Why Is Your Dovahkin In Skyrim?

[StayFrosty05]

:dance: StayFrosty05: Is prodigy the right word? Because Eireen is not a child(I mean a child like Dorthe). She is 19, 20 years old in my mod. Because children are so irritating in Skyrim and I also play as her on a separate save. And I do not want to play as a child. I haven´t even thought of portraying her as a child.

 

If that was what you meant with prodigy.

 

And about Lydia´s death: the only thing I had in mind when she died was how I should resurrect her. I was afraid that there would be something wrong if I resurrected her through the console and when I had decided to do it I had already played so much that it would have been a huge step back. And I couldn´t spawn her next to me either.

 

And Kharjo is also my 2nd choice of follower after Eireen.

 

I have given him a makeover:

http://skyrim.nexusmods.com/downloads/file.php?id=16004

@ Niborino....My apologies.... :blush: ... it was meant to be 'progeny', I don't know why I wrote 'prodigy' ....Though, then again I think ''prodigy' isn't too inaccurate, 'Dragons Blood' and it's given abilities is something extraordinary...Just checked it's exact meaning in the dictionary, though most often referring to children, it can also be used in reference to older extraordinary persons....I couldn't play as a child either, I think I would get bored out of my brain and it just wouldn't make sense, thankfully Skyrim is not 'The Sims'.... :woot: .... :happy: Edited May 5, 2012 by StayFrosty05

[StayFrosty05]

@ StayFrosty05: Well, depending upon your personality, a hard life can either make you "hard" or "soft", in the sense I think you're using the term. It can also make you both. Tsarra draws quite a bit from my own personality, although she is, by no means, "me". I was trained to be a professional killer in the military. I know the mentality that has to come with that, and Tsarra has that in her, as well, but like me she's a champion of the underdog -- assuming that dog doesn't bite her.

 

So, yes, she can be soft, caring, understanding, and likeable, ever ready to help out people in need, and she always plays with the kids when they ask her. The flip side of the coin is that if you get on her bad side the claws come out and she shows no mercy at all. She doesn't believe in "honor" (to her, the imposition of rules of behavior by an outside authority). She holds to her own personal set of beliefs regarding what's right and wrong and, to her, those are the only things that matter. In many ways she's an existentialist -- much more so than I am. She could also be considered very "libertarian" in her beliefs. It's why she can see Ulfric's side in the conflict, but she sees her own people barred from his own city, and then wonders just how "good" the man is for all the people of Skyrim, rather than just the Nords. She would kill Ulfric in an instant if he crossed her. She'd do the same to General Tullius.

 

How much of this is based upon the characters gender and race? I'm really not sure, although I'm sure both of those have some bearing. As a Khajiit she feels very much out of place in Skyrim, which is one reason that doesn't side with anybody unless it suits her own agenda. In fact, she often accompanies the Khajiit caravans on their journeys between cities, just because these are the only people in Skyrim to which she can truly feel any "kinship". As a female, her feelings tend to be based upon her natural instincts, which are to nurture and not to destroy, although she is quick to defend anyone and anything which she feels comes under her protection. She'll give people the benefit of the doubt but once they prove themselves to be her enemy she will deal with them ruthlessly and without remorse.

This is a very good read, real depth, thank you RedRayvn...I had not meant to imply yours and trukittn's Dovahkins as ineffectual when I used the term 'soft'...in fact you have described beautifully here what I was trying to communicate...I was noting that both of these Dovahkins clearly have a heart, they are not just purely killer warriors, they are balanced with that giving, heart-full side also....With the way you have described her here I think I would really like and respect your Khajiit if she were real.

 

The 'honor' thing with my Dovahkin... :happy: ...I have a great deal of interest in a number of real life Indigenous Nations and my own pre-Roman European cultural back ground...and so play my Dovahkin as much as I am able with a certain set of rules in his head in line with a number of cultural references relating what I have picked up along the way.

