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Name: Darith
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Current level: 29
Status: Married
Sone: The Warrior Stone
Style: Heavy armour, healing spells and mace
Personality: Brave and intelligent nord
Story:Born in Bruma Darith learned to be a blacksmith. His father told him to personal give a piece of armour to his uncle who lives in Whiterun. So Darith went and walked into an imperial ambush. Nearly dying Darith got to Whiterun to find his uncle dead. The silver hand killed him. Later Darith found out his uncle was a werewolf. Darith joined the companions to hunt down the silver hand. Now Darith lives in Whiterun with his wife.

Name: Hrolgr
Race: Nord
Style: one handed combat, restoration
Story: The dragonborn who mysteriously (coincidentally) started his life unaware of his surroundings , and escaping from jail. Anyone have a similar story

Liessa Wyrmbane...

Race: Nord
Type: Archer/Dual wield/Sneak
The story of her life: Killed an Imperial noble who tried to rape her, but the Imperials did not approve. Not that raping was ok in their book, but killing was overdone, so they sent her back to Skyrim to be executed. And gagged her, because she was shouting really loud. Liessa ran off with the nice imperial guy who released her, and later on found her way to the Stormcloaks. Currently level 24, and loving it. Once I hit 32 and have my build done, I will see where I go from there.


skills:


picture

Well I figure this might as well be my first post.

-Name: Ma'jaar
-Race: Khajiit (in case you couldn't tell.)
-Gender: Male
-Level: 12
-Style: Sneaky Archery coupled with Beserker dual wielding
-Day Job: World's least convincing Jester
-Real Job: Professional 'problem solver'

Backstory: Raised in Bravil, captured while crossing the border.

Name: Manoir
Race: Dark Elf (Dunmer)
Gender: Male
Current level: 6
Status: Single
Sone: The Mage Stone
Style: Light Armour, one handed and destruction spells.
Personality: Cunning and Caring
Story:After fleeing from Morrowind. Manoir found him self in Skyrim. The first city he came to was Windhelm where many other Dunmers had gone. Manoir started using the arts of magic and was told by the guards to do it somewhere else. After days of walking Manoir found the College of Winterhold where he became a apprentice.

Note:This is my second character i will post further updates maybe.

Name: Velsa
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Playstyle: Sneak+Weapon Conjuration+Alteration
Perks: (I won't list all, just the mandatory/highly relevant ones)

Basically, Velsa prefers to sneak up on her foes and summon a blade or bow with which to quickly slay them, but can also handle herself against melee fighters and performs exceptionally well against casters, due to instantly dispatching summoned and reanimated enemies and having extremely high magic resistance.
I alighted upon this combination when I realized that bound weapons are amazingly powerful. At level 34 now, and my bound bow and arrow together have a damage rating of almost 90. The bound sword has a damage rating of about thirty-five. Oh, and they all have soul trap, fear raised (not all undead, just the ones specifically raised by a spell) and banish all summoned creatures, regardless of that creature's level.

Name:Ra' Fas
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Male
Playstyle: Sneaky thief-archer

