The Elder Scrolls

I finally decided on a backstory for my Argonian and here it is:

TheElderScrolls1 - I finally decided on a backstory for my Argonian and here it is:

My name is Bathes-In-Blood, a mercenary from Black Marsh. I'll kill anyone if the coin is good enough. Since I was a hatchling and first drank the sap of the Hist Trees, I knew my destiny lay beyond the harsh swamps of my homeland. So I left. It wasn't easy leaving my egg brothers and sisters behind, but I couldn't ignore the urgency of the voices in my head, the Hist I assume, beckoning me out into the world. I wandered out toward the edge of Black Marsh, working as a sellsword for various noblemen unwilling to put blood on their own hands. So, I was to be the instrument of vengeance, one who walks through seas of blood where the rest of the world is unwilling, so the rest of the world might keep their innocence.

I received a missive early one morning while drowning my rising insanity at the bottom of a skooma bottle. It was a name, and a pouch of gold. Nothing else. Nothing else was needed, see. I find the name, kill them, and wait for the next name to come. The skooma helped the drag of each passing day feel a little lighter, a little… different. They were just names on a card after all.

But this name was different. Ulfric Stormcloak. I'd heard of him, some rumors spreading around this tavern mentioned the leader of the rebellion against the Empire of Tamriel in Skyrim. Not a rebellion for much longer, it seemed. I grabbed my bow and dagger and headed out immediately, climbing the Jarrel Mountains, asking everyone I passed if they'd known where I could find the Nord Ulfric. One hunter mentioned he'd seen an encampment near Darkwater Crossing, and marked the place on my map for me.


I gave the hunter some gold for his trouble, and headed there immediately. I found the camp easily enough, and posted up in the hills nearby to wait for the cover of night to slip in and kill the Nord in his sleep. I sat back against a tree, the scent of the pines heavy in the air, and the chill of the high tundra biting at the scales of my hands and face. I drowned my emotions in a bottle of skooma again, as they tried to take over again.

Perhaps this was not what the Hist had intended for me. Perhaps I am meant to serve some higher purpose. But how? I am just a lowly Argonian mercenary, bathing myself in blood so the rest of the world could remain clean.

The skooma helped me maintain these thoughts.

Night fell at last, and I left my post to descend into the valley below. I saw him go into his tent, and drew my dagger. But before I could take another step forward, there was commotion. One of the sentries fell dead, a steel arrow in his head. A swarm of imperial soldiers charged in from the west. So, the Empire was trying to steal my kill?

I drew my bow as Ulfric stepped from his tent, a war axe in one hand. Setting my bead on the hardy Nord, I let the arrow fly. It hit him in the knee, and he staggered to the side, confused. I drew a second arrow and set my mark again. I had it aimed for his neck this time. But before I could fire my arrow, I heard footsteps approaching from the left.

Turning around, I saw the front of an imperial shield just as it bashed me in the face. I fell backwards into the dirt, the smell of the pines engulfing me, the world going cold as darkness enveloped me.

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