*****WARNING: GIANT WALL OF TEXT AHEAD*****
Eydis Snow-Song
Nord, female, age ~35
Eydis was born in Helgen in the years just before the onset of the Great War. Her father was a blacksmith and Legion veteran. He left his family to rejoin the Legion and fight for the Empire against the Aldmeri Dominion, and died a hero's death in the Battle of Red Ring.
Her mother remarried a year or so later, becoming the wife of a relatively well-to-do Imperial merchant. They relocated to Cyrodiil where they prospered even in the aftermath of the devastating conflict that had taken Eydis' father from her. Given their new and improved status in life, her mother had big plans for Eydis and made sure she took advantage of all the educational and social opportunities available - especially the ones that might make it easier to land a wealthy and prominent Imperial husband and live a life of relative ease. Eydis, however, had other ideas, and spent most of her free time at the smithy run by her stepfather's older brother, the blackmith for the local Imperial garrison. There she learned the basics of that trade as well as how to handle a wide variety of weapons; it seemed like there was always at least one soldier around who was glad to share a tip or two, especially with the wide-eyed little Nord girl who saw in every Legionnaire the image of the father she'd lost. And she listened, too, as they quietly discussed the one thing they all looked forward to: the day when the Empire would throw off the terms of the White-Gold Concordat and crush the hated Thalmor and their Dominion armies once and for all.
It should have come as no surprise when Eydis joined the Legion as soon as she was old enough. Her stepfather was disappointed; her mother, horrified. But Eydis knew in her heart that one day she would have the chance to help make right what had been wrong for far too long. It was only a matter of time and then she and her comrades would see to it that her father and so many others had not died in vain. As it turned out, she was a natural born fighter and soldier, gradually rising through the ranks and finally becoming the commanding officer of the small outpost where she was stationed.
Eventually she met and married a young man from a nearby settlement. Like many people across Imperial Tamriel, they were still devoted to all Nine Divines despite the terms of the treaty that had signed away their right to worship the Ninth one freely. Her husband kept a small shrine of Talos in the back room of their home and, even with the growing vigilance of the Thalmor Justiciars who roamed the Empire in ever greater numbers, it seemed safe enough. He even allowed others to worship there if they so desired. Many did. Someday soon the Empire would do what it took to turn things around, and they wouldn't have to hide any more. Until then... well, they weren't hurting anyone. What harm could it do? Over time their home became the unofficial "temple" of Talos both for the soldiers Eydis commanded and for their civilian neighbors. It was an open secret, and an increasingly dangerous one.
No one knows how the Thalmor found out, only that they did. They arrived, so they said, only to do what they had every right to do under the law, and were met with fierce resistance. Naturally they defended themselves and naturally they did so with magic. The only survivors of the fire that resulted from their elemental ammunition were two of the Thalmor agents; no other witnesses remained to either confirm or cast doubt on their story, and they walked away free and clear. Eydis had been on duty at the time and could only return to grieve over the remains of her home, her husband, and the neighbors who had been visiting that evening.
That's when she noticed something, through the grief, through the tears. There had been two children present, neither much more than a babe in arms; both had apparently been put down for a nap in the bedroom while the advlts enjoyed each other's company and no doubt paid their respects at the shrine. The children had died in the bed where they slept, and even in their current condition it was obvious. They had not died by fire, nor by smoke that choked the life from their tiny bodies.
Their throats had been cut.
Eydis was offered an extended leave so she could mourn and, her superiors hoped, find a way to come to terms with the tragic results of flouting the laws that they all had to live by, however grudgingly. She took it without hesitation.
The two Thalmor who had survived the attack on her home were found dead on the roadside six weeks later. Eydis, for her part, dutifully reported to the nearest superior officer she could find and turned herself in. They could kill her if they liked; she no longer cared. Any hopes she'd still cherished for the future of the Empire had been cut as irretrievably short as the lives of those two children. Once the dust settled, the military demanded a court-martial; she was, after all, a serving officer at the time of her offense. The Dominion, not suprisingly, demanded her blood. The civil authorities were caught in between. Eventually they gave in and ordered that she be turned over to the Thalmor. If the Legion didn't like it, that was their problem, and they would see to it that she was transferred to Thalmor custody with all due speed.
But a lot of strange things can happen on the roads from one place to another in Tamriel, and somewhere along the road that led to Thalmor custody the small Imperial guard escorting Eydis to her fate was attacked by a pack of wolves - or maybe it was bears, or bandits, or roving necromancers, it's hard to say. Accounts still vary even amongst the soldiers themselves. What mattered most is that somehow, in all the confusion, Eydis got away. At least that's what they told the Thalmor when they arrived at the scheduled rendezvous with a surplus of very straight faces and the distinct lack of anything resembling a prisoner.
