Thank you...

Name: Veronica Darksky
.
Race: Imperial.

Eye color: Golden.

Class:Hound Of Hircine.

Major Skills: Strength, Endurance, Athletics, Blunt, Hand to Hand, Marksmanship.

Minor Skills: Sneak, Agility, Block.

Weapons of choice: Axe, bow & arrow and a hunting dagger.

Appearance: Lithe and fit for battle spawned from a ruthless lifestyle. Occasionally wore her hair in a tied up manner, but ever since her Lycanthropy increased she was more liberal and wild. She has golden eyes that capture's people attention which glow yellow when she uses her Lycanthropic powers in the same day a full moon. She garbs herself in a light-armor made from wolf fur.

Biography: Veronica Darksky was born in wealthy family in a large Estate in Cyrodiil. She suffered from an abusive step-mother and an ignorant father. Unbeknown to most, it was a cursed family of werewolves that began in Cyrodiil in the waning days of the second era after the crusades against them had finished. A family which grew stronger by each surviving werewolf. The cursed passed on to her ancestors all the way to her when she was born. At the age of eighteen, the dormant state of Lycanthropy increased to where she finally transformed one night. She underwent a painful transformation into a wolf-like creature. Veronica, now a full blown werewolf, murdered and devoured her sister. And ran off to the woods and killed the innocent foresters in the Great Forest. The next day, the bloodied, dazed, naked and now human Veronica awakens to see her grandfather nearby. Now intoxicated by the werewolf's immense power, her grandfather explains that he no longer needs to restrain that potency. And that she too can embrace it as a gift. Veronica, eager to use her power of Lycanthropy for destructive purposes, begins a path of bloodshed during the full moons. As the suspicious arises from local villagers to the Cursed Darksky Estate, Veronica realized it would be too risky to remain home. She runs away to become a free-lance Bounty Hunter, pursuing deadbeats and low-lives for profit. Upon reaching Bruma, Veronica gets into a brief fight with a local orc thief. The confrontation ended short after she bit off his thumb and eventually killed him outside of the tavern along with an Imperial captain. Realizing she murdered a thief and an Imperial captain by accident, Veronica was smuggled in a carriage to Skyim where her new life began. Along the way she was taken to Solshteim to participate in Hircine's hunt. Months later she returned to Cyrodiil and then to Valenwood, where she was granted acess to Hircine's realm.


I could of explained this better. But I did not want to, her story needs work and I am still writing a fanfic.

Lookin' good W & V...Lookin' damn good...

Thanks. And I like Ullrik as well. Pretty hard to write up a bio when you don't want to spoil anything, hehe. As you can see, I favor the Lycanthropy from birth concept. It's pretty interesting and canon

Now this is the story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there dude
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Solitude

In west Skyrim born and raised
On the training ground where I spent most of my days
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
And all shooting some lightning bolts outside of the school
When a couple of guys, they were up to no good
Started making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and the guards had to come
And said "STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM!"

I whistled for a carriage and when it did intrude
the license plate said "DOVAHKIIN" and the driver was nvde
If anything I could say that this cab was crude
But I thought nah, forget it, yo homes to Solitude!

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight
And I yelled to the cabby "Yo, homes smell you later!"
Looked at my kingdom, this was just a prelude
To sit on my throne as the prince of Solitude

This... Is far too good. You spent some time on this.

^ Agreed. Easily top class quality rite there brotha :disguise:

Keep 'em coming folks

I love it Hon...Great back story and description of your character...

Name: Kraven Desselius.

Race: Imperial.

Class: Hound Of Hircine.

Major Skills: Strength, Endurance, Athletics, Long-Blade, Agility, Block.

Minor Skills: Hand To Hand, Sneak, Armorer.

Weapons of choice: Silver spear, silver longsword & hunting knife.

Appearance: Kraven has light-brown skin tone and is usually the tallest Imperial in the area. He has long, shoulder-length black hair, which he wears behind him in a savage manner and allows it to fall onto his shoulders. He usually wears a dark-colored light vest, which covers his right side and comes down diagonally from the left shoulder.

Background:
Kraven Desselius was born in a poor family of farmers off the edge of the Cyrodiil border. He grew up to serve as a stable child, often feeding the horses, hunting and fishing for food and among the other things. He is born in Cyrdiil, the son of a farmer named Karstus. An abusive alcoholic, Karstus blames the boy for all of his misfortunes, and often calls him the "worst" of his existence, so much that he took to calling Kraven that. His father takes him into the farming buisness at a young age, and Kraven is bullied and abused well into advlthood. As the years passed on, Karstus owned much drakes to the Empire and did not pay the taxes. He risked losing his home and farm, and thus even planned on using his wife to gain septims. After an argument with his wife, Karstus nearly beat her to death. In fear of being arrested & of losing his farm, Karstus left with Kraven to Morrowind where he could begin a new life; Which ultimately would prove to be a hard one.

