'Sup all? Welcome to my first and probably only TES Chronicle, as this one will take a long long time to finish. In fact, it might never even be finished! That's because this chroincle is for a character in The Elder Scrolls Online, an Elder Scrolls themed MMORPG with countless quests, DLCs, and base-game sized expansions coming out from month to month and from year to year. Keeping track of the ESO lore will help you understand what's going on in this chronicle.
This will be the complete story of my Templar character Arabelle Lelion. This was mainly meant to be a composition of the character's history to A. allow myself to remeber what the heck I did with the character in the past and B. satisfy my own desire for writing. However, it was recommened that I post it here on the SKYFORGE, so here it is. Follow the adventures of the harrowing Templar if you like. But look what I've done! I'm already rambling, and we haven't even gotten to the story yet. So, without any further delay, here is the concept of the character and her backstory.
ARABELLE LELION
Breton Templar of High Rock
An Aedric warrior and Bringer of the Light, Arabelle Lelion is also shadowed by a dark past and perhaps a darker future. Arabelle has pledged her life to the service of the Lords of Aetherius, and brings the light of the Divines unto Tamriel.
Her mortal loyalties lay with High King Emeric, ruler over the Daggerfall Covenant. Arabelle fought with valor for a position among the ranks of the legendary Legion Guard of the Covenant, and serves her people, the Bretons of High Rock, through this order of noble guardsmen. Arabelle’s will is unbreakable, and she will stop at nothing to bring the Divine’s illumination to the Daggerfall Covenant and the people of Tamriel . . .
BACKSTORY
The City of Daggerfall; The Jewel of High Rock, and the birthplace of one of the noble province’s most dedicated warriors. In 2E 554, Arabelle Lelion was born to Theus Lelion, a retired Breton Knight of Daggerfall, and Aryana, an Altmer politician in the courts of High Rock.
Theus had once a leader among the Knights of the Dragon, and fought for the protection of High Rock’s rich and powerful city-state of Daggerfall, in the Iliac Bay Region. His noble deeds were such that he was honored by having his stories recorded in the historical texts of the Order. After he had reached the illusterous the height of his career as a Knight, he retired buried in pensions and fulfilled his second dream of marrying and raising his own family.
Aryana was a young Altmeri woman whose ancestors had come to High Rock from the Summerset Isles’ city of Cloudrest. Her family had long been possessed of deep roots in High Rock’s political landscape, with ancestors achieving such lofty titles as Duke, Nobleman, and Governor. Aryana more than lived up to her family legacy, and her skill as a diplomat lead her to the position of Daggerfall Ambassador; a position from which she would be required to travel to the farthest corners of High Rock and even most of Tamriel to represent the powerful city-state.
Theus had occasion to meet Aryana in a courtly meeting in Daggerfall, and the two had soon fallen in love. Aryana later became Theus’ main motivation for retirement, and the happily married couple settled down into a beautiful estate in Daggerfall.
It was in this lovely estate that Arabelle Lelion was born and raised. Arabelle was a beautiful young woman and seemed as though she could reach the political standards of her mother, Aryana, but her true passion laid elsewhere. Arabelle’s real pleasure came from exploration and excitement, and from a young age she had already memorized the landscape of the large city of Daggerfall, from the winding paths through its vibrantly colored botanicals to the dank alleyways and underground passages. While she enjoyed her time with her mother, Arabelle loved when her father would teach her the finer arts of sword-based combat. She gradually built up the muscle required to wield large greatswords, and Theus would look on her with pride beyond comprehension as she practiced combat and followed in his very footsteps.
As Arabelle approached the age of 15 years (in 2E 569), tensions between Tamriel’s various provinces began to build as the seed of weakness bec
ame more evidently corrupting the heart of the Empire. Trade routes in Tamriel’s northwestern provinces became unsafe as the Empire’s weakness prevented it from providing the conventional protection. As a result, trade had become less profitable, and many regions had started the slow yet terrifying descent towards poverty. The disease spread from a weakened Imperial power had not quite reached the safe walls of Daggerfall, but nevertheless, rumors that High King Emeric was planning on forming an alliance between the northwestern provinces had begun to fly.