Yes, their prisoner had indeed escaped and disappeared into the wilderness, never to be seen again... until several months later, having made her way safely across the Cyrodiil-Skyrim border on the way to what she hoped would be a new life in far off Hammerfell. Everything was going exactly according to plan until she ran right into a skirmish between some Imperial soldiers and a much smaller band of... what was that word the Imperials kept shouting? "Stormcloaks"?
She'd tried to get way unseen, but to no avail; and much to her surprise the last thing she remembered before collapsing in an unconscious heap was not a blade biting deep into her flesh or the crack of a mace against her soon-to-be fractured skill, but the dull thump of some unseen weapon's decidedly non-business end coming down just hard enough to... why, for the love of Talos, hadn't they just killed her?
Well, it made no difference now. Once she awakened, bound in the back of a cart, it was clear that death would only be delayed and not denied. How odd that it would happen in Helgen. She had often dreamed as a child of going back there, to the place of her birth, but those dreams had never been pleasant ones; they were not so much dreams, really, as flashing images of once familiar landmarks clouded by confusion and some unseen, undefinable terror. She'd wondered, later, after they stopped, if they'd been presentiments of her death, and then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Apparently not.
As the carts rolled to a stop inside the walls, she could see soldiers, officers and - yes, of course, why not? - Thalmor agents talking, milling about, or just standing and waiting for the spectacle to begin. One soldier across the yard turned to look more closely at the new arrivals and she recognized him immediately. He'd been under her command before the... incident. His eyes widened as they met hers; she dropped her face to stare at the ground, but knew she hadn't been quick enough. Risking a glance upward she saw him make his way to the man who was clearly in charge - a general, by the looks of his armor - and attempt a conversation. By the gods, what was he doing? She didn't recognize the Thalmor standing just a few feet away, didn't know if they could overhear or if it would matter if they did... but better an Imperial axe than a Thalmor dungeon. She'd resigned herself to the former the day she set out after those two Justiciars in Cyrodiil.
But it didn't matter, because the general listened for only a moment and then impatiently waved the other man off; he looked back at her, she was sure of it, and nodded slightly, disappointment and sadness evident in his face even from a distance. Eydis took her place in the line of prisoners awaiting their fate and gave her name when called as quietly as possible.
What happened next seemed like a dream, one she knew all too well. Memories of the nightmares she'd had as a child kept intruding between her eyes and ears and what was actually happening all around her. The waiting, the walk to the block... and then... she was dead. She could've sworn she was dead, could've sworn the axe had come down...
It was only the voice of another prisoner calling out to her that made her realize she was, in fact, still very much alive. Following the sound of it was the only thing that got her out of the yard with her sanity still intact. Then there was nothing but more confusion, screams of pain and terror from all directions, the fire, the heat... and the shock of the wall above them caving in as they tried to climb to safety. Somehow she'd ended up back outside, following the young soldier who'd taken her name when they'd first arrived. He seemed decent enough, had even expressed some concern that she wasn't on the official list of prisoners he'd been given. But they ran into another "Stormcloak" - that word again! - outside the keep, and the choice was clear. The Legion was the Empire and, like it or not, the Empire couldn't protect her - or anyone - from the Thalmor. She knew that all too well.
She and Ralof - for she learned, eventually, that Ralof was his name - managed to fight their way out, first through the keep and then through a cavern below it that led them out of Helgen and into the surrounding countryside. They made for Riverwood, the closest settlement, where he had family and could expect help and a hiding place until it was safe to return to Stormcloak territory. Along the way he was kind enough to answer whatever questions she could think to ask. The Stormcloaks, he said, were fighting to free Skyrim from Imperial rule, to free it from the clutches of the Thalmor and those who supported and enabled them. The Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak, was their leader, and she vaguely remembered hearing his name and seeing a man who was clearly not a common prisoner sitting beside her in the cart. They had all been captured together in the same Imperial ambush, and the Imperials had probably mistaken her for one of his soldiers.
Two days later, after a several decent meals, a few hours doing chores for Ralof's sister, several trips to the local blacksmith and general store for supplies, and two nights of blissfully peaceful sleep, Eydis crossed the White river at the bridge outside of town and headed north. The locals had asked for someone to report the news from Helgen to their Jarl at Whiterun; Ralof couldn't risk it as the hold was still nominally Imperial, although the Jarl was trying to remain neutral in the war now going on all around them. The road to Whiterun wound back and forth down the slope beside the river, finally leading her to a crossroads where a single signpost offered directions to most of Skyrim's major cities... Whiterun, Markarth, Riften, Solitude...
Eydis looked westward for a moment, smiled at the sight of the colorful, gently undulating tundra of Whiterun hold, and could even see the towers of mighty Dragonsreach - the local Jarl's palace and keep - looming over his city and his land. She looked, and even marveled at the sight.
Then she set shrugged, set her shoulders straight with all the determination of the soldier she still was, and followed the sign towards Windhelm.
Gee I dunno guys, maybe I'm overthinking it too much?
» Tue Jun 12, 2012 9:47 pm 