Dear Father,

I know you wanted me to stay home. Ever since Mother died, all you've said is that her stories of her homeland are nothing but trouble. I know that you also tried your best to keep me out of the Arcane University, that it had become nothing but a pit of vice and dark magic ever since the Septim line ended and the University changed hands. I know you didn't want me learning about mother's past as an adventuring Mage, and that you worry that if I follow in her footsteps that I'll become just like the Mages at High Rock, planning each other's downfalls just for the sake of grasping for power. I know your parents died trying to flee High Rock to come live with us in the Imperial City, or what's left of it, and I know you fear anyone stepping a toe out of line, especially since the White Gold Concordat was signed.
I know, and I don't care. I refuse to live in fear.
I'm sending this by courier to let you know that I did make it across the border, I am alive and well, and that I'm not coming back. I know I am not a Nord, that I take after you in heritage, and that this land may yet bring me to my death, but I don't care. This is my home now.
Things are different here, Father. With each passing encounter I have with either side of the rebellion you love to criticize so much, the more I see that the rebels have the right of it. We cannot live in fear of the Dominion. I will not hide in the marketplace behind a quaint little stall every day and smile at those who deprive me of the right to live my life. Besides, I've already changed too much to go home.
The stories Mother used to tell are wonderful, but I don't think they will ever match what has happened to me thus far. I've changed, Father. My aptitude for magic is growing, but so are some other skills, skills I never knew I had, gifts that I didn't know anyone could possess. The people of this land call me Dovakliin, say that I have a power and a destiny tied up with the land. Do you remember the stories Mother used to tell about ancient heroes who had a gift called the voice? And about the Sages who live on the Highest peak in Skyrim? I don't care if you believe me or not when I say this, but I've learned how to use the Voice, and I've seen the Sages. The Nords call them Greybeards, and they are teaching me what they can about the Voice. Once I've learned what I can from them, I've also found out about a Mages College here in Skyrim, Winterhold I think they called it. I'm going to go there, and I'm going to learn all they will permit me.
I know you don't like this, and that's why I left without saying goodbye. I knewyou would try to stop me, and that's why I snuck out in the middle of the night and smuggled myself across the border. I know it is dangerous here, no matter how powerful I may become, no matter how much magic I learn. I know you don't want to hear it, but I need you to know that even with all the dangers and stories you are going to hear coming out of Skyrim with merchants and traders, no matter how much you worry for me, that I finally feel like I'm finding myself. I finally feel alive. This is my home now, and while you're free to come visit (though I know you won't) I'm not coming back to Cyrodill. I've already joined the rebellion, and I'm going to see this through. Whether I live or die is my choice now, and is no longer in anyone else's hands. That is more valuable to me than all the safety the Empire can provide. I hope someday you understand. I hope someday you forgive me.
Until that day comes, may the Nine Divines keep you well.


Your Son,
Theran Alerond

____________

Stats:
Breton
Standing Stone :The Mage (until I find a better one)
Skills:Conjuration, Restoration,Destruction (little to no perks, just a lot of use), Alchemy, Speechcraft, Sneak(also few to no perks, just a lot of use), Enchantment, Smithing (almost entirely for Arcane Smithing Perk)
Description: Son of a Breton Merchant and a Nord Ex-Adventurer, raised among Colovian society in the Imperial City. Old enough to know what the white-gold Concordat is, not old enough to have witnessed it signed 20 or more years before the game's start. Ran away to Skyrim to immerse himself in the culture of his Mother's ancestors, as he never really felt at home in Cyrodill. Always had a problem with the Thalmor, primarily with the Aldmeri outlawing of Talos, the divine embodiment of the only fair rulership that the last thousand years has seen. He felt it was a betrayal of their heritage (both as Cyrodillic residents and since Tiber Septim was a Nord, something in his heritage that he's always dreamed about)
Factions: Besides the Main Plot, Stormcloaks, Bardic College, Winterhold Mage's College, if there are any others he'll join I don't know of them yet.

I'm probably not the only one who has several characters on the go for messing around. I'm also contemplating a new AAR character. These are my fun ones:

Name: Feynar Silvermane
Race: Altmer, but not noticably so
Gender: Male
Style: Appears just like a run-of-the-woods old wanderer, perhaps a Bosmer or skinny Imperial. Generally avoids conflict. When there are unlikely to be surviving witnesses, however, he will smoothly wheel out devastating magic and a full range of powerful artifacts.
Known as: An old coot who seems oddly well-educated about historical events, but otherwise harmless. Refuses to take sides in Skyrim's civil war and makes only oblique comments that leave partisans of either side feeling wrong-footed.
Quirk: He is actually the Nemesis of Jagar Tharn, the Champion of Cyrodil, the Nerevarine and more, but he just quietly gets on with it.
Happiest moment:

Name: Dazhbog gro-Hrothgar (formerly mocked as gro-nowhere)
Race: Orc (Blond and blue-eyed... could he actually be a half-orc?)
Gender: Male
Style: Fire, axe and no quarter!
Known as: An orphan expelled for un-named reasons from an un-named stronghold, he survived only due to a most un-orcish knack for useful magic (and various nasty improvised weapons). He is surprisingly honourable in his dealings with others but ultimately keeps his own counsel and harbours ambitions and grudges worthy of Malacath. Now risen to become "Orchmage" of Winterhold and notorious Imperial sympathiser, not to mention smith and enchanter of some renown. His housecarl swears he killed a sleeping dragons with his favourite dagger, but can that possibly be true?
Quirk: Secretly married to a similarly vengeful orphan, Breton alchemist Muiri, who poses as his housekeeper, with uncertain chances of offspring
Happiest moment:

Name: Beornwulf the Blunt
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Style: Warrior in the old Nord style, long axe, long bow, long ancestral memory
Known as: An honourable Companion and Stormcloak who does not like things getting too complicated and quickly blows hot and cold, ending arguments as swiftly as he starts them. By this time the damage has usually been done, of course. Not keen on magic, Elves, Argonians, Khajiit, Wildmen of the Reach, Imperials, Bretons, thieves, civilians, circuses, clowns and most others you might mention. He is a marvellous and cordial friend once you get to know him (and drunk), it' s just that this isn't always easy to achieve. He is not totally oblivious to subtlety or shades of grey but does his best to root out any ambiguity he encounters.
Quirk: Never, ever, ever uses spells of any kind and follows Aela the Huntress around like a dog...ged admirer
Happiest moment:


Now, I like playing these three, but none of them are really that readable. So, for storytelling purposes, I am going to start a new one.


Name: J'rao of Czeshyr
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Male
Style: Eschews weapons in favour of Rawlith Khaj. His philosophy is best described by the Ahzirr Traajijazeri. He is not evil. He is not selfish. He does not think you are all his prey. He just sees things a bit differently.

Now... where do I post an J'rao's story / an AAR around here?

Name: Alexei Jackson
Race: Breton
Age: 36
Style: Spellsword. Makes and Enchants weapons.
Wife: Muiri
Best friend: Corpulus

I have a level 40 nord
with a mix or one handed and magic
light armor

im going to do a female dark elf vampire thief assassin charactor at some point

and probably an orc with heavy armor and the biggest sword i can find.

-Sonix

Name: Neerus
Race: Argonian
Playstyle: Sneaky Lizard
Specs: Sneak, Archery, One-handed (dagger in main, mace in off), Smithing, Light Armor, Lockpicking
Perks: No damn clue at the moment, will check and edit later

Story (Tis a bit lengthy): A descendant from a long line of murderers, assassins, and theives stretching across Tamriel's history, Neerus sought to break the mold, so to speak. Leaving Black Marsh, he traveled the world seeking fame, wealth and glory as an adventurer. He had little success. Being physically weak in his youth, he stuck to using shadows, archery, and daggers to the back, and more than once had to steal food in order to get by, all the while realizing the cruel irony that he was now very close to the art of his wicked ancestors.

During his travels in Skyrim, Neerus was the victim of a bandit ambush. Though he fought with all his strength, it was not enough, and a blow from a mace knocked him unconscious. He awoke to a very unexpected sight: Orcs! As fate seemed to smile upon him, the bandits who ambushed him were in turn attacked by an orc hunting party from one of the nearby Strongholds.

In order to repay his debt, Neerus offered to catch fish for the orcs in the nerby river and give their bowmen a few pointers in archery. Eventually the orcs grew accustomed to the argonian in their presence, and accepted him as blood-kin. Neerus remained in the Stronghold for many years, learning a few skills from them. He learned to smith and was trained to wield the mace that had knocked him unconcious.