Arabelle was much more aware of Tamriel’s political landscape by this time, and knew exactly why it was that her mother had been called away to Hammerfell on a half-a-year trip. Emeric was gathering his allies, and Hammerfell had been struck particularly hard by the growing crisis. Pirates grew in numbers along the sandy shores, and cutthroats and thieves filled the cities that had been for so long safely nestled in the sweeping dunes. Theus made the decision to bring the entire family along so that they were not separated for such an unbearably long time (for despite the allegations of the trip lasting only half of a year, it was likely that it could last much longer than that).
Arabelle was not at all perturbed by the idea of leaving her home for such an extended period of time. In fact, the thought of exploring a brand
new landscape dominated by sandy dunes was perhaps the most exciting thing that had happened since she had discovered the secret passages underneath Daggerfall. Theus spent several months organizing the ship that would transport the family to Hammerfell. The transport was guarded and financially covered by the High King himself (who had sent several ambassadors to Hammerfell and other parts of High Rock in this same fashion).
Finally the trip began, and the caravan trundled across central High Rock’s green landscapes over to the sea ports of the more westerly regions. The ship launched from the sea port within weeks of their leaving, and they made good time across the ocean. The ship was bound for a small city called Abah’s Landing. Arabelle watched as the coast slowly disappeared and gave way to the uninterrupted rolling waves of the sea. They spent several weeks aboard the ship, all of which were peaceful. Arabelle became accustomed to the salty wind whipping at her hair, and almost wished she had been brought up as a sailor’s daughter.
One night, as she fell asleep once more to the comforting rock of the waves as they lapped gently against the wooden hull of the boat, the silence was shattered by the ear splitting call of a horn. She awoke with a jolt and sat bolt upright just as something whizzed through her window at lightning speed and grazed her nose. It slammed into the opposite side of the cabin with immense force, and she looked over to see a still-shaking arrow embedded in the wall.
Arabelle launched herself out of bed and quickly redressed herself in her more practical sailing garb. She threw a board over the window to prevent further projectiles from flying through, and sprinted up the stairs to the upper decks.
There, it was utter chaos. Sailors and soldiers alike ran in some strange, frantic order about the decks, screaming orders and questions across at one another. As Arabelle stared out towards the now writhing sea, nothing made sense anymore. The world as she knew it had been ripped from her mind as she stared into a roiling nightmare.
What lay beyond the decks of the ship almost defied description. A giant metal ring encircled a portion of the sky, and from it were violently flung to gargantuan anchors pulling behind them chains of the most vile and complete black imaginable. The sky inside the metal ring was no longer the sky. It swirled and convulsed with a sickly pale blue and purple light that undulated like a beating heart, and from it poured several of the most terrible creatures Arabelle had yet seen.
Although Arabelle was unaware of it at the time, this was the first stages of the Planemeld. Mannimarco, servant and right hand of Molag Bal, had begun his dastardly work as he attempted to link the planes of Mundus and Coldharbour, the Plains of Torment and Realm of Molag Bal. The Daedric Prince of Domination had sent these few members of his Daedric Army ahead on Mundus to scout out the turf. Thus began the first stages of the Planemeld.
Arabelle, however, had no such understanding of the hellish events that unfolded before her eyes. The winged Daedra swept over the ship, plucked the a few sailors from the decks of the ship, and threw them screaming into the sea. Arabelle did a quick visual sweep of the situation after overcoming her initial shock, and saw that her father, Theus, was one of the men running about the decks in a desperate attempt to keep the ship from slipping under the waters. As soon as she spotted him, a winged Daedric warrior landed on the deck in front of her. She yelled something unintelligible and drew the dagger at her hip, slipping back into the familiar ready stance she had practiced in for so long. From the air, the horrible creature conjured a ghostblade of writhing purple energy and swung with great power at the girl. Arabelle nimbly blocked the strike with her dagger, but the unexpected hardness of the enemy blade sent a shockwave up her arm, and the force of the strike knocked the dagger from her grasp. She readied herself with her fists, but knew very little could be done. The winged creature drew back for another quick stroke of death, an Arabelle braced herself . . .
