u/SargeMonclaire

Chapter 5: A Council stained by Black and Gold

(4E 180 – The Cloudrest Aerie / Age 198)

The air within the strategic council chamber of the Cloudrest Aerie was heavy with the distinct burning sensation of enchanted glass weaponry. Outside the high arched windows, a blanket of white clouds hid the world below, inside, the map on the table revealed a continent on fire.

Auriella sat at the table with her hands resting on her shield, her armor catching the flickering torchlight. Across the table stood her three brothers-in-arms, the new generation of Welkynar, chosen by the Directorate for their blood purity. They wore the names of the legends, though their strings were still there.

"Their orders are absolute, Luminarch," Siroria said, her finger tracing a jagged red line across the map of Valenwood. "The border settlements of problematic Bosmer clans in the area are designated for purification. We fly at dawn to oversee the cleansing."

Auriella looked down at the map, her jaw tightening. "Purification? These may be wood elves, Siroria, but there are civilians among the clans. We are the Welkynar, we are sworn to defend our people from external terrors, not to act as exterminators for a committee of extremists."

"Watch your tongue, sister," Relequen warned, his voice crackling like static electricity. He leaned over the table, the blue light of his storm magic reflecting in his eyes. "The Thalmor are Summerset now. To defy the Dominion is to defy the state. For our people to be strong, our borders must be absolute. The old ways ended when the Gates opened."

"Olorime did not sacrifice her life so we could become tyrants," Auriella countered, her voice dropping to a steady ring that echoed off the ceiling. "She fought for the honor of the Altmer, not for a bunch of fascists."

Galenwe stepped into the light, leaning on the back of a stone chair. "The Grand Matriarch is dead, Auriella. And if you refuse this deployment, you will join her memory. If you do not mount your gryphon and ride with us to Valenwood, you will be stripped of your seat, branded a heretic, and executed as a traitor to the Aldmeri Dominion."

Auriella looked at the three of them. She looked for any flicker of the honor, the brotherhood, or the shared discipline they had practiced for over a century. There was nothing but obedience and fear.

She felt the walls of her home closing in. She was trapped and alone.

"I understand my duty," Auriella said softly, lowering her head. "If the Directorate commands it, I will prepare my gear."

"Good," Siroria said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "Do not disappoint us, Luminarch. The eyes of the Dominion are upon you."

Auriella turned and walked out of the council chamber, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind her. She had no intention of flying to Valenwood to butcher innocent elves willingly, but refusing openly right here meant instant execution. Her mind raced. She would take the deployment. 

Chapter 6: Extermination

(4E 180 – The Valenwood Border)

The air in Valenwood was thick, but it didn't smell of the vibrant, blooming life Auriella had read about in the histories. It smelled of ash, the sound of screams and soaring fire could be heard from above. Following the council's orders, Auriella had been forced to fly in alongside the Thalmor.

She flew far above the ensuing choas, the heat rising from the scorching forest singed Auriella’s face. Below her lay a ruined once peaceful Bosmer village, rooted between the trees, it was now nothing but a husk of charred timber. The Thalmor "cleansing" squads marched through the smoke. They weren't hunting soldiers; they were erasing families suspected of "resisting Altmerie governance."

"Auriella! We found more of them hiding in the cellars," a Thalmor Justiciar called out. "We've been ordered their for purification."

Auriella looked down at a line of kneeling wood elves, her hands hovered over them, but they felt like lead. She looked at Siroria, who stood nearby, casually conjuring a ball of fire in her palm as if she were merely lighting a candle for dinner.

"Do it, Auriella," Siroria commanded, her eyes cold. "Purity is Alaxon. We must purge the resistance so the Dominion may grow."

Auriella didn't move. She felt a cold, hollow void where her pride in her heritage used to be. This wasn't what Olorime had taught her.

Auriella looked at the kneeling Bosmer, a young woman clutching a child to her chest

"Well? What are you waiting for?!" Siroria called out. 

"This is wrong!" Auriella shouted down.

Siroria’s eyes narrowed, the flame in her palm growing into a violent, roaring sphere. "Purge them now Auriella! That's an order!"

Auriella didn't answer. She leaned forward, reaching out her hand, stroking her gryphon’s neck. "It's time to get out of here Solaris."

"Auriella!" Siroria’s voice turned into a shriek of rage as a huge blast of fire roared through the sky, followed by a volley of lightning spells and whistling arrows.

Auriella moved in perfect sync with Solaris, She maneuvered into a violent, spiraling dive, She felt an arrow passing inches from her ear. Lightning bolts blitzed by, Siroria's fire scorched the tips of Solaris’s feathers. Pulling up with immense force she zig-zagged through the dense, towering trees, using the forest as a shield.

Flying Solaris toward the horizon, Auriella left the nightmare unfolding far behind.

Chapter 7: The Eye of the Beholder

(4E 180 – The Crystal Tower, Vault of the Oghma)

The wind was a freezing roar in Auriella's ears but it could not cool the fire in her mind. Lying flat on Solaris’s back, high above the clouds, the world was silent, save for the rhythmic, powerful thrum-thrum-thrum of Solaris’s wings.

Auriella raised her arms, as she looked up at her hands, the same hands that had been trained rigorously by Olorime. She had just burned her life to the ground. She was no longer a Welkynar; she was nobody.

"What now?" she whispered.

She had spent her life fueled by whispers of the tales of a savior, of a prophecy, of an Altmer child born to mend a broken world. She had always taken those words as a reason to serve the people, to follow the high command, to be the order. But as she watched the stars begin to prick through the twilight ahead, a realization settled in.

If she was meant to save the Altmer, and the Thalmor were currently the ones orchestrating their moral ruin, then the prophecy wasn't about upholding rule, it was about defying it.

"They told me I was a savior," she murmured. "But nobody has ever told me what I was meant to save them from."

She adjusts her course. The path forward was no longer the sky above the Aerie; it was the path down into the archives, into the history she had never been allowed to read.

She dove Solaris into a steep descent, toward the blackened ruins of the Crystal Tower. She moved quickly, her armor still smelling of smoke and Valenwood pine.

before long she reached the heavy, reinforced doors of the lower Archives, the subterranean levels where history was kept not for the public, but for the Sapiarchs.

As she pushed open the ancient, ash-coated doors, she froze.

Sitting at the center of the room, his eyes covered by bandages, was a blind Mer. He didn't appear to be guarding the entrance, it looked like he was waiting for something or someone.

"You're early," the blind Mer said, his voice raspy, echoing across the walls. "I am Varamo."

Auriella stopped "Why are you here?"

"I have been waiting for the one who would finally break their oath." Varamo said, slowly turning toward her. "I have been anticipating your arrival here, i have felt the threads of time pull and fray. It told the Thalmor only what they wished to hear, that the future was secure, that the Dominion would last an eternity."

Auriella felt a chill run down her spine. "I was told my birth was foretold in the Scrolls. A savior for the Altmer. If that is true… why am I here? Why am I a traitor?"

Varamo gave a warm smile. "They fashioned you a savior as to chain you to the future of their dominion. The Scrolls, however, are indifferent to the survival of the world's fleeting powers; they care only for the flow of time. The Thalmor have grown rigid and stale. They fear the world, so they build cages to freeze it in place, failing to realize that peace without chaos is merely the silence of a tomb."

A withered hand, ancient like dried leaves, pointing toward the center: a golden scroll, upon a lectern of polished malachite. "Here, the annals of Men and Mer fade into irrelevance, only the memory of the Aurbis encompassing all that was, is, and will be."

Auriella hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. She knew the legends. To read a Scroll without decades of mental conditioning practiced by the Monks of the Ancestor Moth was an act of madness. It could tear her mind apart or strike her permanently blind.

"The blindness of the priests is a tragedy of compromise," Varamo stated, his voice echoing througout the crystal chamber. "They spend lifetimes in the dark, weaving rituals of silk to catch mere fragments of the truth. They merely survive its presence. You are the one the Scroll awaits."

She reached out, her armored gauntlets trembling slightly, the Scroll unfurled its ancient parchment.

The world didn't just fade; it shattered.

The glyphs upon the scroll didn't sit still, they uncoiled like golden serpents. Countless constellations rushing directly into her eyes. Auriella gasped, her knees hitting the stone floor as a tidal wave of cosmic information flooded her mind.

She didn't see the glorious conquest the Thalmor whispered about in their meetings. Instead, it forced her to look North. She saw a land of jagged, white frost and roaring dragons. She saw a blackened sky, where arrows of corrupted starlight bled into the heavens. She saw a daughter of Coldharbour, and a solitary Snow-Walker guarding a shrine.

“The Dragon’s Blood flows in the veins of the Sun. Reclaim the Shield. Reclaim the Bow. Seek the shadow of a crumbling throne, and the steel of those who swore the dragon’s oath. Salvation lies in the hands of the broken.”

With a desperate cry, Auriella slammed the Scroll shut. The golden light vanished instantly, plunging the vault back into the dim twilight. She lay on the floor, panting, her vision swimming with purple static and burning tears. But as she forced herself back to her feet, the confusion was gone. Her true mission was waiting for her in the frozen wastes of Skyrim.

Chapter 8: The Flight from Alinor

(4E 180 – The Cloudrest Aerie)

Auriella burst onto the high landing platform of the Aerie, the mountain wind whipping her hair across her face. The sky was turning a dark, bruised violet as a massive storm rolled in from the Abecean Sea. Dismounting Solaris she rushed inside to gather her things.

Rushing back out she whistled a sharp, piercing, melodic note that cut through the howling wind. From the upper roosts, Solaris, shrieked in response, plummeting down, his heavy talons scraping sharply against the marble platform as he landed beside her, his intelligent golden eyes tracking her panicked movements.

"Easy, boy," Auriella whispered, throwing her satchel over the leather saddle and tightening the straps with frantic speed. "We have to go. We leave Summerset tonight."

Before she could place her boot into the stirrup, a bright flare of magical light illuminated behind her.

"Going somewhere?"

Auriella froze, slowly turning around. Stepping out of the barracks were three armored silhouettes. Siroria, Relequen, and Galenwe stood side by side, their weapons drawn and humming with elemental energy. Behind them, a squad of black-robed Thalmor Justiciars moved into offensive positions.

"You committed high treason." Siroria said, her fire-enchanted sword flaring with a dangerous, orange heat.