As Karstus took Kraven to Morrowind(With threats that if he did not come along, he would kill Kraven's mother), they were caught in the middle of a fight between Dunmer forces and Argonians. The war lords of Morrowind overpowered the argonians in a small battle, rendering them powerless. Caught in the cross-fire, Kraven and his father were taken into slavery after their carriage was raided. Karstus and Kraven were taken to the slave market to be sold. Having ties to farming, they were both sold to House Hlaalu for farm labor in the plantations. There, Kraven fell in love with a Dunmer maiden named Senella. Little did Kraven know that his family also tied in with a family known as the Darksky, that he also was doomed and inherited a dormant curse in which was dormant. With no qualms about hurting his own son, Karstus often got into fights with his slave master, and was quickly sold to House Redoran to become a gladiator. Kraven was left alone in the plantations, to his benefit. He began meeting secretly with the maiden, Senella. Until one night Kraven's curse bloomed and he finally transformed. Hircine, demanding a sacrifice, had Senella devoured by the werewolf. The werewolf killed the other slave masters and a few slaves and escaped.

Upon waking up in the morning, Kraven realized the enormity of the horrendous things he had done. He realzed his first kill was his lover and those that followed were his friends in arms. Seeing it as a curse rather than a gift, he attempted suicide to no avail. Members House Redoran located him and locked him in chains and took him to the gladiatorial training pits to fight. As a newly purchased slave enlisted into Redoran, Kraven reveled in the opportunity put before him, to become a gladiator, to reap the glory that he had always longed for. But to attain it, he had to begin at the bottom of the gladiator food chain and fight the titans above him. As the years passed, Kraven became one of the most accomplished gladiators in the Vivec stable, prized by his master for his prowess inside the arena and his skill and discretion in the service of less noble missions not within it. Despite the brutality of a gladiator’s way of life, Kraven exhibited a capacity for stronger violence strange to his brethren. He eventually rose to the top, earning famous titles suh as "The Beast Of Kvatch", "Champion Of Vivec" and "Kraven, the Undefeated" after he killed his own father in a duel to the death in the Imperial City arena in which Kraven and Karstus exchanged meaningful words of honor and respect. However, he longed for freedom and formed a small slave revolt against Redoran. Kraven and his fellow slaves and combatants fled Redoran after slaying most the slavers. He went to Skyrim and found himself a target for an an Imperial Bounty Hunter named Veronica. As the Third Era ended, Kraven found himself in numerous adventures from his prolonged Lycanthropic life.

So you've both a male and female character...Which one will you play first?

I am going to play as Romulus Val Jean. A Breton who made his living being a travelling merchant.

Highwaymen may think he is an easy prey but they will not say that again when they find themselves lying on the ground with a dagger or a short-sword against their throats.

Ya. This guy knows how to wield a blade. That is for sure!

I have four. Two pureblooded vampires from the Cyrodilic clan & two werewolves.

I usually play male, then female, then male, then female.

Here's a few of the characters i've used throughout the Elder Scrolls series, or am building. INCOMING WALL OF TEXT.

