User blog:TheManWithTheStrippedFatMan/Story of Vimotir Intaraus

Prologue
Vimotir Intaraus is a 197 year old Dark Elf, also known as Dunmer. He is currently residing in the Tamrial province of Skyrim. However, he is not there of his own will, but is being held prisoner there because of a series of unfortunate events that end in him fleeing his homeland of Morrowind. Vimotir was an Orphan at birth, his mother suffering fatal injuries during labour and dying after giving birth to her bastard son. He was quickly adopted by a guard that found the body and the new born babe, along with a piece of paper with a name on it: Vimotir Intaraus. When Vimotir was 5, he was given to the local tribunal temple as an acolyte. He was raised in a sect that was strongly nationalist, and the community around it reflected it. The local temple was corrupt, and very few morals were given to Vimotir, but he still retained a base set from his own experiences, realizing that the poor and helpless are in enough pain, he did all he could to help them, but still lived a life of thievery, fighting, drugs and prostitution. A gang that had recently spread to the locality noticed him and his strong nationalism, as he had helped exile the foreigners in the town. The gang had similar ideologies, being only made up of Dunmer and harassing all who were not native to the lands of Morrowind. Vimotir left the temple, and joined the gang, doing the biding of their leaders. During his early years he became an advocate cook, hosting gang meetings, and becoming a favourite among the higher ranking members. He quickly rose up in the ranks, and eventually became the right hand man of the Gang leader, who also was a master in the arts of destruction and restoration, and was a master with a blade and bow. He taught Vimotir on their spare time, but there was little time. After some time being the leader’s personal body guard and apprentice, he was given his first assignment, to assassinate an imperial noble who was in Morrowind on behalf of all the Imperial immigrants who were forced back into Cyrodiil because of the gang. This had a strong chance of the Morrowind and Cyrodiil governments coming down on the gang. Vimotir reluctantly agreed, but was quickly caught, and thrown into an imperial prison (the same the champion of Cyrodiil was kept). His masters sent an agent to give him a very rare potion which greatly slowed his metabolism, and give him a message, to return after his sentence to recievehis reward. The noble had fallen off a balcony in the inn he was staying at and died, and the leader had assumed it was him. After 5 years and only 1 week of aging, he returned to his masters, and returns to a new reformed gang, now the Dunmer Nationalist Guild. Red Mountain had exploded and many of the foreigners had left, making the guild very powerful, and because of the death of the Nobel 5 years ago, the guild is still sound and at a distance from being compromised. Vimotir, never telling his leader that he had not killed the nobel, was given instructions to travel to the other provinces and ask for the assistance of other Dunmer to join the new Guild, and attempt to establish one in each province, however, after 25 years of travel, he was unsuccessful, and returned to an even more different Morrowind. The Argonians had invaded Morrowind, and had either wiped out or exiled all the Dunmer to other lands. The Guild was still a secret, but most of its members had disappeared. Only a handful were left, and the formed an underground sanctuary for any Dunmer that were found in the woods evading the invading Argonians. By this time, Vimotir was 50 years old, but had barley aged, because of the rare potion his master had given to him had an enhanced effect on him for a strange and unknown reason. For over 100 years, the group lived in solitary, adopting the language of the Nords to hide their true identity when venturing into towns hooded and cloaked. After one of these trips into town, Vimotir encountered some Argonian scouts, who confronted him, and realizing he was a Dark Elf, attacked. Vimotir killed most of them, but two got away unharmed. Vimotir quickly returned to the sanctuary, only to come to the screams and battle cries coming from inside of it. A few Dunmer resistance solders approached him, soon followed by a few dozen Argonian soldiers. They fought for hours, and Vimotir and his former master were all that were left standing, facing a squad of battle hardened Argonian warriors, mages and scouts. His master cast a powerful restoration spell, that drained the very essence of the Argonians life into a bottle, but it also had a negative effect on the master. He fell, handing the bottle over to his apprentice, saying that it will extend his life even further, saying that he is to find his own destiny, and that this was never meant to be his. Vimotir fled, only to be caught by a more generous group of Argonians. He was imprisoned, and was kept there for 35 years. Then, a mysterious figure, covered in heavy armour and blood, wielding a katana, approached him and opened his cell, told him to head west. On his way out of the prison, he saw the piles of bodies of Argonians at the entrance to the prison, but only thought about if they had children, and if their children would end up like him. He then confronted the mysterious swordsman, but he responded with a blunt answer, ”Go to Skyrim, you will be needed there”. He headed west, but found that the boarder was well guarded and had been closed off because of a crisis currently occurring in Skyrim. Vimotir started looking for a way across without alerting the guards, but was then ambushed by a squad of Argonians. He fled to the boarder, knowing he would get caught, and that the Argonians wouldn`t follow. When he was across the border, he was captured, but then informed of the consequence of illegally crossing the border during a crisis: death. He has been held in the prison for almost 9 months, and is 100 days before his execution. He has found out the hard way that the Nords have a dislike for Mer, and is beaten and starved every day. He has friends that have their executions scheduled on other dates before his, caught for the same reason. He slowly waits, thinking about his life, his actions, his wrongs and rights, and his lack of accomplishment. However, he fells somehow attracted to the land of Skyrim, almost feeling like his purpose lies beyond the gates of the Nordic prison, feeling he will somehow escape. He hopes for a new start, away from the destroyed homeland of Morrowind, and away from the nationalism that has betrayed him so many times.