Congrats on ur son :celebration:

I really need help with fleshing my characters story out.by fleshing out I mean details on how I came to be arrested and why im waiting exicution.

So far I've got.

Name-Undecided

Age-24.

Race-Khajiit. (white with black markings)

Builed-Athletic.

Morality-Honourable.

Occupation-Lumberjack.

Specializations-Hunting,Theft and Assassination.

Weapons-Dual Daggers,Bow and Arrows.

Skills-*1 Handed Weapons.
*Marksman.
*Alchemy.
*Blacksmithing.
*Light Armour.
*Social.
*Stealth.
*Athleticism .

Character Bio.

I was left on a Khajiit couples doorstep at only a few hours old with nothing more than the words "Dragon-Born" embroided on the blanket I was wrapped in.

The Khajiit couple raised me as their own they taught me how to hunt with my bow,defend myself with dual daggers,fish with my bare hands and even showed me how to run the family lumberjack business.

But a few days after my 24th birthday my foster parents mysteriously disappeared,the family house stripped bare.All that was left in the house that I had grown up in was a note stuck to the table with a dagger reading"All is not what it seams Dragon-Born"

I grabbed my bow,arrows and my dual daggers and set of on a quest to uncover the whereabouts of my foster parents,the writer of the mysterious note and the meaning of the words "Dragon-Born"

Any help would be appreciated.

Nord: Hulgar
Warrior
Biography: Born and raised in a very little village in Skyrim. Father was a great warrior, mother was a stay-at home who grew up in a family of Nord mages. Hulgar was taught Restoration fom his mother. One day bandit Bosmers raided village and killed everyone there and burned the village down, but Hulgar lived. He lived becasue his father, Loronrod, was able to take him to the forests safely before Loronrod returned to kill the bamdits, but died. He escaped to Whiterun and sent a letter to his uncle. His uncle took care of him and they became best of friends. He worked for him until he was 27, when his uncle died. The only thing in his will was a ride back to Skyrim for a new life. On his passing thriugh the border on a carraige ride, he saw bandits attacking 2 very wealthy-looking Nords. Hulgar hopped out and fought the bandits. In the end of the battle, one of the wealthy men died and the other was dying. The Nord couldn't even speak, and died within minutes. Skyrim guards arrived by the time he died, and attacked Hulgar, killing his carriage rider. Hulgar was charged with the murder of Rigma, son of Alfhed, who was great friends with the king. Hulgar was sent to his execution......

Name : http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/292314_2117489989955_1626907104_2123553_2135490_n.jpg
Race : High Elf or Wood Elf (It will have to depend on their bishie-ness -shot-)
Gender : Male
Body Type : Lithe; but muscular though...
Combat style : Double Sword or just a two handed sword
Weapon/s : Two elven short swords or a claymore.
clothing/armor: Really? The shiniest armor you have -shot-
Hair : Blonde, shoulder length or waist length, depends on how glamorous he feels. -shot-
Eyes : Blue :3!
Home : Er...Haha Azeroth? -shot- But in all reality I haven't thought of a home for him even though I've played him in Daggerfall, Morrowind, and Oblivion DX (OMG HES LIKE LINK WITH ALL HIS INCARNATIONS)
Story : Really its a work in progress with my best friend
Important details: has a son and daughter on the way by his lovely wife; he's mostly just a blade dancer by the time of skyrim not a paladin anymore.
(lol most of this is copy pasta'd from my other post)
Physical Appearance: He stands at little over six feet; looking down to you with his bright blue eyes, his soft smile he usually has on his face accenting the rest of his soft features. His long blonde hair covers his eye on the right side of his face, it tapers on the left side into a ponytail that draqes over his chest in a neat manner. His physical set up seems to be slightly muscular but lithe; he seems to be made to fight fast and quick. (It's been a while since i've done this; =.= so if its bad orz)
Edit: I have no idea how Kael got to be in prison..uhh....framed? Because hes an all around goodguy..