[StayFrosty05]

Most of the time I start my characters out with a smidge of background and an open slate. Even so, they generally end up firmly in the neutral or chaotic good territory as that's what I like to play the most. I seem to have to go out of my way to play a scallywag and its not very enjoyable when I do, since my own moral compass won't allow me to cross certain lines, even in video games. :P

 

That said, I dunno if you'd call my Kitty soft, especially on full moons or when she happens upon a prisoner escort, but she does leave presents and shiny things on the shrines of the Divines when she happens on them as well as pretty flowers around the bodies of slain innocents and soldiers when she wanders into a location that had just seen a scuffle. With very little knowledge of her own culture to cling to, she's being assimilated into the Nordic culture much faster than the members of the Khajiit caravans wandering the province. That doesn't stop her from spending time with these "strangers like her" though, which has resulted in her developing a sweet tooth for moon sugar that she experiments with in her cooking. She steers clear of skooma, though.

 

And even though her preferred method of dispatching bad guys is a well-placed arrow from the shadows, she's not a thief and she's not an assassin. And every now and then, she can't resist the urge to be a big damn hero when given the opportunity. It's neat how the WARZONES mod has brought that out in her. Caught up in the moment, she'll charge across the battlefield howling (mewling?) just like them Nord boys beside her, or rush to their rescue when they are overwhelmed - even though that usually ends up with me watching a dead Kitty roll across the ground in that rub-it-in-your-face GameOver slow mo. But sometimes it works out!

 

Anyways, I think its fun to assign these kinda feelings and thoughts to my characters as I play. It's refreshing to see that I'm not the only one. Eltucu's made me grin. :3

 

I can't do the 'scallywag' either in any game I play, like you I just don't enjoy it....Yes, I know the characters are just pixels in a game, but I still feel horrible when my character does something evil and very quickly loose interest in playing that character any further.....Morally grey I can do and even some very hard decisions...if I can see the hard but honest sense in it...but straight out cruelty and evil just for the hell of it, no I can't....Thus my Dovahkin's will never know the Dark Brotherhood story...I get a real kick out of taking Astrid down anyway... :dance: ....it always irked me that I couldn't rid Cyrodiil of the DB in Oblivion and so take great joy in doing so in Skyrim...As for the Thieves Guild, there was something noble about them in Oblivion, kinda Robin Hoodish, but in Skyrim they are just thugs, I did the Thieves Guild once in Skyrim, never again.

 

I addressed my not clear 'soft' reference in my above reply to RedRavyn....for fear of sounding like a broken record and boring everyone silly... :ermm: .... I would rather not repeat my reply, please read above post trukittn.

 

Yup, my Dovahkin is silly enough to charge into the thick of a fight to save the day also... :happy: ....I know those slow mo death scenes well.... :blink: .... :smile: ....He much prefers whittling down numbers and softening up tougher targets with a few well placed stealthy arrows first....is why I much prefer him working alone as much as he is able, he dies a lot less.... :D

[Fatswordsman]

“Greetings, recruit,” says a voice from behind you. You turn, and see an armored Legion soldier walking up to you. “I hope your training has been going well, because our Captain has decided to promote you to a Legion Ranger. He expects to see you and some other recruits tonight at eight. You’ll meet in the barracks. Carry on then,” and he walks off.

 

The city’s new clock tower was on the opposite side of the district from your post, so you just mark the position of the sun as you always did to know when your shift was close to ending. After two more uneventful hours standing at your post, you see the sun dip below the city’s outside wall, and right on cue, the clock tower bell begins ringing, signaling your relief at six. You glance around, and within three minutes, you see the night guard Darius approaching.

 

“Hello friend,” he says, shaking your hand. “I heard the news about your promotion, about time if you ask me…I have yet to win a sparring match with you. Head over to the Market District and see if you can get one of the armorers there to polish your gear, and head straight across the bridge to the prison afterwards. Don’t be late, the Captain hates that.”

 

You do as he said, and just as the sun signaled eight-o-clock, you push open the heavy doors into the barracks, your freshly polished armor gleaming in the torchlight. There are a number of recruits sitting on various surfaces in the barracks, and the Captain, in his silver and gold armor, strolling around the cramped room. He turns to you as you enter, and opens his arms wide. “Ah, glad to see you made it!” He points you to a chair in the corner of the room, and turns to address the rest of the recruits.

