|"I mostly deal with petty thievery and drunken brawls. Been too long since we've had a good bandit raid." —Hold Guard
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|This TESWikian has been at The Elder Scrolls Wiki for 5 years and 7 days.|
|This TESWikian has been at The Elder Scrolls Wiki for 7 years, 4 months and 23 days.|
My activity[edit | edit source]
I am easily distracted by the new things that I am interested to edit, so the following projects might be postponed:
- Morrowind, Tribunal, Bloodmoon: remaining spells and effects
My user name[edit | edit source]
My Daggerfall Biography[edit | edit source]
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You were born to a peasant family in a tiny village in the swamps of Black Marsh. Your parents and older brothers were hard workers, proud of their strength and endurance. The only thing big about you was your appetite. You were of an inquisitive nature. No cupboard, closet, or drawer was safe from your prying eyes and fingers. You left no traces, but still your father and brothers beat you when they caught you. By the time you were eleven, they no longer caught you. Your mother taught you etiquette and scaling walls, but you had no other schooling and wanted none.
Once, you climbed the wall of the local temple and spied on the young neonates at practice. When their equipment was left lying about you took it for your own. In this way, you acquired a bottle of holy water. You also adopted a jacket shed by its owner and wore it proudly about the village.
One day, you saw some village boys hurling stones and insults at an old woman named Shamia Spellaire. Moved by an impulse you did not understand, you flung rocks back at the boys. They laughed, but as you drew near, they turned and ran away. You went back to Shamia Spellaire and offered to see her to her door.
"Come inside," Shamia Spellaire said. "I have something for you." Her cottage was just one room, with cats and kittens everywhere. "Sit down," she said, removing two cats from a stool. "I'm going to teach you about concealment."
"Why?" you asked.
"The cats don't need training in subterfuge," Sithia Fernwood said. "You do. Or will. No matter."
Thus your training began. Her hands could no longer perform, but her mind was still efficacious. You and Sithia Fernwood became friends, as well as student and teacher.
On your sixteenth birthday, she told you that you must leave. Your little village was too small for someone of your talents.
"What of you?" you asked.
"I also must move on. Perhaps some day you will visit me in the Iliac Bay? I would like that. Until then, I have my memories and my cats."
On your way to the Imperial City, you stopped in an inn and heard that the Emperor was to pass the next day. Instead of sneaking into a room, you spent the night in a tree beside the road. You wanted to see the Emperor, later there would always be chances to check out what the local pockets offered.
The procession was very splendid indeed, but a nearby rustle drew your attention. A black clad man was crouching on a limb ten feet beneath you. You gasped before you could stop yourself, and he twisted around, bringing his bow to bear on you. With no time to draw a weapon, you flung yourself at him, and together you crashed down on the heads below, just as the Emperor's carriage drew abreast.
Hands seized you roughly. You felt dizzy and a trail of fire burned along your left arm. Poison! Then a white robed elf muttered an incantation over you. Your arm cooled and your head cleared. The Emperor himself thanked you and gave you a flask of holy water.
The local folk treated you to drinks and food and unaccustomed praise. Later you slipped away and found that in addition to a bottle of holy water, the Emperor had handed you a note inviting you to share an audience with him at the Imperial Palace. You set out immediatel...
You grew up on a farm and became quite agile from continually rounding up wandering sheep. One Merchants Festival, while visiting the village with your family, you were intrigued with a group of wandering acrobats and decided that you wanted to become an acrobat yourself. At home you started practicing even though your parents complained that you were neglecting your duties. Finally, when you were just old enough to be called an adult, you ran away from home.
You never did find that carnival troupe. You wandered to a small village deep in the forests and learned to fight with a dagger and to pick pockets and you developed a sense of humor and a sense of fun. You know that your skills and your philosophy are what kept you alive and sane during the dark years when Jagar Tharn usurped the throne of the rightful emperor. Tharn's agents even searched out that little village, looking for political dissendents and other undesirables. Those they found disappeared forever.
For the benefit of all, an uneasy alliance formed between you and all the other villagers who were in questionable lines of work. One night, you witnessed a ragged boy being pursued by a dozen blackclad agents of Jagar Tharn. You took a shortcut through the alleys to meet the boy, and it took little effort to convince him to run with you. The two of you stole into a concealed cellar and waited for the agents to pass. The boy was obviously not from the village, and when you asked him his name, he told you, hesistantly, "Cassynder." You laughed at his royal sounding name, and he told you very seriously that he was the son of the rightful ruler of Tamriel and that an imposter was on the throne. At the time, you humored his boyish imagination. Now, of course, you know that he was telling the truth. You told him the best way out of the village, avoiding the areas frequented by the blackclad ones, and he told you that when he saw his father again, you would be properly thanked for that act of kindness.
Some years later, your luck ran out and you were imprisoned on the charge of pickpocketing around the village. You had been in jail for several days when you received a visitor in the full regalia of an Imperial courier. He told you that in reward for your service to Prince Cassynder, you were granted full pardon and a staff forged in silver You were also given a simple, unpretentious letter inviting you the Imperial City for an audience with the Emperor. You had your eyes set on a bigger fishpond anyhow, so you went.
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