by Avrie » Fri Dec 16, 2022 12:45 pm
I'm pretty much ready to start a new character, I have an existing character with lots of pics, but the new(est) back story are giving me a reason for a new build. Will the thread stand an evolving story, or is this more for finished stories... I haven't written her story yet. But here is the back story, and I'll attempt her pic. I'm not going to adjust the formatting yet, this is just a toe in the water as a sample
Actually I still need to figure out this personal album junk LOL I just want to drag an drop... So spoiled LOL
Okay, I can't find an upload button anywhere... No idea how to upload an image. I am looking???
Tong and Cheek
Intentionally androgenous … I haven’t chosen a sex for this build yet.
Ugh! What was I thinking? I haven’t been able to sleep or keep food down in days. If I never see another sailing ship it will be too soon. The captain says we should make landfall tomorrow and the storm has finally let up some. I’ll believe that when the ship stops pitching. I’d take the ash wastes over this ordeal any time. Gods if I was any greener you’d take me for an Orc.
You may well be asking what an obvious land lubber is doing on an ocean voyage in a long boat? It wasn’t by choice I assure you. I’ll tell you the tale to take my mind off this gods forsaken journey, but be forewarned it could put you at risk, I’m being hunted you see. No, not by some jealous husband, though in a sense that’s fitting as well. I was an assassin for the Morag Tong and I violated my blood oath by choosing to not fulfill a contract… I see that look in your eye. Perhaps it would be better if I started at the beginning, and it would seem we have plenty of time. Pass the grog if you would. This tale’s going to need a wet whistle. Thank you, ah, vial stuff. Here take this back before I develop a taste for it.
As you can see from my appearance, I’m not a pure blood Dunmer, Bosmer or Altmer. That’s a long story I would prefer not to go into but I’m afraid it’s relevent. My mother was a visiting teacher, suffice it to say she was taken captive by the invading Nords during the red year. She was used viciously and eventually left for dead. I was the result. Being a half breed in Morrowind seriously limited my, shall we say career choices. In a lot of ways, the elves are even more raciest than the Nords. A fact which shaped my path as much as anything in this world. My mother’s as well. She continued to eek out a meager income as a tutor, but my very existence limited who would hire her. I can only imagine what it must have ben like for her to go from being sought after by the great houses, to… unseemly. It isn’t easy to know for certain and be told in so many words that your mother would be better off if you were dead.
But for all her hardships, she always kept me clothed and fed. She taught me what she could. She insisted I learn to read and knew my numbers inside and out. Having a teacher for a mother meant my bedtime stories were more histories than tales. Sometimes boring to the extreme, but I so loved listening to her weave her images. (Stifles a chuckle) She used to ask me a few questions a day or two later to see if I was listening. (sighs) She was first and always a teacher, bless her. I lost her to a wasting disease. The healers said it was from the ash during the red year before I was born finally catching up to her. There was a cure, but it was more than we could afford. I would have done anything to pay for it, even sell myself into slavery, but the only supply still available was in the city. It would take longer than she had to send for it. They were correct. She was gone in a matter of days. That was, let me think, I believe I was about to turn nine… Such a long time ago.
No one wanted me, though everyone was understanding and sympathetic at least to my face. I was old enough to apprentice and being educated set me apart from my peers, but I fear I was deemed unworthy at first glance. So, I turned to the streets to survive. What choice did I have? Petty theft led to a run in with the thieves guild who gladly took me in with no reservations. Which does beg the question as to whom was the more enlightened group? I learned quickly, and found I had an affinity for both locks and potions, and some rather skilled practitioners willing to pass on their knowledge, and let’s face it, with my looks the shadows have always been my friend, at least in Morrowind.
Well the years blended together after that. I amassed a nice little nest egg, and my skills continued to develop. I even had the opportunity to do a favor or two to one of the local magic users. He taught me a few useful spells and said my mother had taught me to learn and that was the most powerful spell of all. I was hungry to learn more, but he couldn’t afford to be seen with me. Now more than ever I had become a creature of the shadows.