Only to hear the furious, bloodcurdling scream of a mother as she saw her child in danger. Aryana threw herself between the Daedra and her daughter and caught the conjured sword directly in the chest. A triumphant glint appeared in the Daedra’s eyes, and was swiftly wiped from them as the glazed over. Aryana’s own dagger had found its way up under its rib cage and into its heart. The creature screamed and a satisfied smile crossed her mother’s lips before both slumped, shuddered, and past on into separate planes of existence.
Arabelle screamed with grief, but was immediately silence as a rush of salt water hit her full in the chest and filled her mouth. She was briefly conscious of the boat tipping, just before the sea swallowed her whole and she gave way to the blackness of unconsciousness
* * *
Arabelle was first conscious of the wet, gritty sand beneath her arms, face, and back. She went unconscious once again, and the next time she woke up she no longer felt the sand, but the soft linens of a bed or cot. She shifted slightly, and immediately regretted the action as a splitting pain sliced through her skull.
“Rest easy, girl,” a voice said. It was thickly accented. Was it Nordic? No. Redguard, perhaps. She couldn’t tell; her eyes were still closed.
“You had quite the close call there, lass. The’ Watchmen saw that black hellgate thing from miles off. We even saw your ship capsize, and found you washing’ up on the shore not long after.”
Definitely Redguard. So she’d made it to Hammerfell. Somehow. Arabelle tried to inquire as to where exactly she was, but all that came was a dry cough. The Redguard man laughed.
“Try again later. No sense in tiring yourself out too much for the moment. Don’t worry, we’ll patch ye’ up. Only one thing: don’t leave the tent. Not yet.” Although this was slightly suspicious, Arabelle had neither the motivation nor the energy to argue, so she decided to obey his wishes for the time being.
Arabelle went back to sleep, and the next time she woke up she was able to stand without too much trouble. The Redguard man was named Raasi, and he came in to check on her from time to time. After questioning him she discovered she had come to be in Abah’s Landing. They’d not been far from their destination when the ship was attacked. How bitterly ironic.
Arabelle was satisfied with most of the answers she received; however, every time she tried to get more location-specific information, Raasi would skillfully dodge the question. As she recovered, Arabelle had plenty of time to think. Too much time. Both of her parents were dead, and her old life had sunk with them to the bottom of the sea. She had no idea what she might do once she recovered.
One evening, when Arabelle was nearly fully recovered, she was allowed to leave her tent for the first time. Raasi came in and asked her to follow him out. She did, and found herself, to her amazement, and a massive underground complex, surrounded by towering, rough cave walls. Throughout the cave wondered many others, going about their business. There was a small marketplace nestled between the stacks of crates (which, upon close inspection, contained a number of valuables such as stacked gold coins and jewelry). Suddenly, she realized exactly where she was.
Abah’s landing was notorious for one thing: Thieves. She had gotten herself landed in the Thieves Guild. Catching the flash of understanding in her eyes, Raasi grinned.
“Figured it out? You’re smart as a whip, lass. We could use you, to be sure.”
Arabelle expected to feel something like disgust or at least annoyance at having been taken in and nursed back to health in a den of thieves. Strangely, however, she felt no such thing, despite having been raised as a noble rather than a sneaking lowlife. But somehow, she almost admired the strange unorganized practicality of the place, and the quick cunning it must take to leave such a life.
Most surprisingly of all, the thought of joining them crossed her mind. What adventure and excitement such a life could offer! Had she really changed so much in so short of a time? Perhaps. Her old life had been entirely erased. Raasi sat and watched the emotions play across her face. Almost comically, considering the situation, Arabelle’s young face lit up with a gin sharper than any dagger.