AND YES THE ART IS BAD SO WHAT I'M A BADDIE D<

For your name go here:

http://tamriel-rebuilt.org/index.php?p=modding_data%2Fngen&race=NORD&gender=male&count=10

As for backstory, just be creative.

Name: havent decided yet lol

Race: Nord

six: Male

Background: Orphan, raised himself on the streets and learned to fight by fighting off wolves and bandits and such. managed to get a job woodcutting, met a girl, had kids and generally settled down. then his family get slaughtered while hes at work, he finds them at home, the guards find him, accuse him of the murders and then he is arrested and put on death row. the game starts from there. then once he escapes from his prison, he starts to hunt down the men who killed his family. who better to kick dragon ass than somebody with nothing to lose right?

adedd the first half

a night a thousand years to this day(i'm playing skyrim as if someone's telling the story of the dovahkiin years after the event) a clan by the name of sera'kouth(meaning swift blade) were sat at there village gathered around a fire watching the breath of the god's (aura borealis) noting how bright and vibrant it has been for the past 2 moons. many speaking that it was a portent to a prophecy not 300years old fortoldon an elder scroll now lost after the empire's fall. the day after the hunter/warriors of the clan went off into the forest's to hunt for game while the women collected berrie's and made ready for feast whilst out on this hunt it was the warrior of the name jor-shan'el who came across a boy of no more then 5 years of age as counted by men. jorshan'el approached the boy asking him how he came to be here the boy responded in the tongue of the redguards of which jor did not know. the other hunters had come to his side and two wondered as to where this strange infant had come to be in the middle of the woods alone. as jor was about to rest his han upon the boy's shoulder to offer him comfort something akin to lightining struck him and threw him meters away as the other hunters stared shocked into inaction by the clearly seeable symbol on the boys forehead the symbol of the dragon god!. after a moment the boy collapsed seemingly spent of all energy and awoke in the villiage of these honourable and strong nords it is in this very villiage the boy grew strong and learned the ways of honour,respect,disciplineand the ways of the hunt. but most of all this is the place which would show him his true potential

move forward through the years and the young stranger became as family he learned the tongue of his new family known as thalamar grew strong in both body and mind and became one of the best hunters the sera'kouth had ever known and at the age of 23 he endured the ritual of becoming a man with the rite to take a wife but never had the chance while out hunting with two fellow warriors when chel spotted heavy smoke pillars coming form the direction of their village as they rushed back towards home sameron slowed feeling thing's weren't as they seemed and was proven correct as the two other hunters ran from the bushes towards home to be cut down by arrows sent through the tree's and bush's. across the clearing as sameron waited to see if the assailants would show themslve's out in the open which they did to check the two late returning warriors were dead and not merely wounded and showed themselves to be remanants of the empires imperial guards trying to keep there hold over the land of skyrim he stepped out into the clearing surprising and causing the gaurds to draw there swords yet this did not bother our saviour because as he surveyed the slaughter and destruction these "divine" gaurds had caused to his people his home and the land he loved a new feeling rose in place of his sorrow it was absolute unrelenting hatred for those responsible and as he stood encircled by the slayers of his people he raised his head looked ahead and felt himself speak yet the voice that spoke them was not his the words that rose clear into the sky were..I AM DOVAHKIIN!! at the saying of which a massive destructive force emenated form his body destroying those surronding him as well as the village which he had called home,the bodie's of those he had loved as if joined by blood,and kept going across the entire clearing after the fire faded and the smoke cleared the only thing that was still left alive was the one that such destruction had started with unconcious on the floor and when he came to it was in an imperial held prison awaiting execution...cue the start of skyrim.

this is the second half to my story far from set in stone yet as this is the rough copy so maywell be retconed.

Name: Víearr (or Vitharr)

Race: Nord

Age: 23

Play style: Mainly warrior with a bit of stealth

Physical appearance: 6"1, muscular, pale skin, brown hair, goatee

Personality: simple, quiet and efficient. He is also kind and helpful, but doesn't go too far out of his way to help others unless there is an adequate reward.

