I've been studying Elder Scrolls Lore for the past few days and incorporating it into writing the BG story for my Skyrim character and it has been a blast. I have just completed the Intro to Rh?go's story.


http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1255291-rh%c3%a6go-born-of-fire/

^Go to that link to read my BG story so far.


How in depth is your BG story and how hard have you worked on it?

I clicked 5 times for no effect

*edit* You've changed things...forever

It's totally not letting me link you to it automatically D:< Oh well, copy-paste I guess?

Whoa man, I don't have one but YOU SURE DO! Impressive. You are a good writer, too.

I rarely make up a detailed background story for my characters, usually its a small thumbnail sketch that I get in the back of my mind along with my characters "personality". I like writing but I don't feel there is much point to writing a backstory.

Once I actually get to create Ehrm, THEN a backstory will develop. And as I take the first step towards the guillotine, a new story will dawn. From Ehrm the Prisoner, to Ehrm the Dragonborn!

I appreciate the compliment Razzle! It's a mere draft of what I want it to be, but your words are encouraging.


@CHARK19
I'm sure Ehrm's tale will be absolutely grand, I'd love to hear how it turns out sometime.

Great writing, you've put quite some work into it!

My own characters history is this detailed: http://shilkaskyrim.blogspot.com/p/full-character-history.html

Thanks!
I think there is something wrong with your link, though! I copied and pasted it to search, but led me to a site about pots, pans, and kitchen stuff?!?!

Read the link in my signature.

I don't think of backstories for my characters. I'm a very poor writer

@Shilka

I'm loving the detail and hard work put into the characters! I'm about halfway through and I'm hooked

@CHARK

Pots and Pans?! Blasphemy! I have no clue as to why it's doing that


@X27

The character interaction is interesting and reminds me very much of my brother and I haha! Great dialogue.

@Turbofx

Oh please! Anyone can be a great writer. It's all about commitment and putting your thoughts on paper (or computer screen, in my case). Do that enough, and you'll start to catch on.

And so I was just standing there... naked.

Hmm. I woke up with a bump on my noggin and couldn't remember who I was or what I'd done.

Did you also read: The Viper's Neck

http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1233208-the-vipers-neck/

Good stuff man. Such tension between brothers is rather unhealthy!

I'm not a good writer but I also created my character's backstory after studying the lore the game, so here it goes:

Name: Fenrick
Race: Breton
Age: 31

Ulfgar was an old nordic warrior who roamed the land of Tamriel as a soldier for hire. During one of his travels through Vvardenfell he met a young Dunmer wench whom he fell in love with. To live with his beloved elf, Ulfgar decided to settle in the Dark-Elven province and forsake his mercenary days. Shortly after his marriage the Red Mountain erupted destroying most of the province and killing his wife along with thousands of residents. Emotionally destroyed, Ulfgar wandered the lands of Tamriel once again trying to run from his sorrow and leave his sad memories behind him. Taking sustainance from what nature provided he no longer cared about his future.

His travels led him to Camlorn, High Rock, when he realised his old body could no longer stand the life in the wilderness and so he became a beggar in the streets of the big city. Not that it was any easier to survive there than in the wilds but at least he didn't have to hunt or avoid being hunted by savage beasts on a daily basis.

The year was 4E 170 and while roaming the crowded streets of the "Jewel of West", Ulfgar entered a dark alleyway in search for a quiet place to take a nap. When he was almost falling asleep he heard the sound of what seemed to be a baby crying near a pile of barrels and wooden crates. Upon checking closely he found a newborn baby boy. The image of that defenseless little child left to his own fate broke the old man's heart. Ulfgar took the baby as his own and raised him as best as he could. He named the boy Fenrick wich means wolf in an ancient Nordic dialect. It was hard enough to find food and shelter for himself, let alone a baby but he did his best to protect his adopted son.

Ulfgar told Fenrick about all the adventures he had during his travelling days, often exaggerating a little and also taught the boy how to defend himself. During the harsh winter of 4E 184 Ulfgar died leaving young Fenrick completely alone in this world for the second time in his life.

Fenrick decided he no longer wanted to live in the streets and left Camlorn to search a new life in the outskirts of the big city. There he met Cienne, a young and beautiful lady that shared with him a common past of street life. She told him about a group of thieves who lived in the woods and robbed merchants coming in and out of Camlorn. She said they were a nice bunch and would give her food and coins for valuable information about things going on around the city. Cienne took Fenrick to the thieves where he asked to join them. At first they laughed at him but as soon as he disarmed two of their members with a swift strike of this blade they decided to give him a chance. Fenrick not only joined the group of thieves but he became their leader after a few years. Robbing from rich merchants and noblemen they almost never employed violence, usually getting in and out of the crime scene undetected. Even though their actions were famous in a large region ranging from Daggerfall to Wayrest noone could tell who they were or where they hid.

