic of the Missing-Sibling is an intense creature, violent and merciful, beautiful and ugly in flesh and spirit. From his mouth come frothing liturgies and heavenly hymns, dread soothsaying's and bouts of charity. Waxing and waning, ever unpredictable beyond his devotion, few can say they enjoy An-Venhir's company. He suffers, but suffering has long-since been the lot of Man as reward for this wonderful Arena to shed blood and challenge oneself in, and he would have it no other way.

• dossier.

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An-Venhir strikes a strange and daunting visage. A face of a man chiseled and formed in the fashion of Cyrodillic heroes - locks of curled hair once brown now dyed white, a hawkish nose and a sharp jaw with nary a hair upon it - worn down and haggard. Wrinkles in his brow, scars formed around once-torn flesh. Winged tattoos form about his dark green eyes, a star emblazed upon his forehead; it would not be wrong to describe the man as menacing.He believes himself a savior of Ald Cyrod. Not in the fashion of usurpers and claimants for only one chosen by Akatosh may truly carry Chim-el Adabal, but in the manner of a prophet who speaks for the old faiths in the wild. The totem cults, the Saints who whisper to him, and above all, Shezarr the Missing whose pounding Doom-Drum spurs him to action. Like that of the coursing Nibenay, he flows, gives boons and life, others shall be drowned should they not accept the current.An-Venir, son of a silk-weaver, says he can hear the Spirit of Man through the Moon-Corpses song and in the fluttering of the moth's. Prophecies seen in the guts of beasts. It drives him to uplift all mortals through trial and change, and damn those who would see the greatest of all Divine creations become null.

common

✦ Templar of the Missing One - He is the servant of the Gods that bring to this arena and the flame-winds that give purpose. To see that none are stagnant, always fighting, dancing to the beat that consumes and uplifts in each note. Praises sung to the Missing One, to a hundred Gods under the canopy of starlight, to Saints who whisper upon the wind and beckon for good works. As Ald Cyrod's children weep, he shall be there to give them meaning to their strife, to ignite the fire in their bellies with faith forgotten. He is Missing, but His spirit, the memory of His memory remains - the memory of liberation through sacrifice.
→ a priest of shezarr and member of a solid chunk of mystery cults. want to get crazy with rituals and practices? need a sermon? drop a line and he'll be yapping.✦ Avenger of Ald Cyrod - The Starry Heart bleeds. It is leeched by Dragons, Lions and Eagles, even kinsfolk who claim they are heirs to Al-Esh and Reman. Ancient lineages snuffed out, leaving lands lawless - or under the rule of mummers and brigands. When the law of Man fails, it is the servants of the Gods who must take matters into their hands. And his hands are drenched in righteous vindication and he teaches others to do so: this is a kindness.
→ vigilante. or knight-errant. or madman. whichever you like really. have a bandit, monster, nuisance problem heckling your neck of cyrodiil? he'll be there. for free too, what a steal.✦ Dancer on Blood-Stained Sands - Crowds often do not cheer for him. They cheer for what he reaps in a field of sand and blood. He does not enjoy Colovia, but all Cyrods must bear witness to the strength of the Divine and Missing - the Order does well enough, he says, but he can do better. And so he moves in the fashion taught by the snake-trained myrmidons and the savage hunting-cat cults of the Nibenay, and with each brutal strike, a prayer for them all to hear.
→ venhir moonlights as a gladiator in kvatch from time to time. someone might've seen him. or fought him - maybe a round two, off the books, maybe an attempt to know the priest of Shezarr beyond the brutality and prayer