Background: Raised solely by his father, he grew up in an isolated house in a dense conifer forest. He learnt to fell trees, craft and hunt. At the age of 19, he left his house to explore the world and seek new opportunities. Shortly before he left, his father told him he was a dragonborn, but he laughed and denied that dragons even existed.

Khajiit female with a mixed play style, I haven't got an name or a backround for her yet.

Name: Olaf Adanson

Race: Nord

Age: Roughly late 30s.

Appearance: A mountain of a man, with long, strong legs and broad shoulders. Almost every muscle is toned and exaggerated due to the many years of hard rowing across cold seas. His ruggedly handsome face is obscured by a long, knotty mane of fair hair accompanied by a thick, twined beard, and his visage somewhat spoilt by several nicks and scars from battles long past, as well as a twice-broken nose. Olaf's eyes, however, shine with cunning and honour, and shift between the greens and blues of the oceans he lives for.

Personality: To his fellow Nord viking warriors, Olaf is a greatly-respected leader, companion, tactician and warrior. Always leading his men and his ship out of freezing cold, wet danger, always heaving a barrel of mead over to each group of his men when on shore leave. His laugh is loud and hearty, as is his gruff voice (somewhat hoarse after delivering hundreds of crazed war cries and shouting orders over the relentless crashing of waves). To those whose land he invades, he is either a trusted trader - bringing food, drink and exotic goods into their native economies, or a fearsome demon, a wild barbarian come to pillage, burn and violate.

Background: Olaf's father left his mother shortly after she announced her pregnancy. The heartbroken woman vowed that night not to spend her nine months wait sitting around and being fawned over, and instead tracked her paramour over the wild, rugged landscape of Skyrim. One day, strange men in strange ships carrying strange weapons and speaking in strange tongues arrived on the island she was currently living on (and where she believed her once-husband had at last settled down on). After several days tense negotiation, the fragile peace was broken and her village was burnt to the ground and all it's inhabitants murdered. All but herself, for she bravely fought and killed over half of the warriors herself. The invaders, greatly impressed by her determination, skill and courage, instead made her their leader. Following four months of pillaging, warring and sailing, Olaf's mother at last went into labour. However, there was a terrible storm that night. Lightning struck her longship's mast, and the falling pillar broke her spine in two. Her companions rescued her just-born babe, and swore that they would raise the child amongst the viking fleet, agreeing to the dying woman's last words. Thirty years on, Olaf stands proud before the baying crowd at his execution, having been captured by the forces of the land after trying to cross the border between Skyrim and Cyrodill following some harrowing adventures in the Jerall Mountains. Fate, however, has other plans...

First Character

Name : Jo'Rak (earlier Dro'Ba)

Weapons : Dual Axe/Bow

Armor : Cloth/Light

Style : Stealth Warrior

Story:
Dro'Ba had always been the favorite of the four brothers.
He was claimed an natural talent by one of the best swordsmen in Elsweyr,
so when his parents saved enough money they sent him to the Imperial City so he could
train at a school there. But it was a scam, there was no school.

He had to steal to survive, but after a while he gained a status as a skilled
thief though he refused to work with the Thieves Guild, as he killed
people if he deemed it necessary.

After 10 years of this, he fled to Skyrim. At this point he was wanted by
the empire, and the thieves guild, whom had tried to frame him a few times.
He changed name to Jo'Rak and works to be the master of the thieves guild(the only
way to destroy them, he thinks).

He will also believe in the rebel cause, and MAYBE join the dark brotherhood
to hone his skills.




Second Character

Race : Redguard

Name : Alusan The Healer

Weapons : Sword w/ shield and Restoration magic

Armor: Heavy

Style : Warhealer

Story :
As a child he was abondoned on the road to Chorrol, luckily an Imperial Guard found him and
brought him to his wife whom thaught him to heal and defend himself with a shield. When the guard
was home he thaught little Alusan how to use a sword and improved his skills with an shield.