That was till one day when one of the group members betrayed them for money telling a nobleman who was their next victim about what was about to happen. The guards set up a trap and all of the group was killed except for Fenrick who managed to escape. When he went back to their hideout he found the place torn apart and guards waiting for him. He decided that staying in High Rock was too dangerous now that his identity was no longer a secret and so he fled to Skyrim, the homeland of his father Ulfgar. For the third time in his life, Fenrick was completely alone.

To be continued when I find out how TES V begins...

Not detailed.
I don't feel like knowing the history of my character. I just need to figure out my characters personality, motivations, goals and off I go.
I get more attached to my character as I play along.

That's actually a pretty great story you've got going there. I feel like it could be expanded upon vastly and be made into a full-fledged story even, but alas, that takes determination and a hell of a lot of caffeine.

lol. Unhealthy indeed. Glad you liked it.

Link in OP fixed!

I haven't written a fully fleshed out history for my Bosmer, but I have given enough of a bio to get his moral compass, attitude, feelings, etc.

nice too see their are RPG players here.

For me I was thinking more on the lines of a female argonian priestess/shaman route with powerful ice magic. But seeing how I dont know how the game will begin this time(as they always seem to end up in jail) makes it difficult to write a personality profile to go along with a complete backstory... probably will go with neutral and end up as a assassin, too much bloodshed made her heart cold and froze an entire city.

Thanks, I can see the potential but I don't have the patience or the talent to improve it. Also english is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar mistakes.

@HungryGhost

Not bad! I can see how that little situation of his could get out of hand really fast haha.

@Tsuki12

Jail seems to birth some pretty amazing heroes apparently

@Cpt_Calavera

I totally understand And nah, your grammar is great.


I'm loving these BG stories guys, keep em coming. But it is 4:46am here and I need some sleep! Goodnight (Good-morning) everyone!

First, I wrote this for myself and never intended to post this (but after reading this thread felt I should add mine to the mix). So if there are errors (grammatical, punctuation, or even consistency) or if I break lore too much, please forgive me - I haven't really proof read this.
Second, I started this thinking it would be really short and ended up with a beast so the pacing is a bit off. I started more or less giving basic descriptions and direct prose with the intent of simply defining the story in a more anolytical way. As I wrote it, it sort of became more of an actual story (I had not intended that exactly). Since Skyrim is so close I don't really feel like going back and rewriting the beginning now so...
Third, I did not write the story with the intent to define my character's skills. The idea is that he never had a chance to develop any real skill with anything specific, and is a "clean slate" when he comes to Skyrim. That's not to say I don't already know how I plan to play, just that I did not write this story to try to define his skills - it is a story about where he comes from, not what he does. I will define the latter when I play Skyrim

Anyway, keep the above in mind when reading this. Also, the character's is the same as my user name (explained in the story) not the first guy mentioned at the beginning. The story bridges the gap between Oblivion and Skyrim (its supposed to have been like 200 years right?) Well whatever...

Vos Nellos was a high ranking member of the House of Telvanni of Vvardenfell and a very powerful Dunmer wizard – especially in the schools of Illusion and Conjuration. Secretly a Necromancer, he had a strong taste for all things profane and twisted. His most notable interest was in the construction of undead Golems where he combined dead tissue with living to create abominations of vile rotten flesh he could control. He used these mainly as guards to protect his tower while he continued his research further. His ultimate goal was to construct an immortal body which he could house his spirit inside before his physical body decayed beyond repair. For his own body he would use Dunmer flesh, but for his Golems, he chose to use Nords for their natural strength of mind and body. To fuel his never ending need for living flesh, Vos Nellos chose to use slaves for their ease of acquisition as well as the fact that few would notice them missing.

