Why is he/she in Skyrim, the family, etc. Mine, for instance, was a Nord/Imperial whose parents were killed by the Thalmor for worshipping Talos. He enlisted into the Imperial Legion and fought secretive battles against the Thalmor. He despises Titus Mede II but respects the Empire. He was dismissed after a Captain betrayed him and told certain Thalmor of his activities. He fled from Cyrodiil and was ambushed along with the Stormcloaks. That same Captain was the one who orders your execution despite your innocence because of bad history. Nothing too deep, but it made sense when I joined the Legion after the fact they tried to kill me.

What is your character's history?

Got caught sneaking over the border into Skyrim..... jk

I have a Dark Elf Swordsman/Assassin, who's family was murdered by the Thalmor for not joining their cause, the boy hid from the Thalmor when they came and thus survived, now he has trained since he was young to get Revenge on their Empire, and the only way he can think of doing that is by killing any Thalmor he see's.

Like you said, not too deep, but when i come across a Thalmor Patrol I will ambush them, killing them, if I find them in the city, I stalk them, and wait for them to give me an opportunity to kill them, never leave any alive if I can help it.

My character is a Dunmer Ashlander that wandered too close to the Skyrim border and got picked up by those idiots Imperials.

Amnesia

My Breton is a native from the Reach. He hails from a small tribe called the Mountain Mongrels which was created by his father, due to him and his kin refusing to join the Forsworn. The Mongrels usually stayed away from the Forsworn, dwelling high in the Reach mountains only raiding wagons and caravans. Dorian's father died in battle, and Dorian was named War chief. Once the civil war broke out, Dorian and his Mongrel's would raid Stormcloak and Imperial patrols, taking their wine and gold. One night after a successful raid, all the tribesmen were in their huts with their wives. While a large group of vengeful Imperial soldiers ambushed their small village, killing their women, children and slaughtering their men. Only Dorian remained, holding his bloody wife (with unborn child) in his arms cursing the Gods. He was taken captive, but escaped the prisoner transport. He tried to cross the border into Cyrodiil but was nabbed by another group of Legion men. Caught, and brought to Helgen.

Nice.

Dovah, my female Nord, only cares about becoming the most powerful, well known, and beautiful woman in all of Skyrim. She hopes to someday go face to face with Maven Black-Briar and say to her, "In Your Face Maven!!" or "What you gonna do now Maven?!"

My character believes that she has been chosen by the gods to rule Skyrim. Anybody currently doing that, or trying to do that, is therefore an enemy. Because she's clever and devious, however, she doesn't engage them in combat directly; instead, she prefers to manipulate them and supports any act that creates conflict. She wipes out lesser opponents (bandit chiefs, vampires, etc.) so that they don't become threats later on. She protects the little folk (peasants) because they are her rightful subjects. She steals from the rich because she feels entitled to anything in "her kingdom". She has no qualms about murdering rivals and incompetent bunglers who interfere in her plans. She's essentially a little mad and always tries to surprise and outwit her opponents. She got picked up for starting a bar brawl between Stormcloak and Imperial supporters. Getting put on the execution cart probably had something to do with shooting that guard in the knee....

Take one spoiled little purebreed princess from the city of Alinor, whose father happens to be Thalmor and nobility. Add in the disappearance of some friend's parents, throw in a hefty dose of outrage and rebellion, a big pinch of ignoring all those expensive conjuration and illusion lessons to go picking mushrooms in the woods, which led to friendship with the lower classes and further alienation from the privileges of her birth, and stir in the absolute disgrace of shunning her birth-name for the nick-name the peasants gave her. Add a mild case of encroaching alcoholism, a flight to Anvil, an apprenticeship as a healer in the chapel of Dibella, an alcohol induced scandal, leading to another flight, this time to Skyrim. Finish up with a drunken accident with a fire spell and some Imperial guards, the discovery of a destiny, and an execution order found on a Thalmor agent.

I'm a female Argonian. The background story contains explicit content about spear polishing. It was inevitable.

J'derras was born and raised in Dragonstar, Hammerfell. J'derras' father got into a bad gambling habit. The Thalmor killed his father after he lost a bet and couldn't pay. Thalmor then proceeded to kill the rest of the family. J'derras was able to escape. Had to cross into Skyrim, then Cyrodiil due to stricter border patrol between Cyrodiil and Hammerfell. Ended up being mistaken for a Stormcloak while passing them on the road right before the attack (god knows why. A Khajiit Stormcloak?) I have a more detailed version on my About Me page.

So this is the story of how I ended up in Skyrim, last of my family and name. Strange how things turned out, the tradegy that sent me here, to my people's homeland ended up giving me a new life, an important life with powers that I could only dream of. My father would be jealous, By the nine I miss them. So here is my story.

My family settled down in a small town called Cropsford. My family was peacefull and we farmed a large amount of supplies for the Imperial City. We had no enemies, at least we thought we had. One night I was in the fields checking for Goblins and other wild animals that sometimes bothers us. The usual. Suddenly I heard a scream from inside the family home. I rushed towards the home, sword drawn and ready to fight. The door was off its hinges and an assassin leapt past me. My father and two brothers chased after him swords in hand screaming. My mother was nowhere to be seen. By the blood on his blade I assumed the worse. My mother had been killed. We chased him onto the fields and were ambushed by several assassins. We fought for what seemed like days but most likely was only minutes.

My youngest brother was first to be slain, stabbed through the chest. The blade must have been enchanted as he burst into flames before my very eyes. My father shouted at me and cast a spell. A small portal appeared in the field just outside the fight. I immediatly understood what he wass doing, giving us an escape. My brother ran for the portal, as did I. Just as he was about to reach the portal though, he was shot by an arrow. Straight through the neck. Poor sod didnt stand a chance, he was dead before he hit the floor. I swear I saw his soul get drawn towards the bowman, I hope he was free to pass into the void. I reached the portal and turned to face the battle. Three assassins were bearing down on me and I saw my father behind me casting his spell, transferring the energy into the portal to keep it open. Then from behind him a sword stabbed through his chest. Blood poured from the wound and from out of his mouth. And the portal began to collapse. I had no choice, I had to leap through the portal, to the unknown on the other side.

Just after I appeared on the other side, the portal collapsed with a magical explosion. The explosion flung me to the ground, knocking me out. When I came to, I was lying in a tent. There was a person kneeling over me, she was casting a spell and I started to feel better. I gathered that she was casting a healing spell on me. The spell didnt heal me properly, I still felt really weak and I think I had many bruises that were still not healed. I may also have had a broken rib or two. She left after healing me, leaving me to look around the tent. I was in a tent with other wounded that suffered from wounds like deep cuts and arrow wounds. I must have been in a war camp were the wounded were being cared for. I lay there for hours, several times the lady came in to heal me some more and to treat the wounds of the other wounded. I must have been in the camp for nearly a week.

Thats when the attack happened. At first I thought it was the assassins. Feeling exposed I looked for a weapon. It was only after hearing the screams and clang of metal on metal when I realised that the attackers werent the assassins. I pulled myself up, with great pain, intent on helping the people that had cared for me so. I stood up, shakily, and stumbled to the flaps for the tent. I stumbled out and looked over a battlefield of men, warriors, fighting. There were Imperials fighting other warriors dressed in blue cuirass's that I didnt recognise. As I stumbled forward further an Imperial came from my side and smashed the hilt of his sword into my face, knocking me out again. Thats when I woke up on the cart leading to Helgen. The rest? The rest is history.