"I know my destination," Auriella said, mounting Solaris and pulling the reins tight. The gryphon sensed her anger, his feathers puffing up as he let out a low, defensive growl. "Auri-El does not walk with the Thalmor! I have to head North!"

"You are a Royal Asset, Auriella," Galenwe snapped, his voice like grinding glaciers. Ice began to frost the stones around his boots. "You are the property of the Aldmeri Dominion. You don't get to choose your destiny! Step down from the beast, or we will bring you down."

"Try me if you dare!" Auriella roared.

She kicked Solaris’s flanks. The gryphon let out a defiant, ear-splitting shriek, leaping off the platform, plunging directly into the clouds below as volleys of fireballs and ice spikes soared passed them.

Chapter 9: The Battle of the Four Winds

(4E 180 – High Above the Abecean Sea)

The storm above the sea was a roaring wall of slate-grey clouds, and Auriella was flying straight into the center of the tempest. Rain lashed against her visor, tasting of heavy salt.

A deafening crack of thunder tore through the sky, but it didn't come from the clouds.

Auriella looked back. Three distinct streaks of elemental fury, blazing red, electric violet, and jagged white, were tearing through the mist behind her. The Welkynar had mounted their own gryphons and were pursuing her with terrifying speed.

Within moments, they surged ahead, fanning out and surrounding her in diamond formation high above the waves.

"Yield, Auriella!" Relequen’s voice boomed through the thunderclouds, amplified by his storm-magic. "You cannot outfly the storm!"

Siroria dove first, her gryphon’s claws shrouded in a roaring vortex of fire that scorched the falling rain into plumes of steam. Auriella twisted Solaris hard to the left, the sheer heat singing the edges of her traveler’s cloak. Gathering solar magic in the palm of her hand, she unleashed a massive, blinding Sunburst that illuminated the dark storm clouds in a brilliant flash of pure light.

"Hold your formation!" Galenwe roared, his gryphon veering wildly as the sudden light disoriented the creature.

Auriella used the chaos to dive into a lower clouds, trying to lose them in the heavy turbulence, but her brothers-in-arms were masters of the sky. Relequen capitalized on the natural tempest, raising his staff to channel a massive bolt of localized lightning straight through the cloud bank.

The electric arc struck Solaris's wing.

The gryphon shrieked, a raw, agonizing sound of failing strength that shattered Auriella’s heart through their telepathic bond. Solaris's great wings folded inward, his muscles locked by the residual currents, and they entered a terminal, breathless dive toward the ocean.

Through the misty downpour, Auriella looked up one final time as she fell. Her three former brothers hovered at the edge of the clouds, their dark silhouettes peircing through the flashing lightning. They watched her plunge toward the jagged, white-capped waves of the Abecean Sea far below, satisfied that they erased the defect from the Dominion's chessboard.

Solaris hit the water with a bone-shattering impact. The crushing weight of the black deep swallowed them whole, plunging Auriella into a cold, hollow silence where her identity, her title, and her country were washed away.

Chapter 10: The Nameless Prisoner

(4E 201 – The Skyrim Border / Age 219)

Auriella survived the ocean through pure, desperate restoration magic, washing ashore on the coast of the mainland as a ghost. She spent two decades walking the roads of Tamriel as a rogue warrior, entirely solo, she left her majestic golden plate behind now dented and dirty, she hid beneath a ragged, mud-stained traveler’s cloak. She still loved her culture, she still held her name like a sacred shield, but she knew she was completely outgunned by the Thalmor's continental reach.

She followed the breadcrumbs of the Scroll, heading toward the rugged province of Skyrim to figure out what the Scroll wanted her to find. Twenty years of hiding had made her weary, and the cold mountain passes of Skyrim blurred her focus.

While attempting to cross the southern border near Darkwater Crossing under the cover of a thick, pine-scented mist, she marched straight into a heavily fortified Imperial legion ambush. The soldiers were rounding up Stormcloak rebels. When they dragged Auriella from the brush, they found a high-born Altmer who possessed no papers and no gold.

"What's a high elf doing with Ulfric's lot?" the Imperial captain muttered, paying no mind to her proud, glaring amber eyes. "Bind her. If she’s with them, she goes to the block."

Stripped of her weapons and tossed into the back of a creaking wooden cart, Auriella sat in freezing silence alongside a gaggle of human rebels and a terrified horse thief. The soldiers focused entirely on the small, fleeting politics of their civil war, completely oblivious to the ancient, fated encounter awaiting them at Helgen.

Chapter 11: The Dragon's Voice

(4E 201 – The Western Watchtower, Whiterun)

The air outside the Western Watchtower smelled of wet stone, burnt grass, and the bitter, sulfurous blood of a slaughtered dragon. The stone structure was partially ruined, black smoke billowing into the grey Skyrim sky.

Auriella stood over the massive, skeletal carcass of Mirmulnir. Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her knuckles white around a scavenged hunting bow. Suddenly, the dragon’s flesh began to liquefy into streams of pure, molten gold, rushing toward her like a river of light.

The dragon soul slammed into her chest. Her world shattered and reformed.

A profound, cosmic warmth flooded her veins, a power so massive it made her solar magic feel like a dying candle. In that instant, the sky above Whiterun seemed to split, and a thunderous roar rumbled down from the highest peak of the world:

"DO-VAH-KIIN!"

Auriella fell to her knees in the ash, her hands pressed against her chest as the guards watched in absolute awe. Her entire understanding of the universe shifted. She was taught that the Dragonborn blessing was a lesser, human covenant reserved for barbarians like Tiber Septim. The Thalmor claimed Auri-El belonged exclusively to the Altmer.

But this blessing was a direct, literal gift from the Dragon God of Time, Auri-El himself. By giving a pure, high-born Altmer the soul of a dragon, the First Ancestor had shattered the Thalmor’s entire framework of propaganda.

She stood up slowly, her tattered cloak snapping in the mountain wind, her amber eyes burning with the certainty of a grand purpose. She was no longer just a rogue knight fleeing a corrupt government. She was the chosen champion of her god, re-enacting the ancient myths of creation.

Driven by this new divine clarity, she began to listen to the rumors sweeping the province. The taverns spoke of a sudden, violent surge in vampire attacks, creatures of the dark that burned under the sun. Recalling the Scroll's vague, haunting warning of a "blackened sky" and a "pale daughter of the night" Auriella made a calculated tactical decision. She would seek out a newly reforming group of mortal vampire hunters called the Dawnguard. She didn't join them out of charity; she joined to use their intelligence network to find out why the darkness was rising, the path would eventually lead her straight to a daughter of Coldharbour, a hidden snow-elf, and the very relics she had sacrificed everything to find.

Hi! Thank you for taking the time to read this. I don’t usually share these things but this, i felt too strongly about not to mention it.

When I started developing this character, I knew very little about Altmer society, hierarchy, or culture. it became a really fun investment of my time. I’ve spent the last few days diving into everything I could find about Summerset, its geography, the architecture, the history of the Welkynar knights, and the effects of the Oblivion Crisis. It’s been exhausting but I’ve loved every minute of it.

I did take some creative liberties here and there, things like: Luminarch of the Welkynar Knights, isn't a title that's usually stringed together like that for example.

I’m really proud of how this turned out, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ✍️ 

Hopefully it will spark some inspiration for your own characters! Let me know what you think.

Mods I used for this character:

(available on consoles aswell)

Lovely hair colors

Aesthetic Animations-Female

AsharaSkyrim Characters (presets)

The Pure CBBE

KS Hairdos

Resurgence Armory - Elven/Glass

Truly Light Elven Armor SSE

Chapter 1: The Savior

(3E 385 – The Crystal Tower, Summerset Isles / 30 years before birth)

The Summerset Isle was a beautiful place, where lush, glowing gardens met the bright Abecean Sea, surrounded by the tall graceful white buildings, Altmer were known for. Rising from the heart of the Eton Nir mountains like a pillar of pure light was the Crystal Tower. It housed one of the largest archives in the world, it was the center of all magical study. For thousands of years, it had acted as a bridge between the physical and the magical worlds, holding the secrets of history and the most complex spells. Anyone lucky enough to study here knew the immense weight of the knowledge kept within its shimmering, crystal walls.

The air in the tower’s top chamber, smelled of old paper and stone dust. This was the domain of the Sapiarchs, the highest-ranking scholars of the Altmer, where they spent their lives documenting the history and laws of their people.

On this evening, the sun set in a deep, bruised amber across the horizon. Sapiarch Varamo, a scholar dedicated to Xarxes and the Keeper of the Oghma, stood before a massive lectern carved from a single, swirling block of polished malachite. His hands, ancient like dried leaves, trembled as he raised an Elder Scroll. He set aside his pride, adopting the humility of the Moth Priests he had studied for so long, offering his mind as a vessel for knowledge no scholar was ever meant to hold.

The Scroll unfurled of its own volition, a low, resonant hum vibrating through the stone floor. Varamo winced, his eyes watering against the sudden, piercing light of creation. The glyphs upon the parchment did not sit still. They bled, shifting into constellations of the night sky, pulsing with a rhythmic, golden heartbeat.

"Auriella," His voice, echoing in the througout the crytal rooms. "The Solar Scion. Born with the blood of kings to hold the light of gods."

As he looked deeper, the Scroll’s ink flowed with blinding light, revealing a promise to the scholars gathered around the chamber's perimeter. Among them sat the High Kinlord of Alinor, draped in silks, alongside several royal advisers. Tucked in the back, wearing black and gold robes, were a few representatives of the Thalmor. 

"What does it show, Varamo?" the High Kinlord demanded, leaning forward. "Does the First Ancestor mirror our bloodline? Is this child destined to be our salvation?"

"A girl with tremendous talent for solar magics will be born. She will be chosen by Auri-El, as a champion, leading our people into a glorious new era."

Sapiarch Varamo stepped back as the Elder Scroll snapped shut with a sharp clack, the golden light vanishing instantly as the outside world was plunged into the dim twilight of the setting sun. He looked down at his hands, as his vision permanently darkens. He stood there, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the destiny he had just witnessed, knowing the world would bend under the weight of the truth he now carried in his mind.

Chapter 2: A Masterpiece was Born

(3E 415 – The Royal House of Alinor / Age 0) 

Thirty years after the malachite lectern trembled, the birthing chambers of the Royal House of Alinor smelled of crushed jasmine and distilled rosewater.

