Now i know a lot of you have backstories for your characters either lineage, coming of age, future stories you want to fulfill in Skyrim and i would like to see what some of you have come up with so far so lay it on me tell me your stories your birth rights what ever about your characters like looks and hopes for them

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. His motto is "Last thing you'll ever see"

My character is spike-scale the Young Argonian who set off from Black Marsh in search of adventure. He found it and a bar fight later ended up in jail...the rest well that comes on the 11/11/11

Am I the only one who just calls my character by my name?

I do too.

Here we go, another monster post

Ariake is a Breton, born under the Mage in a small backwater mountain village in High Rock. In his child years, he'd cause his next of kin to worry because his prime occupation was to find and get to know every noock and cranny of every hill and mountain around him, sometimes dissapearing for an entire day, which is where he got his drive for exploration and discovery. He never remembered his father as he died shortly after his birth. His world turned upside-down when his mother died as well at the age of ten. The already spartan conditions of living in the mountains meant noone was willing to take in an extra mouth in his home village. Thus he had to move to the outskirts of Evermor to live with a cousin. What followed was the most brutal part of his life. High Rock underwent many violent changes in the centuries since the Oblivion crysis, changes the guard had to focus their full attention to. As a result, even a civilized settlement like Evermor was rithe with crime, especially among the young of the poor who had little other choice to get by. Even though he was living in a city, Ariake learned there the law of the jungle, suffering much at the hands of stronger kids who lived by the notion that anything the weaker had, belonged to them. Overtime, he coped by learning to fight back when he could, or escape when he couldn't. This abysmal lifestyle went on for four years, and by the time it was over, Ariake felt most at home in visceral close-quarter combat, even though he was a Breton.

Though the conditions were rough, Ariake did not abandon the sense of justice and goodwill that his late mother worked so hard to develop. After becoming adept at fending against the Evermor's hazards for himself, he began using his newly honed "talents" to help those less able than himself. By chance, one of those "less able" turned out to be the neese of a minor noble, a certain Gallin Clavian. As gratitude, Clavian took him in under his wing, away from the hell of Evermor's streets. For the next three years Ariake lived in the noble's estate as part guest and part servant, helping with whatever he could. There his spark for learning was noticed and Clavian made possible Ariake's education under the tutelage of a resident scholar. He studied with great enthusiasm, especially for the arcane arts, and was well on his way to becoming a fully fledged mage apprentice.

Unfortunately, his golden years came to an abrupt end. For generations, High Rock's nobility was in constant rivalry with each other that manifested in an unseen war of lies, disinformation, sabotage and, more often than naught, assasinations. Ariake was curious of this unseen struggle that Clavian waged, but whenever he asked, he'd only get the reply: "Don't dive into this pit. It's a jungle even worse than the one you've been in.". Apparently that jungle proved too much for Clavian himself, as one day he simply disappeared without a trace, and his whole household came apart without him. Unwilling to return to the nightmare of the streets, Ariake instead chose to leave Evermor altogether and seek the life of an adventurer. The caution he honed in his ill neighbourhood taught him not to get ahead of himself, and thus he started small, doing simple jobs for whoever needed help: hunting down rabid animals that pestered struggling farms, message deliveries, surveys for sholars, and the like. He also did some work for the Mage's guild, though he never got beyond the rank of Associate simply because of his questionable origin. In High Rock's Mage's Guild, how high you could climb is completely dependant on how high you are on the social ladder. High positions are instantly given to sons and daughters of nobles who fund most of the guild's activities, and the rest have to content themselves with positions below them. In time, as Ariake honed his skills, the caliber of his work increased with them: from odd jobs to hunting bandits and smugglers, all the way to treasure hunting in locations to dangerous for anyone else. People also started hiring him as a mercenary for difficult tasks, where he shaped a good reputation for his reliability and sense of honor. Those same merc jobs, however, spelled his undoing.