Eventually, after he had grown stronger and paid off his debt with service, Neerus bid farewell to the orcs and traveled once more, planning on finding adventure in Hammerfell. Enroute, he was discovered by Imperial Legion scouts and captured, as they claimed him to be a Stormcloak spy.

As he was taken to his execution, Neerus learned of startling news: Civil War breaking out in Skyrim. After a fateful attack by a dragon, Neerus fled captivity and decided to remain in Skyrim in order to help individuals with the strife that will surely come from this war.

Name: John Mex
Race: Imperial
Thief

John was an imperial that was caught in the middle of a mess concerning the Imperials and the Stormcloaks, and was sentenced to death despite being innocent.
After the escape at Helgen, he maintained a pretty dull life in Riverwood, chopping wood and hunting small quantities of rabbits, wolves and deers. He made a small amount of money in a couple of days and went to the city of Whiterun, expecting to gain a big shot job and getting richer. Such did not happen. He looked every where, but he couldn't find any stable job. He did a few small jobs that earned him a few septims, but only barely enough to survive. He had no home, no family... He had nothing but a couple thousand septims.
And it was in Whiterun that his entire philosofy changed. He spent most of his small amount of money, and he was forced to take drastic measures. He broke in and robbed the Warmaiden's, but was caught by an employee, and was forced to escape the city, taking with him a few armor pieces and some weapons. He stole a horse and moved to Riften, where he would attempt to join the Thieves Guild, which wasn't much of a hard thing to do.
Having joined the thieves guild, and finding someone to sell stolen items, he took on a life of crime, stealing thousands of septims worth of armors, potions, weapons, etc.

In the future, I'm planning for him to have some near death experience, and join the dark brotherhood.

Name: Torinir
Race: Argonian
Play Style: Assassin w/Heavy Armor
Level: 51
Perks: Full Sneak perks, Deep Archery, Deep Alchemy

Name: Beast. Lol
Race: Nord
Specialization: Mainly pure combat. Dual wielding (sometimes shield). Bow and some destruction magic.

This guy is an absolute tank! I can take down pretty much anything on Expert difficulty.

Name: Ullrich
Race: Nord
Playstyle: Dual Wielding, Super Sneak Tank
Current Level : 32
Perks : Every Sneak Perk, The one handed perks that increase damage, and dual wield speed, and working on heavy armor perks
Standing Stone : Steed, makes no armor penalties for movement and makes me faster.

Basically ive found out that i really dont ever block with a shield so i went dual wield on this character. Full daedric armor, with a daedric sword in my right hand and a daedric dagger in my left, everything legendary status of course. Amulet of talos for reduced shout times, and ring that make one handed 40% better. Sneak around and do x15 and x6 with my blades on sneak attacks, then just overwhelm enemies with strikes if i am spotted. Mix that with a (eventually) very high heavy armor skill tree loaded up with perks that make it weightless and really strong and i am pretty much unbeatable.

Name: Roland Frostmoon
Race: Nord
Playstyle: Axe in one hand, spells in the other
Level: 25

Growing up in the post Great War Imperial city was not easy for Roland. His parents (Breton Father, Nord Mother) were both killed in the war and he was forced into a life of crime. He cracked heads and roughed people up for local crime bosses. He soon found himself a slave to moon sugar and skooma. The decades flew by as he fed his habit and betrayed friends for gold. He tried to escape it all and start a new and better life by leaving for Skyrim but he was caught at the border.

I have a different character now as well: a semi-old nord war veteran. He has seen.enough action, and wants to settle down for a quiet life of chopping wood and forging things at the smithy, and selling it. He has no problems with that life, but when there's a chance of adventure and profit, he might go. He used to be loyal to the Empire, but since they have lost the war he saw it was weak, and now he doesn't really hate the empire, but he rather supports the stormcloaks. He rather hates elves , especcially high elves, due to the war, but he also quite hates woodelves because two woodelf kids used tl bully him. He thinks Dunmer are great warriors and respects them.