When he was of age he desided to travel. He had visited both The Imperial City and Skingrad
before. So he desided to visit Bruma, there he meet a pack of Imperial Guards sent to assist
the figths against the Rebels in Skyrim. He desided to follow, but from a distance, so when
he crossed the border they suspected he was a Rebel that tried to kill them in their sleep.
They waited for him in the forest and captured him. He tried to explain himself as they tied
him up. They sent him to his execution. Still he did not hate them as he meant they just didn't
know better.

He will figth for the empire and be a good character that does everything he can to help
others, especially children and the poor.

Name- Twitch

Age- 23

Race- Nord

Skin Tone- White

Gender- Male

Body Type- 6ft, medium sized muscles

Hair- Long Black Hair and a Jack Sparrow Beard

Eyes- Green Eyes

Miscellaneous- Tattoo of a wolf on left arm and roses on right arm, scar over right eyebrow and across the top of right arm

Combat style- Stealth mostly, with minimal combat and some magic for example chameleon and detect life as it helps as both help a character that rely on stealth

Weapon/s- Main weapon - Bow, and when that goes wrong 2 short swords for close combat

Armour- Has to be dark in colour and light armour variety (depending on how the smithing works hopefuly will be able to design it with wolf and/or dragon emblems)

Traits- Loves Women, Stubborn, Shy, Quiet, Aggressive when needed, Sarcastic, Did I mention women already (especially redheads)

Main Skills- Archery, Illusion, Stealth, Lock picking and Smithing

Originally born in the Summerset Isles to a Nord Mother and a Nord Father in the city of Alinor, moved to Skyrim as at the age of 4. Lived on the edges of the city of Solitude for most of advlt life thus far but spent most of the time in the wild studying the native wildlife and basic combat and infiltration skills. The only company he tends to keep other than that of his horse and pet husky is that of the local women. Twitch has few friends due to lack of trust he places on others and has grown to be very independent.

Story :

Twitch's parents are killed during the first few days of the civil war in Skyrim. Twitch immediatly leaves Skyrim for about a week to help smuggle his frail grandfather out of the country and away from the civil war, Twitch ends up in Bruma in Cyrodil. Twitch leaves his uncle in the inn there named the Olav's Tap n' Tack which has been in Bruma for over 200 years and is said to be where the hero of Cyrodil spent many nights during his quest to stop the invasion of Mehrunes Dagon 2 centuries earlier. A week later Twitch returns to Skyrim to join the civil war. Before being able to do so however, Twitch is arrested coming across the border. Twitch is later accused of [censored] and murdering a local girl about a week earlier. Known as a man who endulges his passion for women regually and after matching the description from various witnessess of the perpetrator seen fleeing the scene the evidence seemed conclusive for the girls father and justice had to be served. The girl was the daughter of a rich family hence why no questions are asked and judgment is passed with no trial, money talks. Sentenced to execution... what happens next.... To be continued 11.11.11

very original but i can't help feeling like ive forgot something

Please give me your feedback!



Name: Skarain
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Age: 29

Class: Warrior and stealth

Trade: Mercenary, What ever puts the food on the table...usually includes killing and assorted illegal things

Karma: Try's to be a better man after years of murders and killing...but blood from the past is leading to blood in the future.

Favorite Weapons: Anything that can cut/ chop/ saw/ hack/ bludger into the enemy. But preferably an axe.

Armor look: Rugged, fur, rough looking.

Appearance: Scarred all over, Nose bent from being broken once too many times, Very built and muscular...Hair color is brown, but mainly from dirt and grit, who knows the last time he bathed.

Backstory: Was born in a Nord Tribe in the Fatherland. One day in the tribe, his town was raided, but he was out hunting in the woods alone. When he got back he saw what happened...he was the only survivor of his tribe...His entire family was killed. This forced Skarain to run off into the mountains. Here he was hardened, made a man of steel, the walking talking definition of badarse (Hopefully that doesn't censor).