After a while, Ariake noticed a disturbing trend. Most of the outlaws that he was hired to exterminate had with them evidence of correspondence with anonymous nobles, who paid them exorbitant sums to do their dirty work. Though he saw evidence, he had no real proof, and could only content himself to simply dealing with the consequences and leaving the source alone. The "source", on the other hand, thought otherwise. Apparently, at the height of Ariake's career he became too ubiquitous of an obstacle for the High Rock brass that relied much on circumventing the rules to ignore. One day, upon returning from exterminating a goblin infestation for a village, Ariake was beset by guards. His charge - murder of a noble, his punishment - prison for 30 years. The whole farm knew that he wasn't anywhere close to the site of the murder when it happened. Also, not longer than a few days after his arrest, his sentence was changed from 30 years in a High Rock prison to life in a Skyrim prison (it wasn't uncommon to transfer prisoners to Skyrim's "Freezing Hells" for a fee; some of the Nordic prisons even turned it into a business of sorts), and even that was quickly corrected to execution. It didn't take much wit to understand that someone was "waxing the system", the same someone who framed Ariake in the first place.

***

In the events that take place in TES V, Ariake is at first conflicted between seeking revenge for his unjust conviction and fighting the immediate threat of the Dragon invasion. Later, though, he comprehends that Alduin is a far greater priority than a petty noble pulling strings with his coin, and focuses his attention appropriately. In combat, he employs a combination of swords and the magic he used the most during the years preceding his downfall: Destruction and Alteration. He wears light armor, as the thought of wearing something that would prevent him from escaping if necessary, an instinct he developed in Evermor, is quite literally alien. Since he never had any formal training as any particular class of combatant, he has no concept of "purism" and switches between sword and spell, dual swords and all magic without much thought, whatever the situation favors. The brutal rules of life in the streets of his childhood have resulted in him being inately cautious, prefering to anolyze what he's up against from the shadows before the opposition is even aware of his presence, and not needlessly rushing into the fray. Apart from his favourite two magic schools he also uses what little he managed to learn about the other ones from the scholar as side-skills. At a certain point he also grasped that he would spend too much of his hard-earned coin on relying on others to maintain his equipment, and as such began practicing the arts of smithing and enchantment to rid himself of that dependency in time.
Ariake is mostly altruistic, readily helping the needy and defensless for no reinbursemant. However, his history with the cruel mechanics employed by the nobles and the maleability of the law has left him with a deep resentment for politics and law enforcers. Thus he prefers to distance himself from them as far as possible.
He is a twenty-something, and thus has the appearance of a youth, though slightly better built, but not burly. He has an intricate, proportional face, with neither the nose nor lips nor cheeks being large, with dark-brown medium-length hair weaving evenly down in all directions, and dark-brown eyes adorned by equally dark eyebrows. He tends to have a serious, emotionless expression, often described as "a wolf's stare", looking at people from under his forehead and rarely smiling.

My father was a drunk Imperial and my mother was a stern Nord.

I worked as a gaurd and other law occupations.
I got into the Nord crowd and with my experience at tracking thiefs started nicking things from the Imperial camps.
Now I woke up on the wrong side of the law somehow.

Oh did I mention some old daft gabbard says I'm some Dovkin or something, what nonsense.

@ Eps, When I have time I might read that huge piece of text.

