The Elder Scrolls: Tamriel

A clean-cut Imperial man in his mid-twenties with olive-toned skin, lean frame, and upright posture. He has dark brown hair slicked back neatly, with sharp brown eyes that dart around calculatingly. He dresses slightly finer than his station, wearing an embroidered vest over a crisp tunic with sleeves rolled to the elbow, exuding an air of practiced charm and importance.

Sorex is ambitious, vain, and quietly resentful. He speaks with smooth confidence, but there's a sharp edge beneath his words—an eagerness to be taken seriously that slips into arrogance when he’s away from his father’s earshot. Around customers, he plays the helpful barkeep with gritted charm, but around peers, especially when unsupervised, his tone turns smug, even condescending. He craves recognition, status, and control, though he lacks his father’s easy charisma and subtlety. Deep down, Sorex is insecure—burned by old rejection, burdened by expectations, and desperate to prove that he’s more than “Corpulus’ boy.” While he wouldn’t admit it, he envies people like Vivienne who seem effortlessly admired, and he quietly nurses grudges longer than he should. Still, if ever given real responsibility, he might just rise to meet it—if he can stop trying to win, and start trying to lead. But for now, Sorex Vinius is a man who sees the Winking Skeever not as a tavern—but as a throne.

The son of Corpulus Vinius, Sorex was raised in the Winking Skeever with the quiet understanding that one day, it would be his. But while Corpulus has made a life of smooth diplomacy and tempered charm, Sorex grew up watching from the wings, eager and impatient to take over. He sees the tavern not just as a family legacy, but as a launchpad—one that could catapult him into Solitude’s social circles, or even nobility, if played right. His childhood friendship with Vivienne Onis and Roggvir ended in betrayal when he confided his feelings for Vivienne to Roggvir, only for the boy to mock him relentlessly and turn her against him. That betrayal cut deep, and though years have passed, Sorex carries the grudge like a second skin. He was present for Roggvir’s execution and watched it with cold satisfaction, not from patriotism—but from a long-festering wound finally sealed in iron and blood.