Two of these Nord slaves were Djohd Balen and Arsa Fulra. At first (as with most of Nellos' Slaves before he got around to using them) Djohd and Arsa worked in the tower's basemant dungeon, cleaning up for their master's abominations that were unfinished. These atrocities produced vile mucus and bile that constantly had to be diluted with water and washed into a drain as they transformed slowly into the design Vos' magic had programmed into them. They were in a kind of prison system to keep them from running loose while the maddening magic slowly took over their minds. Eventually they would become sterile of thought, and Vos could begin working on them – programming thought patterns into them for eternal servitude. Until this transformation was complete, these creatures had to be fed and cared for by undefiled slaves. Djohd's job was to use restraining chains to prevent the monsters from harming the slave who cleaned it's cell. Often times, Djohd had found himself working with Arsa, and it wasn't long before the two found a fondness for one-another being both young twenty-something Nords of apposing six.

Randomly a slave would be called up to see Vos in person – a trip most would never return from. It did not take long for the slaves in the dungeons to figure out that with every five to ten slaves that were called up to see Vos, an abomination would eventually be brought back down in their place – implying his heinous crimes. Not long after falling in love with Arsa, Djohd was called up to see Vos. They both knew it most likely meant they would never see each other again, but they also knew that there was no way to stand up to Vos' terrible power nor overthrow his Golem guards. Reluctantly Djohd left Arsa's arms and headed up to see his master.

When Djohd reached the top of the tower he was ordered to enter Vos Nellos' chambers. Vos explained to him that he needed someone to work with him as an assistant on his newest project. He used Dunmer slaves to test out techniques he had developed from working on his Nord Golems for his own personl future Dunmer body. He had not yet constructed an actual body, but he was at a stage where he was finalizing his experiments on Dunmer Flesh. His most recent project involved alchemical experimentation on varying Dunmer flesh types (such as eyes, or livers). While Djohd did not really understand the details of Vos' work, he gathered that his master needed someone to separate the Dunmer flesh into groups and use preserving methods on them for his future use. Why Vos chose him, he did not know. But knowing he was at the very least staying off his own death, Djohd decided not to question his master in the slightest.

During the months that followed, Vos would explain to his new assistant many of the procedures he was carrying out in full detail. Over time, Djohd began to gain some small measure of understanding of his master's work, and began to even find opportunities to point out possible simplifications or alterations that Vos may have overlooked. At first this angered Vos, but he quickly realized that Djohd was no ordinary Nord slave. Realizing there was something special, something deeper about Djohd, Vos began training him in basic Alchemy and Magick. Djohd learned quickly, and within about two years since his being called up to the upper tower by Vos Nellos, Djohd had developed an apprentice level of skill in Alchemy and Magick.

Djohd had not forgotten Arsa, nor Arsa him. While Arsa thought Djohd had been turned into one of Vos' abominations, Djohd could not imagine what had happened to her and could only assume she had suffered that horrible fate as well. Both grieving the loss of the other, Djohd and Arsa had settled into their work – Djohd experimenting with Vos, and Arsa still cleaning up after the abominations. While they had been apart for over two years, soon they would be joined again when Red Mountain erupted.

The devastation of Vvardenfell forced Vos Nellos to flee his necromantic tower, which was soon buried in lava – destroying his abominations and all of his research. Only Vos Nellos and a handful of his slaves survived. Of those (of course) were Djohd and Arsa. Standing on a cliff overlooking the burning tower in a sea of magma, Vos Nellos did not at first notice Djohd and Arsa's loving embrace. Between his knowing that he would lose control of his slaves if he tried to separate them and his own fondness for Djohd, he decided the relationship was a non-issue. With the mountain's eruption came the realization that they needed to flee Vvardenfell completely, so Vos Nellos and his eight slaves made their way to the coast where they eventually found a ship setting sail with other refugees for Cyrodill.

Vos Nellos may have lost most of his research and all of his political power from Vvardenfell, but he still possessed much of his wealth in the form of valuable magical artifacts. These artifacts were small enough for him to carry on his person or in a small chest (such as powerful soul gems or enchanted rings), but valuable enough to set himself up right once they reached Cyrodill. His slaves had almost forgotten what it was like to be free, but life on the ship slowly helped them remember and it wasn't long before they began to contemplate resisting Vos Nellos when they reached Cyrodill. The trip was long as they had to sail from the east side of Vvardenfell to the south around Black Mash and back north into southern Cyrodill – giving Vos' slaves plenty of time to plan their escape.

When the ship arrived at Leyawiin, Vos ordered his slaves to gather on the dock so he could organize their departure quickly. He knew the slaves were growing restless and wanted an opportunity to “get their minds right” before they left the city. He watched from the deck as each of them left the boat and lined up on the dock – fully expecting some sort of revolt. Not noticing he was one slave short, Vos left the ship last – watching his slaves carefully as he began telling them how the rest of their lives were going to look. His speech was interrupted by a sharp pain in his left side as a sharpened wooden spike was shoved between his ribs.

