#Completely abandoned Bal becoming a knight

[imminent-danger-came]

I feel insane for thinking Nim//ona wasn't that good asdfasfd

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Anyway, finally the game is stable, and I’ve finally gotten my core followers, time to flesh out what will be hopefully be my Dragonborn for the foreseeable future.

Ayerin the Perplexing.

She’s a Altmer Mage, or at least that’s what she claims to be, Goth-Coded, and I’m gona write her on the Autistic spectrum cause I’m on the spectrum so that’s basically half the work done, and the second she learns she’s a dragonborn she’ll start experimenting on her dragon blood, discovering a way to taint it, strengthen it and her soul so that she’d be able to do the impossible, bear both Molag Bal’s and Hircine’s curses at the same time. The way to do so, however, is still long and distant, and necessitates of a third curse, to balance the two, and allow her to survive both Vampiric and Werewolf transformations, by rendering her mortal if long lived mortal shell, immortal and undead first, before even ascending as a vampire.

She’s a Seeker of the Arcane Arts and a Mage. Her dad is a follower of the old Altmer pantheon, specifically Syrabane, the God of Magic, an Aldmer ancestor who ascended to divinity through his own efforts, and has transmitted to his daughter the same devotion to the so called Apprentice God, whose favor is obtained by the constant and tireless research of magical knowledge. He used to be a lecturer for the Arcane University, but after the war the faculty decided they didn’t exactly need his services anymore. They moved to Bravil, where he became a lowly illusion tutor in the local chapter of the mages guild, his career effectively put to a halt.

Her papa, on the other hand, doesn’t care much for gods. He’s a soldier, a legate for the Imperial Legion, stationed in Cyrodil, or at least he was. He lost a arm during the great war, as he attempted to stop the atrocities the Aldmeri Dominion, their own people, were committing in the Cyrodilian Countryside, missing the siege of the imperial city as a result. He’s bitter and angry, but he’s glad he and his loved ones are still alive as a result, even if they are being ostracized for being different, as if they didn’t just fight a war against people who were ostracizing others for being different from them.

Ayerin grows interested in magic as a result of her dad’s influence. Under the supervision of her dad, she tried to gain access to the Arcane University, but was found too curios, too interested in... forbidden lore and knowledge, even expressing some perplexity over the banning of necromancy, a now time honored tradition of the mage’s guild.

That’s when she gets her moniker. The Perplexing. Or maybe, more fittingly, the Perplexed. Always searching for knowledge she ought not to search, for powers that better be left alone, in all 5 schools of magic, baffling and perplexing her peers as much as their “irrational” reactions baffle and perplex her.

The local politics also confuse her, perplexed over why should wizard start squabbling over petty court politics. She never really understood politics in general really, she took from her Papa that way, everything had always been very straightforward for them, always a black and white issue, no matter how much people tried to paint it otherwise, and she didn’t understand why other people couldn’t see it that way.

It was only logical after all.

Her dreams are weird, black voids with white smoke, filled with still images of people, monsters, beings, objects, a weird voice, probably belonging to a old man, giving her advice, some times good, some times just weird, talking about events before her life, as if he was there, as if he knew who was there, mentioning the gods, and talking about the divines and the daedric princes as if they were old chums... or bitter enemies some times.

It’s weird, but strangely illuminating if she managed to decipher his rants, a constant companion of her nights, and she assumes it must be a Daedra working for Vaermina, or maybe one of her demiprinces, especially given how... weirdly fond he seemed to be of the nightmare mistress when he talked about her, but still, she wasn’t that worried about this, it wasn’t like a major daedric prince had decided to set up camp in her dreams after all, she could handle some minor heckling mixed in with some genuine good advice or history lessons about the history of Cyrodil, surprisingly well done and serious in tone, as if they were 2 completely different persons.

At 25 years of age, abandoning her attempts to join the Mages Guild, she decides to move north, to Skyrim. She has heard of a long forgotten cult, attempting to create a true lich for themselves, and also that the college of Winterhold seemed more open to the prospect of its members researching forbidden lores and crafts, no matter how blasphemous they might seem, and she’s all for that, finally, a place where her genius will be recognized!

So, with her blessing of her Dad and her Papa, sad to see her go but glad she’ll be able to leave the nest and follow her dreams, with enough magical research to allow her to cast at least 2 spells for every school of magic, if still really novice ones, she crosses the border into Skyrim...

And gets captured in an Imperial Ambush.

It’s almost mechanical what happens next, going with the flow as if it has happened countless of times already. She’s almost executed, but a Dragon saves her (Usually, it’s the knight that saves the princess from a dragon, not the other way around).

She flees the fort with the awkward soldier who tried to be nice to her, and failed miserably at doing so. She might have hold against him mistaking her for a Thalmor spy (And she spits on the ground at the thought, startling her new companions as they watch her give her daily prayers to Syrabane), but she always considered herself as a excellent judge of character, and of the two men that offered to help her flee, one was simply running for his life, the other had almost given his life to save a young child from the drgaon’s breath, as most other imperial soldiers were doing at the moment.