Sasustha
Race: Argonian
Class: Mage
Sign: The Mage
Sasustha was born in Blackmarsh, and was tutored by his father in the uses of magic. Upon reaching the age of 20, his father had no more to teach him, so Sasustha decided to travel to the Imperial City to enroll at the Arcane University. During his travel, the rule of the Imperial Simulacrum ended, and Emperor Uriel Septim VII was restored to the throne. In celebration, the Imperial City was undergoing a week long festival by the time Sasustha neared. Sasustha was just approaching the Old Bridge south of the Imperial City, when the group of cloaked travelers in front of him came under attack from a band of brigands. Sasustha jumped into the fight. Between his magic, the astounding magic prowess of one the traveler's, and the stalwart steel of the other six travellers, they managed to kill most of the brigands, and send the rest to flight. Upon turning to inquire as to the condition of the beleaguered travelers, Sasustha saw that the cowl of one of the traveler's had slipped during the heated battle, and the traveler was none other than Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself. Uriel explained that we was traveling back to the Imperial City in disguise in order to avoid the attention of vengeful Jagar Tharn supportists, and introduced the members of his group as his Blades, and the powerful spellcaster among them was none other than High Chancellor Ocato. Uriel then invited Sasustha to the Imperial Palace as a honored guest. Sasustha accepted the offer, and over the next two weeks, he and the Emperor became friends, and the Emperor often asked Sasustha for advice.
On the 15th night, Sasustha recieved a summons to meet Uriel within a little-used tower of the palace. Sasustha opened the door to the tower, and entered the dark room. Upon closing the door, a sudden light sprang into being, as Ocato lit a torch, and beside him, was Uriel Septim. Uriel Septim then spoke to Sasutha in a grave, solemn voice, asking for a favor. Apparently, an old friend of Uriel's, King Lysandus, was haunting the city of Daggerfall within the High Rock province, and there was a letter of a "personal" nature that Uriel wanted retrieved. Sasustha accepted, and within the night, was on his way to the province of Daggerfall. However, while still at sea, a unnatural storm brewed, and smashed his ship into the sides of a cliff. Just before Sasustha fell unconscious, he fell into a cave. Upon awakening, he found himself within a small cave that led into a dungeon, the dungeon of Privateer's Hold. Sasustha made his way out, and eventually became embroiled within a vicious power struggle within the Iliac Bay.
After a few years, Sasustha had arisen to the status of "Archmagus" within the Mages Guild, and commanded great power over the arcane. Sasustha had also become "acquainted" with Mannimarco, the King of Worms. Eventually, Sasustha recovered the "Mantella", the key to the power struggle within the Iliac Bay, and gave it to his "friend", Mannimarco. In return, Mannimarco gave Sasustha a magical amulet in the shape of a skull, made of dark, gleaming ebony with rubys in the eye sockets, and said that it will be his salvation. Sasustha pocketed the amulet, pondering what the King of Worms had said, and left. Upon exiting Scourge Barrow and entering the Wrothgarian Mountains, a huge, colossal foot came down upon Sasustha, smashing him and breaking his body upon the rocks. Sasustha died instantly.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sasustha awoke within a curiosly empty Scourge Barrow, his body "whole". He found however, that his heart beat no longer, and he had no more need of breath. Sasustha looked down upon his chest, and there hung the amulet the King of Worms had given him. Sasustha realized immediately then what it was; a phylactery, and what he'd become; a Lich.
Sasustha returned to his home in Daggerfall, and continued to preside as Archmagus over the Mage's Guild within High Rock for years. But over time, Sasustha's scales began to gray and wither, his eyes sunk into their sockets and gained a malevolent glow, his body became bony, and an awful stench and sense of dread accompanied him. It was then that people began to whisper, to become suspicious of his nature, and that's when he knew, he could no longer rule the Mage's Guild, or "live" within the presence of mortals. He moved to the now abandoned Scourge Barrow (For Mannimarco had dissappeared, and was rumored to have become a Death God), and continued his art and experiments there. Some say he still resides there to this day. He does, but he is growing bored and restless, eager to face new challenges once again.


Wulfgar Beolfag
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior
Sign: The Warrior
Wulfgar was born in the Late Merethic Era, before the dating of time. He was a Hunter and Warrior of a nomadic Nedic people, until the day he had come across a comatose woman in a snowy fjord. He took her back to his people's camp, where they attempted to nurse her back to health. 14 day's later, she died. As they had lit her funeral pyre on fire that night, her body rose from the pyre, and began murdering and slaughtering his people. Wulfgar attempted to fight her, and fell, but not before she ravaged him like Molag Bal had ravaged her.
Several nights later, he arose, in the same accursed state of his murderer. His skin could no longer stand the light of day; forced to hide in caves or under the snow and ice during the day, and he was filled with a constant, ravening thirst. He began hunting for his murderer. Five nights into the hunt, he came across a Werewolf and slew it. That is when he realized what he thirsted for, as he drank the corpse dry of it's blood, gorging on the exquisite taste of the mix of beast and human blood. Wulfgar continued his hunt for his murderer, renewed.
A fortnight after starting his hunt, he found her. She was slaying and rauaging yet another village, like she had his, The smell and sight of so much spilled blood had him ravenous, but he kept his focus on her. He attempted to sneak up on her, but she somehow sensed him. As she looked upon him, her eyes gleamed with pride, and a malicious smirk crept upon her face. He advanced on her with his axe drawn, but she merely grinned, then grabbed a trembling, terrified villager, and threw her at Wulfgar. Wulfgar caught the villager, but her scent and the sound of the villager's heart pounding in her chest so hard was too much, and he viciously ripped open her throat and drained her of her precious life blood. Wulgar then tossed aside the drained corpse like a rag doll, and stared at his murderer, whom then said "Won't you join me?" as she spread her hand, indicating the carnage. Wulfgar then grinned, and together they set upon the village like a pack of wolves, slaughtering and draining every last villager.
His murderer, was none other than "Lamae Beolfag", the "Blood-Matron", the first Vampire on Tamriel, and he adopted her surname as his own. In the millenias to come, he became her favored lieutenant. He eventually became bored and restless however, and began exploring the other provinces, becoming a Lord and conqueror, then as he became bored with ruling, mysteriously vanishing, leaving his kingdoms to fall. He's done so several times throughout history. It's rumored that his most recent "conquests", was becoming the Master of the Fighter's Guild within the Imperial Province, the Grand Champion of the Imperial Arena, and becoming the Lord of Battlehorn Castle.