One night I had caught wind of a traveling merchant with rich stock and a fat purse setting up camp nearby in route to the capital. A tasty little morsal ripe for the picking for the likes of me. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. I hid just beyond the firelight and watched. The guards were easy enough to avoid, and the merchant looks like he liked his food and drink perhaps a little too much, but I’m experienced enough not to be taken in foolishly by appearances. I waited for one of the guards to turn in and slipped a sleeping draught into the others mug while he made his rounds. With all three of them snoring away contentedly I slid into the merchant’s tent. That’s when everything went sideways.
You see I wasn’t the only one in that tent. I slipped behind the flap and startled another cloaked figure who was placing a dagger at the merchant’s throat. The distraction allowed the merchant to grab the dagger and sound the alarm. He managed to turn the blade and cut the figure badly and I could already hear the first guard stirring in his tent. Thinking I had done this to a fellow thief I reacted by instinct and slit his throat, then slit the tent, and dragged the wounded figure into the comfort of the shadows.
I bound her wounds, for indeed it was a woman and looked over her for a few days while she healed. You’ll forgive me for not mentioning names. You see She was Morag Tong, and I had interrupted a sanctioned contract. But I had also completed the contract and carried her to safety which is probably the only reason I she let me live. It was because of that I was recruited shortly thereafter into her clan, and those are the sorts of opportunities you don’t lightly brush aside. Not if you plan to reach a ripe old age anyway. I found myself in training again. The elders were quite satisfied with my abilities to remain unobserved. I had no real aptitude for murder though. After all I’d spent a good number of years learning how to avoid such unfortunate situations, but I was a quick study which pleased them.
Anyway, that’s how I was recruited, and It was quite a while before I was trusted with missions of my own. I took my blood oath very seriously. Only officially sanctioned contracts were ever taken, and for the first time I found myself being given a measure of respect in the great houses, for the first time in my long and jaded memory. I can’t go into any details and trust me you wouldn’t want to know any of the particulars. Suffice it to say I have had a long and successful carrier which brings us to my current situation. You see we were given a sanctioned contract like so many before, only there was something not quite right about this one though I could not tell you what it was, just a feeling. The contract fell to me as a certain delicacy was needed and my skill with undetectable poisons was well established. This particular contract had to appear as an accident. This was unusual but not without precedent and I accepted the contract for my clan.
That’s also how I met her. She who would be my downfall. You see It takes a great deal of planning to stage an effective and unquestioned accident. The woman I allude to was the mistress of my intended target and would probably be a suspect in the ensuing investigation. As was the nature of my targets business dealings he was away for extended periods of time, leaving his mistress bored, and shall we say open to some agreeable company. I found out through her that her master was not to return for several weeks. Well what started out innocently enough as simply a means to an end, grew into something unexpected and dangerous for both of us. I was forced to take a chance and tell her the truth as her master was due to return the next day. It was then I found out the contract was a fraud.
You see, her master had been instrumental in implicating a rival great house leading to their disgrace and eventual removal from the counsel. The contract accepted was from a crudely disguised member of this disgraced house and was illegally sanctioned by former sycophants looking to curry future favor. Normally, even that would not be enough to stop me from completing a contract. I am after all under a blood oath and my clan would be honor bound to complete the contract and hunt me down as well. And of course, there was her. Funny that she began as the intended suspect of the investigation, now she would be the instrument of my doom. I did the only thing I could, I secretly returned and executed the contract on the issuer not the target, then I ran. I grabbed my little thought of nest egg, and the only heirloom I ever kept from my mother, her mother’s bow and dagger, and made my way through the brackish swamps to Black Marsh hoping to leave no trail. I stumbled across an advert for a museum in the city of Solitude in Skyrim looking for staff to recover ancient artifacts. An opportunity for a fresh start? Perhaps, but it’s only a matter of time before my clan finds me, and they will find me, of this there is no doubt. But it’s at least a place to start where I am unknown, and my "exotic" appearance might even be considered comely not a burden.
Ehh? Knowing what I know, why would I tell you this. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize the craft? By now your limbs are getting heavy, and the burning in your gut is not from the grog. I really am sorry, I truly am. I just wanted you to know why before the end. I owed you that. May the void embrace you.