 

“As you all should know, I am Legion Captain Agrippa. Each of you ten recruits has shown great potential in both swordsmanship and marksmanship, as well as skill on horseback. You all will become Legion Rangers, traveling Cyrodiil while keeping the roads safe for unarmed civilians. However, before you can take these positions, there is an important matter with our men in Skyrim. There has been a number of attacks on legion soldiers by rebels known as the Stormcloak. Our task is to travel to the province of Skyrim and aid the soldiers there until permanent replacements for their lost men can be provided by the Empire. As of this moment, you are all officially Legion Rangers. We will leave for Bruma in the morning, and continue north from there. That is all.” And the Captain leaves the barracks

 

***********************************************************

 

“Wake up, Nord,” says a deep voice from beside your table. You open your eyes and see Captain Agrippa, sitting on a barstool, sharpening his large battleaxe. You sit up, and look around the room. The nine other Rangers sat around the inn. You had arrived before them due to Captain Agrippa sending you ahead to inform the town of your arrival, and you must have drifted to sleep while waiting for the rest of the men. He stepped back, and a smaller man walked up to you, his armor, which was much too large for him, clanking around noisily.

 

“Hello there friend. I’m Alexander Maurus, a new Ranger like you. Anyway, here’s the plan; this inn is way too small for our numbers to sleep at, so we’ll begin traveling north and set up camp in the forest come nightfall. Our horses are crowding the town’s stable so lets head out eh?” He lifts his sword, also much too large for him, and exits the inn. The other guardsmen follow suit. After three hours of travel high into the mountains, the Captain throws up his hand, signaling the group to stop.

 

“We camp here,” he grunts, and he slides off of his horse, tying it to a nearby tree. You help the other men set up their small tents, and once the campsite was in good shape, you sink to the ground, leaning on a tree. You breathe in the thin mountain air, gazing across the moonlit province, the massive Imperial Palace visible even from this distance. You hear the distinctive clanking of Alexander walking towards you, and you snap yourself out of your daze.

 

“The Captain says we’re only an hour’s walk away from Skyrim. Get yourself out of your armor and have a good night’s rest, we’ll need it for the journey to Riften tomorrow.” You take the young soldier’s advice, and unstrap your heavy Legion armor, placing it against the tree you were leaning on. You crawl into your tent and fall asleep almost instantly.

 

************************************************************

 

“WHERE’S ROLAND? ROLAND!?”

 

“CAPTAIN, BEHIND YOU!”

 

The sound of metal hitting metal, the sight of red light flickering through your eyelids. You faded back into sleep.

 

“Ralno, they’re all Legion, from the Imperial City I would guess, from their armor.”

 

“Search the bodies, perhaps one of them has orders as to why they’ve come so close to Skyrim.”

 

“I doubt it. Their captain managed to escape. Not to worry, he ran towards Skyrim, the reinforcements on their way from Windhelm will capture him.”

 

You open your eyes, trying to shake yourself out of your strange dream. It was still dark out, and you peek your head through the small opening of the tent. You stifle a shout, and retreat back into the tent. It was no dream. Imperial bodies littered the ground, the light snow red with their blood. You could see men wearing various furs walking through the carnage, poking through the bodies with their weapons, checking for survivors. They must have missed your tent due to it’s concealed position between two large bushes.

 

Just as you finish this thought, you gasp as your tent is violently ripped from the ground. A tall, mad-eyed Nord stands above you, drawing his sword. You kick out, smashing your foot into his stomach, and he doubles over. You leap to your feet, drawing your small dagger, sinking it into the back of his neck. You clasp your hand over his mouth to stifle his moans, and after a few seconds, he goes limp. None of the other Nords heard, and you take the man’s sword and sprint into the forest. The canopy of the trees block out the stars, and you could not determine which way was north or south, you just had to get away from the campsite. After ten minutes of stumbling blindly through the thick forest, you trip and tumble down a large hill.

 

You groan, and push yourself onto your knees. You can hear shouting in the distance, and you look around madly. You squint to see through the darkness, and you see a wooden door hanging on a broken hinge, leading into a dark cave under a small hill across from you. You sprint into the cave, shoving the sword into the dirt above the entrance. You jerk the blade around, and step back as the entrance caves in. It was only dirt, you would be able to dig out of it easily if you had to.