Which meant only one of them was noble enough or dumb enough to position himself between her assailants and her sparks, and that was the dumbass thought sending her corpse to a country she had never set foot in would have comforted her in her final moments.

At least he was easy on the eyes.

They leave the fort, she finds some junk, a rusty old ceremonial sword among them, and contemplates just how competent those Stormcloaks actually are if their armor and weaponry consists in some strings of leather and scraps of metal barely held together with spit and hope, she even manages to find some spiffy new robes for her, still no boots tho, forced to wander the place just with some wrappings at her feet. It hurts like hell, but she’d rather wear that than... ugh... light armor, uncomfortable and itchy as it always made her feel.

They flee the fort and he offers her to give her shelter to the near Riverwood, Hadvar’s, that’s the hot dumbass’ name, home town. It’s pretty close, and along the way they find the so called guardian stones, old pendants hidden in the hole within them. She was born under the sign of the mage, so she activates the according stone, but Hadvar mentions that unlike her birthsign, the stones do not bind her to just one sign, much to her befuddlement. She doesn’t press him, noticing his barely veiled... judgement at her choice of stone, and notices a door down the slope the Stones are perched on, embed in the mountain as she leaves, wondering what it must have been.

What follows is a whirlwind, she meets Alvor, Hadvar’s uncle, and finds herself almost stealing all the food he had offered her, starving as she found herself, eating chicken eggs raw and stockpiling potatoes for the incoming trip. She’s supposed to got to Whiterun, warn the local Jarl of the dragon attacks...

Gennarino tells her to go to Falkreath instead. It’s as close as Whiterun, and she needs to find someone there.

Gennarino is her oldest and most devoted friend. A traditional Direnni name according to her Papa when she mentioned him, it also happened to be the name of the assistant of a great Aldmer sorceress, during the war against the Sloads, obsessed with gold, who ended her days living in a remote island, at the foot of a slumbering volcano, her name lost to time.

Gennarino also happened to be a Raven. Her Raven. Who oh so happened to be invisible to anyone but her.

Or, well, almost anyone but her. She was pretty sure other animals could see him just fine, as could some of the kids she used to play with, before she was considered too “weird” to be played with, as well as one (1) drunk Argonian in the Imperial City, green and sad and screaming against the heavens in the rain, complaining about friends dying or disappearing after becoming gods and leaving him behind with all the golds and riches that he’ll never be able to share with them, while also complaining about the loud crow giving him a headache.

Still, invisible Raven, followed her all her life, his advice has always been followed by her, how would she not, he’d always been right, even more so than her, and she might be stubborn and curious but she also know the old stories, the old fairy tales about strange little creatures following strange advice to be followed to the letter, a clear, easy way for the player and the author to justify her sudden detour in the middle of such a important situation.

Anyway, she leaves for Falkreath before long, apologizing to Hadvar and the others, who take it better than she expected, before trying to buy some more spell tomes from the local trader, delighting herself in the sudden new variety in the new land (”Uh, death hound, never heard of that conjuration summon, and what is this? “Lamb of Mara”? Is this a religious spell?”). On the way, she visits the door she spotted, finding alarge, sprawling room, filled with altars to anything but her god.

She pledges herself to be a follower of her own mind, something Syrabane would probable appreciate, before inspecting the other altars. The Hermanus Mora one (Already whispering sweet knowledge to her starved mind, as she resists to its pull... for now) has a variety of books as offerings, among them a spell she had never seen before.

She prays for her god there, and leaves for Falkreath. She finds no trabel along the way, only corpses and a traveling bard, with whom she concludes her journey to Falkreath.

There, she finds Lucien, an Imperial, so easily flustered, so eager to follow her to their death, a fellow seeker of knowledge, as they say. He asks her to become his bodyguard, she who can’t even defend herself, and she accepts, both for the money he’s offering, and for the prospect of her research to gain something from their sudden collaboration...

Also because despite everything she really needed a meat shield. And something tells her that if her crow has told her to go for that one, inexperienced and incompetent as he might seem, there seemed to be a reason for that.

She’s not eager to test this concept, and decides to leave for Whiterun this time, as Lucien also suggests, to warn the Jarl of his impending doom...

Except then Gennarino grabs at her Map, a gift from her dads, that she managed not to lose in the ambush, and tells her to go to Riften instead, where another valuable assets lies. Its very insisting, more so than when he told her to go to Falkreath, so she leaves, resigned, Lucien puzzled at her sudden change of destination midway, and there, finally, meeting Inigo.

Now, they are here, a Mage who has just started her journey into the mysteries of the unknown, a Half Naked Khajiit that mistook her for someone else, a inexperienced “Milk drinker” donning imperial armor in a rebel stronghold filled to the brim with bloodthirsty Stormcloaks (Why, she just witnessed their lot violently suppress a small Imperial assault, barely 4-5 soldier, that’s where she got one of the armors before the city guard stopped her from looting the other corpses by tossing them in the river), her talking, maybe there maybe not crow, cawing at her that now, yes, she can go to Whiterun, finally...

And who knows what their future holds for them?