Name – Gunnolf Bloodmoon
Race – Nord
Class – Nightblade
Curse – Werewolf
Attributes - 40% magicka : 35% stamina : 25% health
Armor Type – 5 medium, 2 light
Craft – Alchemy
Slot 1 – Group Support/Debuff & DoT
Weapon – Dual Wield War Axes (Bleed Damage)
- [Ultimate] Soul Shred – Deals PBAoE damage and stuns nearby enemies. Initiates the Leeching Strike synergy.
- [Active] Strife – Places a DoT on your target which also heals you for the duration.
- [Active] Cripple – Places a DoT on an enemy which gradually decreases its movement speed, transferring an equal speed bonus to the Nightblade.
- [Active] Drain Power – Debuff the attack power of nearby enemies, transferring a portion of that power to the Nightblade for each affected enemy.
- [Active] Hidden Blade – Throws a dagger that deals physical damage and interrupts the target, snaring them for a moderate duration.
- [Active] Sparks – Blinds the target for a moderate duration.
Slot 2 – Damage/Finisher
Weapon – Dual Wield Daggers (Critical Strike Chance)
- [Ultimate] Death Stroke – Deals damage to your target, and reduces their incoming healing. The damage dealt is increased by your Ultimate pool.
- [Active] Assassin’s Blade – Deals moderate damage with a large damage multiplier when used against low health enemies.
- [Active] Teleport Strike – Teleport directly to your target, dealing damage and stunning them for a short duration.
- [Active] Blur – A medium duration self buff that gives attackers a percentage based miss chance when attacking the Nightblade.
- [Active] Haste – Increases the attack speed of normal and power attacks for a moderate duration.
- [Active] Whirlwind – Deals physical damage to all enemies surrounding the caster. Damage is increased versus low health enemies.
Called to the Wild
Gunnolf Bloodmoon, born Gunnolf Skog, was a woodsman who lived in a small village outside of Riften with his wife and two daughters. An avid hunter himself, he trained his oldest daughter, Ylva, to be handy with the bow. Together they would hunt various wildlife in the surrounding forest. Eventually she became quite skilled at the sport, so Gunnolf, seeing that she was finally ready, took her on an excursion a bit further north to hunt bear. The entire day passed without any sight of their prey, so he decided they would camp out that evening in the entrance to a nearby cave. Nothing stirred as they laid resting by their fire. Then suddenly, at around midnight, something startled them awake. Gunnolf looked up in time to see a lumbering, hairy beast bearing down on him. It took but a moment to realize that this was no bear, but a savage werewolf attacking them. He and Ylva managed to wound the monster badly enough for it to retreat into the darkness, but not without sustaining injuries of their own. During the long walk back to their homestead, they talked of how heroically they fought against the creature, and reluctantly succumbed to the fact that they were afflicted with the lycanthropomorphic disease. Counting it a blessing that they at least survived the attack, the father and daughter would eventually take a liking to their newfound curse.
Learning the skills of the wolf, Gunnolf and Ylva became highly efficient in tracking and bringing down their prey. However it wasn’t long before some of the local hunters began noticing the drop in wildlife numbers. Even the farmers were losing their livestock without any explanation. And on days following a full moon, bandits and vagabonds would be found in the forest nearby with their insides ripped out. Everyone had a feeling that there was something strange going on at the Skog house, so it came to no one’s surprise when a curious neighbor discovered the evidence. Bones littered a shallow grave in the wood’s edge behind the residence. Fearing for their safety, the townsfolk organized a mob that quickly spun out of control. Gunnolf didn’t understand when they proclaimed that something they called the ’Bloodmoon Prophecy’ was upon them. ”The Hunter has come to devour us all!”, they cried as burning torches closed in on Gunnolf’s homestead. There was nowhere for his family to escape. As the house became engulfed in flames, he burst out of the window in a feral rage. Ylva followed after him, and the two werewolves commenced to slaughtering their aggressors. A few escaped, but among the dead lay his wife and youngest daughter, burned to death in the raid.