 

While Magic was not your strong suit, you only needed light, so you held out your hand and struggled to ignite a small ball of flame in your fist. It was not the most powerful light source, but it would do. You look around the cave, and see the passage descending into the ground. You had no real choice but to follow it, find either a way out or a way to hide from the attacking Nords until they left the area.

 

You wish you had your armor. As a Nord, the cold meant nothing to you, but you feel very vulnerable to any form of attack. The sword was also uncomfortable. It was much thicker and heavier than the steel swords provided in the Imperial City. You lightly slide your finger across the blade, and feel the slight prickling of a professionally sharpened sword. While heavy, it would do fine in combat.

 

You slowly proceed further into the cave, holding your small flame ahead of you. Not only could there already be enemy soldiers in the cave, there could also be animals, bandits, or any number of other hostiles. You keep the sword clenched tightly in your hand, peering around every corner you come across in the dark cave. You notice that you were no longer descending, and the cave flattens out into a narrow hall fading into the darkness.

 

After about ten minutes of walking in a straight line, the narrow path begins to widen, and you can see wooden beams supporting the ceiling of the cave. You place your hand on the wood, and you can tell that it was placed there recently. There was no rot or large cracks, someone must either be inhabiting the cave, or have done so recently. You continue through the continually widening cavern, and you see light in the distance. You close your fist, and the flame dissipates from your hand.

 

The light was flickering, meaning it was fire, not daylight. You didn’t even know if it was day outside, it was pitch black when you entered the cave, and you had made the mistake of not noting the position of the moon in your panic. You drop into a crouch, and slowly make your way towards the fire. You come upon an opening in the cave, leading into a wide, circular chamber, an absolutely massive fire burning in the center. Roasting over the flame was a very strange creature, it was large and heavy looking, with large fins protruding from it’s sides. It had a long, wide, and pink beak on the front of it’s face, and a tail that resembled that of a whale.

 

There were massive chairs, beds, and a nine-foot-wide ladder leading up into another part of the cave. You felt apprehensive about continuing through this cave, you had heard stories of Giants who resided in Skyrim, and it appeared that you had just wandered into their home. There was nothing to walk back to, and you could hear no sounds from inside the cave.

 

Very slowly, you begin to creep into the large chamber, and no sooner than you set foot into the cavern…

 

“Hey!” A loud voice shouted from directly behind you, and you nearly fall over from shock. You stumble forwards, spinning around and find yourself staring at a Khajiit and a Nord tied to a couple of pillars leaning against the wall. “Hey buddy, we could use some help here. We were captured by these Giants and they could be back any moment,” the Khajiit hissed.

 

You step back, raising your sword, anticipating a trap. The Nord struggles with his ropes, and stares at the sword you took from your earlier attacker. “We are not enemies of yours, Stormcloak. We have no business with the rebellion or the Legion, just cut us out of here before we become the Giant’s second dinner,” he says, motioning at the roasting creature with his head.

 

Just as this Nord said, you also had no real desire to get involved with the wars in Skyrim. You just wanted to get home to the Imperial City.

 

You walk to the pillar, and begin to chop at the two inch thick ropes binding the two captives. Just as you nearly have the Khajiit free, he kicks out, knocking you to the side just as a ten foot long bone crashes down onto the spot you were just standing. You hear a deafening roar as the Giant drops down from a perch above you, it’s landing shaking the foundation of the cave. The Giant was wearing what appeared to be the skull of a massive beast as a helmet, and a strapped together ribcage as a cuirass. It picks up its bone sword, and with another roar, charges straight at you.

 

You dive away, but the Giant was surprisingly quick to turn, swinging its weapon in an arc towards you. You throw yourself to the ground, but the weapon grazes your arm, and while the weapon was not sharp, the weight of the attack dislocates your right shoulder. You yell in pain, your sword dropping from your hand, and you begin to crawl away from the Giant. It stomps towards you, lifting its two-meter long foot off the ground, and out the corner of your eye, you can see the Khajiit break free from his binds. You exhale deeply, and push off with your left arm, rolling out of the way of the Giant’s stomp. You continue to roll away, and you can feel your dislocated shoulder nearly ripping from the motion. You scream in agony again, coming to a stop and breathing heavily.