Shocked, Vos turned to his left as he grabbed his wound to see Djohd glaring at him. Confused by the fact his most trusted and cared for slave had betrayed him, Vos asked simply “why?” Expecting Vos to understand, Djohd returned his master's confusion with his own as he whispered: “so my son would not grow up to be a slave.” Vos, his face now contorted with pain and anger, replied regrettably “what a waste” as he filled all the slaves minds with soul crushing fear. The silence of water lapping against the side of the boat was replaced by screams of terror as the Illusion spell performed it's master's programming. Once again fully in control of his slave's minds, Vos turned his wrath directly upon Djohd as he began melting his eyes from his sockets with mere thought.

As Djohd's burning flesh fell onto the wooden dock, Vos turned to his slaves and spoke directly to their still terror filled minds: “You will do my bidding, or I will torment you unto death.” With that, Vos released their minds and allowed them to recover their composure. Calm slowly returned to the dock as Vos walked up to Arsa. Too terrorized to weep, she kept silent as her master spoke in her ear: “I will not kill either you or your child out of respect for who he was as long as you do what I ask – he was the only slave with enough courage to rise up against me. I respect that, and your child deserves a chance to redeem his father's foolishness.” Arsa tried to nod as Vos turned away and muttered under his breath: “...such a waste.”

Vos shortly began to realize Djohd was more clever than he had thought as weakness began creeping upon him. Realizing he had been poisoned by his apprentice, he simply chuckled. He knew the mild effect was likely due to the lack of proper ingredients and tools on the ship, but the ingenuity Djohd had shown left him with a small sense of pride. “Djohd – ” he thought to himself, “even in death you surprise me” as he quickly cured himself.

Vos ordered his seven remaining slaves to gather in the center of town as he went about his business – knowing fully well his “message” had sunk into their minds. He sold a small Soul Gem at the Mage's guild and bought supplies for their trip North before leaving Leyawiin with his slaves. They quickly made their way through Cyrodill's country side by foot, camping for only a few hours each night. Eventually they came to Bruma where Vos had intended to settle. He didn't like the cold, but preferred the harsh climate for its deterring effect on curious travelers.

Selling all of his valuables, Vos now had enough wealth to begin setting up a new stronghold in which to continue his experiments once again. With his powers of manipulation and his considerable wealth, Vos became as powerful a figure in the region as he once was on Morrowind. Through manipulation and intimidation, Vos managed to find a way to acquire more Nords from Skyrim (and later Dunmer refugees) to continue his operation. His fortress was now underground and few realized the lone cabin in the middle of Cyrodill's frozen northern wilderness contained such horrors as his abominations and rampant slavery. While some locals might whisper of the mad Dunmer Necromancer and his house of horrors, no one really noticed him beyond his occasional trips to Burma and none were brave enough to discover the truth for themselves.

Arsa Fulra had her son, and under careful watch by Vos himself, was allowed to raise him. She had more or less become Vos' personal maid who allowed her to live out her life to it's end. As she raised her son (Dohen), she would often tell him of his father and how they had come to be enslaved by Vos. Dohen eventually also found a mate, and similarly he passed on their family's story. To him it became a story of hope, and how one day the hidden Nord slaves would rise up against the great Dunmer Necromancer and gain their freedom – returning to Skyrim free men.

Out of respect for Djohd and Arsa and to reward loyalty to himself, Vos Nellos began a tradition of sorts. The first born child in the Balen line would serve him in his experiments, be allowed to mate whomever they chose from the Nord stock, and live on his floor of the underground mage tower. They were allowed to have more children if they wished, but only the first gained any special privileges – any others were sent to the lower parts of the tower where they had to deal with the same horrors and conditions as any other Nord slave.

And so the Balen line survived with a qualifying member being born roughly every twenty years. Arsa's son Dohen was the first:
020 - Dohen begat *Sedja.
040 - Sedja begat *Haja.
060 - Haja begat Djoten.
080 - Djoten begat Hoten.
100 - Hoten begat *Johra.
120 – Johra begat Hajot
140 – Hajot begat Urehn
160 – Urehn begat *Araj
180 – Araj begat Baleful
(*) = Daughter, Numbers are estimates of years since Dohen's birth and are not exact.

