r/MydailylifeinSkyrim

After years of getting YEETED DELETED by the giants via the Skyrim Space Program this one is proud to announce the Giants are finally joining the program. Thanks to the effort of this Khajiit’s friend the Thane of Bud Light all the giants in Skyrim now have a one way ticket on the Skyrim Space Program reserved for them. They will get to experience first hand what we Dragonborn have been experiencing for the past 14 years!

Last year Godzilla dropped off countless eggs at my Guild’s doorsteps. He was going on an overdue honeymoon with Mothra and needed someone to watch the eggs. Not long after they hatched and we have watched over the little murder gremlins as they grew.

But our little Babyzillas have become Youngzillas and the time has come for them to start to venture out into Skyrim, under supervision of course! The last time they were not properly supervised they ate Riften……this Khajiit’s bad. While the Silverpeak Lodge has many members only a handful are capable of keeping them from doing too much damage, and so this one’s mate Sephiroth was chosen to take them out on their first journey. But don’t worry as this is only the first of many adventures, and who knows maybe Big G himself may comeback one day to lead his many children😇😈

I use AFT and have room for one more follower, I'm about to play the Second Great War again. It can be pretty much anyone who's still alive. Not Serana though because she starts too many fights with the others. I had Ralis last time. I was going to have J'zargo but I'm waiting until after the war to start the mages' college quest. I also summon Odahviing.

I am ashamed to say I initially missed the fact that during my previous Godzilla rider clip that during the fight two of the Youngzillas tried to jump on one of the dragons and one of them succeeded! My fellow gamers I give to you the first Godzilla to ride a dragon!

hi everybody, as i said a week or so ago, i was working on a story about how my own character, William, and Sargemontclare character, agatha, would react if they ever meet each other, so as promised, here's the story of how two legends collides over a contract. a little precision, i originally wanted to post it in one single post but apparently the text is way too long so i will post it in 2 part

as for the screens, the first one is my character, William

a link to William rp background for those who want to read it https://www.reddit.com/r/MydailylifeinSkyrim/s/QTwPpMiryg

the second screen is u/Sargemontclare character, Agatha.

a link to her rp background posted by Sargemontclare in this subreddit for those who want to read it. https://www.reddit.com/r/MydailylifeinSkyrim/s/HB5HnTpEMM

---

When legends collides over a contract :

part 1: a matter of necromancer.

Late afternoon, on the Sea of Ghosts not far from Dawnstar, a boat moves slowly and silently across the water toward an islet where a large structure stands. Aboard is a 27-year-old Breton man named William. He has shoulder-length blond hair, blue-green eyes, and a scar along his left eye. He wears elven hunter armor, iron plate gauntlets on his left arm, leather gauntlets on his right, and iron plate boots. An iron claymore hangs from his back, secured by a leather scabbard connected to a strap across his chest. Beside him in the boat rests a crossbow and a small case containing about twenty bolts. As he paddles slowly along, William glances around. In the distance, a group of horkers are basking on the shore, while in the water beneath the boat, a school of fish is visible, trying to escape a predator. As the boat continues forward, he finds himself halfway between the shore and the islet, from which a staircase leads up to a large structure barely visible from below. This is an ancient Nordic ruin called Yngvild Barrow.

Having received information several hours earlier from the innkeeper at the Dawnstar tavern about a local nobleman needing a mercenary, William had gone to the nobleman's home. The employer explained the situation: an elven mage named Arondil had been driven out of Dawnstar after the townspeople discovered he was experimenting with the souls of the dead. Following the disappearances of several young local women, they believed he had taken up residence in Yngvild Barrow. The guards were occupied and on high alert due to the civil war between the Imperials and Stormcloaks, and were therefore unable to intervene. Thus, they wanted a mercenary to go there and eliminate the mage, a contract William decided to accept.

As the boat finally reaches its destination, William disembarks and hastily ties it to a nearby rock with a rope before noticing another boat there as well. Strange; he was supposed to be the only one on this contract. Pushing the thought from his mind, he calmly begins to climb the steps, his crossbow in hand and the bolt case in a small pouch hanging from his belt, until he reaches the top, finally facing the structure. As he approaches, he suddenly sees someone else, their back to him, crouching over a corpse and searching it.

It appears to be a woman wearing heavy armor, armed with a large Nordic carved greatsword. She has short, white-silver hair, and her hair, armor, and weapon seem stained with blood and dirt. "Probably one of the mage's recent victims," William thought as he raised his crossbow and prepared to fire.

