backstory Zhilak (“The Weaver”) Argonian Conjurer

[Valtarien]

I am Saxhleel—of Black Marsh, of the Hist, and of destiny. The whispers of the Hist have guided me since my hatching, weaving my life into a tapestry of purpose. In their wisdom, they spoke of a fate that would shake Tamriel to its core. They called me "Zhilak," the Weaver, for I am to thread together the strands of power and reshape this broken world. I have always known I was meant for greatness, but it was not until I set foot in Skyrim that I saw the full scope of my destiny.

Born in the swamps of Black Marsh, I was drawn early to the school of conjuration. At first, it was necromancy that captured my attention—the ability to command the dead felt like a natural extension of my people's struggle for survival in a hostile world. But as I delved deeper into conjuration, I discovered its true potential: summoning daedric forces from Oblivion itself. There is power in bending such beings to your will, and as a rising force in my own right, it felt only fitting to command those who understand ambition and strength.

The Hist have shown me truths that others cannot see. Nirn is no mere mortal plane—it is a creation born from the chaos of Sithis and the cunning of Lorkhan. Sithis, the soul of Padomay, embodies the primordial chaos that sustains Mundus by allowing decay and rebirth. Lorkhan, as his agent, channeled this chaos into creation, forging a world of mortal struggle and ambition. The Hist, as intermediaries between Sithis and Lorkhan, sustain this vision by mitigating the decay inherent in Mundus' design.

I see a deep connection between my people and the dragons—a connection that reflects our shared heritage with these ancient creatures. Dragons, as fragments of Akatosh's soul, embody the stasis that Lorkhan's chaos disrupts. This enantiomorphic duality is at the heart of Mundus' structure: Akatosh enforces linear time, while Lorkhan embodies change and mortality. My role as a Dragonborn—a soul hybridizing both Akatosh's draconic essence and Lorkhan's mortal ambition—epitomizes this symbiosis.

The elves, with their arrogance and disdain for all that is not mer, have always sought to dominate others. They enslaved my people for centuries under House Dres in Morrowind, treating us as chattel unworthy of freedom. And now, under the Thalmor-led Aldmeri Dominion, they seek to dominate all of Tamriel once more. Their rejection of Talos as a god is not just an insult to men but an affront to Lorkhan himself—the very being who gave them existence. They would erase his legacy and undo all he created if given the chance.

But what burns my soul with anger is their blasphemous use of the Heart of Lorkhan. First, the Dwemer, in their hubris, sought to harness its power to create a god in their image. They were punished for their arrogance, disappearing from the face of Nirn as if they never existed. Then, the Dunmer, those grey-skinned descendants of the Chimer, used the Heart to achieve divine status, becoming the Tribunal. Their meddling with the divine essence of Lorkhan was a sacrilege, a betrayal of the very fabric of creation.

I despise them for their hubris. The Thalmor claim they seek to restore Tamriel to its "proper" state—a Merethic Era where elves ruled unchallenged—but I see their lies for what they are: a desperate attempt to cling to power in a world that no longer belongs to them.

When I arrived in Skyrim, it was not out of love for Nords or their Stormcloak rebellion but out of hatred for elves and their Dominion. Ulfric Stormcloak may be a fool blinded by his own prejudices, but his war weakens the Thalmor's grip on Tamriel—and that is reason enough for me to fight alongside him. The enemy of my enemy is my ally… for now.

My hatred burns brightest when I think of what they have done to my people and others like me. They enslaved us in Morrowind; they manipulated the Khajiit into joining their cause by claiming credit for restoring Masser and Secunda after the Void Nights; they perpetuate lies about their role in ending the Oblivion Crisis while quietly sowing chaos across Tamriel. Their arrogance knows no bounds.

But my destiny is greater than vengeance alone. The Hist have shown me visions of dragons—beings whose power rivals even that of the Daedra—and I believe there is a connection between them and my people. Our reptilian nature is no coincidence; it is a reflection of our shared heritage with these ancient creatures. Perhaps we were once their masters before our fall from grace—a fall orchestrated by mer who feared our strength.

When I absorbed the soul of my first dragon at Helgen, I felt something awaken within me—a power older than Tamriel itself. It was as if the blood of dragons coursed through my veins, binding me to their legacy. But this revelation was not without its trials. Miraak, the First Dragonborn, treated me with contempt when we crossed paths on Solstheim. He called me weak—a pretender unworthy of the title Dragonborn—and his words cut deep.

For a time, I doubted myself. But doubt soon gave way to resolve. If Miraak sees me as unworthy, then I will surpass him; if the Thalmor see me as an obstacle, then I will crush them beneath my heel. My vision is clear: I will reclaim the power that was stolen from Lorkhan’s creation and wield it as both sword and shield against those who would see us undone.

I see myself as Tiber Septim's true successor—not merely an emperor but a god reborn in draconic form. Talos ascended through conquest; I shall ascend through destiny itself. And when I take my place among the divine, it will not be as a god of men or mer but as one who embodies change—the force that drives all life forward.

The Hist's whispers now seem like distant echoes compared to what lies ahead, but I know they were right: I am Zhilak—the Weaver—and this world shall be remade in my image.

The elves will learn what it means to defy Lorkhan’s legacy… and when they do, they will kneel before me or be swept away by history itself.