UESP Forums

Also, using the oil fire trap in Goldenglow estate to silently kill the guard near the room with the safe was awesome.

A prince of a small city-state in High Rock, he was imprisoned by the Imperials after his parents were publicly executed for speaking out against the Empire. He escaped after a year and traveled to Skyrim, where he was captured. Possessing a sound training in sorcery and the instruction of the best fencing masters in High Rock, as well as a burning hate of the Empire, he soon joined the Stormcloaks and the College of Winterhold. While doing some freelance work for Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun, Gideon discovered he was Dragonborn and was summoned by the Greybeards, but for several weeks he denied his destiny to use his substantial talents to help the Stormcloaks win the war, as well as develop his magical aptitude at the College. He then made the journey up the Seven Thousand steps with his housecarl and romantic interest Lydia. There, the Greybeards confirmed him as Dragonborn, and he returned to the College of Winterhold. There, events were heating up, and Gideon was forced to balance preventing the destruction of the world through the magnificent power of the Eye of Magnus and prevent Alduin from devouring it. Shortly after being named Arch-Mage, he finally made the epic journey to Sovngarde and destroyed Alduin once and for all. He returned to Nirn, married Lydia, and retired to his mansion, Proudspire.

Name :: Fianna Woodcroft
Race :: Breton
Class :: Witch
Gender :: Female

Alignment :: Neutral evil
Faction :: none
Occupation :: Witch, no Coven
Stone :: Mage, Apprentice later
Specialties ::
MAJOR SKILLS - Destruction, Conjuration, Alteration, Restoration
MINOR SKILLS - 1handed, Speech

God or Daedra worshipped :: Meridia
Weapons :: Daggers
Current Home :: None
Favored Spells :: Ice Storm, Close Wounds, Steadfast Ward, Stoneflesh, Frost Atronachs

History :: tba

Name :: Zaka'Dar
Race :: Khajiit
Class :: Thief
Gender :: Male

Alignment :: Neutral
Faction :: Thieves Guild, Nightingale Sentinels
Occupation :: Thieves Guildmaster, Nightingale
Stone :: Thief
Specialties ::
MAJOR SKILLS - Sneak, Lockpicking, Archery, Pickpocket, Light Armor
MINOR SKILLS - Speech, Block

God or Daedra worshipped :: Khajiiti Pantheon (Alkosh, Khenarthi, Mara, S'rendarr) & Nocturnal
Weapons :: Orcish Bow, arrows
Current Home :: Thieves Guild
Favored Spells :: No magic

History :: tba

Something at the back of my mind tells me that she must have put me under some kind of Illusion spell. Otherwise I wouldn't have told her anything. We met on a carriage heading from Windhelm to Riften, where I was travelling on certain... business; the girl called herself Norroen Dyrd - strange name for a human, which she looked like, but then again, I haven't had much experience of the present-day Skyrim humans - and bombarded me, in a seemingly friendly manner, with questions about my past. Oddly enough, she sounded as if she already knew a great deal about me and wanted to have a full account just for the sake of sharing it with some friends of hers at a place called the UESP Forums (no idea what that is, most likely, some new-fangled Imperial establishment). Naturally, I had no intention whatsoever to tell her a single thing about myself: first of all, one can't help being suspicious of strangers shortly after one was welcomed into a new land by the headsman, and besides, no one would have believed my true life story anyway. I tried to eel out of this interrogation by sticking to the vague false biography I had invented for myself (the credit here goes to the Imperial official who was the first to mistake me for a refugee from Morrowind). But the girl was persistent. In the end, I gave in. I still have no idea how she managed to get it all out of me. If I see any of this in print - she hinted at it, at any rate - I will disown every single word...

