Though, I never actually wrote a story to go with my characters..
So Im doing it now!
Story Prologue:
Growing up, Deagon faced many kinds of discrimination for being a Dark Elf. It didn't help that he had almost no one to count on but his mother. Who was often gone trying to put food on the table, but Deagon made the most of it when he was with her. Deagon's father died saving Deagon and his mother, but Deagon was only 2. Too young to remember. Deagon's father's name was Delveth, he was one of the last remaining members of the Vvardenfell thief's guild. The tong was after him, he knew that they would not stop til he was dead. Sending Deagon with his mother off to the mainland, he faced the tong directly. Sacrificing himself for his family.
Deagon and his mother were all they had, travelling as far away from Morrowind as they could, they took refuge in Kvatch, after kindly being greeted by some townsfolk. It was better, for a time. Yet still, Deagon's mother had to work her hands to the bone just to feed themselves. Then one day, when Deagon was around 13, a burglar had broken into his home, although he slept through it his mother caught the thief red handed. In an attempt to save his own hide he killed Deagon's mother. He was too young to take the house, but he was to get it when he came of age. He stayed with the fighters guild. Aspiring to become a city guard, to do what he could to stop anything like that from happening again.
Training with the local fighter's guild members, the emptiness that haunted him for so many years was filled, with love and care. From the kind members of the fighters guild, he was treated like a little brother. Bonding with that city's faction. He finally applied as a city guard when he was 21 years of age. Because of his outstanding battle experience, the watch had no choice but to accept him. However, the other guards treated him distantly. They looked at him with resentful eyes, and even as he rised through the ranks he never gained any respect from the spiteful imperials. Over the years they kept him as an outcast, he sat alone in the barracks, no one could stomach to sit with him. It was a job, an isolated, lonely job.
-5 Years Later-
Deagon woke up to the sound of screaming. An Oblivion gate had opened upon Kvatch. He immediately dressed himself and ran outside, to find that the entire city was being ransacked by strange daedra. As he was coming to the reality of the situation, the fighter's guild building collapsed in flames. The closest thing he had to family, gone. Deagon had never been the one that grieved. Growing up he figured out soon that crying doesn't solve anything, but the rush of emotions got to him. He turned feral and tore into any creature that lay in his path.
The other guards watched in awe, as he killed daedra after daedra. He walked into the Oblivion gate, and it closed a few minutes later. He dropped to his knees, exhausted physically and mentally. The City Watch feared him, and sent him out as a danger to the city. The city that he had just saved.
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As he walked away from his home, the smell of burning bodies still haunted him. He didn't know the land very well, and had no notion as to where he was to go next. He walked, aimlessly among the paved roads of the nation. Truth be told, he never once stepped out of the city since he had entered it. The beautiful landscape was refreshing to his troubled mind.
He came across a bridge, where a Khajiit with a menacing hammer confronted him.
"Your gold, or your life" he said. Deagon didn't have any money to give him, and was too weary to fight. The highwayman was not alone however, as a few others followed out from the woods behind him. They took him to a ruined fort as a prisoner. He wasn't entirely sure what he could do, because even though he had regained his strength he was now in a cell. Weaponless, and armor-less.
Days passed, and Deagon was not sure why they had an interest in keeping him. One morning, the leader of this band of rebels, a Dunmer woman, woke him. "Get up, we're putting your skills to use."
They were going to use him as a soldier. They gave him miniscule equipment, to make sure things wouldn't get out of hand. As an elderly woman was crossing the very bridge he was ambushed on. The Dunmer ordered him to mug her, and if he didn't it was back to the cell.
He did not want to go back, but suddenly thoughts of his mother rushed to his head. He had to do something, and he knew he couldnt run. This was just a test, and he knew they could catch him. He confronted the woman.
"Give me what gold you have on you, right now." Deagon said. The woman was frightened, and had only a parcel of 20 septims on her. He robbed a poor woman, for a pathetic amount. Somehow this new world didn't seem as bright to him.