Born to unknown parents, the baby Dunmer, Arvus was found on a Temple doorstep in the city of Ranyon-Ruhn. For the first 15 years of his life, Arvus worked in the Temple. At 16, he moved to the capital of Almalexia. He joined Great House Indoril and adopted the name as his sirname. Now Arvus Indoril, he worked as an Ordinator, posted in the city of Vivec until the age of 24. He became one of Tarer's favourites (Tarer is the Head of the Ordinators). Tarer sent him on a secret mission and Arvus almost died, he was scarred a little on his face. This was Arvus' last mission as an Ordinator and he retired back to being a Temple priest. He advanced through the ranks quickly. As a Master of the Temple, age 37, he wandered Tamriel increasing his arcane abilities. He returned to Vivec city three years later to find the old Patriarch, Tholer Saryoni, had passed away in his sleep. In the four months of political chaos that followed, Arvus was a clear favourite to succeed Saryoni. In 3E 428, age 41, Arvus Indoril became the Patriarch of the Temple.
He was still young (for a Dunmer) and was very healthy. He was Patriarch for 45 years. During the Argonian Invasion, he helped many Dunmer living in Vivec City escape the eruption of Red Mountain by making boats using his magic. He also used a fire shield (spell) to stop the lava flowing down the Foyada and letting Dunmer from the West Gash get to Vivec and escape.
For 160 years, nothing was said about Arvus Indoril. Many believed that he had died on Vvardenfell. His name means very little now, as people have forgotten about him and the old faith of the Tribunal Temple. Around 4E 200, he has made his way to Skyrim, where he lives among his fellow Dunmer and tries to preserve the old faith.

Hopefully my story will be simple.

Badass werewolf warrior.. lots of killing.. makes dragons defacate themselves at the mention of his name.

The End.

Perin Cadlew is basically a tavern rat with a penchant for the sticky-fingered aspects of life, who got involved with a job that ended very badly, and ended up taking the fall. Oh well, the gallows is an adventure in itself.

Lillith is an imperial. She lost her parents at a very young age and she and her older brother Roman (my real name ) had to steal food to survive. The thieves guild took them in. Her brother taught her the use of dual daggers and a bow.
Then one day, they tried to steal stuff from a very powerful mage. Things didn't go well, and her brother was burned to death by the mage before her own eyes. She barely escaped. This event changed her life forever. she became highly apathic, didn't care for human life. She developed sadistic tendencies and whenever she broke in to a house to steal something, she tortured the residents to death. Sometimes, after she had finished with them, she set the house on fire. It was her way of avenging her brother.
Then one day, she decided she was ready to kill the mage. She found that the mage had moved to Skyrim. She followed him there, but the mage was too smart for her. When she entered his room with her dagger ready to strike, she was arrested by guards and thrown to jail...



Yes, I plan to find the most powerful mage in the game and RP that he is my archnemesis.

He's a Coowboi, and on a steel horsey he rides..... he's wanted....WANTED.... Dead or Alive.... Dead or Alive.......

Name: Artur
Race: Nord
Apperance: 6ft, 14 stone 6 lbs
Short un-kempt Light brown hair, short full face beard, blue-green eyes, broad shouldered and immensly strong

Background:

A loner who lives in the mountainous regions of Skyrim. Not much is known about this man other than whispers from passing travellers. He is an expert hunter and woodsman with the easy grace and balance that comes from an expert swordsman. He is deadly with a bow and is rumoured to possess an ancient curved blade and a beautifully crafted re-curve bow with green feathered arrows, similar to that of the elite Nord ranger regiment. He rarely comes into towns only when his winter food stocks are running low, his supplies are paid for in furs and deeds.
Two winters ago a giant male bear had ravaged a family from a farm on the outskirts of a town. A price was put out on the bear by the town council to stop any future incidents. A few days later the bears head was found on a spear outside the family’s home, with a green feathered arrow protruding from its ruined eye-socket.