I grew up in the Shivering Isles. Yes, in Sheogorath's Realm. And moreover, my mother was Sheogorath. I am not being deranged here; the woman to whom I owe my coming into this great, wide, utterly confusing world, a Dunmer by the name of Etanni Raalen, was granted some of the Madgod's powers so that she could battle him when he reverted into his original self, Jyggalag, during the infamous Graymarch. With that battle won and Jyggalag freed from the curse of having to turn into Sheogorath over and over again, my mother took it upon herself to rule the Realm of Madness. This task kept her busy most of the time - after all, being whimsical and hilarious and unpredictable requires a great deal of effort, especially if you do not possess millennia-worth of previous experience - and so I was often left in the care of the Madgod's Chamberlain, the inimitable Haskill (ah, how I loved to play pranks on him, just to see if I could get him to change his facial expression!) and quite a number of uncles and aunts. I called them that because they had a custom of addressing my mother as 'sister', but the tie between her and them was much stronger, and much more sinister, than that of mere kinship.

Back in Tamriel my uncles and aunts, my mother and father - all had been members of the widely-feared, shadowy circle of assassins, the Dark Brotherhood itself. Due to the suspicion of a traitor lurking in their midst, all the members of the particular part of the Brotherhood with which my mother had personal contact were sentenced to death by a special order of the organization's ruling body, the Black Hand. They - my father included - were to die at my mother's hand. But she could not abide this, and asked Sheogorath to give them shelter in his Realm. The Madgod examined the assassins’ minds and found them quite fitting to become his subjects. After escorting her brethren to the Isles, my mother remained in the mortal realm for a while to see the true traitor brought to justice, upon which she left Tamriel, never to return again. This was the story I heard told many times as a youngster, with a whole set of varying dramatic details which I knew by heart and which I still never got tired of.

On the whole I must say that mine was a perfectly happy childhood. The world of my early years was bright and vibrant, constantly re-shaped by my mother's capricious fancy. There was so much for me to explore and discover, and most importantly, in that land of absolute insanity there was no place for reason and logic and other horrid, boring things that usually hinder a 'normal' child's progress. And of course, being the son of the new Princess of Madness, I was mercilessly petted and spoiled by everyone, even Haskill, in his reservedly obliging way. If it hadn't been for the somewhat sobering influence of my Aunt Ocheeva and especially my father, I imagine I would have grown into an insufferable brat. I spent most of my infancy and early teens frolicking about among giant mushroom trees, as carefree as the gentle night-time breeze that caresses the still waters off the coast of Mania, in which the swirling purple clouds, with sprinkles of diamond-like stardust, are reflected. But I am getting carried away.

It all ended soon after I turned fifteen. The disaster had been looming on our cloudless horizon for quite some time, though - for my mother, an elf and powerful mage and master of the shadows and the successor of the Madgod though she was, still remained a mortal. And no mortal can ever fully become a Daedra Lord. The powers with which my mother had been bestowed had, over the years, grown impossible for her to bear, tearing at her from the inside, straining to break free out of her frail mortal body. The struggle was long and painful, and eventually the day came when my mother could withstand no longer. The Daedric essence of Sheogorath burst out, wholly destroying her in the process. It was a terrible sight to witness. Sometimes it still comes back to me in nightmares, along with a few other visions that I will describe later. And out of my mother's remains rose Sheogorath, sustained by her life force for all those years and now fully restored to his former self. He gave his awestruck subjects a long, incoherent, but rather cheerful speech, in which he referred to my mother as a jug into which he had been poured like water. And now, according to him, the jug had cracked under pressure, which was awfully sad, but it had been a good jug, and the best they could do now was to honour the jug's memory with some cheese.

And this is where my second, much more haunting nightmare begins. My father burst into a fit of violent emotion that I had never imagined him capable of - neither had anyone else who knew him, judging by the frozen horror of their expressions as he flung himself at the Madgod, his eyes burning like a raging furnace, and cried out, in a voice that sounded as if his very heart had been wrung out of his chest, 'Murderer!'.