As if sensing his presence, the woman turned toward him and dodged the bolt before charging straight at him, drawing her greatsword. Knowing he wouldn't have time to reload, William hurled the crossbow at her, forcing her to briefly stop to shield herself from the projectile. William then drew his claymore and attempted to strike her twice. She effectively blocked the blows before retaliating, managing to knock William off balance and send him sprawling to the ground. The woman seized this opportunity and lunged at William, her greatsword raised above her head. William extended his hand forward and made a brief gesture with his fingers. A violent kinetic blast emanating from William's hand knocked the woman back.

Caught off guard, she lost her balance and fell to the ground as William rose and attempted to deliver a killing blow with the tip of his claymore. She managed to dodge the attack by rolling sideways, picking up a pebble and throwing it at William's face, giving her enough time to get back to her feet, weapon in hand. William and the woman began circling each other, sizing each other up, weapons drawn in a fighting stance. Just as they were about to resume their confrontation, a brown figure suddenly lunged at the woman with all its might, throwing her to the ground. Before he could react, William heard a running sound to his right. He turned to see another brown figure lunge at him and knock him to the ground as well. It was a female draugr. On the ground, William grabbed the draugr by the throat to prevent it from biting him while it muttered words in an incomprehensible language. With his other hand, he managed to grab an iron dagger he kept concealed in his belt and plunged it into the draugr's head, killing it instantly.

He then got to his feet and saw that the woman was still on the ground, struggling with another draugr. Strangely, according to local rumors, the draugr usually didn't attack the women present. The woman, still on the ground, continued to struggle against the creature, trying to prevent it from biting her throat with one of her gauntlets raised in front of her face. The draugr finally grabbed the woman by the throat and repeatedly slammed her head against the stone ground, partially stunning her before leaning down to her face, ready to tear out her throat.

However, before it could do so, the draugr froze, suddenly became inert, and fell sideways. The woman immediately got to her feet and saw a crossbow bolt lodged deep in the draugr's head. She turned and saw William reloading the crossbow. She was a young woman with short, white-silver hair and a scar over her right eye. She wore wolf armor, Nordic carved boots and gauntlets, and held a large Nordic carved greatsword in her hands.

William: You... you're not one of those mindless victims?

Woman: No i am not. who are you?

William: I could ask you the same question.

Agatha: Agatha. I'm a mercenary. I was hired by a nobleman to rid this place of a troublesome mage.

William: William. I'm also a mercenary, i've also been hired by a nobleman. Was the nobleman who hired you a short Redguard man with curly hair, a long beard, and a slightly plump face, named Ahman Cax?

Agatha: Yes, that's him.

William: Well, that's strange.

Agatha: Why?

William: He told me to be careful of one of the mage's latest victims—a warrior who fits your description perfectly.

Agatha: Ha! What a cowardly milk-drinker! He must have thought I was dead. So, what do we do now?

William: Well, as a mercenary, I have a job to do. And i could use the gold. So, instead of fighting, we might as well help each other and share the reward once the job is done. What do you say?

Agatha: (thinks for a few seconds) Why not, but if you stab me in the back, you'll regret it.

They both sheathed their weapons and entered the mound. It was dark inside, so dark that they couldn't see more than a few meters ahead.

Agatha: it's so dark in here, i'll go ahead and cast magelight.

William: No need, I'll take care of it. (He makes a brief gesture with his fingers. An orb of light materializes and rises above them, floating slowly and silently about a meter over their heads, illuminating a ten-meter radius around them.)

Agatha: (while cracks a discreet, small smirk of her own) Pfft, show-off.

William: (a slight smirk on his face) jealous.

They progressed through several rooms of the mound, encountering a few scattered draugr and ghosts, they are probably the women Arondil had abducted. The both them eliminated the draugr without much difficulty and continued until they reached a large room. Unlike the previous ones, this area was well-lit and contained a multitude of closed Nordic coffins.

Agatha: Careful. Those torches being lit when everything else was in shadow is a bad sign.

William: I know. (He suddenly notices a leather-bound journal on a table.) What is this? (He picks it up and begins to read, rapidly turning pale.) For the love of Talos, what have we gotten ourselves into?

Agatha: What is it?

William: I knew he was conducting necromantic experiments, but this is worse than I thought. See for yourself.

He hands her the journal. She reads it briefly, her face twisting with rage.

Agatha: Filthy necromancer rat! He's going to bleed! I'll rip his head off, by Shor!