And so it was with great surprise that the villagers found Artur in the tavern one evening with empty flagons of red wine and stronger spirits, gone was the secretive, stern looking colossal figure. Replaced by a talkative, charming, handsome man in his early 30's. It was with some hesitancy that others began to talk with him, unused to the man before them but soon charmed and entertained.
After some time a tavern regular Borak a big, cocky and arrogant man, known for his boasting and petty violence had begun to become annoyed with the attention Artur was attracting. Signalling to his companions he walks over to Artur.
"...and so then after struggling with the fish for 2 nights and 2 days the fisherman finally". Artur's story was cut off when Borak slams his mug of ale down on the table opposite."So why the loose tongue? After 6 years of the quite life you decide to grace us with your stories of fairies and lies." Borak bellows, attracting the attention of everyone there. All eyes now on Artur he replies "I do not lie, boy. Be more careful who you insult", all trace of the young charming man disappearing. "Might I suggest you take your ale and sit back down with the company of your friends?".
Angry now Borak blurts "No, you [censored]son. I think I will listen till you finish your story". Calmly Artur replies "I think the time for stories has passed. Now I am running out of patience and I will not ask you again, leave me be or suffer the consequences".
Borak had finally achieved the goal he wanted; the woodsman was clearly agitated and ready for a fight. "Now I will crush you and send you back to the mountains a broken man!". Borak moved in with 3 of his friends but just as he raised his fist, the woodsman almost painfully slowly stepped clear of his seat and instead of retreating he stepped forward. Suddenly a lightning fast blow exploded on the side of Borak's head against his ear, Borak begun to fall only to see a vicious right cross smashing his lips and teeth to pieces, sending him into merciful darkness. Spinning on his heel Artur faces the other 3 opponents. The ginger burly man in the middle pulls a knife at the sight of Boraks still form slumped against the bar. Lunging he aims a murderous slash to Artur's belly in an attempt to disembowel him. Pain flared in his knife arm, followed instantly by a crack. The blade now in Arturs hand slams into his chin, under the mouth into the spine. The ginger falls limp to the floor oozing precious life blood. With the battle rage on him Artur steps forward again shattering the knee of the skinny bald man with the face of a goat from a kick and at the same time blocking a blow from the fat pig eyed man to his right. Delivering another bone crunching blow to the nose of the goat face he turns to pig eye. Quick as a diving hawk Artur hammers a straightened hand to pig eyes throat, pig eye died before he hit the floor.

The environment in the tavern was silent, all eyes still on Artur. "I think its best you leave" says the inn keeper. Just then the tavern door opens, in walk 5 of the village guard. With 3 dead men at his feet and blood over his hands and clothes, Artur’s conscience after killing again after 6 years is overwhelming, 3 more faces to add to the sea of people he has sent to the underworld. He has little choice, whishing not to spill more blood needlessly. He is escorted to the village jail to await trial.

Argonian Shodowscale, nuff'said

keep this thread alive. Someone else post a story!

Mine is kinda hard depending on if Vampires and Werewolves are in or not, this is all I got so far.
(can't think of a last names since we normally can't Add a last names)

Name:Linda
Race: Nord
Weapons of choice: Axe and Long Sword
Appearance: Blue eyes, average weight and height for a female her age, toned arms, medium length Ambur hair
Background:

She is around the age of 20-23, her birth sign is The Tower or The Shadow, she is in jail due to accidentally sticking an Axe in the back of a merchant... and his son, and his daughter and wife, they bugged her because they looked at her funny.She normally wears Heavy Armor and if the need fits her just a black shirt with red dress,bare foot or if the need fits her a casual attire like a shirt and pants and some boots, maybe a hood on rainy nights, but she always carries her axe with her at all times along with a long sword... She will later get out of the prison some way or another and get scratched by a Quarra vampire while hunting near the forests yet not realize that she has contracted this disease and goes about her daily life for now.........(As you can see, kinda crappy and I might change some of it like the birth sign and if I can even find that type of clothing but all in all either after or before she becomes a vampire she will be bare foot)

Name: Raina
Race: Nord
Weapons of choice: Axe and Claymore
Appearance: Brown Eyes, average weight and height,toned arms, un-kept hair of dark brown color
Background:

She is around the age of 22-24, birth sign is The Warrior, she is in jail due to a little drunken incident involving a waitress at a Mead Hall, some words were exchanged and some feeling ups were encountered, she ended up feeling up a guard on who was enjoying his mead to wash away the stress of the day on accident, the guard did not take kindly to this..... So she was throw in jail, her weapons are normally an Axe and Claymore *both just happen to be coated in sliver, she also has a dagger tucked away sometimes but she hardly ever takes it with her, respecting the brute force of an Axe and Claymore as her companions....She never leaves home without a few bottles of Mead with her, yes, she is a drunken Nord (go figure, specially more after she gets bitten) After she gets out of jail due to unforeseen situations she decides to take some odd jobs here and there to get enough coin to get a house near the woods of Skyrim, dressed in furs of bear and wolf (so light armor) with some rings and pendant that she has had enchanted with a strength spell, and gets into wood cutting to help pay for any other needs she may need, like bottles and bottles of Mead :celebration: but one day she comes across a werewolf in all its glory, under the light of the full moon, she gets her axe at the ready and hopes her pendant and rings will save her and attacks but ends up getting scratched/bitten by the beast,she is scared even in the boost of strength but does not wish to die so she attacks!! She ends up killing the beast...Beaten and bloody she goes back to her cabin and bandages her wounds, still in a daze of what just happend but never thinks anything of the wound she has been afflicted with and what that means, she than falls into a deep sleep till morning.......

Note: Raina will be drinking alot more after she realizes what she is becoming..

(that is where I will continue it if all goes as planned in this, if i cant get a cabin by the woods than I will improvise some way, Sorry for it being crappy lol)

Edit: to tired to put more info in lol like detail

The story of Voldur:

Voldur, once a proud father and husband, now widowed and childless after the civil outbreak. He would join some local rebels and lash out at his enemies. Regretfully, through propaganda and political intrigue, him and his friends were branded outlaws, killers and rapists - lies and deceit in a land of chaos, where high men spout their cruel untruths in madness and paranoia.

Hunted down, Voldur eventually stood behind as the only survivor. He despaired as he flew into the mountains, seeking out his Lady Azura. If only she would give him a sign, a path to thread. He was all alone in the world, and the world did not want him anymore.

At the shrine of Azura during a moonless night, a fiery flash would reveal the lady's face to him, slowly changing and turning into the face of Voldur's late wife. She commanded him to trust her and to trust his own blood. She proclaimed that everyone had long since forgotten who he was - as Voldur ran tighly with his friends, they gave away an impression and a trail that would now, with his friends' unfortunate death, had gone cold. The people going after him, were merely chasing shadows, an idea that had now died out.

As much as Voldur grieved for his friends and family, he also felt a certain measure of hope. As we must all live in the here and now, so must Voldur take control of his destiny, become the unknown wanderer and claim a new legacy for himself.

"Voldur, my love. You are always in my heart and I am always in yours. Let us tend your rose garden in the land of your dreams and let our dear Sophia play among the silver poplars. Every time you close your eyes, we shall be there waiting for you. Go now and follow the Lady's wishes."

Lady Azura emerged from the image of Voldur's wife, and revealed that the world now needed someone like him. An ancient gloom, forgotten and ignored by the vagaries of Man, threatened the landscape. An ancient evil, even far greater than Skyrim's civil war, was lurking in the shadows.

"My champion, Voldur the Sorrowful. Fell no more tears, for as I command you to give yourself up at the hands of your enemies, you shall be given a sign. A path to thread, a friend to trust and a cause to honor. Patience, dear Voldur. Hardiness. Your child's fervor. You shall bathe this land in the glory of new hope.

Go now, and meet your doom with open arms. Or flee, and see your future spent by a moment of futility. You are what you do, not what you don't."

Eventually, Voldur would be captured by guards and taken as a prisoner. He would remember Azura's words and always be on the lookout for that one sign. He would not find it, but at the day of his execution, Azura would sense his growing uncertainty and once again whisper in the winds:

"Patience, dear Voldur. Soon..."

Yeah, I got a flimsy story. It goes something like this:

Marianne Neto is a Breton from Wayrest.

She's a street musician, lived with her foster-dad who owns a small pawn shop and whose ambition it is to make full living of building musical instruments.
Big mouth, tomboyish and smart. Pretty well known face in all the taverns.

Now what happened. Basically, she got mistaken for being a noble and got an anonymous invitation from a drunken messenger.
Curious as she is, she went to check it out and there she wound up at strange party some nobles were attending.
To make a long story short, she heard some stuff she wasn't supposed to know and a noble (I'm just going to call him Lord Blackadder) locked her up in a dungeon out of sheer paranoia.