Valkur Na
Race: Argoth
Class: Barbarian
Sign: The Serpent
Valkur was conceived during the Oblivion Crisis in Black Marsh, and was raised by his uncle. His Argonian mother, Emerald-Scale, died giving birth to him, and he never knew his father, though knew what his father was; a Daedroth. Valkur is an exceedingly rare hybrid of mortal and Daedra. From a young age, scholars, sages and mages were constantly pestering him and his uncle, asking to "study" Valkur, and offering bulging bags of gold in return, his uncle always refused. Valkur was mostly kept in doors and out of sight, for he was a pariah within his home village, and was also possessed of a nasty temper.
One day, while at the age of 6, his uncle had once again refused the offer of a particularly persistent Altmer Mage, and the mage slew his uncle with a fireball and scooped up Valkur and attempted to abduct him. Valkur flew into a rage, tearing and biting at the startled Mage, and Valkur exhaled a gout of poisonous vapor straight into the Mage's face. The Mage dropped Valkur, and fell to the ground on his hands and knees, coughing and puking, then Valkur leaped forward and clamped his fang-filled mouth down on the Mage's throat, and begin to thrash around, ripping out the Mage's throat. After the Mage was dead, Valkur continued to thrash around in rage, breaking furniture and shattering glass and stoneware. This drew the attention of his neighbors, when upon entering the house, saw the two dead bodies, and Valkur still berserking like a feral animal, and they fled. The rest of the village was gathered, and they chased off Valkur, believing that he had murdered his uncle and the mage in a vicious, feral fit.
Valkur survived in the wild swamplands of Black Marsh for many years, until he'd reached physical maturity at the age of 21. By then, he was a hulking brute at 6 and a half feet (Much larger than normal Argonians), with a massive, muscular frame. He had a dark green, thick hardened hide lined with great spiked ridges along his back, 3 inch long, wickedly curved and serrated claws, and a tail so thick and strong that it could shatter logs made out of tree trunks. When he exhaled out of his nostrils, he could shoot plumes of noxious, poisonous vapor out of them, and when he took a great inhale, he could belch out fireballs.
When Red Mountain erupted, and the whole of Morrowind was decimated, Valkur joined a Argonian raiding party, and slaughtered scores of surviving Dunmer. Upon re-entering Black Marsh, they were beset upon by a Imperial Legion patrol, and were captured. Valkur is held within the Imperial Prison, waiting for his chance to escape...

I already posted this in a different thread, but figured I might as well post it here.

Jo'Rakha was born in the city-state of Dune, in 4E 174. He is a Suthay-Raht with dark brown and yellow markings.
He was born to a trader and his wife, both of which live in a small apartment above their shop, which opens onto the
bustling desert market outside the walls of Dune.
Magic has been outlawed throughout Elsweyr since the reign of the new Mane, so when the young kit began to show
signs of natural magical ability, something almost completely unheard of among Khajiits, his parents forbade him from practicing
it, and told no one of his skill. However, Jo'Rakha continued to use his magic, often traveling into the surrounding desert, away
from prying eyes, and sending off raw magical energy, attempting to refine his skill. It was during one of these trips that he was
discovered by a member of the Dunesian Elder Council. This Khajiit, Jo'Ri, was a member of a secretive splinter of the dissolved
mages guild, the Collage of Whispers, based far beneath the shifting sands of Elsweyr, in the long-forgotten halls of an ancient buried
castle. Jo'Ri recognized the power of this young kit, and offered him a place among the guild.
Jo'Rakha accepted, and left home soon thereafter, traveling with Jo'Ri until they came to the site of the Collage of Whispers. The
rolling expanse of sand stretched away in all directions, but Jo'Ri could sense the magical energies coming from beneath him. He lifted a
hand, and the sand began to drain away, as if they were in a gargantuan hourglass. he stepped forwards, motioning for Jo'Rakha to follow,
and together, they were svcked into the earth. The sand stopped falling through the massive vertical cave about halfway down, and looped
back upwards to join it's brethren on the surface. The Khajiiti's decent slowed, and they touched down gently. Jo'Ri then raised his paw once
more. The sand rose to the surface and solidified into rock, forming a seal that kept the desert at bay.
For the next ten years of his life, Jo'Rakha advanced in magical prowess very quickly, soon passing his teachers, and devoted
himself to the study of new fields of magic. He found that anything he read, he would then have in his memory forever. All he needed
to call it back was a simple thought.
One night, he accidentally discovered what he thought was a new field of magic. He meant to say a simple word, but instead shouted,
sending out a wave of magic like none he had felt before. From that point on, he experimented more and more with this unrefined field, trying
to perfect it, but he could never seem to do anything more than send out a wave of pure energy.