I'm pretty much ready to start a new character, I have an existing character with lots of pics, but the new(est) back story are giving me a reason for a new build. Will the thread stand an evolving story, or is this more for finished stories... I haven't written her story yet. But here is the back story, and I'll attempt her pic. I'm not going to adjust the formatting yet, this is just a toe in the water as a sample
Actually I still need to figure out this personal album junk LOL I just want to drag an drop... So spoiled LOL
Okay, I can't find an upload button anywhere... No idea how to upload an image. I am looking???
Tong and Cheek
Intentionally androgenous … I haven’t chosen a sex for this build yet.
Ugh! What was I thinking? I haven’t been able to sleep or keep food down in days. If I never see another sailing ship it will be too soon. The captain says we should make landfall tomorrow and the storm has finally let up some. I’ll believe that when the ship stops pitching. I’d take the ash wastes over this ordeal any time. Gods if I was any greener you’d take me for an Orc.
You may well be asking what an obvious land lubber is doing on an ocean voyage in a long boat? It wasn’t by choice I assure you. I’ll tell you the tale to take my mind off this gods forsaken journey, but be forewarned it could put you at risk, I’m being hunted you see. No, not by some jealous husband, though in a sense that’s fitting as well. I was an assassin for the Morag Tong and I violated my blood oath by choosing to not fulfill a contract… I see that look in your eye. Perhaps it would be better if I started at the beginning, and it would seem we have plenty of time. Pass the grog if you would. This tale’s going to need a wet whistle. Thank you, ah, vial stuff. Here take this back before I develop a taste for it.
As you can see from my appearance, I’m not a pure blood Dunmer, Bosmer or Altmer. That’s a long story I would prefer not to go into but I’m afraid it’s relevent. My mother was a visiting teacher, suffice it to say she was taken captive by the invading Nords during the red year. She was used viciously and eventually left for dead. I was the result. Being a half breed in Morrowind seriously limited my, shall we say career choices. In a lot of ways, the elves are even more raciest than the Nords. A fact which shaped my path as much as anything in this world. My mother’s as well. She continued to eek out a meager income as a tutor, but my very existence limited who would hire her. I can only imagine what it must have ben like for her to go from being sought after by the great houses, to… unseemly. It isn’t easy to know for certain and be told in so many words that your mother would be better off if you were dead.
But for all her hardships, she always kept me clothed and fed. She taught me what she could. She insisted I learn to read and knew my numbers inside and out. Having a teacher for a mother meant my bedtime stories were more histories than tales. Sometimes boring to the extreme, but I so loved listening to her weave her images. (Stifles a chuckle) She used to ask me a few questions a day or two later to see if I was listening. (sighs) She was first and always a teacher, bless her. I lost her to a wasting disease. The healers said it was from the ash during the red year before I was born finally catching up to her. There was a cure, but it was more than we could afford. I would have done anything to pay for it, even sell myself into slavery, but the only supply still available was in the city. It would take longer than she had to send for it. They were correct. She was gone in a matter of days. That was, let me think, I believe I was about to turn nine… Such a long time ago.
No one wanted me, though everyone was understanding and sympathetic at least to my face. I was old enough to apprentice and being educated set me apart from my peers, but I fear I was deemed unworthy at first glance. So, I turned to the streets to survive. What choice did I have? Petty theft led to a run in with the thieves guild who gladly took me in with no reservations. Which does beg the question as to whom was the more enlightened group? I learned quickly, and found I had an affinity for both locks and potions, and some rather skilled practitioners willing to pass on their knowledge, and let’s face it, with my looks the shadows have always been my friend, at least in Morrowind.
Well the years blended together after that. I amassed a nice little nest egg, and my skills continued to develop. I even had the opportunity to do a favor or two to one of the local magic users. He taught me a few useful spells and said my mother had taught me to learn and that was the most powerful spell of all. I was hungry to learn more, but he couldn’t afford to be seen with me. Now more than ever I had become a creature of the shadows.