NOTE- The story is, atm, almost all backstory since this character is related to my Oblivion character.


Name: Shane Marsh
Race: Redguard (With Nordic blood as well)
Gender: Male
Current level: 23
Status: Single
Sone: The Warrior Stone
Style: Heavy Armor, One-Handed weaponry, Restoration.
Personality: Cunning, Scheming, though kind to those that do not interfere and fiercely protective of his allies.


Story:
During the Oblivion Crisis, a Redguard-Nord named Stan Marsh rose from obscurity to become the Champion of Cyrodil. He would wield Umbra and direct his efforts from Battlehorn Castle towards Hammerfell, where he hoped to do what his ancestors could not and exact revenge on those that wronged them. He would become a God, and was infected with Vampirism. The Knights of the Nine bent down on their knees in respect for him. Stan Marsh had it made.

But his actions would take a toll on his sanity. Umbra devoured him slowly, his great will and mental strength only prolonging the inevitable. His duties as a God started seeping into both his sleeping and waking hours, and the demands on his mortal time never lessened. Years of effort went into his Hammerfell expedition, as he gathered allies and plotted. Yet, in 4E20, he came to realize that it was all for naught. Stan Marsh's mind was gone.

Through all of this, he would become rich, and his children would become nobility in the Imperial City. Far from the workings of their father, his deeds would become legend, something to aspire to, even if the reality was darker and more twisted than they could ever imagine. His extended family would surround themselves with his legend, and were empowered to seek great education and prowess. Throughout, they invoked his name.

But alas, his name would fail. His plot to avenge his ancestors in Hammerfell fell through as his supporters, turned off by his growing madness, started spurring him. Realizing that all he could do now was to retain what sanity he had left, he charted a ship in High Rock and set sail to the continent of his Redguard ancestor's, that which had sunk into the depths eons ago. He would throw into the water Umbra, the mental shock of which sent him into a coma. Stan Marsh would die days later, his flesh growing weak and withered in the final hours.

Buried in Battlehorn and sealed with all of his greatest secrets, Stan Marsh's legend and latent political power enabled his family to retain their status and as generations passed, they became a true family of nobility. Yet unlike others who had forsworn their more excitable ways and lived in luxury, the Marsh line focused on continued improvement so that they may one day live up to the Champion.

Great philosophers, warriors, businessman and orators were produced, but no champion. None until Legan Marsh, the greatest of all since Stan, whose birth in 4E146 was heralded by the shooting of comets. Many took this as a sign, and he was from birth destined for great things.

He was trained in the finest arts of combat, strategy, tactics, and politics. He was groomed to be a master of base magics and one who could be relied on to know of allothers. He was a delver and keeper of secrets and had oratory that could rock the very soul of those against him. He would join the Imperial Legion at 18 in the year 4E164 and by the time The Great War rolled around, he had already become a Legate.

Training in the north, his Legion was slow to react to the Thalmor attack and would join the war only when Imperial resistance had stiffened. In the mountains of Burma, he would engage in fights that proved his honorable name proud. On the streets of the falling city of Chorrol, he would showcase masterful strategy that would confound the eventual victors with what few forces he had. And at the Imperial Wall, his tactics allows his small force to be the most effective fighting force in the Imperial Legion in the area.

Alas, the Imperial City would fall, and Legan found himself having to fight a guerrilla war. He excelled, and the Thalmor responded by committing horrifying acts of violence on the populace. Legan knew that there was little he could do any more to hide the members of his family, his wife made a beggar near the ports to hide, daughter given to the temple of the eight divines, and son being hidden in plain sight as the daughter of a chambermaid in a household that 'supported' the Thalmor. The walls closed in, and Legan knew his time was short. He launched a desparate, suicidal attack on the Thalmor headquarters, distracting them long enough for his hidden family to escape into hidden sewer tunnels and escape north, where they met with the advancing Imperials. Legan was killed, drawn, and quartered, his remains brought back to Summerset as a a final act of dishonor.