Sheogorath looked amused. 'That's rich, coming from you, Mr Ex-Assassin,' he said, crossing his arms on his chest and raising his eyebrows mockingly, 'Go relax, suck a bit of blood, take a bath or something. Oh, wait, I think I once told someone else to relax and take a bath. Didn't work. But... I have a better idea! Girls,' he turned to his Golden Saint and Dark Seducer guards, 'How about you play a nice little game of tag with this fella? When you catch him, toss him into the dungeons to cool off a little. Then I'll have a good long talk with him over a glass of grapefruit juice. If we do grow grapefruit here. We do, don't we? Anyway, one, two, three... Go!'.

They charged at my father, but he pushed them aside and dashed across the New Sheoth palace grounds, where the whole scene had been taking place, the flabbergasted madpeople edging away to clear his path. For some unknown reason, he grabbed me by the hand and dragged me after him, all the way through the city streets and out into the wilderness. It was early morning when we reached some hilltop beyond the city walls, our pursuers pressing closely in our wake, and the sun was just about to rise. And when the clouds were shot with the first beam of gold, my father stopped and turned to face the guards, who stopped too, wondering. He grabbed me by the shoulder and leaned towards my ear, whispering feverishly, 'Watch me now, boy, watch me now'. I looked up at him, terrified. His face was haggard and wild, his usual calm, shrewd, slightly mocking expression replaced by a twisted, leering grimace, all the more horrid because of the red glow in his eyes and his bared fangs. I was completely lost, seeing this sudden change. I could not understand it then; I think I understand now, and I bow in awe at the passionate power of his love for my mother, revealed only in that last outburst of grief, bordering with madness. I have often heard in tales that this is the way vampires love, if they do come to love someone. And even these days, when I meet the gaze of one of my fellow apprentices at the College of Winterhold, I can feel some of that power stirring within me, for I am of the same blood, even though the Dark Gift itself was not passed on to me...

Presently, the sun came out, and when it did, my father closed his eyes and gripped even harder at my shoulder, causing my eyes to well up with tears. We stood this way till the scorching rays burned all the flesh off his bones, and those crumbled away into hard, cold dust that swirled round me like a billowing cloak. He had not uttered a syllable, though the pain he was in must have been insufferable - but his vice-like fingers pressed harder and harder into my flesh; I had marks on my shoulder for quite a long time afterwards. When he was gone, the guards sheathed their weapons and withdrew, their faces grave and respectful - I believe these Daedra, despite their general despise of mortals, hold suicide of this kind in high esteem - leaving me all alone, standing forlorn on the hilltop, a pile of ashes at my feet and tears still in my eyes, but his time not from physical pain.

I never returned to New Sheoth. I could not bring myself to. I wandered the wilderness for days on end, but without the glee that had filled me when I had done so in my happy childhood days, which now seemed to be many centuries away, somewhere in the deepest shadows of the past. Sheogorath never sent anyone after me; perhaps he could not be bothered, and perhaps, with the insight of a mad Daedra, he could sense what would become of me and decided to let the events unfurl of their own accord. Once, I came across Aunt Ocheeva; she tried to talk to me but I slipped away, using the little knowledge I had of Illusion magic. It was during these restless wanders that I stumbled across Knifepoint Hollow. At first, I regarded this dreary, desolate place merely as a shelter from a particularly bothersome bunch of Grummites, whom my weak Fireballs only seemed to tickle - but then I proceeded further in and discovered Dyus. That weary old man, worn out by millennia of remaining frozen in his seat, burdened with the memories of many generations, was the last remnant of Jyggalag's original Realm of Order, keeper of all the knowledge that had once been stored in the Prince's library. He desired no company, and I sought none, but still, we somehow started talking, and the discussion of my parents' tragic fate, which Dyus mocked as but a tiny grain of the sands of time, eventually lead to a way of leaving the Shivering Isles, for by then I could feel that that realm could no longer be my home, not after all that had happened - and what better new home could there be than the place where my mother had once come from? But the gateway that she had used - the so-called Strange Door of Niben Bay -was long since sealed, and only the Madgod could open a new one. Obviously, I would never have dreamed of asking Sheogorath of a favour like this, so Dyus helped me find a way to create a portal to the mortal plane myself, sharing with me all the knowledge he had. It took me years to achieve all that was required, and by the time I at last felt myself ready to travel to Tamriel I had already reached manhood. Before departing on my journey between realms I decided to pay one last visit to Dyus - I honestly don't know what I expected, maybe a heartfelt good luck wish, of the kind a parent might have made for me? But regardless, when I entered the Hollow I found Dyus dead, free at last from his eternity of servitude as a living reminder of Jyggalag's former glory. Sheogorath must have deigned to release him. Why at that particular time? I had no way of knowing.