By the time Araj was born, the story of Djohd Balen and Arsa Fulra and their dream to overthrow Vos Nellos had become mere myth and foolishness to the Balens. Vos had grown increasingly mad over the past two centuries and his experiments had twisted him even further. He had begun experimenting directly on his own flesh – planning to transform his own body rather than implant his consciousness into an abomination after his first attempt ended in failure and nearly the loss of his life. Now a twisted heap of flesh, Vos had more or less reached his intended goal of immortality – though he continued to experiment further. The Balen's could not imagine what he hoped to accomplish, but realized they would forever be bound to the Necromancer's will and that it was time to let their dreams die.

But Araj was less indifferent than the rest of her living family, and retained a spark of hope. The thought of her children living eternally under this mad man's power filled her with enough fear and hate to hope for a way out when all others had given up. When she finally mated at the age of 22, she decided firmly that her child would rekindle the honor and dignity of the Balen line or die trying – mirroring Djohd's courage and determination. Either they would be free, or they would die.

When she finally bore a son, she decided to name him something that contained these concepts. Taking the name Balen and Fulra from her original ancestors, she eventually decided on the name Baleful – to represent both their terrible past and the embodiment of their collective vengeance against Vos Nellos.

Early in his life, Araj would tell Baleful the stories the Balens had passed on. She filled his mind of wonder and longing for Skyrim, and did her best to instill a sense of family pride and passion for freedom. While all of the Balens were rather intelligent, Araj was by far the most intelligent. She was a natural philosopher, a deep thinker, and a romantic. While she knew very little of the outside world, other cultures and beliefs, or even much Nordic lore, she intuitively understood spiritual laws regarding justice and balance. She knew this horrific life could not go on any longer and that the Universe couldn't allow the courage of her forefather Djohd to go to such waste.

Vos had built up a great deal of Karmic debt upon his head, and all it needed was a catalyst to activate it. Araj wanted Baleful to be that instrument of divine justice – the vindicator of all the Nords who suffered and died under Vos Nellos' reign. So she taught him these philosophical principles and urged him to grow up strong, intelligent, and cunning so that he could one day end the cycle of evil they were all trapped within.

Baleful's natural aversion to injustice and strong sense of honor fit well with his mother's hopes and passions – making it easy for his mother to educate him in her worldview. As he came of age, Vos saw enough of Djohd in him to once again take a Nord slave as his personal apprentice. Vos showed him how he defiled the flesh of the living to meld with it, piece by piece constructing his own form. Vos wanted Baleful to help him prepare the victims for assimilation (a rather complex Alchemical process) because the sheer volume of flesh needed was too much for Vos to process alone. Baleful soon realized why Vos had continued his experiments even after transforming his own body – because he was dying.

Vos' body was not immortal at all, and in fact was in a continual state of decay. Days after new flesh had been grafted onto Vos it would begin to die and eventually rot and even fall off. The process had grown out of hand quickly and it did not take many years to leave Vos a slithering pile of undead tissue. Because of this, Vos' need for flesh (and therefore slaves) had greatly increased and had now reached a state where he could no longer keep up with his own rate of decay by himself.

From around the age of 16 until he was 25 Baleful aided Vos in his work, all the while learning as much as he could about the process and how it effected Vos directly. He studied Vos' daily habits – always looking for a weakness of some kind. He learned Vos was able to venture outside only because of his powers of Illusion and that powerful men supported him because he knew their darkest secrets. He learned Vos never slept anymore, but that he would grow weary after “feeding” on new flesh, needing to rest for a few hours as the new flesh bonded to his body. He learned that Vos' body was incredibly fragile to illness or physical trauma because of the dead or nearly dead state most of it was in. All of this began to stew in Baleful's mind, but he was not yet ready to strike – he wanted to plan things out carefully.

While Vos was quite mad, he was still highly intelligent and it did not take long for him to realize Baleful was planning something. The look in his eyes much like that of Djohd was the most revealing fact – the stern look of hatred mixed with defiance, the look of vengeance. Vos decided he needed to send Baleful a clear message that he was not to be trifled with.

Vos sent for Baleful as he had many times before to help him with another bonding ritual. As usual, Baleful would begin opening the jars Vos had selected for that period, and remove the body parts – placing them in a large pan with holes in the bottom to let the remaining fluid drain off. But while Baleful was working he noticed something wasn't quite right. Usually the body parts had reached a kind of dormant state – neither alive nor dead – taking on a kind of gray hue. Instead these parts were quite flushed, as if recently cut from a living body and kept alive through restorative magic. He began examining one item, a right-hand, when he recognized the scar on the middle knuckle. When he was a child of about seven he had dropped and broken a dish which he tried to clean up with a rag. His mother had used the rag and cut herself severely on the right hand's middle knuckle. Baleful was holding that hand.