Lord Blackadder found out she was a respectable citizen and it was all a mistake, but that just made it more complicated for him.
Then he heard there was a case of illegal witchcraft in Skyrim and that the Nords suspected the "witch" crossed the borders with High Rock.
So, he had a cunning plan.

He forged evidence, making it look like Marianne is the witch and then he pretend like his men got her and delivered her to the Skyrim soldiers.
He got all the praise for improving diplomatic relations with Skyrim and at the same time got rid of the girl.

Marianne:
"Now, I'm in a Skyrim prison waiting for my execution. Because of witchcraft! I only know two or three spells, lol.
Well whatever, I can't go back even if somehow I got out of here..." And then... dragons. *BOOM*

Notes to read on certain references to lore and an addition of mine:

The Shehai
The Shehai is a spirit sword seemingly made of light and mist that can only be created by master swordsmen trained in the ancient Yokudan swordsmanship arts. When a swordsman can create a Shehai he is bestowed the title of Ansei, or Saint of the Sword. But most of the Ansei can only create an unsubstantial Shehai; only a handful of Ansei throughout history have been able to make their Shehai substantial, turning it into an unstoppable weapon of unimaginable force. The greatest of these few were Frandar and Divad Hunding, the ancestors of Hattu. Unfortunately the way of the Shehai seems to slowly drift away with the passing of time, and only a handful of Ansei are left in Tamriel, and these Ansei are only capable of forming unsubstantial Shehai.

The Ward of Ysgramor(Fan-Fiction)
The Ward of Ysgramor is an extremely racist cult dedicated to protecting human culture against foreign influences at any cost. They were founded by the prophet Maruhk, Borgas the High King of Winterhold and a handful of Nordic nobles shortly before the death of King Borgas. They are perhaps the most secretive cult of all, very few people, including Balak who fought a group of mercenaries funded by the Ward when his Walk About brought him to High Rock, know of their existence. The Ward's members are mostly Nord High Nobles descended from the nobles that helped found The Ward with Borgas and Maruhk. They had a members placed in many courts of Cyrodiil and High Rock in the past but as the years passed the influence of other races proved too strong to hold their influence outside of Skyrim. Having learned from their mistakes the Ward of Ysgramor now recognizes that they need more power to protect the last cultural stronghold of man, Skyrim. And the only way to get this power is by murdering the king and putting one of their own on the throne. However a member of their cult that was supposed to give them a slight majority of votes for the election of the new king was recently disgraced, and removed from court. The actions of The Ward have left Skyrim torn in two over the decision of the royal successor, and the province is now in open civil war.


Rebirth of the Shehai


My character's name is Hattu Hunding, son of Balak Hunding, and Makeli Noshira, two redguards still honoring the old ways of the Yokudan gods of war.

His parents named him Hattu after the "Father Mountain" of Yokuda, they named him after the mountain because his character, strength, and endurance were to be as unwavering as the roots of the mountains themselves. Mount Hattu is where their most venerable ancestor, an Ansei called Frandar Hunding, had written the Book of Circles; a book containing some of the greatest tactics of war, swordsmanship, and secret tactics pertaining to the Shehai.

His father Balak, being one of the last Ansei, had a swordsmanship school in Rihad where Hattu had trained from the age of 5. True to his lineage, Hattu excelled at swordsmanship and attained the highest rank available to apprentices by the age of 12. However his love of sword-fighting kept him away from his true potential as he was never interested in the dusty scrolls of the library or in the lessons of wisdom of his father and mother. Only when he was 17 did he begin his study of the Book of Circles and the way of the Shehai. Withing a year, he matched his father's sword-fighting prowess, and after barely more than 2 years Hattu was capable of forming an unsubstantial Shehai.