Suddenly, a dull thud echoes through the room. The lids of the Nordic coffins fall to the ground one after another as draugr women emerge. Very quickly, William and Agatha find themselves surrounded by about fifteen draugr.

Agatha: They're everywhere! We have to get out!

William: The corridor we came in through! It will be harder for them to surround us there!

Agatha: Let us go then!

William and Agatha ran toward the corridor behind them. William stretched his arm forward and made a brief gesture with his fingers; an arc of flame erupted before him, igniting two nearby draugr. Agatha, meanwhile, struck another nearby draugr with her torch, setting it ablaze as well, before hurling a torch with all her might at their pursuers. This caused two more draugr to lose their balance and fall to the ground, catching fire as well.

Once they reached the other end of the corridor and returned to the previous room, they saw that about ten draugr were still behind them. Agatha suddenly had an idea. She grabbed the glass oil flask from her satchel and threw it to the floor in the corridor, spilling its contents, hastily telling William to ingite it so the draugr couldn't reach them. As the oil ignited upon contact with the torch, four more draugr caught fire, collapsed to the ground, and died. The remaining six managed to escape the flames and waited for them to dissipate, cackling words in an incomprehensible tongue.

William: Good catch!

Agatha: That should give us some respite before the flames clear.

Another muffled sound, followed by grunts and rapid footsteps, could be heard from an adjacent room.

William: By Talos, there are more!

Two more draugr emerged from the adjacent room. William repelled one several meters away with his kinetic blast spell, but the other lunged at him, causing him to drop his crossbow, which slid near Agatha. As William struggled on the ground with the draugr, the creature was suddenly struck in the head by a crossbow bolt and died. William got to his feet and saw Agatha, crossbow in hand. He gave her a small nod and a grateful smile just as the flames holding the last six draugr dissipated.

Two of them attacked Agatha, who decapitated the first with her greatsword but was then pinned against the wall by the second. The other four, meanwhile, pounced on William and began to surround him. Agatha struggled as best she could, trying to survive, when suddenly a powerful roar erupted. One of the draugr surrounding William was violently thrown like a rag doll against the wall. Taken by surprise, the draugr grappling with Agatha turned its gaze toward the roar. This gave Agatha the opportunity to draw the dagger concealed in her belt, stabbing it in the head, killing it instantly. As she got to her feet, Agatha realized that William was gone. His equipment was scattered on the ground, and a werewolf stood in his place, holding a draugr by the throat while the remaining two hesitated.

One of them growled at the werewolf, who brutally slamming the creature he hold on the ground, killing it instantly, while the last two lunged at him. He violently repelled one draugr with a swipe of his claws and grabbed the second, crushing its skull with his jaws before tossing it aside. The last draugr got up and tried to attack him, but he grabbed its arm, bit down on its head, and violently tore it off.

Just as calm returned to the room, the werewolf turned to Agatha. Out of suspicion, she assumed a fighting stance before he gradually began to shift back into his human form, revealing William. After a few seconds of silence, William noticed Agatha staring at him from head to toe.

William: ...Uh, yes, perhaps I should...

Agatha: (turning around) Yes, that would be best.

William then began to gather his equipment and get dressed.

Agatha: So, you're a werewolf?

William: Yes. So what?

Agatha: Nothing, it just surprises me. I wouldn't have pictured you as one.

William: Well, we still have a mission to accomplish here for the moment. Let's do what we have to do first, and perhaps we can discuss it again later if you wish.

Agatha: That suits me. What about the young women he abducted?

William: If he hasn't yet turned them into mindless slaves, we'll free them. Otherwise, we'll have to eliminate them. Do you think you're capable of that?

Agatha: Doing what has to be done is part of the job, you have to be more than capable of making that kind of decision.

William: Good. Then let's continue. He surely isn't far now.

William and Agatha continued to advance inside the mound until they finally reached the throne room. Arondil was there, his back to them, seemingly unaware of their presence. William and Agatha began to sneak into the room, approaching Arondil, when suddenly a ghost appeared, sword in hand, it lunged at William. William blocked the blow and impaled the ghost, making it vanish, before being violently thrown out of the room by a wave of Arondil's hand. Arondil turned as four more ghosts appeared.

Arondil: (to one of the ghosts) You, take care of the man! (to the other three) All three of you, grab her!

One of the ghosts left the room in the direction where William had been thrown, while Arondil, with a wave of his hand, slammed and locked the doors. Outside, William got to his feet and blocked the ghost's sword strike before retaliating, severing its weapon arm and then decapitating it, making it disappear. William then headed toward the door and found it locked.