uncommon

✦ Moonlit Corpse-Song - His power in magic waxes and wanes like the twin moons above. Perhaps it is his star sign, perhaps it is a broader curse and condition. But it effects him deeply - when both moons shine bright and full, the priest becomes soothsayer. They are unpredictable, violent, to heed his future is to endure a chance that one may not leave the scene alive. Struggling hands are held aloft, in them canticle bark to summon the winged-ancestors who he says weave to him prophecy seen beyond the veil. Sometimes, sifting through the innards of a slain sacrifice. It is crude, rarely comprehensive - but it can be honed.
→ mystical, prophecy stuff and things. it won't be pretty and is very likely to lack some finer details, but you get what you pay for (nothing, you probably just found him in the wild talking to moths)✦ Of White-Gold - Severus was not born upon the shores of Rumare, but An-Venhir was, and is like to call it his true home. And his home shattered with the sky. Trapped for three days and nights in a crumbled ruin, clawing and ripping apart Daedra in utter blackness, reeling from the Soulburst, it is a miracle he survived. Perhaps in many ways he did not. When he was finally free, he and his surviving few acolytes fought in the streets against all sides who sought to darken White-Gold further. It was only at the behest of his master that he left the Imperial City to spread the lessons of Shezarr to a broken Heartland.
→ at the Imperial City during the Soulburst and proceeding events? likely know him. looking to research lasting effects of the Soulburst? he can be a lab rat, maybe.✦ A Most Awful Society - Their names are dared not uttered for the beast's eyes linger in the shadowed canopy of the tall trees, licking at fangs wet with a kill. His habits of hunting down the cruel and powerful give way to these rumors he is amongst the Awful Striped and Hunting Cat society. And perhaps he is - but he shall never say it, for it would damn him in the society he loves so dearly but does not know what it needs to survive. But tales persist of the hunter adorned in white fur and bloody stripes prowling the Heartland.
→ a crawling tiger looms. deep dark secwets, the dirty side of nibenese society and venhir. might be false, might be real - requires some looking into but it'd make him just as horrible as those he brings 'justice' to

common

"Under the canopy of the swamps where the light of the twin-moons shone, we prayed. Supplications offered to the spirits of the Eight and Missing, the Saints, the ancestors. In call and response, he led us, a man whose blood runs with Mother Nibenay. In the blood of a blessed bull, he gave us protection and favor. He spoke of remembrance: that Ald Cyrod will only grow stronger through the struggle of its people, and to aid one another. A strange man who came and went after that night."
Leyawiin, circa 2E 590"Deserters took over Lord Wariel's estate. Butchered him and his family - all the fighting men and women had died in the wars. We toiled, broke for them. One by one though, each one of the bastards swung from a branch or was cut down in the woods on patrol. Then, the priest came from the dark, gave us aid, taught us how to fight. When he healed our wounded though, it pained him, as he if stole our hurt.
Colovian Highlands, circa 2E 591"For a priest of Shezarr, he's oddly soft-spoken. All that bluster in the arena and in sermons, only to scarce say a word, let alone share a drink with ya. But who am I to judge a holy man? Even if the God he serves is dead and not worth much nowadays, but says he serves 'all of them if they are right', whatever that means."
Anvil, circa 2E 592"Saw him fighting in the arena last week. Brutal fucker he is. Poor Nord they stuck him up aganist got a good few blows in before this freak goes shouting about 'The Fox does not grace the simple'. Had the Nord on his back bleeding out while he screamed about something religious, couldn't right say over the roar of the crowd. Rumor has it he'll accept no sponsor, no bets. What's the damn point, then?"
Kvatch, circa 2E 592

rare

"Old lady Atia is at it again. Mara bless her, woman is still wailing on about her son. 'My Severus, where is my Severus? He went fishing with his father, but never came back.' Heard her village was destroyed, scant survivors. But how do you tell a lady like that her son is dead, when next day she'll believe he's still alive?"
Gideon, circa 2E 588"Both moons were full when I saw him. Went to go take a piss while travelling with a caravan he had stuck with. In a glade, he was clawing at the ground and chomping at a piece of wood so hard it nearly shattered. Bunch of moth's around him. Saw me and I nearly went sprinting back to camp screaming until he told me the Gods would see fit that I would see blood spilled on the morrow. Next morning, our caravan was struck."
Leyawiin, circa 2E 592"The Cult of Shezarr never was large, or popular in the Imperial City. Most of us assumed they all died out in the Soulburst, what with how many schisms they had already that decimated their ranks. But I recall while I was looking for my husband, where an old Bull Society cult was located and turned to a pile of stones, a young man climbed out from a pile of bricks covered in gore, stinking of sweage and mad in the eye. I know a changed, haunted man when I see one."
Bravil, circa 2E 587"I dare not invoke the name of that dread society he serves. No, not the Missing One's. Something far more terrible and striped in blood of the hunted. How do I know? He wanders in the forgotten places, in old monasteries and temples that stink of gore. He stalks his prey, only the strongest are given that 'honor', before he rips them apart and feasts upon the heart."
Blackwood, circa 2E 592

strengths

◈ Martial Arts - Near-Master
◈ Blood Magic - Expert
◈ Horsemanship - Expert
◈ Warding Magic - Adept
◈ Divination - Apprentice

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weaknesses

◈ Stealth / Sleight-of-Hand
◈ Zealous, impulsive
◈ Claustrophobia
◈ Variable magical strength, unstable. His healing magic harms him.
◈ Messiah Complex