Their vast riches spent, the Marsh family relied on connections in Cheydinhal to remain afloat. Legan's daughter was killed in the Imperial City when she was identified as a Talos worshiper and resisted the Thalmor occupiers during her escape, and his wife would die of an infection in the plague ridden city. He would live with his extended family in Hammerfell when the war ended.

Hammerfell's resistance would end the Marsh family's status as nobility, a brief civil war inside the family itself ending with much of it dead and the rest split off into either the Hammerfell supporting side or the few who fled penniless back into Cyrodil.

Here, many problems presented themselves in regards to the son, Shane, who turned ten in the year 4E180. He was a devout follower of Talos in a land that outlawed such worship, while his extended family in Hammerfell wanted him dead. Once more, the Thalmor "supporting" family stepped in, this time offering him education and a home in return for him assuming the duties and place of their deceased chambermaid. The plan was two-fold: Break the last surviving male heir to a family that at least intangibly knew of Battlehorn Castle(where Stan Marsh's, and therefore Cyrodil's, greatest relics were thought to reside), and use their renown desire to keep to their honor to their advantage.

Shane was incensed by being forced to live as a girl and be treated in such a way, but his family had no real choice and agreed. For the next fourteen years, Shane(or Samantha, if anyone outside the household asked), was the chambermaid of the Thalmor-supporters in the Imperial City. They kept true to their work, giving him an education and a solid roof over his head, and as he grew older, they did agree to allow him to learn the ways of war as his great ancestor once did. They assumed that so suckled on their teet was he that Shane would be little more than their blade if the need arose.

They were dead wrong. They had awoken in Shane something not seen since Stan- humiliation, compounded now by expectation and degradation. Shane's mind was intensely focused not on avenging his own honor on he termed as little more than his captors, but on the Empire. He would sleep little, late nights spent learning anything he thought would be useful. Under his usual cover, he wold grow to know all the great families of the Empire.

In 4E194, at the age of 24, Shane made his move.He vanished from his quarters one night and was soon on the move, and for seven years he would travel the Empire, both supporting his immediate family while also honing his skills. He would become an expert melee fighter, out[acing even Legan, and his education was tempered by many real world experience, military and otherwise.

His family has now all but vanished, those that remain part of Hammerfell entirely. In fact, it was while meeting some amicable members near Cheydinhal that word of the Civil War broke out in the north. Seeing this as a further weakening of the Empire he desired greatly to rule, Shane crossed over- and was captured...

Name: Eris
Race: Dunmer
Standing Stone: The Mage
Style: Mage

Name: Cyrus
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Weapons: One-Handed Weapons and a little bit of Archery

Story: I have been sent to Skyrim has a paid Mercenary by the Hammerfell government, which just succeeded from the Empire, to help guide the Stormcloak Rebellion. On my way to Skyrim, I was ambushed by the Imperials and captured.

Creative, aren't we? XD

I haven't made this one yet. This'll be my long-term role-player after I've done as many of the quests as I want to, with other characters. Strictly for noodling around.

Name: Hephaestus (Festus for short)
Race: Not yet decided, leaning towards Imperial.
Gender: Male
Weapons: Pickaxe and Woodsman's Axe

Of no fixed address, a perpetual nomad. Heavy into resource gathering, refining, and crafting.

If anything, the face-generation routine of Skyrim reminds me of Dragon Age: Origins. One niggling side-effect of that game is that all of my characters ended up lookiing the same: no matter what archetype I decided to tried to create, every single end-product bore the same facial proportions and form-factor (my dual-wielding rogue was my caged mage's twin sibling, as it were).

Hah, I try to make different looking characters with every one I make. Honestly? My best route is to play different races. My Nord sword & board looks vastly different from my Dunmer Mage. The latter is prettier, believe it or not~!