A couple of years had passed and Arabelle had been running with the Thieves’ Guild for most of those years. She had adopted the name Ari. Arabelle was a thing of the past, or had been for some time.
In the years since the death of her biological family, the weakness of the Empire had become so intolerable that rumors of the formation of various factions had begun to spread, and eventually such rumors came to reality. As a human pretender sat on the Ruby Throne, the Aldmeri Dominion started the powerful alliance of the Altmer of Summerset, the Khajiit of Elyswhere, and the Bosmer of Valenwood. The Aldmeri Dominion hated to see the Empire fall to the capricious whims of mankind, and though they held no grudge with the race as a whole, they believed that one of Tamriel’s longer lived races would result in a more secure and supportive Empire. To oppose the Aldmeri Dominion rose the Ebonheart Pact; an alliance consisting hardy group of races familiar with unique and rough terrain that included the Nords of Skyrim, the Dunmer of Morrowind, and the Argonians of Black Marsh. Finally, the Daggerfall Covenant was forged. This was a group that had been in the works for some time, or so the rumors back in Ari’s native High Rock had said. High King Emeric had, amazingly, gathered the long feuding races of the Bretons of High Rock, the Redguards of Hammerfell, and most impressively the strong Orc Clans of the Wrothgar Mountains under a single blue banner. They fought for the consideration of the common people (who they believed an Empire existed to serve) in the recently high, mighty, and utterly oblivious Imperial Courts, who had turned a blind eye on the struggles of Tamriel’s northwestern provinces.
Ari, however, cared little for this political struggle. The Thieves’ Guild provided most everything she needed, and she felt no inclination to return to the court life she was once used to. Recently, however, old ghosts had been haunting her. When she slept, even during the day. For the first time in the past two years she thought of that night when her old life had died, along with her parents and the rest of the crew of the ship. In all this time not a single survivor had been discovered. For some time she had held out hope that her father, Theus, might have made it out, but there were no other survivors.
The nightmares were ceaseless, and they tormented her for so long she could no longer bear it. She had to discuss it with somebody. She had grown quite close to Raasi over the years, who was not only a master thief but a skilled healer as well (which is of course why he was the one who had nursed her to health after she was pulled half-dead off of the beach). When Ari had shown interest, Raasi had taken it upon himself to teach her what he knew of healing, and the two of them served as field medics for the guild.
Raasi was also known for giving sage consul when it was needed, and Ari had nobody else she trusted more. When Ari went to Raasi with her troubles, he sat and listened without a word for quite some time as she relayed what had been troubling her. After she had finished, he kept his silence for awhile, and Ari knew better than to push him to speak. She’d known him long enough to know that he as carefully considering everything she had said. Finally, Raasi spoke.
“It seems to me . . . . I have, in the past, had an experience similar to this one. My past is my own, but I will say this: the nightmares never stopped for me, as ye’ described, and the longer I tried to suppress them, the more they started spilling’ over into my waking moments. It was torment, and I only found solace when I learned the art of healing. I picked up the Restoration skills from a Holy Man that I knew. He helped me through my difficult times. He helped me make peace with the Gods. Said something’ about the Gods having a higher purpose for me. When I left, I don’t think he approved of me returning to my Thieves’ life, but he let me go. He said if that was what I felt like I needed to do, than that’s what I should do. I’ve spent my life since then healing and helping the men and women who are considered lowlives by the rest of society. Maybe that’s his ‘higher purpose,’ I don’t know. But he helped me, and from what you’ve said I think he might be able to help you too.”
Ari considered what he had said. She didn’t like it. He was asking her to get help facing the past she had spent the past years so carefully burying in her mind. But when Raasi spoke, he meant what he said. But worse, this would mean she’d have to leave the family that head stepped in when her original family had passed on. The Thieves Guild had become a familiar home to her. It struck her, now, how ironic it was the a noble’s daughter had become a healer of thieves. Is this what her parents would have wanted? Would they have approved? She’d spent the past years trying to convince herself that the answers to these questions were irrelevant, since her parents were gone. Was that true?
