Born in battle, for battle. This was something War had heard about himself many times while growing up, only his now deceased parents knew how much of the statement was true. Having been bred for battle, War's very existence was been nothing but living, breathing, and loving the battlefield. His parents, having conceived and ultimately given birth to War during the very battles he was bred to fight, this was natural, the very idea of battle had been beaten into his body since he was old enough to walk. Ironic then, that he was chosen y the Nine to receive the soul of a dragon, one of the world's most vicious creatures. This hadn't shown until War had reached the unprecidented age of 13 (it being unprecidented because most children bred for battle don't live past 9 in War's "village"), where War's numorous murmerings turned into a powerful ability most of his people labeled as "magic". War soon become his people's greatest weapon, able to take down a small army with just the use of his words, though this power came with a price, in 8 short years, his people became to fear him, worried that his constant march on his own warpath would lead to their own destruction, and ultimately, lead to their heat, and his eventual exile from his people. Unable to comprehend why he was being abandoned, War flew into a fit of rage, single handedly destroying a small outpost that his people had held for the last 10 years, with the uttering of 3, powerful words all trace of his people from that area were erased from existance. Closing into himself after realizing what he had done, War wandered to the mainland, from city to city as a mercenary. War often pondered if he should give up on his past life, after seeing what it could have done, but something told him to keep moving forward, that maybe, even a warmonger like himself, would be offered a chance at redemption, thus, War took up the mantle of "Mercenary". Simultaniously satiating his bloodlust, and his need for redemption, taking any job that looked like it would offer him the chance at redemption; from clearing caves of unwanted guests (usually goblins or undead, a trifle that even a new born could deal with. War often laughed at this though), to the systematic killing of bandit camps, bases, and other bastions. None of these, however, offered War the redemption he had saught, and after 3 long years as a mercenary he had given up hope, until for some odd reason, he had recalled teachings that an elder had told him. Something about the Elder Scrolls
and how they prophesize events, this struck War as odd, as he had not thought about his people in 3 years. War recalled a prophecy about Skyrimthough the exact details were lost in a fog of memories too painful to remember, War knew he had to go there. Being a Mercenary had it's perks, War had to admit. He had met many a questionable person in his dealings with clients, some of with, specialized in smuggling people over the border of Skyrim under the ruse of a botched criminal transport. War went to his "contact", as he wished to be known, to aquire a favor, as the old cat still hadn't paid War for his last job. The Khajiit agreed, and got his usual band of smugglers to help War across the border, only to stab him in the back and leave War behind when a small band of roving guards had caught them crossing the border, the Khajiit knew all to well what would happen to War if he was caught crossing the border, the death sentence, and saw his way out of a nearly 20,000 septims debt that he had owed War. While the Khajiit got off almost scott free (War managed to fire an arrow into the Khajiit's thigh), War had got himself captured and thrown into prision... and this is where his true story begins...