As he looked up towards Vos in shock and horror, he noticed something even more terrifying – Vos had grafted his mother's face in place of his old one and was looking back at Baleful through her eyes. Baleful knew he could not show signs of rage or violence now or Vos would simply kill him right there. Instead he needed to pretend to be too full of fear to act, and so he played the role perfectly – for his mother. Baleful began sobbing as he fell to the ground. Vos oozed his way over to him, placed a rotten hand on his shoulder and said: “Now, now, my boy – don't cry. Through me she will live for eternity. Now help me cut this dead thing off so I can wear my new hand.”

Baleful looked up at his mother's eyes seeing only her natural beauty and strength of character as if she were telling him: “Its alright – I understand. Wait until the time is right...” Baleful stopped crying, wiped away his tears, stood up, and began going about his work.

From that point on, Baleful did nothing but contemplate how he would destroy Vos – while he worked, while he ate, and while he slept. After several days of careful contemplation, Baleful finalized his plan. No one had dared escape the tower in over 100 years because no one could stand up against Vos nor his minions on the outside. It had not happened in so long, Vos didn't even bother guarding his tower anymore. He came and went as he pleased, knowing fear would keep his slaves locked within. Baleful planned to strike when Vos next left for Bruma.

Vos liked to feed shortly before he left the tower because the newly culled life gave him strength. While he had almost no reason to ever leave anymore, he would from time to time run out of Alchemical ingredients or there would be some political reason to show himself on the outside. Baleful simply waited for such a time. Every time Vos fed, Baleful would be full of anticipation – waiting to see if it was time. After almost a year of waiting, Baleful finally got his chance...

Vos opened the cabin door and walked into the cold night air. His hideous form cast an eerie shadow in the moonlight that did not match the visual illusion Vos had manifested for his appearance. This fact both troubled and humored Vos, and with a short chuckle, he mounted his carriage and ordered the driver to take him into town. As with Djohd on the dock, Vos again overlooked a simple clue – the extra set of footprints in the snow.

Weaving between two close snow covered boulders, the carriage slowed greatly for a moment. As the horse rounded the inside bend it stopped suddenly and started neighing – spooked by some predator. “What is it?” Vos angrily questioned his driver who seemed frozen in place. Vos leaned forward and stretched out Araj's now rotten hand to shake the driver's shoulder only to watch him shatter into chunks of frozen flesh. Vos knew something was wrong, but it was too late to react as a flurry of stabs in the back of what one could call his head sent shocking pain through his body.

Unable to move, Vos felt his illusion fade, revealing his true self in the empty moonlit winter air. When Baleful's black blood covered face came into Vos' view, he immediately knew what had happened. In the gray silence, Vos' now severed mind communicated quickly with Baleful's before he lost consciousness.

Baleful knew Vos had been storing Black Soul Gems in his lab from the slaves he had used in his experiments. He knew that, from time to time, Vos would use these to enchant and sell artifacts to keep his operation going. One such artifact was a crystal dagger enchanted with Frost magick. The incredibly powerful effect was only useful for a single blow before it shattered and was spent, but that was enough for Baleful's needs. He also knew that somewhere inside Vos' disgusting heap of undead flesh must lie a brain and a spine. After killing a disease ridden rat in Vos' dungeon, Baleful soaked a rusty spike in it's blood. Then he made his way to the surface where he quickly left the dungeon before Vos had risen from his feeding induced slumber.

Outside, he scouted old carriage tracks in the snow ahead, looking for an ambush point. Finding the tight spot between the two boulders, he waited for Vos. As the carriage squeezed through the passage, Baleful jumped in front of the horse – spooking it and halting their progress. Before the driver could respond, Baleful plunged the Crystal Frost Blade into his chest – freezing him instantly as the blade shattered into nothingness. Then he dropped on his face and crawled his way to the back of the carriage where he climbed stealthily up behind Vos' disgusting form. As Vos unintentionally shattered his driver's corpse, Baleful struck – stabbing furiously at Vos' bulging neck with his iron spike. After several smooth insertions he finally struck something hard, locking Vos in place and shattering his spine. With each stab, he filled Vos' body with thousands of disease filled blood particles. Even if Vos managed to stay alive, his rotten flesh would now die in-mass.