Raasi was right. A priest was the only way she would find any of the answers she needed.
* * *
It had been painful, but Ari had left the Thieves Guild behind. Another past that she would set behind her, but this one she would be sure not to forget. Ari had found the man that Raasi had pointed her to. He was an Argonian priest called Walks-In-Golden-Light who had been brought to the light of the Divines despite his roots in the xenophobic culture of blackmarsh. He oversaw a Temple to the Divines in a tiny corner of Tamriel, just across the border of Hammerfell and into High Rock. It was a peaceful place, set just on the tip of a small, private peninsula that jutted out beyond all port towns and bustling markets into the usually calm waters of the ocean. It was said that the Temple was most certainly blessed, for though the markets and towns had in the past been hit hard with ocean storms and massive waves, the Temple had never been touched by such natural disasters.
It had felt quite ridiculous at the start. Ari’s family had never been particularly religious, despite her mother’s Altmeri roots. However, she had spent her time learning how to pray and meditate. There were times when her energetic, impatient, and adventurous nature would prevent her from fully concentrating and lead to frustration, but Walks-In-Golden-Light was patient. He never raised his voice, and only ever offered a quite, helpful, and calming consul that would somehow be exactly what she needed to hear at the time. When she wasn’t meditating or praying, she spent her time refining her skill with Restoration.
Ari wasn’t the only ward that Walks-In-Golden-Light was teaching. There were several others, including a Dunmeri woman called Nyrssa whose past was mostly obscured to Ari. All that she could gather was that Nyrssa had been an occult follower of one of the Daedric Lords. She had several nasty scars that she discovered were the result of a self-punishment ritual. Walks-In-Golden-Light was teaching her the ways of the Aedra, and Nyrssa (who had once been very reserved and even standoffish) was becoming much more sociable and even friendly.
Ari met others at the Temple as well: a Nord man who had been involved in the worship of the Dragon Priests, a Khajiiti male who struggled against a Skooma addiction, and a Redguard woman who had once been a warrior of the Alik’r. Walks-In-Golden-Light had lead them all out of the dark paths that they had once tread, and Ari could see that he was doing them same for her.
Ari became quite close to the old Argonian, whom she affectionately called “The Miracle Lizard.” Although she could tell that Walks-In-Golden-Colors wasn’t supportive of her past as a Thief, he never chastised her for it, and focused only on the personal struggle with her past that she had been dealing with. Ari couldn’t say that she regretted her days with the Thieves’ Guild; in all honesty she had enjoyed her time with them. They were as much her family as Walks-In-Golden-Colors and the rest of the Temple wards. But she saw that the life she had lead with them was behind her, and would need to remain there if she was to progress in her personal journey.
One thing that Walks-In-Golden-Light did gently push for was for Ari to revert her name to its original state. He would never push her too far, but would occasionally quietly mention it, telling her that it would help her to do so, but only when she was ready.
The time came when she was ready. Arabelle would remember the night vividly. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and even an untrained eye gazing upon the sky could pick up the constellations set out by the ancients. The Warrior. The Thief. The Mage. She had looked at them and chuckled softly to herself as she realized how accurately they had reflected the path of her life. The Warrior she had trained under in her youth with her father, Theus. The Thief had guided her life directly after tragedy. And the Mage. She was on her journey towards this one. Arabelle was becoming quite adept with the Restoration spells, and often aided Walks-In-Golden-Light in healing the sick who would come to the Temple.
Arabelle had spent that night meditating and praying in front of Akatosh’s shrine. After several hours of setting herself before the Divines with a clear mind, she fell into a peaceful sleep. She woke up as quickly as she had slept, but not because of any panic or sudden noise.