With no home and a heavy heart, Gunnolf and his daughter sought refuge in the wilderness, scavenging what they could to survive. It was here among the harsh northern woodlands where he learned to use basic alchemical ingredients, not so much for hobby, but rather out of necessity. Since he and his daughter were now on their own, it was up to Gunnolf to discover and create potions to heal their wounds, and poisons that could assist them in their survival against ferocious predators and large prey. The two began training in hand to hand combat, for on the road there were more than just the beasts to contend with. Bandits were a constant threat, and they would have to be able to defend themselves in all situations. But for all the paths that led him away from his old life, he could never forget the painful screams he heard coming from the blaze on the night that he lost his family. For every time he looked upon Ylva, he was reminded of the wife and daughter he lost in that fire.
His sorrow grew into anger, and his anger boiled into hatred. Remembering the prophecy the townsfolk had spoken of, he vowed to avenge his family by tracking down and killing all those who would hunt his kind. ”If a prophecy is what they seek, then a prophecy they shall have,” he told Ylva. ”We’ll hunt the hunter; stalk the stalker; kill the killer; until all of Tamriel hears our howl.” Gunnolf changed their name to Bloodmoon to signify his cause, and they now roam the wilds in search of other lycans to build his werewolf army. As a war encroaches and an uneasy alliance is formed, Gunnolf looks to seize his opportunity for dominance by aligning himself with the Ebonheart Pact. With an entire faction at his back he will be unstoppable, unleashing his hounds in the name of the Bloodmoon Pack and punishing the world with tooth and claw!
Sworn to the Legion
Covenant soldiers huddled by the fire, trying to stay warm and dry on this cold, rainy night. The Bloodmoon Pack had them on the run for days now. ”What sort of barbarian army wields lycan beasts as a weapon?”, they wondered. ”And when will they give up this chase? We had to have fallen back halfway to High Rock by now.” Gunnolf could hear them bickering from just outside of their camp. The rain was relentless, but he felt the weather could give them the upper hand. If they were to strike tonight, the Covenant would be ill prepared to defend themselves. Gunnolf readied his dogs of war for an all out assault on the camp, but waited for the moon to rise. No sense in going in half cocked, he wanted to be fully empowered before taking the charge. When the moon crested the treeline he was ready.
The pack shifted into wolf form, and a simultaneous howl sounded the attack. As the pack rushed in it swiftly became a bloodbath. The platoon, caught by surprise, was nearly decimated at the outset. But to the rescue of the Covenant, a second platoon made up some of the toughest looking orcs he’d ever seen stormed into the fray. The resistance stiffened quickly, and Gunnolf soon found himself at a disadvantage. The pack was only up to near a dozen at this point, and the reinforcements were driving them back from the camp. Reluctant to retreat, he held on for as long as he could. Then he heard her shout. Ylva had been struck hard by the warhammer of a big well armored orc brute. Unwilling to let her stay in the fight he rushed over to her, calling his hounds on the way. When he reached her, he leaped upon the orc, clawing at his armor to tear at his flesh. By the time the orc was taken down, Gunnolf found himself surrounded.
Suddenly, from the darkness behind the orcs, a thick mist poured in around them. One by one, the orcs began to slip under the low lying fog as their screams could be heard from below. The wolves took this opportunity to rally and fight through the rest of the platoon. Soon, the orcs retreated with haste, and the battle had been won. Gunnolf gathered his brethren and stood fast before the mist. ” To whom do I owe my gratitude?” , he asked. ”Reveal yourself!” , he shouted in haste.
”Patience is a virtue, friend. And one that I’ve come to learn over these long year.” The voice from the dark mist was thick and raspy, with an accent that Gunnolf just couldn’t place. Then the creature revealed himself. ”We fight for the same faction, you and I,” said the vampire, slithering through the fog. Then more of the undead warriors appeared from the darkness. ”I am Rahgot, and this is my coven.” Rahgot told Gunnolf of his days of leading the Dragon Cult and how he was cursed by Molag Bal for his attempt at a mass suicide. He had wandered for thousands of years, but now was ready to claim victory over the Daedric Prince and his own immortality.
The two leaders decided to join forces in order to strengthen their might. Together they could create a monstrous army capable of so much more than either could accomplish alone. They called this army the Accursed Legion, and thus marked the beginning of a campaign that would strike terror into all who would stand against the Ebonheart Pact. For when night falls on Tamriel, the Legion will march… and all of Oblivion marches with it.