» Thu May 03, 2012 10:43 pm Character Info
Name: Telina
Age: 30
Race: Bosmer (Wood-Elf)
Birthsign: Thief
Birth Place: The border of Valenwood.
Prologue
For my story to be heard and for you to understand my struggle, you must first accept the difficulties in my life. I was born in the 171st year of the fourth era, and already my homeland was the stage for a war. My mother cradled me as we hid in our shelter, deep within the forests of Valenwood, as the Aldmeri Dominion’s forces invaded the Imperial provinces of Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. My mother believed we were safe as the Imperial set up defences alongside the border of Valenwood, yet the Thalmor general known as Lord Naarifin flanked them, destroying the marshy city of Leyawiin. With the Imperial defences confused, they fell back to the defence of their cities leaving us alone.
The cries of death, and the horrors put upon the people of Cyrodiil never reached our ears. We were too far to be in direct fire, yet still dangerously close to the border. The threat of passing soldiers, both Altmer and Imperial, was great. Neither would care for us, and both would rob us of our meagre food and our near empty coffers and so, since our once great nation had been bullied into the submission of the Dominion, we headed further inland and deeper into the forests. The Altmer are very arrogant, and believe in Mer over Men. We were safer with them, then the Imperial’s who were still under fire. For the next few years, we continued onwards living as normally as we could.
I never discovered why my parents chose to live a life of seclusion. My father died upon my fifth birthday, and if, when I learnt to speak our native tongue, I ever raised a question about him my mother would wave it away, tears welling at her eyes. All that I have of my father is his natural talent with the bow. The bow is as much a part of me as my own flesh and blood. Without my bow, I am nothing. With it, I am everything.
As my time in the forests of Valenwood went on, I began to rely more heavily on archery, and never once picked up a melee weapon. It was due to no choice, but down to a lack of an access to swords, axes or spears. My mother did not have the knowledge to craft our own weapons, only fletch and make basic bows. She might even weave a piece of clothing every year, but that was as far as her creative skills went.
Life was peaceful, and apart from the occasion prey I came across there was never any action in it, until my sixteenth birthday. My mother had become ill with a cold, which was strange since the climate is usually warm. I would of liked to have cared for her, but our food was running low and so I went out to hunt game. It was only a mere handful of hours before I came across a large herd of deer. I did not know at that time that those deer were owned by a local warlord, running his own criminal organization nearby. Furthermore, I did not know that He and his highly trained hunters were stalking them. With skills that far outmatched mine I was spotted quickly, and I knew they would not take me prisoner.
I was told to drop my bow and knee, but upon dropping my bow something happened. A large roar was heard, from the skies. The men and their leader looked up, frightened as the roar was close. The creature sounded large and angry, and it was within this distraction did I turn and flee. I ran blindly through the forests, pushing vines and branches out of my way. The shouts of the men confirmed my fears that they were chasing me, but my mother and I had been in these forests for a month now and I knew my way around. It wasn’t long before I had found a hiding spot, witnessing the guards charge pass me, unaware of my position.
I was sure that I was safe, until I came back to find my mother’s corpse burning, and our possessions destroyed. The men had followed our tracks to her, and they were brutal in their so called ‘just punishment’. It was due to our nomadic nature that I had no friends, and it was due to my reliance on my mother that I could not survive by myself. I headed away from Valenwood, sickened by the events. And although I mourned, I never stopped walking. Never looking back. I used the skin of my prey, and the ore of the land to create stronger weapons and armour, always looking for a family to guide me. I could never be self sufficient, and the year where I was by myself was one of the scariest and most dangerous years of my life. I never got into trouble, and hardly came across any signs of life, but still I felt at my most vulnerable.
It took me months to realise I was walking closer to the border of Cyrodiil, but I was still unsure whether or not it was grasped in either a war with a Thalmor, controlled by the Thalmor or in its own Civil war. I had had enough of the Thalmor completely and so, instead, I decided to cut across Cyrodiil, bypassing the Imperial City and heading over the Jerall Mountains into the frozen plains of Skyrim, home of the Nords. I wanted to forget my past and lead a new life in a new land. Whilst Morrowind was an idea, I had heard rumours from the few people I met that a massive explosion had shaken the very foundation of the Dunmer’s lands. My hopes were to head to Skyrim and join up with someone, and travel the lands.
The trip across Cyrodiil was brutual, but I knew how to stay low. Whilst I came across a lot dead bodies wearing armour that was both stronger and lighter than mine, I did not take it. It felt wrong to wear someone else’s armour, to fight with the original owner’s blood stained upon it. So I left it, and continued walking until I reached the border.
Crossing the border however, was not as easy as I had hoped for. I was caught up, foolishly, in an ambush after trailing a group of warriors. I hoped they’d clear away any bandits, perhaps scaring off the wildlife too. But instead they attracted the recognisable Imperial Legion, who caught me in the process. I was on my way to be executed in a small town called Helgen, and it was only then did I realise how vunlrable I was alone. I longed for a partner to rely on and there was none.
This is how my story of love, of loss, of friendship and of death began. How I climbed so mighty, and then fell to a new low. My name is Telina, and this is my story.
Merely an opportunity to expand my own roleplaying. Thanks for your input. I will update this topic constantly with more stories. Whilst this one was of the past, the others will be written as if they were happening so you'll get not only the story, but thoughts as well.