As she sat up, she realized she had changed locations. Her vision was slightly hazy around the edges, and she could see that she was laying in a gently sloping field of emerald green grass set against an azure sky that was filled with fluffy, pearly clouds. She looked down at herself and saw that she was dressed in the finest, softest white silks that she had ever seen. It was like laying on a cloud. She suddenly felt the urge to turn around, and there, sitting cross-legged behind her in a similar garb, was an old man. His face was gently wrinkled, but he was certainly not elderly, and despite his apparent age he radiated a large degree of power and wisdom. He had a full gray beard that gave him a kindly look. His eyes were a deep blue. There was kindness in them, but behind the kindness could be seen a storm of power and infinite experience. Most impressively, curled next to him was a massive, brilliantly red dragon. The the beast breathed peacefully in it’s curled, sleeping position. When Arabelle saw it, for some reason she was not afraid, and knew that it would not harm her; she was simply awed by it’s majesty.
“You have come far in the past years, Arabelle” the man said. His voice was deep and resonant. “By now, I expect you have guessed who I am.” And strangely, she had. Without even knowing it. This was Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, but not in his true form. Arabelle bowed to him, and he briefly and elegantly acknowledged her show of respect.
“Lord Akatosh, why have you called me here
?” Arabelle asked.
“As I say, you have come far, Arabelle,” the Dragon God replied. “I have watched struggle against dangerous enemies, and beyond that threats far from the physical form. You have faced great trials, and have escaped from them not unscathed, but more impressively than that, healed. And now you have brought yourself before the light of the Aedra; myself and the other Divines. I trust you know we take great pleasure in knowing that you are now walking in the light.” Arabelle responded with a nod and a small smile.
“We have followed your lengthy and twisting path, and it has lead you here. Do not misunderstand me: everything you have done had been of your own free volition. We have not interjected out influence into your path, we have only observed.” This came as something of a relief. Of all the things Arabelle valued, freedom was perhaps foremost among them. To think that her entire life was simply the product of a Divine’s influence would have destroyed her faith. Now she could fully rest reassured, and for that more than anything she was grateful to Akatosh.
“I am here as a representative of the will of all of the Divines. Unlike the Daedric Lords, we do not act entirely selfishly. But more than that, I am here to offer you something. It is here that your path splits, and once again I will not influence you in any direction.” Here, the Dragon God looked directly into her eyes. His deep blue ones locked with her green, and it felt as though Akatosh could see through her, past her physical and even spiritual being into something much more complex.
“Arabelle, your Plane of Existence, Mundus, is in great jeopardy. A great man has fallen into the clever trap of a mortal elf whose soul is as black as the night sky. He serves Molag Bal, the Daedric Lord of Domination. Molag Bal seeks to . . . fuse the planes of Mundus and Coldharbour, his realm of tormented souls. What you witness on the night of your parents’ demise . . . that was the only the beginning. The first stages of the Planemeld. The Daedra you encountered were merely scouts. More will come, and Mundus needs a hero if it is to continue its existence. Myself and the other Divines do not have the power to interfere directly with the activities of the Mortal Plane.”
“We are interested in the preservation of your Plane. I’ve done everything I can to prevent its destruction. Even to confront my own son . . . “ Akatosh trailed of briefly, but his gaze never wavered from Arabelle’s. After a pause, he continued.
“The Divines need an Acolyte to act as our light-bearer on Mundus if we are to save your Plane from the Lord of Domination’s cruel grasp. What I am here to do is to offer you the opportunity to become this Acolyte. Allow me to give you fair warning: this will not be an easy undertaking. You have already come far, but you will be further tested, and you will face trials beyond your comprehension at present. The stakes are great, but so are the potential rewards. I leave the choice to you.”