One night I had caught wind of a traveling merchant with rich stock and a fat purse setting up camp nearby in route to the capital. A tasty little morsal ripe for the picking for the likes of me. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. I hid just beyond the firelight and watched. The guards were easy enough to avoid, and the merchant looks like he liked his food and drink perhaps a little too much, but I’m experienced enough not to be taken in foolishly by appearances. I waited for one of the guards to turn in and slipped a sleeping draught into the others mug while he made his rounds. With all three of them snoring away contentedly I slid into the merchant’s tent. That’s when everything went sideways.
You see I wasn’t the only one in that tent. I slipped behind the flap and startled another cloaked figure who was placing a dagger at the merchant’s throat. The distraction allowed the merchant to grab the dagger and sound the alarm. He managed to turn the blade and cut the figure badly and I could already hear the first guard stirring in his tent. Thinking I had done this to a fellow thief I reacted by instinct and slit his throat, then slit the tent, and dragged the wounded figure into the comfort of the shadows.
I bound her wounds, for indeed it was a woman and looked over her for a few days while she healed. You’ll forgive me for not mentioning names. You see She was Morag Tong, and I had interrupted a sanctioned contract. But I had also completed the contract and carried her to safety which is probably the only reason I she let me live. It was because of that I was recruited shortly thereafter into her clan, and those are the sorts of opportunities you don’t lightly brush aside. Not if you plan to reach a ripe old age anyway. I found myself in training again. The elders were quite satisfied with my abilities to remain unobserved. I had no real aptitude for murder though. After all I’d spent a good number of years learning how to avoid such unfortunate situations, but I was a quick study which pleased them.
Anyway, that’s how I was recruited, and It was quite a while before I was trusted with missions of my own. I took my blood oath very seriously. Only officially sanctioned contracts were ever taken, and for the first time I found myself being given a measure of respect in the great houses, for the first time in my long and jaded memory. I can’t go into any details and trust me you wouldn’t want to know any of the particulars. Suffice it to say I have had a long and successful carrier which brings us to my current situation. You see we were given a sanctioned contract like so many before, only there was something not quite right about this one though I could not tell you what it was, just a feeling. The contract fell to me as a certain delicacy was needed and my skill with undetectable poisons was well established. This particular contract had to appear as an accident. This was unusual but not without precedent and I accepted the contract for my clan.
That’s also how I met her. She who would be my downfall. You see It takes a great deal of planning to stage an effective and unquestioned accident. The woman I allude to was the mistress of my intended target and would probably be a suspect in the ensuing investigation. As was the nature of my targets business dealings he was away for extended periods of time, leaving his mistress bored, and shall we say open to some agreeable company. I found out through her that her master was not to return for several weeks. Well what started out innocently enough as simply a means to an end, grew into something unexpected and dangerous for both of us. I was forced to take a chance and tell her the truth as her master was due to return the next day. It was then I found out the contract was a fraud.
You see, her master had been instrumental in implicating a rival great house leading to their disgrace and eventual removal from the counsel. The contract accepted was from a crudely disguised member of this disgraced house and was illegally sanctioned by former sycophants looking to curry future favor. Normally, even that would not be enough to stop me from completing a contract. I am after all under a blood oath and my clan would be honor bound to complete the contract and hunt me down as well. And of course, there was her. Funny that she began as the intended suspect of the investigation, now she would be the instrument of my doom. I did the only thing I could, I secretly returned and executed the contract on the issuer not the target, then I ran. I grabbed my little thought of nest egg, and the only heirloom I ever kept from my mother, her mother’s bow and dagger, and made my way through the brackish swamps to Black Marsh hoping to leave no trail. I stumbled across an advert for a museum in the city of Solitude in Skyrim looking for staff to recover ancient artifacts. An opportunity for a fresh start? Perhaps, but it’s only a matter of time before my clan finds me, and they will find me, of this there is no doubt. But it’s at least a place to start where I am unknown, and my "exotic" appearance might even be considered comely not a burden.
Ehh? Knowing what I know, why would I tell you this. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize the craft? By now your limbs are getting heavy, and the burning in your gut is not from the grog. I really am sorry, I truly am. I just wanted you to know why before the end. I owed you that. May the void embrace you.
Modding on the Spectrum