In the few seconds all of this was communicated between Vos' mind and Balefuls, Vos had already started falling apart. Like layers of an onion being peeled away, Vos' body shriveled up and fell into a pile of meat as the unnatural energy left each victim's severed member. Baleful soaked up the moment, enjoying each second of Vos' agony. As Vos drifted into eternal slumber, Baleful spoke softly: “For my mother – for Djohd and Arsa – for Sedja and Hajot – and for all the Balens, Nords, and Dunmer you tortured and killed. The great Vos Nellos dies at the hand of a Nord slave.”

When Vos' body's last piece fell, Baleful turned around and headed back to the cabin. He marveled at the idea that he, born in a line of slaves hidden to all in the frozen hills, now entered that dungeon for the last time a free man. He quickly made his way to his grandfather Urehn's chambers, explained to him what had happened and how they were all free, and set about freeing each and every slave in the tower.

In minutes, a group of about 300 Nord and Dunmer slaves stood free in the cold northern Cyrodill night. On frostbitten feet they trudged their way through the snow toward Bruma. After a few hours they arrived at the still waking town in the early morning – nearly frozen to death. An elderly woman spotted them and ran back inside her house for a moment. She returned with several blankets and her husband carrying a torch. Soon the whole town was alert and helping the mysterious group. Baleful took it upon himself to speak for the group and tried to explain, to anyone who would listen, what had happened and where they came from.

While most simply listened to his tales in shock, a few seemed angered by their presence – especially the Mayor. With so many needing shelter and aid, everyone in the town was forced to take at least one of the survivors into their home. Calm return to the town and health to the slaves after a few days, but the revelations of what had happened had stirred the town up a great deal. Whether behind a mug or in the shadows, people talked about nothing but the slaves, Vos, and the abominations in the hidden dungeon.

One day while Baleful was helping a Bruma elder chop wood, a guard came to him and told him he was ordered to take him to see the Mayor. Baleful could tell the guard was on edge, but reluctantly obliged him. The guard escorted Baleful back into town as if he was some sort of prisoner. When they entered the Mayor's house they were met by another guard. The two saluted one another, and the escorting guard left. The Mayor's guard told Baleful to sit as he pointed to a chair at a table, and then stood in front of the door – blade drawn. Baleful knew he was in some sort of trouble, but he couldn't imagine why.

After several minutes of waiting, the Mayor entered the room, and stood in front of Baleful. “Do you know why you are here?” he asked Baleful coldly. Baleful shook his head, and the Mayor sighed deeply before he began again. “You've created quite a stir in this town young man. Quite a stir – and you've brought a great deal of trouble upon us.” Confused, Baleful simply glared angrily at the gray bearded man. The Mayor turned away, hands folded behind him, and continued. “What am I supposed to tell the people of this town, that an evil wizard was keeping slaves and abominations right in our back yard?” Baleful replied with agitation: “Why not?”

The Mayor turned around again, pulled out a chair at the table, and sat down. After a moment he spoke again softly, almost whispering, as he leaned towards Baleful: “You killed my son you know.” Baleful's face must have reflected his shock as the Mayor leaned back, folded his arms, and continued: “That's right. My family has been working with Vos for years to keep peace in these parts, and you have ruined that. And now, out of the snow, you and your band of Nords come traipsing into my town as if you deserve some sort of reward for destroying that peace.”

Baleful began to understand. Vos' driver must have been the Mayor's son – probably part of some complex deal worked out between the Mayor and Vos. He knew this was going to end badly for him, but for the sake of his people Baleful decided to play the role of the villain. Before he could speak, the Mayor began again, voice shaky as if he were about to weep: “Did you HAVE to kill him?” The Mayor hung his head for a bit in silence, fist on his forehead as he leaned on the table. Then, leaning back and stroking his beard, he added: “Someone has to pay for his life – it might as well be you.” The Mayor looked up at his guard, stood, and left the room.

Baleful wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he knew Vos had been making deals with local authorities to keep his operation going and he knew those deals involved corruption – secrets no one wanted getting out. As he thought on this, the guard grabbed him under his left arm – lifting him out of the chair as he said: “Come on. Let's go.” Baleful turned slowly and left the Mayor's home. The guard escorted him across the street and towards the jail. Everyone who saw the spectacle mumbled to one another – assuming all too much as most people usually do. When they entered the jail, the guard ordered Baleful to enter the rightmost cell. Baleful froze for a second as he realized he was once again an innocent prisoner and the thought of entering that cell filled him with rage. He felt the butt of the guard's sword hit him in the small of his back, almost sending him over the edge. But knowing the potential pain and suffering his actions might bring upon his fellow survivors, he decided it better to swallow his pride and do what the man asked.