He met a war-band of mercenary's (Some people would call them outlaws) and joined them. Here he discovered he had a natural talent for fighting, killing, raiding, blunt murder...which was put to the test almost very day for another talent he had....bad luck. Eventually the raiders was divided, and eventually broke apart. Leaving him a lone wanderer, traveling from town to town, looking for work wearing a deep hood to hide his face, in fear that he may be recognized by the son or daughter of someone he killed. He would do anything he could to get money, escorting traders, bodyguard, killer-for-hire. He was now 27 years old.

One day he was finally half settled, living in a inn, and working as a bouncer there as well. When one night the Inns door was kicked in, everyone was slaughtered and looted, he drew his sword and went to fight. he got into a bloodied rage as was swinging back and forth, like a harmony of death. He was death itself. Cuts, gashes, broken ribs, broken nose, and smashed feet...None of this was felt as he hacked back and forth in his berezerker rage. But eventually his time was up and he collapsed to the floor, exhausted, in blood all over him, all over the floor, all over the walls...his or theirs, he did not know. But he knew he was dead......then blackness.....

Skarain woke, face up, in a world of pain, unbelievable throbbing pain. He saw three faces, all looking down at him. He listened to their conversation. They were discussing if they knew him or not. But through Skarain's half opened eyes he recognized them...His war-band Chief, and his right and left hand man. He didn't hear much, but he did hear them say that the world was better off without a cold blooded killer such as himself, and that they were going to walk away, and let him be left for the dead. His life at that point was changed. For 3 reasons. One; He was going to find and kill all 3 of those bastards, one way or another, they would die by his hand. Two; He was never going to raid a town again...the images of the townspeople flashed in his head, slaughtered like livestock. "Is that really what I used to do" he thought. And lastly Three; He would become a better man, but in the back of his head he knew...he was a natural born cold blooded killer, who worshiped dirt more then human life. And that blood from the past will lead to blood in the future.

He woke up alive, and with a little less pain. He was able to get up and go outside where he saw a familiar face, chopping wood. His old tribe-mate Erik- Scarred Skull. They haven't all died after all! He found Skarain when walking through the woods, and took him in while he regained his heath. Skarain vowed...three final kills, then he would become a better man, but in his heart he knew, that he was the widow-maker, and that blood from the past would lead to blood in the future.

My Character

Name : Dave Lister

Race : Red Dwarf

Signature Apperal : Much leather clothing, Vindaloo stains,

Backround : Dave sets out to Conquer the realm of Skyrim with a trusty baseball bat and guitar
once he gains the power of the dragon shouts his music reaches such a level that the gray beards step in to deafen everyone in skyrim
to spare them from a fate worse than death..
his signature shout is

CHICK-ENVIN-DALOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!


which causes curry to rain from the sky

First attempt at this so dont be too brutal:

Race - Nord

Name - Kuln

Specialisation - Mele

Appearance - Long brown hair, heavy scarring

Occupation - Huntsman/farmer

Equipment - light armor to keep good speed, medium blade with a dagger in left hand
Longbow For stealth when required

Story - Kuln has grown up never knowing his parents but being fosterd by a farmer and his wife. When kuln was 11 he was malled by a bear whilst practising his Marksmanship, this left him heavily scarred and gave him a realisation on the world around him.
When Kuln was 19 Both his carers were murderd, when kuln walked into the main hall to see what the noise was, he caught a glimpse of a man in leather armour with a hood covering his face, blade in hand, running out the door,
Kuln could never forget that night, and after he began to do some research, using all clues that were left, he traced the source back to an underground society of people who assassinated people for the highest bidder. from this day
Kuln swore to wipe out all remnants of this society to avenge his carers death so he set out on a quest to lay waste to this group. weeks pass of his quest, he tracks a suspected member for days
using the skills he had learnt hunting in the forest to keep hidden. Kuln chooses the moment to strike, bow prepared ready to set an arrow into the assassins lungs, but kuln is then alerted by a noise from behind, as kuln turns around he sees a dark figure
looming over him, he has no time to act before the figure strikes him with a blunt object so here the revenge obsessed nord lies, in a jail cell waiting to be executed, for the murder of someone he has never heard of
the guards would never believe that he had actually been framed, so what left was their to do, escape? kuln thought to himself as he planned his escape, still bent on the destruction of this assassin society.
i need to become one of them, and destroy them from the inside. and so the story begins.