The parents stood over the cradle, weary but radiant with awe, their gazes fixed on the child whose skin seemed to glow like sunlight. As the mother reached down to brush a lock of hair from the infant, the air in the room grew warm, shimmering with a soft, golden hue.

"Beautiful, like the first light of dawn," the father said softly. "Auriella..."

The House had spent decades reading the stars, waiting for the incarnation of the first Ancestor to find its reflection in a new life. Every chart, every calculation pointed to the Royal House of Alinor. The newborn child was the apex of Alaxon, the physical embodiment of an ancient painting of the First Ancestor.

As the Scroll had fortold years ago she would be named her Auriella, born to bear a natural mastery over solar magics that made the skies of Alinor shimmer when she passed.

The infant was designated at birth, as the future successor and apprentice to an ancient knight, Olorime the Welkynar of Solar Light.

Chapter 3: The Warmth of the Sun

(3E 430 – The Cloudrest Aerie, Eton Nir / Age 15)

The crisp morning air at the Cloudrest Aerie was thick with the scent of mountain dust and the coarse, warm grit clinging to wild feathers.

Sunlight cut through the mountain mist, reflecting off the pristine marble landing platforms that jutted directly out over the endless sea of white clouds below.

Fifteen-year-old Auriella was practicing on the edge of the northern platform, her boots clicking against the stone. She was sweating, her breath shallow after hours of grueling morning training. In her hands, she held a longbow of pale, polished glass, its limbs etched with intricate moonstone filigree that pulsed with a faint, erratic warmth.

"Your form is rigid, Little Light," a voice chimed, rich like a glass harp.

Auriella turned to see Olorime walking toward her. The Grand Matriarch of Cloudrest was a living legend, over a thousand years old, yet her skin bore the smooth, unblemished radiance of a woman on her golden plateau, sustained by centuries of peerless restoration sorcery. She wore the gilded plate of the Welkynar of Light, but her helmet sat on a nearby bench. she was a stern Mer woman.  Her eyes, a soft, ancient gold, shimmering in the sunlight.

"I'm trying to weave my solar magic into the string," Auriella said, lowering the bow, her cheeks flushing with exhaustion. "But the magic keeps dispersing before I can draw the bow."

Olorime stepped in closer, the scent of dried lavender enveloping Auriella. She gently reached out her elegant fingers wrapping over Auriella’s hands. "Because you are forcing it. You treat the light like a spell to be bound. It is not a tool, little one. It is a part of you, watch."

Olorime closed her eyes. Slowly, a breathtaking, flawless golden light began to bleed from her palms, flowing effortlessly into the wood of the bow. The weapon seemed to breathe, casting a gentle warmth that chased away the biting mountain chill. Auriella looked up, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of it.

Olorime tucked a stray strand of golden hair behind Auriella’s ear. "The politicians in Alinor speak of your lineage as an investment. They look at you and see a weapon to expand their borders. But I look at you and see the true soul of Summerset. Promise me, Auriella. Should these lands change, guard our people and our culture. Never let the ambition of those politicians be worth more than a single life."

"I promise, Master." Auriella replied softly, her amber eyes locked onto Olorime's.

Olorime smiled with a radiant brightness that seemed to eclipse the morning sun. She reached into her armor's satchel and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden brush, turning toward her massive, golden-feathered gryphon resting nearby. "Good. Now, help me groom Darremalatu. He’s been nipping at the stable boys again, and he only behaves when you sing that old ballad from Ayrenn's court."

Auriella laughed, the sound bright and airy, skipping across the stones after her master.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon of the Summerset Isles, painting the spires of Cloudrest in hues of bruised purple and liquid gold. Auriella was sitting on the terrace, watching the gryphons settle into their nests. Olorime walked over, her boots clicking against the marble, and leaned against the railing beside her.

For a long time, there was only the sound of the wind. Then, Olorime let out a low, weary breath.

"You look at me and see a legend," Olorime said, not looking at the girl. "You see the one who restored the Welkynar. But sometimes, I don't see the leader everyone seems to talk so much about."

Auriella turned to her, curious. "What do you mean?"

"I don't often speak of it. It is not the sort of tale one tells to inspire recruits. We were broken, Auriella. My order, I remember the fall of the Aerie as if it were a turn of the tides. My brothers-in-arms were shattered, twisted into shadows by the Sload’s malice. We were simply waiting for the end."

"What's a Sload?" Auriella asked tilting her head. 

"An abomination," Olorime said, her voice dropping as cold as the mountain stone. "It's best not to think of the Sload as a race of people, but as a creeping blight upon the world. They possess no capacity for the familiar warmth of loyalty, nor do they understand the honor that binds a rider to her gryphon. To them, my brothers-in-arms were nothing more than puppets on strings, who danced until they broke. They care only for themselves, and I... I was powerless to sever the threads."

She looked down at her hands, turning them over. "Out of the chaos, came twelve strangers. A fellowship of the most ridiculous, mismatched, and utterly absurd warriors I have ever witnessed."

Auriella couldn't help a small smile. "Ridiculous?"

"Beyond belief," Olorime laughed, a soft, genuine sound. "There was an Argonian who fought with a fishing rod, a Nord who insisted that shirts were a sign of weakness, and a Breton healer who only seemed to care if your hat was fashionable enough to deserve a spell. They bickered. They tripped over their own weapons. The Dunmer mage set the whole area ablaze by accident, and the Khajiit thief was far more interested in Z'maja’s jewelry than the fate of the world."

Auriella giggled. "That doesn't sound like a hero's tale."

"It wasn't," Olorime laughed, her expression turning tender. "But those strangers were exactly what we needed. Despite being a total mess, they moved with a kind of chaotic synergy that defied all logic. That day served as a reminder: you do not need to be a perfect knight to do a good thing, you only need to be there. You have to be willing to stand alongside others, no matter how strange they might seem. When my order fell, I was the only one left, the sole survivor rescued from the ruin."

She placed a hand on Auriella’s shoulder, her gaze steady.

"I tell you this because you carry a heavy burden, little one. You will feel the pressure before long, to be the pinnacle of what a Welkynar should be. But when the weight of that legacy feels like it might crush you, remember my fools. Remember that the world isn't saved by statues. It is saved by people who are just as broken and flawed as we are, but who choose to stand together."

Olorime stood up, patting Auriella’s shoulder. "Learn to fight with grace, yes. But don't lose the ability to be a bit chaotic." 

On that fleeting, golden day, surrounded by the clouds, Auriella felt entirely safe, unaware of the nightmare waiting just beyond the horizon.

Chapter 4: The Fall of Light

(3E 433 – The Oblivion Crisis / Age 18)

The sky tore open, and the world began to taste of iron and ash.

The Oblivion Crisis hit Summerset with a sudden, apocalyptic savagery. The sky above Cloudrest was no longer blue; it was a bruised, bleeding crimson, choked with thick columns of black sulfurous smoke. The screams of refugees echoed up from below the fortified lower tiers of the city, punctuated by the horrific, metallic grinding of Oblivion Gates rupturing the fabric of reality.

Auriella, an eighteen-year-old apprentice, raced onto the high balustrade of the Aerie. Her armor was hastily buckled, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. looking down on the Eton Nir peaks, the Welkynar were already engaged in a desperate, bloody defense. A massive, towering Great Gate had opened directly before the Crystal Tower, spilling an endless horde of dremora into the sanctuary.

High above the chaos, Olorime rode Darremalatu through a gauntlet of raining fireballs. Her gold armor was stained with dark Daedric blood, her face a mask of resolve. She looked down at the balustrade, her golden eyes locking onto her apprentice. 

"Keep the flame alive, Little Light!" Olorime’s shout echoed across the mountains, no longer gentle, but carrying the full, authoritative weight of a Grand Matriarch. "Remember your promise!"

"Master!" Auriella screamed into the wind, her voice tearing in her throat as she extended her hand.

Olorime didn't look back. She dove Darremalatu straight into the swirling, violent core of the Great Gate. Auriella watched, as her master channeled the entirety of her thousand-year-old soul into a singular, catastrophic spear of solar energy. The light that exploded from the gate was blinding, a miniature sun born of a mortal’s sacrifice that completely whited out the sky, obliterating the Daedric siege and forcing the gate to collapse in on itself with a deafening, concussive boom.

The Crystal Tower, under the strain of the rupture detonated, in a blinding, crystalline explosion, a shock wave rippled miles across the mountain ranges, the windows of Cloudrest shattered in a rain of glass. When the smoke finally cleared, the gate was gone and the sky began to heal, turning back to a muted, weeping grey. But Olorime was gone.

Auriella fell to her knees among the glass shards, her breath hitching in a sob she couldn't release. Through the falling soot, a single, scorched golden gryphon feather drifted down from the upper atmosphere, landing gently in her trembling palms. It smelled of lavender.

As she clutched the feather to her chest, she heard heavy, synchronized footsteps behind her. A group of Altmer dressed in black and gold robes. The Thalmor marched onto the balcony. they looked at the ruins ahead.

"A tragic loss." the lead Thalmor official murmured, his voice smooth and cold as marble.

Auriella gripped the scorched feather until the quill bit deep into her skin. 

Pt2 in the following post!

Kashgurn RPC by u/Aggravating-Plan-908

Link to his character is here: https://www.reddit.com/r/MydailylifeinSkyrim/s/009b3DTvBn

Following saadia's capture in pt2 here: https://www.reddit.com/r/MydailylifeinSkyrim/s/GaQ7l3U1Sp

The Exile and the Kinslayer

Chapter 1: Embers in a Cave

(176 4E Age 10)

The air around the border stronghold was thick with the scent of roasted goat, damp pine, and burning coal. Ten-year-old Mogrul-gha was out past the walls, gathering firewood, when she noticed a faint, violet glow flickering from a secluded cave.

Creeping closer, she peeked inside. There stood fifteen-year-old Kashgurn, another young Orc from her clan. He was kneeling over the cold carcass of a mountain wolf. Mogrul watched as Kashgurn whispered an incantation. A pulse of dark energy rippled from his hands; the snapping of bone could be heard from the outside as the dead wolf stood up, its blank eyes staring into the dark.

Mogrul didn't run. She didn't feel horror. Instead, she felt a sense of awe. In a stronghold governed by the strength of steel, this was a power that defied the rules. When Kashgurn abruptly ended the spell and the wolf collapsed back into the dirt, Mogrul slipped away, the image burned into her mind.