Having earned the title of Ansei, and proving himself more adept at both swordsmanship and Shehai than the teaching Ansei of the school, Hattu was sent on the Walk About before his training was officially over. The Walk About is a tradition by which the apprentices having finished their training are sent to roam the world righting wrongs and questing until they acquired the capability of forming a Shehai, decided to follow a different path, or even perished. Being ambitious, Hattu decided to go questing in the most arid and dangerous part of Hammerfell, the Alik'r desert. There he fought countless nomad bands, protected innocents, and went on a few bounty hunts across the desert when the motivations were right. There he fought for 3 years, always keeping contact with his parents through carrier falcons. In the desert his life was ever a perilous one and he missed the confort of the lush oases that grew near Rihad, but he would not return yet, he told himself, for he felt he hadn't yet reached his full potential. This left him only one option, Cyrodiil.

After making his way through the treacherous Nimbel Moor and the barren Colovian Highlands, Hattu found himself on the border of the Great Forest. He fell in love with the lush greenery, strange trees, and peculiar animals that he saw in the forest, and was surprised when he arrived at Chorrol after only a day's walk. He found the architecture to be very strange but loved the way the stone and the trees seemed in perfect harmony, green and gold vines gripping on light gray stone walls, a giant Oak tree in the midst of a cobblestone plaza... However his stay lasted no longer than 3 months, as he received a message from his father to come home as soon as was possible.

Hattu hurried home as fast as he could, sleeping in merchant caravans that shared the same road, and only stopping in cities and small settlements to trade for food. He arrived in Rihad nearly 5 years after the begining of his Walk About, having learned many lessons from the desert and a few more from his brief stay in the forests of Cyrodiil, Hattu had grown into a fine young man and an Ansei without match. Hattu's father had called a meeting of the Ansei, where met the 11 Ansei of Hammerfell. Of these eleven 4 lived nomadic lives of meditation and study on the highest peaks of the Dragontail Mountains or the lost temples of the Alik'r desert. Two more had a swordsmanship school of their own in Stros M'kai. My father, mother, the Ansei that taught at the school with my parents and me were the final four. The meeting was called to discuss a vision of the high-priestess of the temple of Ruptga(basically the equivalent of Akatosh to the Yokudan pantheon), in which Ruptga warned against a breaking in the cycle of life by the Hunger of Satakal(basically the equivalent of Alduin) at the Throat of the World.

Seven of the Ansei voted against taking action to verify the threat arguing that every Ansei is valuable and the mission would prove far too difficult as they had no ties in the province of Skyrim. So the meeting was disbanded and the Ansei returned from whence they came. But Hattu's father was not satisfied with the ruling, and felt that this threat was greater than they realized. So Balak turned to his last option, his son. Hattu, already being an Ansei, could choose when his Walk About ended, so his father asked him to turn his path north, to Skyrim. However Hattu's father warned that he would receive no help in Skyrim and warned him of the presence of a group based in Skyrim called The Ward of Ysgramor. Balak warned that they might pose a threat to Hattu's security as the Ansei are a very big part of Hammerfell's culture, and The Ward of Ysgramor is very antagonistic of foreign influences. Hattu, feeling the same distress as his father, accepted. And after a nights rest and a farewell to his family and friends packed a small bag of provisions and clothing took to the roads leading north.

After Hattu made his way to Skyrim, investigating the talk about the end of the world, he found that his most promising lead was the prophecies of the Greybeards. But on the eve of his expedition to High Hrothgar, Hattu was arrested by bribed guards just outside of Winterhold. He is being framed for the murder of the King and is to be executed for his crimes.


Thanks for reading! I'll be refining it and posting a more detailed version of Hattu's background and the motivations of The Ward of Ysgramor in the Fan Fiction section of the forums.

Use a different font please blue is hard to read with this background.

I would be a random Nord named Dragonborn in that strange language Bethseda made up. Darhakiin or something like that... I will appear out of nowhere and live in a village and become a warrior of pure strength and drink mead on my sparetime :foodndrink:

My story usually develops while i play and as I get used to the game. I'd be glad to get back to you on this, in november...

Ok will do
tell me what u think ok?

haha yeah you just have to remember to almost 7 months from now lol

Anyone else??