Arabelle set still for a moment. Her eyes were still locked with those of the god that sat before her. It was tempting to look away from such power, even in a mortal-esque form, but also strangely captivating. Already in her mind she knew what she would do with the request, but she
forced herself to remember Walks-In-Golden-Light’s teachings. She would not rush into this decision. Arabelle wanted to further serve the Divines. She had been skeptical at first, but Arabelle had discovered that serving the Aedra was far more rewarding than any other pursuit she had followed. The pathway that Akatosh had opened to her certainly appealed to her adventurous nature, and the danger that the Dragon God assured her would lay ahead was not any reason for her to shy away. What bothered her most was that she would have to once again leave yet another stage of her life behind. Arabelle had only lived for 26 years up until this point, but it felt like several lifetimes, and she was deeply attached to each one. Yes, leaving Walks-In-Golden-Light and the others would be painful, but she knew it was the only way for her to move forward. If she did not accept, she would spend the rest of her days wondering what would have happened if she had. Everything had become suddenly very clear to her at that moment, and she saw that what Akatosh was offering her was what her entire life had been training her for. The Warrior. The Thief. And now, the Mage. When Arabelle replied, she found she knew the words to say:
“Lord Akatosh, Divine Dragon God of Time, with your guidance and wise counsel I will be as an Acolyte of Divine Power on Tamriel. Through me, let the will of Molag Bal be denied, and let the people of Mundus prosper.” Akatosh simply nodded. Arabelle woke up.
* * *
The next morning, Arabelle walked with a new purpose. Never in her life had she felt so sure of anything, but her new future gave her a hope and passion that she hadn’t known since her youngest years. She requested a private meeting with Walks-In-Golden-Light, who was quite interested to hear what she had to say. They sat across from one another on simple mats in a circular room, where nine small carved portions of the wall housed shrines to each of the Divines.
Arabelle explained exactly what had happened to her, and was able to vividly recount every detail. Walks-In-Golden-Light became extremely serious, and inquired in detail as to everything she had experienced in the dream. When he was finished, he nodded. “It is true then. The Divines have laid a path before you, and you have chosen to take it. This happens very seldom, which is why I was so specific in my line of questioning. But Akatosh Himself has selected you for this task. You must first train more in the art of battle and refine your Arcane abilities, that much is clear.”
Arabelle spent the next year training with everything she had. She became extremely adept at healing magic. Walks-In-Golden-Light had of course overseen her training as a Restoration mage, but her training with a greatsword was refined by another priest of the Temple who had a past as a warrior. Another Argonian who she had previously seen only briefly called Swings-With-Might.
In her 27 year of age, Arabelle had become a formidable warrior with both spell and blade, and despite weak protests from the Priests, she kept up the skills she had acquired as a thief. Sneaking and lockpicking could certainly be useful in the trials to come, but of course her days of stealing were long since behind her.
The night before she left, Arabelle spent her time meditating before the Shrine to Akatosh. When she slept, she received a vision of a man who slept in rather fine quarters. There was a woman next to him too, but the vision demanded Arabelle pay attention only to the man. He had a fully grey beard and slightly shaggy, rather unkempt grey hair. The sleeping chamber was filled with all manner of finery, from beautifully decorated vanities to the deep blue and purple curtains that hung around the bed and before the windows. After staring at him for some minutes, Arabelle finally realized who it was. It was Emeric, King of High Rock, the ultimate authority over all Knights of the realm.
As soon as she realized who she was being shown, the room warped, and Arabelle’s vision shifted to a deep blue banner emblazoned with a golden lion’s paw. The recognition came much easier this time. This was of course the banner of the Lion Guard, the most legendary and noble of the Knightly Orders of High Rock that served as the King’s personal Honor Guards, or else generals and commanders among his armies. The Lion Guard was in fact the reason for High King Emeric selecting the Lion as the symbol of his military power.
Finally, she saw an elf whose skin and hair was as pale as the snow, and his armor was as black as the void. He was laughing. A cold, cruel, high laugh that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Suddenly, it was over.
When Arabelle had finished receiving the vision that was no doubt provided by Akatosh, she knew what she had to do. She would join the Lion Guard.
* * *
Arabelle barely felt the dagger plunge into her chest, and knew she was quickly slipping into Aetherius.