He didn't know how it happened, but the Collage of Whispers was discovered by the Mane when Jo'Rakha was 18 years of age. The
army stormed the ancient halls, breaking the seal and riding down on ropes. By the time he knew what was happening, it was already too late.
His brethren were being slaughtered, cut down by waves of Khajiiti soldiers. Jo'Rakha held his own, and did his best to defend his friends, casting
spell after spell, sending the enemies flying, but his efforts did nothing. Every other mage was dead, and he was being pushed back by the army.
Seeing no other option, he gathered his energy, as he had trained himself to do, and let out the majority of his power in one shout. As the halls began
to collapse around him, Jo'Rakha cast protective spells on himself, designed by him to keep his body alive, but just barely. The last thing he saw as he
slipped into unconsciousness was a room filled with the dead and dying, getting crushed by tons of rubble, falling in pieces from the ceiling. A pillar broke
apart and collapsed directly on top of Jo'Rakha. His heart beat a few more times, then stilled.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shifting of rock, and the scratchy tone of a Dunmer, "By the Nine, this one is hardly decomposed at all!"

A thump in his chest.

A new voice, lower than the previous.

"What are you talking about? All of these fur-lickers have been dead for a decade."

Another thump, stronger this time. He was aware of light on his face.

"What the- Come here, quickly! He's alive!"

"What have you been eating, my friend?"

"Just come here."

Footsteps, then a hand on his chest.

"Oh my- You're right! Get him out of there, you fools!"

A familiar feeling. Paws grabbed him under his arms, and one dug their claws into the back of his neck. Together, they lifted him upwards.
He strained his eyelids, but they would not lift.

The rough sound of a Khajiit trying the Imperial tongue.

"Get this one some water, master?"

"Yes, you foolish beast."

A jug was brought to his face. Hands pried open his mouth, and water was poured down his throat. He coughed, but swallowed most of it.

Blackness took him once more.


When he awoke, he was in a tent, lying on a piece of cloth stretched over the familiar warm sand. His eyes opened easily, and he remembered his
name. That was the beginning of a torrent of memory, leaving him curled in a ball on the ground for over an hour, forgotten knowledge and traumas flooding into his mind.

He looked up, feeling a sadness that he had not had time to feel as he was trying to defend his brothers. Tentatively, he tried his magic.
He pointed a finger at the jug of water on the table, and it shifted to the left. He had meant to blow it apart. Much of his magical skill was gone, but the knowledge remained.

Jo'Rakha used a claw to cut a hole in the tent, and escaped into the cold desert night.

Hours later, he stumbled into Dune. The guard at the gate looked horrified at the sight of his face, and ran away immediately. Jo'Rakha collapsed against a house and slipped into sleep.

He woke to the sound of armored feet charging towards him, sun gleaming off the metal spears. No more than ten feet away stood the Mane himself.
He pointed a crooked finger at Jo'Rakha, and growled "Kill him this time, you incompetent half-wits!"

Jo'Rakha gathered what strength he had, and propelled himself on top of the roof. Seemingly from nowhere, he felt a shout building in his throat. He let it grow
inside of him, the soilders surrounding him now, and once he could contain it no longer, released the power. It blasted the army backwards, away from Jo'Rakha,
and sent him flying into the air, going higher than he ever thought possible.

He fell for a long while, directing himself towards a basin of water at the bottom of a valley. He slowed his fall magically as he neared the water, and dove in.

Jo'Rahka hated water, especially salt water. When he surfaced, he was floating towards a slum of a city, the walls held together by wooden boards, nails, and prayers.
He swam to the docks and climbed onto land. A crowd of pale skinned, furless men surrounded him. He ignored the mutterings from the people.

"Did you see-"
"-From the sky"
"-Should be dead!"

He pushed through the crowd and headed for a horse-drawn carriage, ready to depart.
On the way, he focused his magical energy in his paws, making them glow menacingly, then slid them inside his coat.
He stepped into the carriage, and spoke to the driver, revealing his paws as he did so.

"You undoubtedly just saw me survive certain death, so just think, what would happen if I let this wonderful explosive magic go?

Would you die? Most defiantly.

Would I? No.

So how about we avoid that conflict, you tell me where in Tamriel I am, and then you take me wherever I want to go, or you and your horses will be a nice roasted feast for me."

The pale Argonian holding the reins, now trembling so much that the entire carriage shook, spoke warily.

"Y-You're outside Bravil, sir."