After several days of waiting in that cell, a guard suddenly unlocked the door, slung it open, and told him he had a visitor. It was his grandfather Urehn. Urehn ducked the low cell door bars and sat on the opposite bench to Baleful. Before Baleful could speak, Urehn began: “A lot is going on, and I have very little time. You are going to be taken to Skyrim and released.” Baleful was shocked, but the news was quite good considering his current circumstances. Again, before he could respond, his grandfather continued: “The Mayor has twisted the truth to make it look like Vos was using indentured servants to help him with his work.” Baleful stood up and growled through gritted teeth – fists clenched. Urehn waved his hand as if to tell him to calm down, and continued: “Nothing bad is going to happen, understand me?” looking Baleful right in the eyes. Baleful nodded and Urehn continued: “The Mayor is saying he didn't know Vos was a Necromancer nor that he was conducting such atrocities within those walls. He's saying you over reacted and killed Vos and the Mayor's son in a blind rage.” Baleful just shook his head in disgust. Urehn continued: “He is telling the people that you are being sent away to be tried for murder to appease the confused townsfolk, and he's also sending the rest of us away. The town can't handle so many refugees anyway and I think it is for the best.”

Baleful looked at Urehn with hate saying: “I should kill that bastard in his sleep.” This outburst caused a guard to slap the bars of the cell with the flat of his blade as he shouted “Hurry up old man.” Urehn shouted “One moment” over his shoulder and continued. “Keep calm Baleful. Now – you will be taken to Skyrim and released without prosecution. The Mayor knows we will be back in greater numbers if you are killed and while he does hold the death of his son against you, deep down he knows he was in the wrong.” Baleful stood up quickly while inhaling through his gritted teeth, grabbing his hair with both fists as he turned to the cell window. Urehn's voice changed to one of pity and despair, trying to urge his son to understand as he continued: “It's for the best, Baleful! We don't want a blood bath on our hands. Just leave like the rest of us and don't look back!” Baleful turned around and sat back down, and then nodded. Urehn hugged his grandson and stepped out of the cell. Before he left, he turned back to Baleful as the guard slammed the cell shut and added finally: “Thank you son, without you we would all still be rotting in Nellos' dungeon – you saved us all.” With tears in both of their eyes, Urehn parted from Baleful for the last time.

That night, Baleful awoke to the sound of chains being drug across the stone floor of the jail house. Through torch light he could see guards fiddling with the chains when one said to the other, “go get him.” Baleful stood up and simply waited as the guard opened his cell. He knew he could probably escape if he was determined to do so, but for the sake of peace and for the safety of his family and his fellow former slaves, he suppressed his intense instinct for survival. With a quick jerk of his head, the guard directed Baleful to leave his cell, shut it behind him, and then helped the other guard shackle him. In chains, Baleful followed the tugging of his chain, limped his way across the snow, and climbed into the waiting wagon. One guard climbed up onto the wagon and took the reigns while the other secured Baleful in place on the back. With a quick slap on the wagon's wooden side, he let the driver know he was done, and walked back towards the jail house as the driver slapped the reigns and crawled the wagon through the town gates.

As the torch light of the town was swallowed up in the darkness of the night and the drifting snow, Baleful wondered what fate the Mayor had planned for him when they finally reached the Skyrim border. As the dim crimson stain of morning spilled into the night sky, the wagon came to a stop. Baleful could hear the snow crunch beneath the guards feet as he jumped from the wagon and came to the back. Unchaining Baleful, the guard pointed towards the front. Baleful nodded and walked around to the front of the wagon as he heard another horse exhale. He looked up to see another wagon, already carrying prisoners waiting for him. Baleful looked back at his guard, noting both his expectation of treachery and his desire for a revenge he knew would never be fulfilled. The guard simply smirked and nodded as if to say: “yeah, we got you and there's nothing you can do about it.” Baleful turned back toward the new wagon, hung his head, and climbed into the back. The new guard restrained him, and climbed back into the wagon. The two guards gave a quick salute to one another, turned their wagons around, and went their separate ways. As the land of Cyrodill shrunk before Baleful, he muttered to himself: “I enter Skyrim not a free man, but a prisoner...” Another prisoner looked up at him, there eyes met, and Baleful simply shook his head in disbelief as he gave a quick sigh.