 

Before you can even refill your lungs, the Giant is on you again, its foot once again raised above your body. You try to move, but your shoulder throbs with unbelievable pain, and you remain motionless. The Giant begins to bring its foot down, and you curl up just as the Khajiit launches himself on top of you, thrusting your stolen sword upwards into the Giant’s foot, sinking it in to the hilt. The Giant roars and falls backwards, once again shaking the whole cave.

 

The Khajiit rips the sword from the Giant’s foot, crouches down, and then leaps through the air, landing on the Giant’s chest. He brings the sword above his head, and shoves it into the Giant’s left eye, jerking it around violently. The massive creature roars in agony, and throws out its hand, grabbing the Khajiit around the middle, and the Giant gets to its feet, holding the Khajiit out in front of it. Before it can begin to squeeze, the Khajiit wrenches his arm from the Giant’s grip, and you see two inch long claws protrude from the cat-creature’s hands. He slashes at the Giant’s wrist, and it roars once more, throwing the Khajiit towards the cavern wall. With incredible agility, he kicks off the wall and launches himself through the air again, this time sinking the blade into the Giant’s back as it stumbled around holding its eye and wrist.

 

Blood pours from both of the wounds like water through a broken dam, but the Khajiit would not relent. Sinking the claws of his left hand into the Giant’s flesh, he drew the sword from its back, and thrust it in again and again. Eventually the Giant collapses, still thrashing on the ground, and the Khajiit rolls off, calmly strides to the Giant’s head, and slashes its throat wide open. After one more death throe, it lay still.

 

The Khajiit walks over to you, holding out his hand. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. “Well, you’re certainly no Stormcloak. I’ve never seen one lose so badly in a fight,” he laughs. “Ah well, it’s unimportant. Let me see what I can do about that arm…” Without warning, he grabs you by the shoulder and violently jerks your bone back into place. You try to stifle a yell, but the pain faded soon after.

 

“Hey, Dar’Krishan, think you could do something about this?” You turn your head, and see the Nord still tied tight to the pillar. The Khajiit lets out another laugh, and jogs over to the pillar, cutting the Nord free, and then he tosses you back the sword. The Nord walks over to you, stretching out his arms. “I thank you, brother. Without your help we certainly would have perished down here. I don’t suppose you know a way out?”

 

You recount the story of how you ended up in this cave in the first place, leaving out the part about you being in the Imperial Legion. The Nord sighs. “Aye, you were definitely attacked by members of the Stormcloak rebellion. They’ve been very hostile towards outsiders recently, and I suppose it’s warranted with the Imperials and their recent rash of executions. They can’t risk letting any more Imperial reinforcements into the province. As I said, I’m not on either side. We should find another way out, if we go back the way you came, who’s to say the Stormcloak won’t greet us with a volley of arrows.

 

The Khajiit, Dar’Krishan, agreed with this statement, and the three of you begin climbing the massive ladder up to the rest of the cave. The ladder leads into a very wide and tall path, easily high enough to accommodate even the tallest Giant. “Keep up the pace, I’d rather not get into a fight with more of those creatures,” and the Nord begins to jog ahead. You and Dar’Krishan keep up, and eventually you come to a turn in the cave, with a massive stone door blocking the exit. You and the Nord push against it, but it won’t budge.

 

“Stand back, I can get this,” Dar’Krishan says, and he holds out both of his hands, and a stream of purple light bursts forth, and a massive being of ice stood before you. The Nord stepped back, glaring at Dar’Krishan. “If you could do that, how come you didn’t do so with the Giant!?” he yells.

 

“Well that wouldn’t have been as much fun, eh?” the Khajiit laughs again, as the Frost Atronach begins to pound on the large door. Eventually the Atronach manages to shove it open enough where the three of you could squeeze out into the darkness. It was still the middle of the night, the moon only a little lower than midnight. You listen for any sounds in the distance, but all was quiet.

 

“I thank you for freeing us, Nord, but we must go our own way now. I wish you a safe journey, be wary of any armed men you see in this province. It seems as though that cave was a path leading into Cyrodiil, but we are back in Skyrim now.”

 

“Goodbye, brother. I thank you as well, and hope to meet you again one day,” and the two of them run off into the forest. You know you needed to head south in order to get back into Cyrodiil, so you check the stars, find North, and begin heading in the opposite direction.