Jo'Rakha processed this information. The Cyrodillic people weren't especially tolerant of his kind, and it was worse in most other countries.
The only place where he thought he could continue his work unhindered, was the last place he wanted to go. Home to the Nordic tribes of the north, land of cold, and country of barbarians.

"Take me to Skyrim"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, yeah. Fun, eh?

The dragonshout propelling him all the way to Bravil was acheived only because the power had been building up for a decade, and had to be let go in some way. It just adapted itself to his current situation.

Dayum man, this is character bios, not fanfics. But good work though! My eyes are almost falling out of their sockets.

Haha, thanks. I got pretty caught up in the story of Jo'Rakha while writing it, so it did turn into more of a fanfic.

This story might be filled with cliches, but I hope you find it interesting anyways.

Name: Braeden Darkvale
Race: Breton
Personality: Calm, aloof, disillusioned after years in the Legion
Physical appearance: weary, stern and scarred face, high cheekbones, gaunt cheeks, charcoal short hair, short beard.
Class/Profession: Forester
Preferred weapon: Longbow
Preffered Attire: Practical woodsman clothing, brown or green. An old woolen cloak.
Place of birth: Village outside Farrun

Family History: Braeden descends from a noble family and many of his ancestors served in the Order of the Raven,
but at some point his ancestors fell at bad times and eventually his line became mere farmers and craftsmen.
His great grandfather settled down somewhere outside Farrun as a farmer.

Personal history: Braeden grew up as the youngest of three brothers on a small farm in High Rock.
His father used to send him and his brothers out to hunt so that the family had more food to put on the table.
Thus he became proficient both in archery and woodcraft.
Since the family farm would pass down to the oldest brother it was soon decided that he would have to find something else to do when he grew up.
So at an age of 22 he enlisted into the Imperial Legion as an archer.
During his time in the Legion Braeden got to see many places of Tamriel and campaigned in places like Elsweyr and Black Marsh.
He often sent letters back to his family back in High Rock, but after some years the farm got sacked and his parent and oldest brother got killed by bandits.
At the time he was on a campaign on the border between Morrowind and Black Marsh and wasn't able to come home to tend to their funeral.
His remaining brother moved to Wayrest and set up a store, but eventually he and Braeden lost contact.
After several ended tours of duty, he eventually got transferred to the Foresters considering his combat experience and woodcrafting skills.
At this point he was assigned to patrol the area around Bruma. There he fell in love a breton woman named Caelia. After months courting they finally got married.
Although they were childless they were happily married for three years until she died from a disease, while he was out patrolling.
He was heartstruck by this and became rather reclusive and spent even more time in the wilds.

One late night traveling back to Bruma, he spotted the count's son trying to [censored] a poor nord maiden.
Acting quickly he pushed the man away from the young woman, but the rapist tumbled himself up on his feet again and drew a sword against Braeden.
A fight ensued, but although the young man was a good duelist, he couldn't stand up to the combat experience of the grizzled breton.
And soon the son of the count laid down in a pool of blood.
Just as Braeden was helping the rescued damsel to get up, one of the guard lieutenants turn up an tries to arrest him.
But before the guard is able to react he is beaten unconscious by the maiden giving Braeden a small lead.
Knowing that he would be chased all over Cyrodiil for the murder of a count's son he heads north towards Skyrim hoping to escape from the law in the midst of the civil war...

My Elder Scrolls character's life to date.

Name: Orlanden Payen
Race: Imperial
Class: Assassin
Sign: The Thief
Height: 6'1" Weight: 207lbs