Chapter 2: Shadow of the Cleaver

(181 4E Age 15)

Five years later, on a cold and windy night, there was a big commotion inside the walls of the stronghold. The Chief was furious. In the center of the dirt, Kashgurn was kneeling down, surrounded by the stronghold Orcs. Inside the grounds, the warmth of glowing torches filled the area, standing out sharply against the cold night sky.

The Chief's wife had caught him in a cave outside the walls, defiling corpses and raising the undead carcasses of mountain wolves. Under the Code of Malacath, insults to the clan's honor were paid for in gold or blood.

The clan gathered in the muddy courtyard. Mogrul stood beside her father, Mahg, who was the stronghold’s Executioner. He was a stern, hooded, battle-scarred warrior who also handled the slaughter of livestock and the heavy forging when the Forge-Wife needed an extra hand. In his calloused grip, he held the Headman's Cleaver. A broad-bladed, two-handed weapon, it was a relic of the Bloodfall line. It had belonged to the mad regent Barzul, used to slaughter his own kin before the Bloodfall Queen took the throne. Mahg, whose grandfather had forged it, was gifted the blade to keep it sharp and bloodied.

Chief Yash stood over the bound Kashgurn, baring his tusks. "The Code of Malacath wants gold or blood!" Yash roared, spraying saliva through the air. "Executioner! Brandish your blade! This whelp has dishonored our clan!"

Mogrul watched her father lift the weapon, gripping the hilt tight as he grit his teeth. Its shadow crept across Kashgurn's neck. She felt a sudden, desperate urge to shout, the sweat on her neck turned cold. She had been secretly trying to mimic Kashgurn's magic in the woods for years, to no avail. She thought if she had only asked him, maybe he would have been able to teach her.

Before the blade could descend, Kashgurn’s father stepped forward, throwing a heavy pouch of gold and an ancestral shield at the Chief's feet. The blood price was negotiated. Mahg slowly lowered the weapon, and its shadow retreated from Kashgurn's neck. The execution was over, replaced by an immediate, lifelong exile.

The heavy timber gates slammed shut behind Kashgurn. The clan thought they had cleansed themselves, but as Mogrul stared at the closed gate, the embers Kashgurn left behind were already on fire in her thoughts.

Chapter 3: The Kinslayer

(195 4E Age 29)

For fourteen years, in secrecy, Mogrul-gha practiced the arts she learned from watching Kashgurn.

A relentless, heavy rain lashed against the stronghold in the dead of night, the downpour drumming violently against the timber roofs and masking the sounds of the world outside. Mogrul had been out past the walls, testing her powers. Emboldened by a sudden, surging breakthrough in her magic, she couldn't wait to experiment further. Under the cover of the blinding storm, she brought two dead goats back from her hunt straight into her family’s quarters inside the stronghold to continue her work. She was careless.

The door swung open, and the heavy frame of her father filled the entryway. Mahg stared at the violet light bleeding from his daughter’s palms, and the twitching, reanimated goats at her feet. The shock on his weathered face instantly curdled into a devastating, explosive fury.

"You've brought his sickness into my home!" Mahg roared, hauling her out into the storm. "You're just like Kashgurn—a weakling playing with dead things! You have insulted Malacath, you have brought shame to my forge, and you have brought shame to our family!"

Now, the twenty nine year old, Mogrul found herself kneeling in the center of the muddy courtyard, the exact spot Kashgurn had occupied fourteen years ago.

The warmth of glowing torches filled the area, standing out sharply against the rainy night sky. The clan gathered in the muddy courtyard, circling her like wolves.

Chief Yash stood over her, baring his tusks. "The Code of Malacath wants gold or blood!" Chief Yash roared, spraying saliva through the air. "Executioner! Brandish your blade! This whelp has dishonored our clan!"

Mahg stood over his own daughter, his chest heaving. He did not want to kill her, but she left him no choice. She would not be spared tonight. Mogrul watched her father lift the weapon as she could see him grip the hilt tight, Mahg grit his teeth. Its shadow crept across Mogrul's neck. She felt a sudden, desperate urge to shout, as the sweat on her neck went cold.

But Mogrul was no longer a helpless fifteen-year-old girl.

Before the blade could descend, she thrust her bound hands backward. A pulse of violet light erupted from her palms. Behind Mahg, the cold carcasses of the hunted goats snapped awake. With unnatural, jerky strength, they threw themselves forward.

One of the reanimated beasts slammed directly into Mahg’s hip. The sudden force threw him off balance, sending him crashing into the stone base of the forge, where his head struck the iron anvil. He dropped to the mud, instantly being knocked unconscious.

The Cleaver left his grip, burying itself deep into the muddy earth next to her. In the sudden frenzy, Mogrul used its broad, sharp edge to slice through the ropes binding her wrists.

"Witchcraft!" Chief Yash bellowed, drawing his war axe. "Kill her! Cleanse the bloodline!"

Two vanguard warriors lunged into the muck toward her. Mogrul scrambled back to her feet, wiping the mud from her eyes, and hauled the massive, two-handed Headman's Cleaver from the dirt. It was heavy, heavier than she had ever imagined but adrenaline surged through her veins.

The first warrior lunged at her with a heavy mace. She swung her weapon, the weight of the Cleaver carrying her forward in a desperate, horizontal arc. The broad blade ripped clean through his leather armor, opening his torso. As the second warrior closed in, she drove the heavy Orcish hilt of the Cleaver straight into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Utilizing the brief second she bought herself, she unleashed her magic, sending a wave of violet light surging into the fresh corpse of the first Orc.

The thrall tackled the second warrior to the mud, driving a dagger into his throat. Within seconds, Mogrul used her magic again, raising the second warrior.

The courtyard erupted into terror as the clan retreated from the undead horrors. But the reprieve was short-lived.

Chief Yash was already moving, slamming his war axe through the skull of her first thrall. At his side, Mahg groaned, pushing himself up from the mud and rubbing his bleeding forehead. Yash grabbed Mahg by his collar, hauling the old Executioner to his feet.

"Look at what your seed has brought upon us, Mahg!" Yash snarled, pointing his blood-stained axe at Mogrul and her remaining thrall. "She defiled our brothers! Kill her, or I will execute you both!"

Mahg looked from the Chief to Mogrul, his face a mask of absolute horror and betrayal. He stepped forward, his boots sinking into the muck, his eyes blacked out by the shadow of his hood.

"Mogrul..." Mahg’s voice cracked, a jagged rumble of pure grief. "What have you done? You disgrace my teachings! You disgrace everything we are!"

"They were going to slaughter me like livestock, Father! Just like they planned to with Kashgurn!" Mogrul shouted, her voice shaking as her thrall stood protectively in front of her. "I did what I had to do to survive!"

"This is not survival! This is an abomination!" Mahg roared. He drew his heavy, iron-forged skinning knife. "Stand down, daughter! Don't make me hunt you!"

"I am not a carcass for your butcher’s block, Father," Mogrul countered, tightening her grip on the ancestral hilt.

"Then die with your monsters!" Chief Yash roared.

Yash charged, throwing his entire weight into Mogrul's remaining Orc thrall. The two collided in a brutal spray of blood, the Chief hacking wildly to tear the dead warrior apart.

At the same instant, Mahg lunged at Mogrul.

He was slower than he used to be, but he possessed the raw, brutal strength of a lifetime of heavy forging. He dodged a frantic, vertical forward swing of the Cleaver and closed the distance, grabbing her wrist. His calloused grip was like iron, forcing the heavy weapon down between them.

"Yield, Mogrul!" His face inches from hers."Yield and face Malacath's judgment!"

"Never!" she cried out, using all her leverage to push back against him.

They grappled desperately for control of the weapon, their boots churning the courtyard into a slick mire. For a brief moment, they were both holding the ancestral blade, just as he had taught her to hold a hammer when she was a child.

Mahg twisted violently, attempting to rip the Cleaver from her hands and throw her to the ground, but his heavy boot slipped in the gore-slicked mud. As he fell backward, he pulled the weapon with a sudden, desperate jerk. Mogrul’s momentum carried her right on top of him.

As Mahg’s back slammed into the ground, the downward force of their combined weight drove the Cleaver down onto him, tearing straight through his ribs.

The courtyard went entirely silent. The only sound was the hissing of the torches in the rain and the heavy panting of Chief Yash, who had just finished decapitating the last thrall.

Mogrul stayed pinned against her father’s chest, her hands falling back over his on the Cleaver's cold steel. Slowly, the shadow left Mahg's eyes. The Executioner was gone; only her father remained. He looked up at her, a single, bloody hand reaching up to touch her face.

"Mogrul..."

With blood bubbling at his lips, his hand fell limp into the mud.

Her breath was ragged, shuddering as she stared down at the stern face that had raised her, now completely still. Tears slipped from her cheeks, cutting through the grime on her face before falling to splash against Mahg's blood-stained face. "W-what have i done...I didn't... I didn't mean to..." She leaned down, pressing her forehead against his chest, letting the freezing rain wash over them both.

Chief Yash stood a few paces away, chest heaving, looking at the dead Executioner. He raised his war axe again, but his eyes held a new, flickering trace of fear. "You... you monster, a kinslayer."

Mogrul didn't answer. A cold, hollow feeling washed over her, replacing the panic. The ember Kashgurn had left behind so long ago was now a raging inferno.

She stood up slowly, her clothes stained with the blood of her own line. The weapon of the mad regent had claimed another kin. She wrenched the broad-bladed Headman's Cleaver from her father’s corpse. Then, she reached down and pulled the executioner's hood off her father's head, slipping it over her own face.

She locked her eyes onto Chief Yash, raising the bloodied Cleaver. Yash hesitated, taking a step back into the shadows of his warriors.

Mogrul didn't engage him. Instead, she turned toward the heavy timber gates. No one dared to step into her path. She walked out into the freezing night, and as the gates remained open behind her, she didn't look back.

She left her clan behind in the mud, abandoning the name Mogrul-gha alongside her father's corpse. From this night on, she would be known as Mogrul the Kinslayer.

Chapter 4: The Redguard’s Grasp

(4E 201 Age 35)

Mogrul the Kinslayer wandered the wilds as a mercenary for hire. She sold her blade across the borders of Tamriel, traveling clad in heavy, plated Orcish armor. The brutal, interlocking steel plates that were a staple of her old clan. Her face remained hidden behind her father’s executioner's hood.