Apologies for the spelling/grammer its late and im tired

[censored]

spent a long time typing my story, and the computer glitched, deleting it all.

Breton, mainly mage, green eyes, lightbearyness, brown hair, no right eye, 27, rough/weathered looking for his age.


There was a whole story, and i had alot of detail, but im not typing it again, oh well

Name: Billy

Race: Wood Elf

Class: Warrior

Backround: Billy was the most epic warrior in his time, slaying the strongest foes, averagely attending bar fights, and exploring the most dangerous dongeons. After he realized adventuring had no use he retired to live in wealth. Since his name had yravelled far, two yound adventurers aproached him one day to rekindle Billy's spirit. The succeeded and thus Billy went off to kill, pillage, and destroy. He got sent to jail.

My Character

Name : Vlidarr Apilia

Race : Nord

Signature Apperal : Dual Wielding, Heavy Armor

Backround : Long lost descendant of my Oblivion character

My first characters name will be Gustav Sybbyl, an awesomely skilled Assassin, with dual knifes and a black cloak,
he was put in jail for an assassination, you see he never knew his parents, they were very deeply involved with gods,
almost demigod-like (being dragonborn), it was rumored that after Martin, last of the dragonborn was anticipated to perish,
Akatosh sent three holy emissaries (HoK included) scattered throughout Cyrodiil, these holy men, thought gods, were not
successful in their mission however, and Martin died, along with the septim line. But Akatosh now had an embodiment in
the mortal world (statue in temple district), increasing his influence, allowing him to construct two new lines of Dragonborn.
Gustav Sybbyl is the most Powerful dragonborn in millenia, because he was a mixture between both families. Years later
Akatosh, now Anduin, realized his mistake in returning the Dragonborn to the mortal world, and sent a band of secret monks
to assassinate young Gustav and his parents, who sacrificed themselves for his life. Gustav began training to use a knife
and thrown weaons immediately after his parents death, he realised that he must learn to survive in this harsh environment,
and he trained in the art of being unseen as well, he took the chance whenever a bandit, or caravan, arrived at the house,
to kill them. Years later, Gustav found the leader of the monks and exacted his revenge, not knowing anything about their
order, or his importance, but for the murder, he was imprisoned.
He is a resentful, vengeful assassin who must change his ways in order to save the mortal world.
His weapon of choice is dual daggers, or (if they are in) throwing knives, he prefers a dark-brotherhood type armor,
he hates dishonorable and organized assassinations, shrouded by a black cloak. His hair is loose and long-ish, and white,
his eyes too, are pale blue, and he is slightly taller than most Bosmer and more sinewy. However, none notice this because
of his cloak.

Name: Celt
Race: Nord (not sure)
Playstyle: Mainly one-handed melee (longsword) with a destruction or shield spell in the left hand

No real backround, his village was wiped out by raiders when he was young. He was found hiding in the woods by a wandering bard/trader who took him in. Celt grew to be a strong lad with some interest in music, and followed the bard (Arn) on his travels until Arn's tragic death left him alone. At this point he was 16 or 17 and used his wilderness skills (Arn taught him to hunt and find sustenance in the wilderness) to catch food to trade to a nearby village. One day, a noble caught him hunting deer on his land (unknowingly) and sentenced him to death. However, the execution was interrupted and Celt managed to escape with his life.