Born in a comfortably-sized log cabin, Orlanden was raised by his mother and father in The Great Forest of Cyrodiil near the Colovian Highlands. His brother, Christophe, was fifteen years older than him and had already set out in world to make his fortune as an Imperial City Construction Overseer by the time Orlanden was old enough to learn the way of land.
Orlanden's father, Jack, was a "jack-of-all-trades", if you will. He taught him how to farm, hunt, fish, and fight while he was young. As Orlanden grew older, his father also taught him how to live off the land, smith his own weapons and armor, and manage his livestock.
When he was sixteen years old, Jack began teaching Orlanden the fundamentals of fighting with a blade. He practiced with everything from daggers to claymores to ensure he was never to be caught in a very sticky situation. Orlanden, although great with his blades, found his true calling with a bow. Jack taught him to stalk his prey through the forest and to step lightly as to not make even the driest leaf crunch beneath his feat. Before long, Orlanden became a stealthy woodland assassin, however, only killing deer, bear, wolf, elk, and any other edible or skinnable animal.
At age twenty, Orlanden decided it was time to take on his first full-fledged adventure and travel to the Gold Coast, to a small, lesser known island called Topsail Island which was off the shores of the Abecean Sea not too far from Anvil. He was great at fishing the rivers and lakes near his home in the country, but he had a great passion for saltwater and the feelings he gets when he takes in a deep breath of the salty sea air. He knew right away that the island life was for him, so he learned the ways of the sea. By age 22, He knew how to extensively fish the tides, navigate the beautiful blue water on the sailboat he won in a game of dead man's die in The Flowing Bowl in Anvil, and live off the sea.
Orlanden, although very noble, warm hearted, and loving, did what he had to do to get by. If a big storm blew through, it would alter the fishing for a week or so. Knowing he could easily move about without being detected and having a love for travel, he would take vacation to various places around Tamriel and at night would steal only things he needed to survive, but never had any intention of hurting anyone. Of course spending many nights in various taverns to satisfy his love for beer and rum, Orlanden has been in numerous bar fights and such. He did kill a crooked Argonian in defending his own life in Bravil. This sneaky lizard tried to creep up on him with an old rusty iron dagger and stab him in the back while he was enjoying his first flagon of mead that night. Being very quick and nimble, as Orlanden tipped up his cup to take a swig, he say the Argonian's reflection in a big bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy sitting on shelf behind the bar and he swung around, deflected the dagger, and instinctively turned it (while still in the Argonian's hand) right into his scaly neck. A big deal wasn't made of the situation because of Orlanden simply defending his own life. The Argonian was dragged out of the tavern and thrown into the channel of water that passes in to the city nearby.
One late evening while fishing the more murky waters of the Imperial City Waterfront, a strange lady brought him a mysterious note. It was from the infamous Gray Fox! It was an invitation to join the Thieves Guild. He did as the directions stated and met up with Armand Christophe in the Garden of Dareloth at exactly midnight. He was then inducted into this guild of organized thievery. He did his work as requested and participated in the special jobs the guild had to offer. By age twenty five, Orlanden had advanced all the way to the top of the guild taking over as the Gray Fox, himself.
His travels brought him to Bruma three days before his twenty sixth birthday. He was staying at the Jerall View Inn and, as always, enjoying a cold drink before bed. This time with a seasoned friend of his named Stantus Varrid; a native of Bruma. A small group of mages from from the local Mages Guild were sitting at a table nearby merely reminiscing on the day's events. One mage was getting a little out of control from all of the mead and out of annoyance, Orlanden slams his hands on the table and yells "For the sake of the Nine, close that loud, potion guzzling mouth of yours before I show YOU a "magic trick" with the sharpened tip of my sword in your throat!" Without hesitation, the angered mage shouted in his native elvish tongue and cast a spell on Orlanden that seemed to do nothing. Stantus immediately stood up and escorted him out of the Inn.
The next day, Orlanden visited the Mages Guild in search of the Elf who cast some spell on him. He walked in and the first person he saw was that very Elf. He sternly walked up to him and asked his name. "Alvys" replied the Elf, "Alvys Maydel". Orlanden reached out his hand for a shake and said "I am Orlanden Payen. I came to make peace. I want to apologize for my outburst last night…I also wanted to know what kind of spell you cast on me. It seemed to have no effect." "Apology accepted, Mr. Payen. Errrmm…actually…it has already taken effect. As you could probably tell, I was a bit buzzed. I accidentally confused one word with another and…well…made you immortal." said Alvys. With the most puzzled look on his face, Orlanden asks, "Immortal? You mean to tell me I'm going to live forever?" Alvys replied with, "Unfortunately, yes. You are." "You must be joking…" said Orlanden, "…to live forever will be amazing!" With an eyebrow raised and a shrug of his shoulders, Alvys said, "…well the only way to reverse the spell is visit the head Mage in Windhelm which is is the land of Skyrim. The head mage, himself, is immortal. He's 156 years old this year, but only looks about fifty since thats how old he was when he cast the spell on himself. I'm sure he'll always be around, he really seems to enjoy his immortality. As for you, you can still be killed by weapon, illness, or poison, mind you, but your body will never age a day past yesterday since that's when I mistakenly cast the spell on you." Actually excited of the news, Orlanden thanked the Elf and walked out.
175 years have passed and Orlanden looks exactly the same as he did the day the immortality spell was cast upon him. He has traveled the world over, but always avoiding the Windhelm Mages Guild. He is sitting in the local tavern in the town of Falkreath on the Skyrim, Hammerfell, and Cyrodiil border when a local fellow notices who he is from the reputation he has built for himself all over Tamriel in the past 200 years and challenges him to an archery competition outside the tavern. Even though he is several drinks deep, Orlanden accepts the challenge knowing he is one of the best marksmen the world has ever seen. The rules are simple: Bullseyes count for three points, all other shots are zero. First to 21 wins and you have to win by 3. It is tied up 21-21 and Orlanden is up after the local missed his shot my a mere centimeter. This will seal the deal and get the win for Orlanden. He pulls an arrow from his quiver, draws the bow back, aims to the center, and releases. Upon release, he hiccups from all the alcohol and shoots a bit too far to the right, nicks the target stand, and hits the fellow retrieving the arrows from the target in the leg. He is accused of public intoxication and attempted murder. The guard locks him away in a cold, stone jail cell. Knowing he has a while, he lays down on the provided bed roll and attempts to rest and sleep off the drunkenness. When he comes to, he………… (to be continued after 11/11/11.)