One evening, on the rugged mountain road leading towards Skyrim's border, Mogrul sat resting by a crackling campfire. The air was crisp. the crunch of gravel signaled an approach. Out of the shadows stepped a Redguard woman, wrapped in a traveling cloak, looking exhausted and frantic. It was Saadia.

Approaching the light, Saadia looked at the imposing, hooded Orc and gestured to the flames. "May I join your fire? I am being hunted by mercenaries, and I am in desperate need of protection on the road north."

Mogrul didn't move. Her hand remained resting near the pommel of her blade beneath her cloak. "You can sit," she rasped, her voice a low rumble. "But my protection doesn't come cheap. If you want protection, you pay in gold."

Saadia lowered herself to a log, her eyes wide with vulnerability. "I have nothing. I escaped with only the clothes on my back. I have no way of paying you."

Mogrul let out a cold, sharp huff. "It’s not in my best interest to do charity work. You are allowed to rest by my fire for the night, but come sunrise, we go our separate ways."

Saadia nodded meekly, offering a tragic, grateful smile. As the night deepened and the chill set in, she pulled a flask of mead from her pack, offering it to the Orc as a gesture of peace.

Within minutes, Mogrul began to feel weary. Her vision blurred, the dancing flames of the campfire stretching into distorted shapes. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy.

"I feel... tired," Mogrul muttered, her voice slurring as she tried to shake the sudden fog from her mind. "What d-did you..."

She collapsed, her mind slipping into the dark. Some time passed, the fire dying down to embers. Slowly, Saadia got up. She crept over to the Orc, leaning down to check if Mogrul had truly fallen unconscious. When there was no movement, Saadia’s timid demeanor vanished. Working quickly, she unbuckled the heavy, plated Orcish armor and pried the Headman’s Cleaver from Mogrul's limp fingers. By the time the moon reached its peak, Saadia was gone into the night, leaving the Kinslayer robbed of her father's legacy.

Chapter 5: The Nameless Prisoner

Mogrul awoke hours later with a roar of pure fury that echoed through the mountain passes. The poison had faded, but she was stripped of her skin. Driven by a singular need to reclaim her steel and spill Redguard blood, she tracked Saadia’s scent north through the craggy passes into Skyrim.

But blind rage made her reckless, for the second time in her life. Wrapped in nothing but tattered rags and completely unarmed, she marched straight into a heavily fortified Imperial legion ambush near Darkwater Crossing.

The Imperial soldiers were rounding up Stormcloak rebels. When they dragged Mogrul from the brush, they found an imposing Orc who possessed absolutely no identification, no armor, and no weapons, yet radiated the lethal, terrifying aura of a killer.

"Another vagrant lurking with the rebels," the Imperial captain said, paying no mind to her furious snarls. "Bind her. If she’s swinging with Ulfric’s lot, she goes to the block."

Stripped entirely of her identity, her name, and her past, Mogrul was tossed into the back of a wooden cart alongside a gaggle of rebels and a horse thief. She sat in freezing silence as the cart rattled toward a town called Helgen, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The soldiers focused on the small politics of rebellion and theft, entirely oblivious to the ancient terror waiting for them at Helgen.

Chapter 6: The Certainty of Steel

The dragon fire of Helgen gave Mogrul her freedom, slipping away from the ruins, she managed to scavenge a crude set of heavy iron armor to cover her bare skin, but it lacked the certainty of her clan's steel.

She tracked Saadia to the city of Whiterun. After entering the Dragonsreach keep to inform the Jarl of the dragon attack, she overheard a pair of city guards talking near the barracks.

"Aye, did you hear about Yakhtu gra-Orkulg the Orc smith?" one guard muttered. "Word is, she’s been forced to smith that traditional plated armor for a vicious band of cutthroats out in Embershard Mine."

Mogrul’s ears prickled. Plated Orcish armor. The staple of her clan. She knew immediately that it was her stolen armor they were using as a template.

Backed by a small, band of undead skeletons raised from Helgen, she tore through Embershard Mine. The bandits never stood a chance against the sheer weight of Mogrul, clad in heavy iron. She ripped through the cutthroats in a frenzy of snapping bones and clashing steel, cornering the leaders and violently reclaiming her stolen plated armor, buckling the familiar steel back onto her torso.

Her skin was back, but her fathers hood and weapon were still missing.

Tired from the slaughter, she headed to the Riverwood inn, stepping up to the bar. Short on septims and desperate for gold, she slammed her hand on the counter and looked at the barkeep. "Do you have any bounties laying around? Anything that pays in gold?"

"Sure thing, traveler," the barkeep said, sliding a crinkled piece of parchment across the wood. "It's all in this note. East of Whiterun, south of Windhelm, there's a cavern where a nasty group calling themselves the Greencap Bandits have set up camp. A massive bounty was just put out on them."

Mogrul scanned the letter. As her eyes read the details, a realization set in. Word had gotten out to Shogarz gra-Batul, the ruthless Bloodfall Queen, that her ancestral relic, the Headman's Cleaver, had been stolen by these Greencap Bandits. The note revealed a deeper betrayal: the Queen's own sister had conspired against her, plotting to claim the legendary weapon from Mahg. Mogrul wagered that the sister had arrived at her old stronghold years too late, only to find the Cleaver had already changed hands to Mogrul. The sister must have used Saadia to trick Mogrul and retrieve the weapon.

But the Bloodfall Queen had no interest in reclaiming the ancestral weapon. She only wanted her traitorous sister's head.

"Perfect," Mogrul hissed, her tusks bared in a sinister grin.

After a nights rest, she traveled to the distant cavern under the cover of a gathering storm. She breached the hideout and turned it into an absolute slaughterhouse. Armed with her necromancy and her vengeful fury, she ripped the Greencap Bandits apart in a horrific bloodbath. Deep within the cavern's recesses, she finally found the bandit leaders and the traitorous Bloodfall sister. After a heavy skirmish, Mogrul wrenched her true weapon, the heavy, broad-bladed Headman's Cleaver, back into her grip.

The sister scrambled backward in the dirt, bloodied and pleading. "Wait! Please-"

Mogrul didn't let her finish. She gripped the ancestral hilt tight, her jaw locked as she grit her teeth. For a split second, the howling wind of the cavern vanished, replaced by the ghost of a rainy night and the smell of burning coal.

As she lifted the massive, two-handed weapon, she didn't just see the traitorous sister crawling in the dust. She saw twenty-five years of blood. She saw the heavy shadow of this very blade creeping across Kashgurn’s neck in the muddy courtyard. She saw that same shadow creeping across her own neck fourteen years later, waiting for a blow that never came.

But today, that shadow belonged to her.

Mogrul brought the Cleaver down in a violent, vertical arc, cleanly beheading the sister to fulfill the Queen's bounty.

As the severed head rolled into the cave dust and the echoes of the slaughter died down, a heavy footstep echoed from the cavern entrance. Mogrul stood panting among the corpses, the Cleaver dripping crimson. She turned her head sharply, expecting another bandit.

Instead, a forty year old Orc mercenary stepped out of the shadows. Just like Mogrul he had received the bounty. He was weary, battle-hardened, and carried himself with the quiet confidence of a veteran.

It was Kashgurn.

By strange twists of fate, Kashgurn had encountered Saadia in Whiterun. He had completed his long-awaited vendetta, tracking her down and handing her over to the stern Alik'r mercenaries of Hammerfell. He had taken his revenge and from Saadia's captured belongings, he had claimed a trophy: the executioner's hood that had belonged to Mogrul's father.

Kashgurn stopped, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at the blood-drenched cavern, the skeletons, and the massive Headman's Cleaver in the female Orc's hands. He held her father's hood in his grip.

Mogrul stared at the older Orc, the violet light of her magic still crackling weakly around her plated gauntlets. The exile and the kinslayer stood together in the quiet of the cave, the embers of their past finally colliding in the frozen dark of Skyrim.

Elara de Mornay's background story

176 4E: The Graveyard of Falkreath (Age 12)

The rain in Falkreath was a constant, heavy grey and misty drizzle. It was late in the afternoon and father was preparing dinner, "Elara, could you go outback and search for some mushrooms?" Her father asked. "Your mother would've gone with but she's bedridden." She stood up immediately, cheerfully saying "Yes papa! I'll head out right away!"

Elara was happily skipping on past the cemetery out back when she saw something interesting, she knelt by a fresh, nameless mound, her small hands digging through a pile of discarded offerings. Her fingers brushed against something hard and damp—a leather-bound book, wedged between a headstone and a rotted floral bouquet.

She wiped the mud from the cover. The title was faded, but the diagrams inside were fascinating. They looked like maps of the human body, but with glowing lines connecting the joints."Oh, look at that," she whispered, her eyes widening. "I think it's a set of instructions."

She looked at a dead squirrel nearby, a vox that's been causing the farmers trouble must've gotten to it some time ago. The poor thing got played with like a chewing ball, its little paws stiff and cold. She followed the drawing in the book, tracing a pattern in the air with her dirty finger.

"Up you get, little friend. There’s no sense in sitting in the damp mud. Don't you want to help me find some more mushrooms?" The squirrel’s tail flicked. Then, with a series of wet, snapping sounds, it rolled onto its feet. Its head tilted at a sharp angle, half of it's eye was hanging out, it was quite the grissly sight. it began to sniff the ground. Moments later it came back with a mushroom poking out of the gaping hole in it's putrid mouth, Elara let out a delighted squeal and hugged the book under her arms. "Good boy! See? Everything is better when we work together!"

182 4E: Dinner with Grandma (Age 18)

The living room was suffocatingly quiet. Elara’s mother sat by the hearth, her eyes red-rimmed from the week of mourning. her mother had passed away some time ago.

The heavy silence was broken by a rhythmic thud-scrape, thud-scrape coming from the cellar stairs.

The door creaked open, grandmother entered. She was still wearing the black veiled gown from her casket, staggering on over to the kitchen area, she picked up a heavy cast-iron skillet in her putrid green-grey veiny, rigid hands.

"I found her just sitting in the dark downstairs," Elara said, skipping into the room after her with a stack of firewood. "I told her, 'Grandma, the dinner needs to be made and Mama’s too tired to do it.' She was so sweet, she got right up to help!"