Character Name:Dougless

Race:Unsure

Playstyle: Whatever floats his boat

ehem' we'll he was wearing his t-51 power armor and he killed some big dude and some other dude blew something up and a robot threw him off a building and then he farted and then he was in skyrim and some guy called him douglass by accident and then everyone died and uncle sam was all like Dam you really burned that MotherIcefisher eh? and we was all like WTF and everyone moved to russia the end

Btw he is canadian and this post may contain spoilers if you're IQ is over 11

Name: Dohkrvir Thoroknolf
Race: Nord

Born in Bruma into a Nord family, Dohkrvir's father was a blacksmith, and his mother a barmaid. He began a late apprenticeship of blacksmithing at the age of 17. Being a ladies man, he never considered working for himself until he was old enough to move out. On his 24^th birthday a heavily organised bandit group attacked Bruma. Watching his family die he ran into the smithy to grab the first sword he crafted, named "Bianca." However, being struck by an arrow in his backpack he was shot down just inside the front doors to the smithy, and just inches away from Bianca. Three bandits, thinking he was dead, walked in, and over him, to check for survivors. Thinking quickly, he grabbed Bianca and quickly thrusted it into the nearest bandit. Being unskilled with a blade he had troubles fighting the bandits, but eventually prevailed when he dodged a sword swing and stabbed the bandit, then threw Bianca into the other one. Having nothing left he sat down and thought, as well as listening to the guards of Bruma being slowly slaughtered. He made the decision to leave and start a new life in Skyrim, where his family originated from some 70 years back. After a long journey he began crossing the border, but was then told to turn back by a border guard. Trying to sneak around, he was caught, and after a short fight and killing one guard he was taken to prison. He now awaits his execution.

Hope this is good.

Quirinus Latartus

Imperial

Grew up on the harsh, unforgiving streets of late Third Age Imperial City. From an early age, he learned how to manage himself, and he learned that good and evil are sometimes hard to distunguish. In 3E 427, he was arrested and sent to Morrowind to help the blades defeat Dagoth Ur. However, on a mission to Ilunibi, he got Corprus, and fell to Dagoth Ur's power, and became one of his servants. Quirinus swiftly rose in the service of his new master, eventually becoming the captain of the armies of the Sixth House.
Later that year though, the Nerevarine destroyed the Heart of Lorkhan, killing all of Dagoth Ur's minions as well as himself.
Azura spared Quirinus though, seeing that he could be useful to her. So, she cursed him with immortality until he could forever put his mark on Tamriel.
At first, Quirinus was happy with this curse, believing it to be a blessing. Still though, he tried to do good to redeem himself for the evil he had done while working for Dagoth Ur. That is how he came to be arriving to Anvil on a fateful day, and met a raving lunatic that set him on a path that would culminate in him becoming the Divine Crusader. However, as he did this, he was overshadowed by Caraulus, the Champion of Cyrodiil, and Hero of Kvatch. Because of this great hero, no one ever remembered Quirinus' brave stand with the Emperor and the Champion at Bruma, or how he lead the Knights of the Nine to victory against Umaril the Unfeathered.
After the fall of the Empire, Quirinus faded out of all history, retiring to a rural farm in Hammerfall, to spend an enternity farming and living, hoping for the day that fate would look his way.
He fought for Chancellor Ocato in the Imperial City as Titus Mede announced himself the new Emperor, and when the infernal Isle arrived, he was one of the many heroes trying to defeat it.
However, each time he tried to gain fame and save the day, someone else always did. Titus Mede won the day in Imperial City, and Prince Attrebus defeated the Infernal Isle.
Now, 200 years later, with the death of the King of Skyrim, Quirinus saw a chance and he took it, and tried to cross the border into Skyrim. But sadly, he had grown soft in his long years of peace and tranquility, and was not able to escape the border guards.
Now, he faces execution, a way out of his endless life. But the end he wanted.
He can only hope for a miracle.

Name: Sindri the Dragon-Hearted
Race: Nord
Class: Dragonborn Warrior
Main Skills: One-Handed (Dual-Wield Axes), Destruction (To Emphasize His "Dragon Soul"), Heavy/Light Armor (He uses a mish-mash)
Description: Black Hair, Green Eyes, Pale Skin, Heavily Muscled, Lots of Scars, Tattoos, Tattoos & Face/Body Paint EVERYWHERE
Occupation: N/A; He's a Barbarian, too busy fighting, drinking, and [censored] to hold down a career. Of course, this leaves him awful short on coin most of the time...
Equipment: A mish-mash of Hide and Metal armor, mostly scavenged from his foes. He dual-wields axes, because [censored] YEAH, AXES!

