» Sun Jun 10, 2012 1:23 pm - Name: Barristan the Bold
- Class: Pit Fighter
- Alignment: Lawful Neutral
- Race: Argonian
- Build: http://skyrimcalculator.com/#89229 (Some of the perks are explained in the story)
- Rules and Restrictions:
- Master difficulty only, never sliding it back.
- Never fast-traveling. Ever. For any reason.
- No magic whatsoever (aside from Restoration)-- be it staves, scrolls, etc.
- No shouts other than unrelenting force-- the others are too "magey"
- Bandits are killed on sight, and any vs. bandits quests are prioritized
- Master difficulty only, never sliding it back.
- Notable mods:
- Deadlier traps (they'll 1-shot you)
- Tougher dragons (...yeah)
- More dragon loot (self explanatory)
- Faster horses (eases the burden of no-fast travel)
- Deadlier traps (they'll 1-shot you)
Barristan Selmy, an Argonian native of Cyrodiil and fisherman by trade, made a meager living selling his daily catch outside of Skingrad and offering his modest healing services to the town folk. It was a simple but honest life. He fathered no children, held no wife, but he was content. One cold, dark night Barristan was collecting fish and lizard eggs near the border of Black Marsh when he was ambushed by a large group of savage yet organized Orc bandits. Barristan managed to kill three of the bandits with nothing more than his quarterstaff before he was overwhelmed and captured. Their leader, impressed by the ferocity and courage he displayed, decided that instead of killing Boros he would sell him to the pits at the Arena District of the Imperial City.
The slave masters paid good coin for Barristan, and ignored his pleas and explanations that he was a free native of Cyrodiil, a simple fisherman. After watching his prowess with a sword and shield, the masters disbelief to his history grew and grew. Barristan, known to the masses as "Barristan the Bold," was generating so much coin for the masters he knew he would never be free again, so he fought. Hundred, if not thousands, died to the edge of his blade. His modest healing powers, once a tool to help the weak, now became the undoing of his rival pit fighters.
One hot, smoldering summer afternoon Barristan learned that he was to be pitted against a pride of lions, unarmored wielding a simple quarterstaff. This was to be some perverse reenactment of his original battle with his captors so many years ago. He knew that this was to be his death. He was past his prime, and the slave masters saw that his value to them was nearing its end. They must have decided that this final event for a famous arena gladiator would generate the wealth they needed to buy his replacement-- a promising young Orc barbarian known as the "Green Hammer," named not only for the Orc's favorite weapon-- the biggest war hammer Barristan had ever seen, but for the city that owned him-- Hammerfell. The masters of the Imperial City were negotiating a sale with Hammerfell, and likely had a named price.
Barristan knew it was flee or die, although every slave in the pits knew that to flee was to die. It made no matter. Barristan knew the arena guards well, and the guards had grown complacent in their fondness for the Imperial. That afternoon the pot bellied Yander brought him his meal, and sauntered into his cell. Barristan, even chained at the wrists, made short work of Yander. Yander was a cruel guard, and Barristan held no pity in his heart for those employed by the slave trade. A decade in the pits had wiped Barristan's heart of pity for mostly anything... After picking the lock to his shackeles-- a trick learned from an imprisoned rogue, Barristan found Yander's key and donned his guard's uniform, slipping out of the Arena unnoticed.
Getting out of the Imperial City proved trickier, as he was one of the most famous Arena fighters in Cyrodiil and his face (and tail) was well known. As the sun began to set he ducked into an alleyway and traded the guard's uniform to a beggar for some soiled rags. For several days he hid in the dark alleyways and less desirable taverns in the poorest districts of the Imperial City while he planned his next move. Barristan had shared his cell with more than one Nord in his years at the pits, and they spoke of vast dungeons and Dwemer ruins holding unimaginable wealth for those brave enough to venture there. The cold, hostile environment of Skyrim was undesirable to nearly anyone (save the Nords, perhaps), so Barristan thought hat would be as good a place as any to salvage whatever remained of his life. There was also talk of a building Civil War in the north, and breaking away from Imperial law could mean freedom-- real freedom. Barristan Selmy had spent over a decade fighting and killing, but fighting and killing for a cause is something he had yet to taste.
After a week of hiding in brothels, alleys, and abandoned homes Barristan stumbled on a small, postern gate on the western side of the city. Under the cover of night, he picked the lock and was on his way north. Barristan spent the better part of two years making his way slowly north, staying away from towns and sleeping in the vast forests of Cyrodiil. He quickly grew to know roots, plants, and toxins. He fished the streams and hunted the forests for food, careful to keep off the main roads by day. When at last he had reached the border of Skyrim the unthinkable happened-- an Imperial City slave caravan was heading south through the border and spotted him. The captain of their guard, a grizzled old man, stared intently at Barristan. "Selmy..." the old man barked-- sounding younger than his years. "Barristan the bold! I still recognize--" before he could finish the sentence Barristan put an arrow through the man's heart and fled north. A brief pursuit followed, but Barristan managed to elude his pursuers in the thick forests at the border.
However, in unfamiliar terrain he was shortly caught by the Imperial Army and brought in on charges of murder. And our story begins...