The corpse stood motionless by the stove, the smell of pungend rotten flesh and old dirt filling the small room. It began to start cooking over the fire, its movements jerky and heavy, like a rusted marionette.

Elara’s father dropped his spoon; it clattered against the floorboards as he pushed his chair back, his face draining of color. He made a low, choking sound in his throat.

Her mother without a second glance, bolted upright as she scrambled back, nearly tripping over the floor boards. "Arkay save us! Arkay preserve us!" she shrieked, making a frantic, stumbling dash for the door. She burst out into the misty rain, her screams trailing off into the distance. "Oh dear," Elara sighed, watching the door swing on its hinges. "She probably just went to get some fresh air to settle her excitement. More for us, I suppose!"

"I knew you'd be happy, Papa!" Elara chirped, leaning over to kiss his cold forehead. "Now you don't have to worry about the chores while you're sad. Grandma's going to take care of everything, just like she used to."

Her father’s chair screeched against the floorboards as he scrambled back, his boots slipping in a desperate bid for distance. "Elara... get away from that... that thing," he pointed frantically, his voice a thin wire of primal terror. "That is NOT your grandmother."

"Oh, Papa, don't be so dramatic!" Elara said with a roll of her eyes. She reached out and gave the grandmother’s rigid, cold arm an affectionate squeeze. "She’s just a little stiff from the coffin. She’s trying her best to get breakfast started, and you’re hurting her feelings!" Elara pouted.

"I am putting her back in the ground!" Her father roared, the panic snapping into a rage. He lunged across the living room, snatching a heavy iron fire-poker from the hearth. "Get back, Elara!"

He swung the heavy iron bar with a desperate cry, aiming for the grandmother’s head. the grandmother dropped the cast-iron skillet with a deafening clang.

With a movement that was too fast for a corpse, the dead woman caught the iron poker mid-swing. Her crooked hand clamped onto the metal, you could hear the rotting tendons in her hand snap as she gripped it firmly. She tugged on the iron heap of metal dragging her son closer in, with one foul motion wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing the air right out of him.

"Grandma, i think Papa is being rude," Elara noted, her voice bright and airy. "He needs to be tucked in!" She said with a cheerfull smile.

The grandmother’s spine arched back with a sickening series of wet pops. She hoisted the grown man into the air as if he were made of straw. With a sudden, explosive burst of force, she snapped backward, driving him head-first through the floor boards.

The floorboards groaned and splintered under the impact. Her father’s body went instantly limp, his eyes fluttering as a dazed, bubbly moan escaped his lips.

Elara skipped over to where he lay, head-first in the splintered wood. Kneeling down she smooched his chin with a gentle touch, a radiant smile on her face. "There we go. Isn't that much more peaceful, Papa? No more shouting. Just a nice, quiet nap on the floor."

She looked up at the Grandmother, who was standing over them, hanging lopsided with one empty eye socket. "Thank you, Grandma" You always were the best at settling arguments. Why don't you finish up the porridge while I make sure Papa stays nice and still?"

As her father let out a faint, confused wheeze, Elara pulled her leather-bound book from her apron, hugging it tight between her arms. "I'm so glad we're all helping out," she whispered, her eyes shining with genuine joy. "It’s so much more cheerful when nobody is fighting!"

Less than an hour later, the flickering of glowing torches reflecting in the window glass could be seen. Elara looked up from her book, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Oh, Grandma, do you hear that? I think Mama brought the neighbors over! I bet she wanted everyone to see how much better the house is running."

She skipped to the front door and threw it wide, her face beaming with a welcoming smile. "Hello, everyone!~ You're just in time for di-"

She didn't get to finish. A wall of angry, terrified faces met her. Her mother was there, huddled behind the town's blacksmith, pointing a shaking finger at the house while sobbing hysterically about "unholy abominations."

"Out, witch!" the blacksmith bellowed, brandishing a pitchfork. "Take your filth and leave Falkreath, or we’ll burn this house to the ground with you inside it!"

Elara blinked, her head tilting in genuine, confused wonder. "Witch? Oh, you mean the book? It’s actually just a set of instructions! And Grandma isn't filth, she’s actually doing the dishes right now. Would you like to come in and see? She’s much more efficient than she used to be!"

The crowd surged forward, a chorus of "Monster!" and "Demon!" drowning out her voice. Someone hurled a heavy stone that grazed her shoulder, but Elara barely noticed the sting. She was too busy feeling a warm rush of sympathy for them. Poor things, she thought. They’re so overwhelmed by the progress we’ve made that they don't even know how to express their gratitude.

When they began to heave torches toward the thatch of her roof, Elara realized they were simply giving her a send-off. They clearly felt she was far too talented to stay in such a small, quiet town.

"I understand!" she shouted her arms raised over the crackle of flames and the screams of the mob. She went back inside to grab her book. "You all think I should take my services to the road! You’re right—there are so many other sad people in Skyrim who need a helping hand!"

She exited through the back door as the front of her childhood home began to burn. She watched from the treeline for a moment, waving a cheerful goodbye to the villagers who were currently throwing holy water at her father's unconscious, porridge-covered body.

"They’re so passionate about community service," she whispered to the Grandmother, who was awkwardly clambering over a fence behind her. "It’s a bit loud, but the enthusiasm is just lovely."

And so, Elara set off into the mist, her heart full of charity and her pockets full of grave-dirt, certain that the world was just waiting for a girl with a smile and a very, very sturdy set of ancestors.

201 4E: The Road to Helgen (Age 25)

The mountain pass was a nightmare of blood and iron. Imperials and Stormcloaks lay tangled in the snow, their breath hitching in the freezing air. Elara stepped over a pile of shields, her boots crunching in the snow.

"Oh, this won't do at all," she sighed, looking at the fallen men. "Everyone is just quitting. And right in the middle of a busy road!"

She raised her hand, a pulse of green light rippled across the clearing, stitching together torn flesh and forcing stiffened limbs to move. One by one, the dead soldiers—Imperial and Stormcloak alike—began to pull themselves out of the bloody slush.

"There! That’s much better," she cheered, waving her arms at the horrified survivors. "No more fighting! Now that you're all 're-energized,' we can finally clear these wagons off the road. It’s much too cold to be sitting around!"

The Imperial Captain backed away, his face twisted in a mask of pure revulsion. "Demon... stay back!"

Elara paused, her head tilting with a bright, innocent blink. "Oh, you're overwhelmed! I understand. It is a lot to take in when a plan comes together so perfectly."

As the soldiers surged forward to tackle her, pinning her arms behind her back, Elara just laughed. "Is this a game? Are we celebrating?"

logic, personality, psychology, playstyle/behavior, faction choices/misc quests, race/stones/gear/skills/recipes, catch phrases

-1 Logic

"Friend is sad. Killers are bad. Dead bodies are strong. Solution: Use bodies to hit bad guys. Everyone wins!"

She assumes her logic is so objective and helpful that she can’t fathom why the client is screaming while their grandma's skeleton is suplexing a bandit.

She thinks she is doing a "Great and nice thing", she maps all negative situations/reactions to that belief.

*Wide eyes and gasping?* She thinks they are "Awestruck by her power."

*Screaming and running away?* She thinks they are "Overwhelmed with joy/relief" or "Going to get friends to watch."

*Vomiting?* "They must be sick from excitement."

Utilitarianism

taken to a terrifying, mindless extreme. To her, leaving a fallen soldier on the ground is "littering."

Looting

She "cleans up" after fights. Looting isn't stealing; it's "decluttering" the deceased so they can move more efficiently.

Soul Trapping

"Saving their spirit in a pretty glowing rock so it doesn't get lost in the cold."

She's basically a customer service representative for the afterlife, and she's determined to give you a 5-star experience, whether you want it or not!

-2 personality/psychology

She is Chaotic Good (in her eyes). Her heart is 100% in the "Good" camp. She wants to see the bad guys punished and the sad people happy.

But...

Her methods are so wildly "off-script" for a hero that she disrupts the natural order of society. In her mind, she is a Savior; in everyone else's mind, she is a walking nightmare.

She is pathologically polite, relentlessly cheerful, and genuinely believes the world is a wonderful place filled with friends she hasn't "improved" yet...

She uses the "nice" persona "perfectly". She offers tea, mends clothes, and speaks in a soft and cheerful tone even when being attacked by an angry mob of people.

She can distinguish between "Helpful" and "Mean," but not between "Sacred" and "Profane." A corpse is simply a tool that isn't being used to its full potential.

She possesses a psychological defense mechanism that converts negative stimuli into positive ones.

Screams of terror = Screams of excitement.

Running away = Going to get more friends to help.

Vomiting = Dizziness from sheer joy.

she would likely be described as having "Deficits in Moral Reasoning" paired with "Intact Social Facade."

-3 playstyle/behavior

Elara plays like a "Combat Medic" or "Support Class" who refuses to let the patient die or stay dead.

She never refers to her summons as zombies or thralls. They are "Temporary Assistants," "Volunteers," or "Friends in Training."

If a companion, quest giver, friend or someone related dies during or outside a mission, Elara will immediately resurrect them. She will then talk to the corpse as if it’s still alive, saying things like, "Look how much faster you walk now! No more complaining about your knees!"

Throughout the game, Elara reverse-pickpockets "gifts" onto corpses. She kills a bandit, then puts a sweetroll and a flower in their inventory.

Elara likes using "Calm" on enemies. Elara doesn't like fighting; she likes "settling people's tempers." If they stay calm while she kills their friends, she thinks they're just being "very mature about the situation."

If a group of people is being mean to her, she thinks they have "repressed energy" and need a way to "express themselves." So she uses a Frenzy spell on them. As they tear each other apart, she claps her hands. "Look at them playing! They’re so active today!"

Her favorite move would be to Paralyze someone, wait for them to fall, then reverse-pickpocket a "Volunteer Application" (a paper roll) and poison into their inventory.

When they die, she raises them and says: "I saw you signed the paperwork I gave you! I'm so glad you decided to join the team. Let's get to work!"

Elara treats her living followers like they are made of glass.

She will spam Healing Hands or Grand Healing the moment their health bar drops by 5%.

She will use Courage and Rally but describe them as "pep talks." "Doesn't that make you feel so brave? You're doing such a good job being a hero!"

Elara never reloads. For her, a follower dying is just a "career change." Once they are resurrected, Elara treats them exactly the same as when they were alive.