 

The pine forest in the mountains was extremely thick, you had to wind your way through trees and had a visibility of nigh ten meters. After what felt like an hour of slashing through branches and tripping in thorn bushes, you finally break out of the forest, and sigh in relief as you see the Imperial Palace far in the distance. You glance around, looking for a path that might lead down the mountains, but you’re interrupted by rustling in the trees behind you. You spin around, raising the sword, and see at least fifteen men emerge from the trees, all wearing the same fur and cloths as the party who attacked your camp.

 

One of them raises his axe and charges towards you, but he is grabbed by two of his companions and held back. “Don’t attack him, he’s one of us!” one of them yelled.

 

“He has our sword, but not our armor.”

 

“Who are you, why do you have our blade?”

 

Thinking quickly, you explain how your brother was a Stormcloak, and had died in battle, and you had traveled here from Windhelm to try to join their ranks. The sword belonged to him.

 

One of them snatched the blade away from you, smelled the blade and then gave it a small lick. “Giant’s blood! HA! You are indeed not of the Legion, that’s for sure. Those bootlickers would piss themselves at the mere sight of a Giant!” One of the other men stepped from the ranks.

 

“You must be Faren’s brother. He spoke of you all the time, his death was a sad one, but there is more glory to be found in Sovngarde, my friend. Of course you may join us. We’ll get you armor once we return to Windhelm. We just traveled from there to back up our soldiers watching the border, you must have been right behind us the whole way.”

 

The first man spoke again. “Come with us back to camp, we’re going to search for the other Stormcloak in the morning.” You follow the group through the forest, and see fire flickering through the trees. You come into a clearing, and see three other men sitting around the fire, roasting a large boar.

 

“Welcome back, who’s the kid?” one of them says.

 

“Faren’s brother. Apparently he followed us all the way from Windhelm, no short journey for one man. Not only that, he’s slain a Giant!” And before you could even get anyone’s name, half the men were embellishing stories about you, shoving mead into your hand, and generally treating you as one of their own. After a few drinks, you decide to pry them with some questions. Trying to be vague, you ask them what the Legion had done to each of them to cause them to join the rebellion.

 

As soon as you asked this, the whole camp went quiet. One of the oldest men in the camp spoke up. “As you know, the Legion’s been oppressing Skyrim for many years. They think they can march in here and take our homeland, but we will not allow it. They burn down our homes, rape our women, enslave and even attempt to recruit our children. Many of our men have had to kill their own friends and family because they tried to defect to the Imperials.

 

They indiscriminately execute any who try to stand against them, and they act like it’s some form of justice. I’ve seen kids no older than thirteen meet the chopping block for pickpocketing or stealing petty objects from the Legion. We’re at war, boy, and I’m sure your brother looks upon you with pride from his home in Sovngarde. We do not fight for glory, we fight for freedom and our home. Remember that.”

 

The rest of the night was quiet. You were shaken awake early in the morning by one of the Stormcloak, and saw the rest gathered around the older man, who was seemingly about to either give orders or some kind of speech. You sit up and join the rest of them as their apparent leader began to speak.

 

“Right before I woke you all, our scout returned with news of a Legion camp that was burned to the ground just east of our position. We’re to investigate it, as its destruction was likely caused by our brothers watching the border. Pack up the tents, and the rest of that boar better be in your gut or in the garbage, we need to head out in twenty minutes, we have no time to smoke the meat.” You scramble around the camp helping the men pack their tents, and take a few good chunks out of the boar.

 

You could not believe you were actually traveling with the enemy. They slaughtered your comrades, some of your friends. However, you couldn’t help feel conflicted about this entire thing…if they spoke the truth, this rebellion was indeed justified. You push the thought from your head and finish packing the last tent, and begin following the rest of the men into the forest.

 

After hours of travel, you begin to smell burning flesh in the distance. Soon, you come onto the road where your Legion party had camped. Imperial bodies were scattered around like thrown dolls, blood had soaked the road red.

 

“Lets get down and search for any signs of the other Stormcloak’s location. Also, on another front, Ulfric himself has been gathering Nord allies from Bruma, and he should be leading them towards Skyrim as we speak. They‘ll likely be coming through this road some time today. We will wait here until they arrive, and then continue our search,” the leader says. He then turned to you and spoke again. “See that hill? You can climb to the top of that hill and keep lookout, there could easily be a Legion ambush waiting for us. Yell if you see ANYONE approaching us, as we’re also waiting for Ulfric, our leader, and any aid he brings from Bruma.”