Background: Sindri grew up in the wilds of Skyrim, spending his youth like a viking version of Abe Lincoln or Teddy Roosevelt; hunting mammoths, challenging giants to arm-wrestling matches, the usual. Well, turns out, he's Dragonborn - fine by him, just means he gets to kick even more ass than usual!

Well, turns out he may have gone a bit overboard; during a bar fight in Rifton, he may have accidentally killed a guy. Or two.

Or three.

Look, he was drunk, it wasn't his fault!

Regardless, now he is rotting in prison, awaiting execution, and its gonna take a miracle for him to get out alive.

Agaron




I Agaron, write this in hopes to never again experience the void I was once in. I have lost my memory once, what a dreadful experience it is to not recall your mothers face or the face of any first loves. But this is not a tale of compassion; it is a chronicle of vengeance. But I believe I should begin at the start. I was born in Valenwood, a noble wood elf. I was the greatest hunter the village had ever known, but my falsely loving brother had been deceiving me all along, he fed the chief lies involving me and the darkness in my village known as betrayal. My brother murdered my first love, Methredal, and blamed me for it. So I got kicked out of the village, and that is when the Dark Brotherhood found me. A member of the Black Hand, named, Lucien Lanchace, came to me offering me a loving family in exchange for the price of paid assassinations. So I began to work my rank up through the Dark Brotherhood until I joined the Black Hand, as Lucien’s very own Apprentice. I was already regarded as the supreme killer of the family. When Lucien was murdered suspiciously by a member of another family, I took over his position as Speaker of the Black Hand.
I was once a master assassin, unbeatable in combat. Silent as Shadow, Deadly as a Serpent. Yet as is common among most leaders, something horribly wrong occurred. My assistant by the name of Ras’ka and I were planning the ultimate assassination against the Count of Skingrad. Our names would forever be remembered in history. It was foolproof; he could never see it coming. Yet somehow he did. When we arrived the castle mage was ready, already mumbling a memory erasing charm aimed at my apprentice! I dove in front of Ras’ka taking the spell for myself. The last thing I remember is seeing Ras’ka walk up to the mage and accept 200 Septims.
I was then being taken to a maximum security prison in Skyrim. Yet before we arrived, a band of Wood Elves attacked, brutally killing all of the imperial guards, but pardoning me due to Bosmer Honor, so having no other choice, I moved forward towards Skyrim.
My journey was as difficult as can be imagined through the rough snowy terrain that the Nordic residents travel daily. I made my way until I saw the imperial watch tower marking the border between Tamriel and Skyrimf. My legs were near to falling beneath me. I collapsed as Imperial Guards came to arrest me.
I later found out the roaming bands of Wood Elves had been attacking the guard towers, and basically being a nuisance. They believed me to be their spy. And now my death is to come tomorrow.
My execution is to be death by hanging. I stood with two others, a man with red hair on my right, and a man with black hair to my left; both were looking down at the ground. The executioner gave his speech and reached for the lever that would drop the ground beneath my feet, causing instant suffocation. My eyes subtly looked at the lever next to the executioner; I was going to die now. 3, 2, 1. But what happened was unexplainable at the time. The two others next to me fell, their faces turning blue. Yet I fell, all the way to the ground, my hangman’s rope, being shredded by an arrow. All of the onlookers, including the executioner, were dead, also with arrows.
A man in black leather armor and brown hair ran up to me. And elbowed me in my temple, causing me to black out, they bound my hands and dragged me off. When I awoke, the man who had elbowed me was to my left grasping my arm and leading me, with a blonde man holding my right arm.
The man with brown hair leaned in close and whispered urgently “Agaron, its Ras’ka, he’s speaker now, and he does not want your death to be as simple as hanging.”