She might even use Restoration more often on the dead version of her friend than the living one.

-4 faction choices/misc quests

The College of Winterhold

She joins because she thinks it’s where she can learn better ways to be useful.

The Dark Brotherhood

She joins because she sees it as a "Troubleshooter Service." When she "eliminates" a target, she thinks she is just "reassigning them to a different department" (usually her personal staff or the soul cairn)

The Civil War

(Neutral/Both): She views the war as a tragic waste of labor. She will join whoever "needs the most help," eventually turning battlefields into massive, silent "Peace Rallies" where everyone stands still and holds hands while singing kumbaya (They're really just groaning as dead thralls)

Dawnguard or Volkihar Vampires

In her mind, the Dawnguard are "very grumpy men in heavy armor who have a strange obsession with ending people's fun," whereas the Volkihar vampires are just "sophisticated, long-lived friends who have found a way to stop the aging process."

When Harkon offers his blood, Elara wouldn't see it as a curse. She’d look at his pale, immortal skin and think, "Oh, look at you! You’ve found a way to stay young forever! It would be so rude to turn down such a thoughtful gift."

Elara would be obsessed with Serana. She would view Serana’s situation—being stuck in a coffin for thousands of years—as a "very sad but, refreshing nap."

"You poor thing, you must have been napping for ages. Don't worry, I’ll help you settle your family’s little 'disagreement.' Every family has their quirks—my Grandma used to throw Papa through the floorboards!"

She wouldn't try to cure Serana. Why would she? To Elara, being a vampire is just "optimization."

She treats the Soul Cairn as a "lovely retirement community for glowing pebbles."

She would use Vampire's Seduction on a beggar or a sleeping person.

"You look so stressed, let me just help you relax... there we go. I'll just take a tiny bit of your blood—you have so much of it, it must be making you feel quite heavy! I'm actually doing you a favor, like a tiny, friendly mosquito."

She would always leave a Healing Potion, Flower or a Sweetroll in their pocket afterward as a "Thank You" for their "donation."

Boethiah's calling

Elara would do it with a smile.

"The Lady Boethiah said she needs a helper! And you're the best helper I know! It's such a big promotion for you!"

After the sacrifice is done and the quest is over, Elara would simply resurrect the follower she just sacrificed. "See? You got the promotion and you still get to come home with me! Everyone wins!"

The Book of Love

Elara loves this quest. She finds it so romantic to help ghosts find closure, though she might try to "reunite" them by raising their bodies.

Blood on the Ice

Speak to the grieving father, Tova Shatter-Shield, with total empathy. "I am so sorry for your loss. No parent should have to go through this. I’ll find out who did this so your family can be 'whole' again."

Use her power to resurrect their daughter. Stand there with the reanimated daughter while smiling at the parents.

"See? I found her! She’s a little quiet and smells like a swamp, but now you can have family dinner again. You're welcome!"

she must sell the "Strange Amulet" to Calixto.

"This nice man at the museum seems so fond of old things. I’ll let him hold onto it for now."

She wouldn't be angry when she kills Calixto. She’d see it as his "Graduation."

"Calixto, dear, you've worked so hard on your project! But you’ve run out of materials. Let's get you into a nice, permanent position where you can be part of the collection yourself!"

The Taste of Death

When Eola asks you to clear the Draugr from the Reachcliff Cave, agree because she "just wants a place to eat in peace."

Complete the quest and become a Cannibal.

In Elara’s head, eating the fallen isn't a sin; it's the "Ultimate Recycling."

If she kills a bandit, she eats them. If someone asks what she’s doing, she’d say: "Well, it’s a waste to let all that protein go to the worms! This way, a part of them gets to see the world through my eyes. It’s the highest form of hospitality, really."

The Black Star

"Azura is a lovely lady, I’m sure, but her star is very picky about who it lets in. Nelacar says we can make it so everyone is welcome inside! It’s much more inclusive to have a star that accepts all kinds of souls. We wouldn't want anyone to feel left out of the afterlife, would we?"

she needs the Black Star to facilitate her "recycling" of bandits and "naughty people."

In this manner you can effectively weave her into any quest. because her reality is so terribly warped.

-5 race/stones/gear/skills/recipes

Race: Breton

Standing stone: Ritual, Mage, apprentice

Aetherial Crown reset to spam the Ritual Stone, Elara will turn every battlefield into a "silent peace rally" where everyone holds hands—mostly because their tendons have been stitched together.

Aerherial crown can be buggy (alternatively you can use a mod to make it infinitely spammable)

Ordinator has nice perks related to permanent undead followers crafted by collecting bones.

Gear

Early game:

Merchant's clothes (blue with gold)

Thalmor gloves&Thalmor boots

Ring of namira

Necromancer's amulet

Halldir's staff

Azura's star

Mid game:

Jester's boots or cicero's boots

Wedding wreath

Late game:

Ring of erudite

Aerherial crown

Greater staff of vipers

(Hold onto the ring of namira to keep feeding on corpses)

Skills

Main:

Conjuration

Restoration

Illusion

Alchemy

Enchanting

Side:

Alteration

Pickpocketing

Sneak

Speech

Custom recipes:

Sparkles ✨ (easy)

(partially growable & easy to find)

-Ravage health

-Damage health

-Weakness to poison

Deathbell

Giantlichen

Skeever tail

____________________

Telvanni's Phial (normal)

(partially growable)

-Restore magicka

-Fortify magicka

-magic regen

Moonsugar

(Khajiit Merchants, Dren Plantation, Addamasartus, Gro-Bagrat Plantation, Census and Excise Warehouse)

Jazbay grapes

Red mountain flower

____________________

Team Building Tonic 💊(＞﹏＜) (easy)

(Fully growable)

-Fortify health

-Restore health

-Fortify conjuration

Lavender

Blue mountain flower

Wheat

______________________

Aegis of the Elements (normal)

(partially growable)

-Resist frost

-Resist shock

-Resist fire

Hawk beak

(Solitude birb hunting)

Snowberries

Dragon's tongue

_____________________

Phoenix Tears (easy)

(partially growable)

-Resist poison

-Restore health

-Restore stamina

-Cure disease

Charred skeever hide

(Found everywhere on adventures)

Mudcrab Chitin

(Outside whiterun/Rorikstead around open planes near creaks)

Blisterwort

____________________

Mandatory nap time (︶｡︶)zzZ (easy/normal/hard-location+level)

(partially growable)

-Paralysis

-Lingering damage health

-Damage health

Human flesh

(Volkihar Castle, Reachcliff Cave, The Companions Questline, Arentino Residence, Falmer Dungeons, Vampire Dungeons, Necromancer Dungeons, Tolvald's Cave, Alftand Animonculory, Trolls Cave near Ivarstead)

Imp stool

Mora tapinella

-6 catchphrases

"Good news! I’ve convinced the Bandit Leader to stop robbing people. He’s volunteered to be my new luggage carrier! He’s very committed to his new life of service. He hasn't blinked in three hours—that’s true focus!"

“I’m so glad I found this set of instructions in the dirt. It’s made being a good contribution to society so much easier!”

"I know it hurts right now, but I promise your father is in a much more 'stable' condition. See? He hasn't complained once since I finished the spell!"

"Don't mind the blue eyes; they're just very focused"

"Please, don't scream! It’s very rude to yell in front of my helpers. Grandmother worked very hard to get those bloodstains out of your rug."

"Excuse me! I think you dropped your life! Don't worry, I’ve got a spare one right here in my book!"

"I’m not a necromancer, silly! I’m a life-extension specialist! It says so right here on page twelve!"

"I’ve decided to save your soul in this pretty blue rock! That way, it won't get cold or lost in the wind. Isn't that a lovely idea?"

"You were just lying there doing absolutely nothing. Now look at you—you’re an active member of society again!"

"There’s that 'can-do' attitude! 'Help me'—yes! Help me carry these heavy potions! You’re such a sweetheart."

"If you have time to complain, you have time to carry another shield! Let’s turn those 'uhhhhs' into 'Wo-hooos!'"

"I think your jaw is just a little loose. Let me tighten that for you—there! Now we can focus on the mission without all that distracting chatter."

​

Image; https://en.m.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Alchemy

I just made this list cuz it's easier for me, I searched all over the internet but I couldn't find anything on hybrid potions, I did but most of it was scattered around like puzzle pieces and half the stuff i found wasn't on the recipe list online either that I could find. A lot I had to find myself through watching what ingredients have what effects. So I just decided to throw it up here. Some of them would be cool with specialized builds, most of the good ones are for mages specifically though, focusing on removing potion clutter by merging them into one. Idk how good the poison really is especially for late game Skyrim but this took me like, a lot more time than i wanted but it was fun!

If you have any suggestions please state them below I'll add them to the list ⬇️

Also included some normal potions and early game high value potions

Most ingredients can be bought so you don't HAVE to go and collect it all but i thought i'd add in the locations atleast. 

The beginning ones here are just potions i like using for my own memory, not all of the standard potions are mentioned here.