It was almost a year since Arabelle had left Walks-In-Golden-Light’s Temple. The goodbye had been a bittersweet one. The Argonian had expressed his pride in how far she had come, and even awarded Arabelle a true earned Argonian name: Walks-With-Gods. This was so great an honor that nobody apart from a native Argonian could truly comprehend it. Outsiders were seldom accepted by the Argonians, much less given earned Argonian names. But Arabelle had understanding enough to appreciate how deeply she had connected with the Priest.
Now, Arabelle had taken her first steps towards bringing the will of Akatosh and the other Divines to Tamriel. She was a fairly new member of the Lion Guard. In this noble organization, nobility, money, and titles got members nowhere. Respect and prestige were earned by martial prowess and noble deeds, and nothing else. The Lion Guard had remained so pure for so long by unquestioningly discarding any recruits that even remotely broke the laws they had laid down. They operated by a strict code of honor, and had standards higher than any other Knightly Orders in High Rock. But Arabelle had managed to find herself a place in there ranks. She was relatively low ranking, granted, but a low ranking Lion Guard was more than the highest ranking noble or governor in any city. She eventually achieved the higher rank of Captain. Upon acceptance into the Lion Guard's upper ranks, Arabelle, like other Lion Guard officers, went through the Bonding Ceremony, where young Lion Guard initiates are bound with a Senche Lion Cub that would one day become their faithful mount and companion. The lion with which she was bonded was a young cub called S'Bar.
Arabelle had been trusted with several missions, but her newest one was most unusual. There had been many sightings of odd happenings around northern High Rock. Sightings of necromancy were unusually frequent. She and several other Lion Guard had been tasked with investigating the area. They had found a strange arrangement of rocks outside the entrance to a cave, and when they’d entered they were quickly overwhelmed by the shear numbers of undead. The filthy creatures were everywhere, and even the legendary Lion Guard Knights could do nothing against such odds. Suddenly a high, cold, cruel voice had called them off. Arabelle had recognized the voice, and when she saw who it had come from, she knew for certain she was on the right path: it was the elf from her vision.
And thus she found herself in her current predicament. Held down to a bloody, sacrificial altar by shackles with a knife twisting in her heart. Each and every one of the Lion Guard company she had been with had been sacrificed, and she was the last one to go. Despite the situation, Arabelle’s last thought was faith. Faith that the Divines would somehow still use her to bring about the safety of Mundus. Then, she died.
And she woke up. She looked around. The place was cold. Very cold. She was in a cell, of sorts. It was rather roomy, and there was only one entrance covered by iron bars. The outside was just as gloomy as the inside, which consisted of little but high, jagged stone walls and a barely noticeable purple mist. Suddenly, she realized where she was.
Coldharbour.
[**This takes the character through to the beginning of the game, where your character starts in Coldharbour**]
Replies
I like where this is headed so far.
Thanks :D
Not sure if I should put coming chapters here through updates or just make another topic each time . . .
I could see a chapter for each milestone in-game, or even each zone you go through. What do you have planned? You really get me fired up and wanting to play ESO again!
I was planning on doing a chapter per zone (although some zones cen get really long depending on how many side quests I do so I'd have to break them up). I don't plan to include all the side quests and stuff, but a lot of them contribute to the overarching story of the game and the character. So based on that info, do you think a new discussion/topic per chapter would be best?
Also, if you plan on getting back into ESO, good luck and have fun! Be sure to give me some updates on your character and stuff :D I'd be itnerested to see what you end up doing.
If each writing is as comprehensive as this one, new discussions for each would be good. To keep the story flowing, you could link the previous post at the top or something to that effect for those who missed it.
Alas, I likely won't be getting back into ESO due to time constraints. I'm still busy with school and a project of my own (which you can find in this forum as well). I look forward to reading your tales through Tamriel, however!
Thanks :D GL with school stuff. Between running a YouTube channel and living in general while still dealing with school, I know how bogged down school can get you.
Maybe separately so one thread don’t get too large
Okay, thanks.