*points to signature*

But right now, I'm trying to flesh out another khajiit in my mind and her life story.

Mines a kitty. : 3

Hopefully a snow kitty and he will steal stuff.

Anyone know any good Khajiit names?

Dar'Skyiit, which means literally "Thief of Skyrim"

Dar'Ra or Ra'Dar, meaning a thief of great status

Raksada, Don't know what it means, but it sure sounds cool

That's all I've got.

Come on keep em coming

My main most likely first pick (too early for me to know for sure)

Name: Still thinking about it

Race: Dunmer

Class/weapons/abilities: Assassin based character that uses stealth, bows, daggers & alchemy (possibly some illusion not sure) as his main focuses and some type of one handed sword possibly (pending awaiting more information on Skyrim).

Story background: A skilled assassin taking a job from a big time skooma dealer coming in from Morrowind with a small caravan of a lot of skooma to make a profit in Skyrim that was setup by some unknown reason to me and gets caught.

That's it, that's the story im going with for my dunmer assassin that ill likely play on my first playthrough, that's enough of a starting story for me as I like to create mine as I play for the first time.

My 2nd character: Sword & Shield

A tradional sword & shield using dragon slayer like the character in the trailer

My 3rd character: Destruction pure fire spell caster

A pure straight fire mage with alteration for controlling enemies, obviously other things but too early to tell right now.

My 4th character: Conjuration pure spell caster/necromancer.

Completely dependent on how conjuration will be with summoning undead, how much I think a necromancer based character will fit in Skyrim.

im pushing for more of a rogue mage type of character but ill have to think of a story :hubbahubba:

Name: Gillecomgain (The Hunter)
Race: Dunmer
Archetype: Assassin/Bounty Hunter
Proficient with: Archery, Alchemy, Stealth, Blades, Athletics, Hand to Hand

Story: As a young boy he worked as an assistant to his family on their farm. He would tend the horses, collect water and travel to the nearby town to sell meat and crops.

One day as he was tending the horses in the stables he heard his father yell in pain from inside the house. As he ran upstairs he came across his mother's body with an arrow stuck in her head. Upon entering the next room he came across his father gasping for breath as the slit to his throat suffocated him. As he entered the room he came across a Kajhiit, which he knew as the family's slave. The slave was armed with a kitchen knife and had a bow and empty quiver on his back.
The Kajhiit ran for the nearby window and leapt with the grace of a cat to the floor outside.

Filled with anger, Gillecomgain ran downstairs and made his way outside to the stables. He grabbed a nearby pitchfork and pursued the betrayer. The open terrain provided little cover for the fleeing cat and Gillecomgain threw the pitchfork like a spear. The projectile found its home in the back of the Kajhiit's knee, sending him collapsing to the floor. The slave lay motionless on his front as Gillecomgain approached. As he checked to see if he had killed his enemy, the cat spun round and clawed Gillecomgain across the face, creating three large gashes across his face. He picked up the fork and plunged it into the Kajhiits throat and got his revenge.

From that day forth Gillecomgain had a pure hatred for Kajhiit and trained his skills in archery, stealth, sword combat and alchemy to become a perfect assassin. The wounds to his face scarred and became permanent. He created a black mask with three red stripes which he wore as to prevent recognition and called his alter ego 'The Hunter'. He worked as both bounty hunter for kings and assassin of the Dark Brotherhood and became feared. He particularly enjoyed his career, especially so when the target was feline. Every Kajiit he hunted was killed, whether wanted dead or alive.

His latest target was a political figure (Kajhiit) who worked for the Resistance side of the Nordic Civil War with a bounty of 500,000 septims.
The target was abroad a restricted ship docked in a coastal town. He failed his mission as he was caught by guards. He threw his dagger which struck one in the face. Three more charged and as Gillecomgain held them at bay, a guard shield bashed him into the wall knocking him unconscious. The guards put in a POW prison and had all his equipment, including his mask, destroyed.

This was the first assignment that led Gillecomgain out of Morrowind and into Skyrim. This was the first assignment that he had failed.

He is now currently in a high security prison awaiting his uncertain fate as the civil war rages on.