 

You do as he said, laying prone under a bush on the hill, eyes peering over the burned campsite. Why, in name of Martin, were you actually keeping lookout for your ENEMIES? You sigh deeply, and continue to scan the landscape. It seemed like forever that the Nords searched the burned camp, and you felt yourself drifting into a daze when you saw movement in the forest to the east. And then you saw it, the dark metal armor of Legion troops moving through the trees.

 

You find your mouth open, about to shout in order to warn the Stormcloaks, but you force it shut and groan. You could not betray the Legion, but you wouldn’t join them in the fight against the Stormcloak either. You stand and run, sprinting as fast as you can through the forest. You run and run, until the fighting fades from your ears. Eventually, you slide to a stop, breathing heavily. You look up into the sky, just as the sharp pain hits the back of your head. Everything fades to black as you collapse to the ground.

 

“Is he one of the Stormcloaks?”

 

“I don’t think so…we found him crossing the border.”

 

“He has their sword.”

 

“But why didn’t he join the fight? Stormcloaks are certainly not known for cowardice.”

 

“No matter, he tried to sneak into Skyrim during a civil war. Stormcloak or not, he must face execution.”

 

“Very well, bind his hands and throw him in the wagon with the others.”

 

*************************************************************

Alduin, Eater of Worlds and the Bane of Kings, has risen again,

and with skies fire-paved, he brings the destruction of the mortal plane of Nirn.

There is one, a Son of Skyrim, who has the power to defeat him.

 

 

The voice booms through your head, you try to look around, but all you see is fire and corpses. Buildings collapsed in the distance, and in the skies, great winged beasts breathing fire upon the land.

 

Roaring, flame, and finally blackness.

*************************************************************

 

You shake yourself awake from this nightmare, and after getting your bearings, you find yourself sitting in a wooden carriage being pulled down a bumpy road. There are three other men in the carriage with you, two Nords wearing Stormcloak furs, one of whom was gagged, and another wearing simple patched clothes. The wagon was being pulled by a Legion soldier, and there was another carriage, also carrying Stormcloaks, being pulled down the road ahead of you. The Stormcloak sitting across from you looks up.

 

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there…

Edited May 7, 2012 by Fatswordsman

[Cynster]

My character tried to join the Thalmor, but they realized she was a breton with fake elf ears and kicked her out. So now she's a forsworn killing any envoys, whether they are imperial, stormcloak, or thalmor. And rich travelers with bodyguards, because they look suspicious too.

 

I also have Mulder from the X files - he was trapped in some crazy parallel universe time portal and ended up on the chopping block. Luckily he escaped and learned he could learn magic from the college of winterhold, but they didn't accept him because he couldn't produce a fire demon.

Edited May 5, 2012 by cynster

[dingleface]

Orion - The Imperial ex-legionnaire

 

Born under the shadow of the white gold tower, this Cyrodiil native was raised under the strict law of the empire. His Father was a Legionnaire, his mother was a Legionnaire, and it was obvious that when he would come of age he too would be a legionnaire. As he grew in rank, Orion found a home in Bruma and a beautiful wife to settle down with. They bore two healthy children and were happy. But one night, a band of nordic cultists who warship the ancient legendary dragon "Alduin" sneak into Orion's home to assassinate him. To the cultist's dismay, the Legionnaire was not home, but the blood of his family would suffice for now. Upon his return to home and witnessing the blood soaked walls of his home, he was spotted by local guards who had heard the screams of his family. Orion was taken into custody for the murder of his Wife and sons. His mind cloudy with confusion and his heart broken, he had lost his family and was betrayed by his own empire who had sentenced him to death. An honorable man he was, he would have served his time if the punishment was rightful, but given the circumstances he had to escape. Orion wandered the land of Cyrodiil for two months piecing together his thoughts when he heard word of his old friend from Black Marsh, Derkeethus, had joined a mining group in Skyrim. Being a wanted man in his home of Cyrodiil, he decided to cross the boarder into skyrim, where he was caught by a group of Imperials. These imperials did not recognize Orion as a wanted man for word must not have reached the group in Skyrim, but still he was condemned to a headsman's block. In the village of Helgen.