*STANDARD POTIONS*

Destruction (easy) 

(fully growable) 

Glowing mushroom 

Nightshade

_______________________

Regen Health (easy) 

(fully growable) 

Juniper berry 

Namira's rot

_______________________

Restore & Fortify HP (easy) 

(fully growable) 

Blue mountain flower

Wheat

_______________________

Fortify Smithing (easy) 

(fully growable) 

Blisterwort

Glowing mushroom

_______________________

Fortify Enchanting (easy) 

(partially growable) 

Blue butterfly wings 

(shops&spawns aplenty) 

Snowberry

_______________________

Resist Magicka (easy) 

(fully growable) 

Tundra cotton

Bleeding crown

_______________________

Fortify Barter (easy) 

(fully growable) 

Tundra cotton

Dragon's tongue

_______________________

Fortify Sneak (easy)

(partially growable)

Frost mirriam

(Found in every household)

Purple mountain flower

______________________

Fortify two handed (easy/normal)

(partially growable)

Dragon's tongue

Troll fat

______________________

Paralysis (easy)

(Fully growable)

Impstool

Swamp fungal pod

______________________

*EASY EARLY GAME HIGH VALUE POTIONS*

Slow (easy) 100-150× 180-250 septims

(Partially growable - great abundance of salt)

Salt pile

(Riften/Windhelm docks 100/150 per run)

Deathbell

(Can be mass farmed at golden hills plantation)

_____________________

Waterbreathing + garlic (Easy) 35-45× 1700-3000 septims

Salmon Roe

(Next to ember shard mine catch all the salmon swiming upstream, submerged salmon don't give roe, head further down stream for 2 more spots)

Nordic barnicle

(Can be found in the pond infront of dragon's reach, going north across the shore from dawnstar there'll be a shipwreck called the brinehammer, underneath there's loads of it, if you then look east from there there'll be a few small island like 50 meters from there, head into the water and search along the rocks, once you get back out there should be a small boat around the coastline with more)

Garlic

(Can be found in multiple houses around Skyrim especially solitude and the bards college)

_______________________

Poison magicka regen (easy) 80× 390-450 septims

Lavender

Blue mountain flower

(Save up 80 of them, they're in no shortage)

Hanging moss

(Over in solitude there several hanging all over the place, there's one behind the thief standing stones and several around dragons reach, the solitude catacombs have about 65 total give or take, if you need more dustman's cairn has some)

_______________________

Fortify Carry weight (easy) 500-600 septims (u/Martin_DM)

(Fully growable)

Scaly pholiota

Mora tapinela

Creep cluster

(Creep cluster might clip into the ground when trying to farm at golden hills plantation)

---

*HYBRID POTIONS*

Dragon Slayer's Rush (normal-honey farm) 

(fully growable/farmable) 

-Fortify two handed

-Stamina regen

-Fire resist

Dragon's tongue

Fly amanita

Bee

_______________________

Spellblade's Essence (easy) 

(fully growable) 

-Fortify destruction

-Restore health

Glowing mushroom

Nightshade

Wheat

_______________________

Meridia's Unending Light (easy) (u/birrandbodia)

(Partially growable)

-Regenerate health

-Regenerate magicka

Garlic

(Solitude houses)

Juniper berry

Salt pile

(Riften/Windhelm/Solitude Fishbarrles)

---

Balwark Tonic (easy) 

(fully growable) 

-Fortify block

-Magic resist

Bleeding crown

Tundra cotton

_______________________

Armoured Nord (easy) 

(fully growable) 

-Resist frost

-Fortify heavy armour

Thristle branch

White cap

Snowberries

&

Chaurus Killer (easy) 

(fully growable) 

-Resist poison

-Fortify heavy armor

Thristle branch 

White cap          

Grasspod   

 *there is a combo version

but it's not worth the effort

  poison+frost is highly situational

______________________

Bottled Death (easy) 

(partially growable & easy to find)

-Ravage health

-Damage health

-Weakness to poison

Deathbell

Giantlichen

Skeever tail

_______________________

Elixer of the Psijic (normal/hard-if low level) 

(partially growable)

-Restore magicka

-Fortify magicka

-Fortify destruction

Ectoplasm 

(Soul Cairn, Yngvild, Forelhost, Rannveig's, Abandoned Prison) 

Red mountain flower

Glowing mushroom

_______________________

Arch Mage's Elixer (normal/Hard-if low level) 

(partially growable) 

-Fortify health

-Resist shock

-Fortify destruction

Ectoplasm

(Soul Cairn, Yngvild, Forelhost, Rannveig's, Abandoned Prison) 

Glowing mushroom

Wheat

_______________________

Telvanni's Phial (normal) 

(partially growable) 

-Restore magicka

-Fortify magicka

-magicka regen

Moonsugar

(Khajiit Merchants, Dren Plantation, Addamasartus, Gro-Bagrat Plantation, Census and Excise Warehouse) 

Jazbay grapes

Red mountain flower

_______________________

Heartbloom (easy) (u/Petition_for_Blood) (Fully growable)

-Fortify health

-Restore health

-Fortify conjuration

Lavender

Blue mountain flower

Wheat

---

Nocturnal's Embrace (hard) 

(partially farmable -not effectively) 

-Fortify one-handed

-Fortify sneak

-Fortify light armor

Beehive husk

(Honeystrand Cave, Goldenglow Estate, Redoran's Retreat) 

Rockwarbler egg

(The Reach easter egg hunt: Valthume, Blind Cliff Cave, Salvius Farm) 

Hawk feathers

(Solitude birb hunting & nests) 

_______________________

Quiet Caster (normal) 

(Partially growable & farmable -not effectively)

-Fortify destruction

-Fortify sneak

Beehive husk

(Honeystrand Cave, Goldenglow Estate, Redoran's Retreat) 

Glowing mushroom

Purple mountain flower

*Switch purple mountain flower for hawk feathers if you want to add - fortify light armor

_______________________

Aegis of the Elements (normal) 

(partially growable) 

-Resist frost

-Resist shock

-Resist fire

Hawk beak

(Solitude birb hunting) 

Snowberries

Dragon's tongue

_______________________

Aegis of the elements split (easy) (u/birrandbodia)

(Fully growable)

-Resist fire

-Resist shock

Snowberries

Dragons tongue

Glowing mushroom

(Partially growable)

-Resist fire

-Resist frost

Dragons tongue

Frost mirriam

(Found in most households)

Snowberries

(Partially growable)

-Resist shock

-Resist frost

Frost mirriam

(Found in most households)

Glowing mushroom

Snowberries

---

Phoenix Tears (easy) 

(partially growable) 

-Resist poison

-Restore health

-Restore stamina

-Cure disease

Charred skeever hide

(Found everywhere on adventures) 

Mudcrab Chitin

(Outside whiterun/Rorikstead around open planes near creaks) 

Blisterwort

______________________

Frostfire Toxin (Normal/hard-if low level) 

(partially growable) 

-Weakness to frost

-Weakness to fire

-Weakness to poison

Ice wraith teeth

(The midden, Northern Tundra/Winterhold, Serpent Stone, Weynon Stones, Yorgrim Overlook, Shalidor's Maze, Bonechill Passage - alternatively found often at shops for a price) 

Abecean longfin 

(Riften/Windhelm/solitude Fishbarrles) 

Bleeding crown

______________________

Neurotoxin (easy/normal/hard-location+level) 

(partially growable) 

-Paralysis

-Lingering damage health

-Damage health

Human flesh

(Volkihar Castle, Reachcliff Cave, The Companions Questline, Aretino Residence, Falmer Dungeons, Vampire Dungeons, Necromancer Dungeons, Tolvald's Cave, Alftand Animonculory, Trolls Cave near Ivarstead) 

Imp stool

Mora tapinella

______________________

Ashfang (easy) (u/Petition_for_Blood)

(Fully growable)

-Weakness to poison

-Weakness to fire

Deathbell

Juniper berry

Bleeding crown

---

Soul burn (easy) (u/Petition_for_Blood)

(Fully growable)

-Weakness to magic

-Ravage health

Creep cluster

Scathecraw

Jazbay grapes

---

Mage's Snare (easy)

(Fully growable)

-Weakness to magic

-Damage stamina regen

Creep cluster

Jazbay grapes

Wheat

---

Mages Bane (hard)

-Frenzy

-Weakness to shock

-Damage health

-Damage magicka

Hagraven feathers

(Witchmist Grove, Hag's End, Serpent's Bluff Redoubt, Orphan Rock, Anise's Cabin) 

Void salts

(Storm Atronachs, Arch mage quarters, Hall of Attainment, Proudspire Manor (Solitude), Honeyside (Riften), and Hjerim (Windhelm), Valerica's Study, Ragnvald Temple, Atronach Forge craft using: salt pile, amethyst, soul gem - Alternatively rarely sold by vendors for a price) 

Human heart

(Castle Volkihar, Volunruud, Black-Briar Manor (basement), Lost Valley Redoubt, Liar's Retreat, Redwater Spring, Ilinalta's Deep, Sunderstone Gorge, Brittleshin Pass, Broken Fang Cave, Aretino Residence) 

_______________________

Cowards way out (Easy/normal-if low level)

-Invisibility

-Health regen

-Fortify stamina

Chaurus eggs

(Falmer dungeons) 

Vampire dust

(Vampire dungeons)

Garlic

(Solitude houses) 

_______________________

Stimpack (easy) (u/NeedsMoreDakkath)

(Fully growable)

-Regenerate health

-Fortify archery

Canis root

Juniper berries

Namiras rot

---

Knight's Resolve (normal) 

(Partially growable) 

-Fortify one handed

-Fortify health

-Restore health

Rock Warbler egg

(The Reach easter egg hunt: Valthume, Blind Cliff Cave, Salvius Farm) 

Bear claws

(Found on bears... 🤯) 

Wheat

*i was kidding, don't look at me like that! 😭

_______________________

Strength of Legolas (easy) 

(Partially growable) 

-Fortify archery

-Fortify one handed

Canisroot

Juniper berries

Bearclaws

_______________________

Ser Blackwater's tonic (normal-honey farm) 

(Partially farmable) 

-Fortify one handed

-Fortify light armor

-Restore stamina

Hawk feathers

(Solitude birb hunting) 

Honeycomb

Bearclaws

_______________________

The Mountain's Tankard (easy) 

(Partially growable) 

-Fortify block

-Fortify heavy armor

-Resist cold

Slaughterfish scales

(Slaughterfish can be found in deeper waters, Dawnstar shores, Winterhold shores, Hjaal river near Morthal, Lake Ilinalta)

Thristle branch

Bleeding crown

_______________________

Merlin's Beard (Hard) 

(Partially farmable)

-Fortify destruction

-Fortify magicka

-Resist magicka

Wisp wrappings

(Frostmere Crypt, Labyrinthian, Blackreach, Ruins of Rkund, -alternatively can also rarely be bought at vendors for a price) 

Ectoplasm

(Soul Cairn, Yngvild, Forelhost, Rannveig's, Abandoned Prison) 

Tundra Cotton

I also got comments about how her appearance kinda looks like claymore and now I can't unsee it 😂

It's just so awesome, it's heavy but lightweight, the bandages, the skirt with the black fur is so awesome 😭 whoever designed this needs a raise!

There are few vanilla armors in skyrim I find equally pleasing to look at, ebony/ebony mail, dragon for the male characters, snow elf armor is nice but I don't like the open sleeves, deadric is also very nice, and that's all late game armor.

the thiefs guild/dark brotherhood are decent but definitely not as cool as this set and are also light armor sets.

My only gripe with the set is the low armor rating, not that it matters in the end with armour cap of 567