Saddened at the demise of my only companion for the last few years, and yet happy for his spirit having been set free, I proceeded to open a portal to the outer realm. It seemed to have gone off without a hitch, but the moment I stepped through the glowing blue veil that was supposed to transport me to some place in Morrowind (I chose that particular province in the Empire because that was my mother's homeland) I found myself suspended in nothing - nothing at all, an endless dark space without solid ground, without any sounds or colours, apart from the pitch blackness that remained the same whether I closed my eyes or left them open. I could no longer feel the passing of time - it might have been seconds, and it might have been centuries ago that I had made that fateful step from the familiar, tangible world into the bottomless waters of Oblivion. I could no longer feel my own body - I had become a pair of eyes, floating about, opening and closing, and still seeing the same darkness. I could no longer think, or remember who I was, or understand where or when I was. I just was, and so was the darkness.

It all ended just as suddenly as it began, making me wonder if there had truly been anything after I had entered the portal. A blinding flash of light made me screw up my eyes, and feeling came rushing back into my limbs. Feeling faint and dizzy, I slowly tore open my eyelids. I was lying on my back on hard, cold ground, and the sun was shining right over my limp, prostrate body, among the distant tops of trees - pines, if I remembered my mother's descriptions correctly. I scratched the soil with my fingers. I took a deep, gasping breath of air. I licked my parched lips. And with a tremendous effort I pulled myself upwards, my knees a little wobbly, my head swimming. I swayed a little, intoxicated by the smell of the earth and the pine needles and the first snow, and let out a gleeful yell that made a flock of frightened birds take off hurriedly and flutter away deep into the forest.

After a few hours of blundering stupidly about, I came across a settlement. The poor peasants clearly thought me mad, what with the look I must have had on my face, and the ragged remains of my Shivering Isles finery, my only clothing for years, which I had, of course, outgrown long ago, and with the questions that I asked them. Their cautious, reluctant answers proved utterly disappointing. It seemed that I had spent almost two hundred years trapped in between realms; what is more, that was not Morrowind but Cyrodiil, close to the border with Skyrim. It was to the latter province that I proceeded, upon discovering that most of my mother's kin now dwelt there as refugees after their home had been devastated by a natural disaster and a war with the Argonians - I had so much of the sane realm's history to catch up on! - and that it was home to one of the best places where one could learn magic, and to the very last Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary as well. The rest is history.

Narrated by Ezio the Half-Blood, dedicated explorer, aspiring Illusion mage, rogue and assassin.

Currently wearing Master Robes of Destruction, Circlet of Destruction, Shrouded Gloves, Scaled Boots of Sneaking, amulet fragment(+30 magicka), enchanted ring (+30 health).

Weapon: Mehrunes Razor. Occasionally uses bound sword, but moving towards destruction(fire). Uses bound bow for some stealth hits. Most kills typically involve sneaking while invisible, or using calm spells to stealth kill with dagger.(30X sneak multiplier)

Currently rolling with two Dremora Kynreeve Dead Thralls and Jennessa(decked out in shrouded cowl, greaves of eminent archery, glass armor). Posseses and frequently uses the Black Star

Member of the Dark Brotherhood, and College of Winterhold. Planning on a house in Riften, but having trouble with the thane quest. May join the Theives Guild, not sure. Basically, he's a Dunmer mage turned vampire who has slowly evolved into a demonic shadow wizard of doom. I'm hoping for the "epic mounts" and "flying vampire lord" DLC that has been speculated.