[Niborino9409]

I will return with the story of Eireen when I have made her one! :biggrin: Edited May 5, 2012 by Niborino9409

[AnubisRaven]

Jah-Ohn was an Argonian dockworker (He was born there) who got fed up with the low wages and the way the argonians of Windhelm were treated by the Nords, so he left. Now, he quests the land, slaying draugr and running away while screaming from giants. One day, he hopes to return to Windhelm and marry Shahvee, his love.

 

And that's about all I have for my Dovahkiin's origin story.

[Dovagriffin]

My character George, is a nord that was bought up in the docks of the imperial city. He lived with his mother, a poor imperial dock worker and his nord father, a member of the fighters guild until he took an arrow to the knee and was forced to leave, in a small house on the edge of the docks barely able to make enough money to live.

 

The docks were not the ideal place to be bought up as a child, corrupted guards, thieves and a wide range of low life's but his father taught him to be honorable and told him stories of sovngarde and showed him the ways of battle. While his mother worked the long hours for little pay. Eventually his father recovered and left George and his mother for a group of mercernarys Leaving her in a terrible state

 

Many years past since georges father left and his mother had been married to a wealthy red guard sailor. They lived in a nice house in anvil and george was quite the ladies man what with his big nordic muscles and charming good looks. He made a fair bit of money for himself to as a local hunter thanks to what his father taught him and sold his pelts and hides to khajiits caravans who paid a good price. One day he was out hunting when he came across his long lost father who had tried to find him having come back from making his riches adventuring in skyrim. His father asks about his mother and explains what has happened. Georges father understands and goes to make things right again...

 

Upon meeting back with his ex wife, georges father tries to get back together with her but she sends him out of the house and tells George not to see him again. George does not listen and sneaks out to meet with his father to hear stories of his adventures. After several weeks georges father entrusts to him a sum of 5000 gold and his legendary glass bow. On returning home that evening George's mother finds he goes to see his father and sends her husband and his alik'r warriors to bring her back his head.

 

They return a week later with his head and an enraged George storms off to skyrim to start a new life there. He buys himself a fine set of steel plate armor and sets off on a tour of the great cities of skyrim. He spent his money on drink and spent his time flirting with women.

 

It had only been a month since he journeyed to skyrim and already he had bounty in a few holds. He had turned to the world of thievery and spent most of his nights in the taverns. It was until one night he was ridiculously drunk that he woke up in a carriage on his way to helgen with no possessions and who he believed was ulfric storm cloak. It was then that he realized that he was at the end of the line...

 

 

George leaves helgen realizing he will change his ways and become a warrior and swears revenge on his mother husband the alik'r who come by white run looking for saadia

[StayFrosty05]

@Fatswordsman....Are you a writer? Thank you for your Dovahkin's story, I found myself immersed and not wanting it to end, loved the ending though, how you tied it all in so beautifully and the uninterrupted flow into the game. You have given your Dovahkin real substance, must be a joy to play....Thank you again.

 

@Cynster....You have one of the alternate start mods? I have thought about the Forsworn alternate start, but haven't tried it out as yet.

 

@ Dingleface....Your story leaves me curious as to whether your Dovahkin chooses to join the Civil War or not and if he does, what side does he join and why?

 

@ Niborino....I'm looking forward to it.... :happy: .... would love to see where you decide to take her.

 

@AnubisRaven....I think it's something of a shame that the species we play doesn't get more of a reaction from various NPC's in the game, you could get some real substance and interesting dialogs matching in well with your story if Bethesda had included reactions....I personally find it very odd that the Dark Elf merchant asks my Nord to help him out with the stolen ring in Windhelm, why would he trust a Nord....I'm very fond of Maddanoch for that reason, the sh*t he gives my guy about being a Nord....Non humans should really be a very rich choice of protagonist in Skyrim for comments and dialog....By the way, I love your user name.

 

@ Dovagriffin....'Arrow to the knee'.... :pinch: ...WHY!.... :ohdear: .... :tongue: ....Poor George hasn't had it easy, what a family life.