Angry Ba****d (or AB as we'll now call him) is a Dunmer more or less in the prime of his life. He does not know his exact age because he has spent much of his life as a guest of the many prisons across Cyrodil. (his crimes ranging between petty theft and drunken assault) He's also a Vampire. He was "blessed" with the Dark gift during a harrowing struggle in a dank cave far beneath the light of day... But that's another story... one that will most likely remain untold as the aforementioned struggle was so 'harrowing' that our hero AB not only soiled himself, but also had to flee from the assailant "blessing" him, with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs like a whipped poodle. The story of his origin however takes place quite awhile before these events...

Some twenty odd years ago AB's father, a retired adventurer turned farmer, had asked AB to deliver his prized Elvish helmet to a client. The piece of armour had little value beyond sentimentality to the retiree and the gold from its sale would be useful for the upkeep of their little farm. AB's task was a simple one, deliver the helmet to the Nord Adventurer at the local inn, receive 100 gold in payment and bring it back to his father. Fate however had a way of complicating even the simplest task... I shall spare those readers possessed of delicate sensibilities from the gruesome details... the blood, the betrayal, the still-screaming puddles of tortured goo that had only seconds before been mighty warriors... And the romance, the great and epic romance that suddenly bloomed amidst the chaos and flames only to end in unspeakable tragedy and heartbreak... Let it suffice to say that what started as a simple task for AB late one summer morning resulted in the death of his father via immolation, the destruction and subsequent swallowing of his farm by the very earth, one dead Nord Adventurer, his innards painted across the inn walls, two inns burnt to the ground, their seven barmaids sold to a traveling band of slavers who were themselves waylaid by bandits and slaughtered, sixteen dead sheep, four horses that had their throats slit and were subsequently raised as undead nightmare steeds, one dead woodelf minstral (beaten to death by the very lute he had once used to fill the air with folksy melodies), two mages locked in eternal battle in an alternate dimension within a cursed ruby, four dead Argonian spies with another three permanently crippled and the remainder of AB's village joining a doomsday-suicide cult that was determined to bring about the end of the world through ritualistic group suicide.... It had turned out to be quite an eventful day... and nothing would ever be the same again!! *DUNNN DUNNN DUNNNNNNN*

AB sat amidst the flaming wreckage that once had been his home, surveying the destruction with the dispassionate eyes of broken man... err.. mer. All about him the air was filled with the tortured moans of his fellow villagers, caught in their death throes as the virulent poison they had willingly ingested carried out its grisly work. In his blood soaked hands he still held the Elven helm that had set the whole tragic series of events in motion. The helm that once gleamed so proudly was now little more than a malformed hunk of charred metal, its outer rim crusted with the dried blood of the Nord who had tried to purchase it earlier today... "If only we hadn't started that game of checkers!!" he screamed out in despair, hurling the ruined husk at the remains of Old Ordo's barn. The force of the blow caused the barely standing wall to collapse in a cloud of ash and smoke. For a split second Ordo's moans turned to a sudden scream of sheer mind-numbing terror before he was crushed beneath the smoking wreckage of his barn.

A flicker of guilt tugged at his conscience as AB watched the choking cloud settle around the smoking mass of charred wood that had once housed Ordo's fine horses, all four of which were now undead monstrosities with flames for eyes and pure malice in place of their souls. No! Those fools had brought this upon themselves. If they had done as he had instructed those damn mages would never have... AB gave himself a tight slap to break himself out his reverie... The realm of 'If only''s and 'Had they's was the realm of madness and he would not enter that treacherous place.

AB rose and started down the road, there was nothing for him here anymore... Nothing more than ghosts of the past and empty promises of a future that would never be... "Helga my love... forgive me." he thought. "I should never have sold you to those slavers." The image of her massive frame rolling head over heels down the rocky hillside, spewing foul oaths, with a Bandit Ranger's trained Timber wolf still viciously latched onto her muscular calves despite the three flaming arrows protruding from its charred rump, was still fresh in his memory. No, it was far too painful to remain here.

And so AB left the smoking ruins of his past behind and started out to find his fortune... and maybe someday, himself.

Is there a thread for character bio's?

I dont know. If there is one should i move this there?

Probably

done. So how do i delete this thread then?