William: Damn it! (starting to kick the door) Come on!

Inside, Agatha tried to attack Arondil, but the other ghosts rushed her. She skewers one of the ghosts with her greatsword, the ghost didn't flinch it grabbed her sword tightly, the remaining two ghosts held her arms, pulling them back.

Arondil: (approaching Agatha) Ha! Another toy for my collection!

Agatha: (headbutting him squarely in the face) Go rot in Oblivion, you son of a-

He interrupts her with a kick to the face.

Arondil: Silence, whore! You're a tough one, I see. You'll make an excellent wife alongside my favorite.

The ghost of another woman then appeared near the throne. Agatha noticed that the soul gem resting on the pedestal near the throne was shining more brightly, just as it had when Arondil ordered the other ghosts to attack.

Agatha: I will never be your slave, monster!

Arondil: We'll see about that. Now, if you'll permit me...

At that moment, the door burst from its hinges as William rushed into the room. He fired his crossbow at Arondil, shooting him in the shoulder and knocking him to the ground with a cry of pain. One of the ghosts released Agatha and headed toward William. At the same time, Agatha managed to free herself from the last ghost holding her down, pushing it back before getting to her feet. She rushed toward the soul gem, seized it, and shattered it into pieces.

Arondil: No! What have you done?

The moment the gem shattered, the remaining ghosts froze for a second, completely forgetting Agatha and William. They turned toward Arondil and advanced on him, weapons drawn. Agatha skirted around them and joined William near the entrance of the room.

Arondil: (scrambling backward on his hands and knees) B-back off! That's an order! No! NOOOO!

The ghosts swarmed him, slashing him with daggers and swords. Arondil screamed and struggled for a few seconds before finally collapsing in a pool of blood. The ghosts then turned toward William and Agatha, who suspiciously gripped their weapons, but the spirits vanished into thin air instead.

William: Is it over?

Agatha: I think so, yes.

William: So, it was the soul gem that allowed him to control the ghosts. How did you figure that out?

Agatha: I saw the gem glow intensely when the first ghosts appeared, then it glowed again when he summoned another one. I figured that had to be the source of his control over them...

William: And therefore, destroying it would turn them against him.

Agatha: Exactly!

William: In any case, I owe you my thanks. I don't know if I would have managed to clear the mound and defeat Arondil without your help.

Agatha: It's nothing! And I owe you one too, by the way. You saved my life several times in this mound. Now, let's go claim what's owed to us from Dawnstar.

They were about to leave the room when William noticed a note lying near the throne. He picked it up and began to read it. Agatha noticed his expression.

Agatha: What is it?

William: Ahman, you filthy little son of a... (he hands the note to Agatha) Cax, the nobleman who hired us both for this contract, double-crossed us. He was in cahoots with Arondil from the start. He was helping him capture the young women, and in exchange, Arondil provided him with gold.

Agatha: The filthy little scoundrel! That's why he hired me! To provide a new woman for that twisted bastard!

William: And that's why he told me you were his last victim, so I would eliminate you if you managed to survive and kill Arondil.

Agatha: I'll rip that Redguard bastard's head off!

William: So, what are we waiting for? Let's go get him.

A few hours later, William and Agatha left the mound and returned to Dawnstar. They headed toward an imposing building. William knocked on the door while Agatha hid to the side. Ahman opened it.

Ahman: You're back? So, is that the end of Arondil and his experiments?

William: Yes, it's over, but there was a slight hitch.

Ahman: What do you mean, a hitch?

At that moment, Agatha stepped out in front of Ahman.

Agatha: Remember me?

Ahman: (surprised) You...

Before Ahman could react, Agatha punched him squarely in the face. Ahman fell to the ground, his nose bleeding, while William took the opportunity to kick him in the ribs.

Ahman: Have you gone mad? What are you doing?

William: Don't play games! We found this on Arondil after we killed him. (He shows him the note.) We know you were in cahoots with him, you supplied him with women for his experiments and hired Agatha just to hand her over to that twisted bastard. Fearing she'd manage to kill him, you hired and manipulated me with the intention of having me kill her if she triumphed.

Agatha: Enough talk! You'll pay for wanting to hand me over to him!

Agatha grabbed Ahman by the throat and began to repeatedly and brutally strike him in the face, while William watched, his gaze hard and impassive. After a solid minute of beating him, Agatha turned to William.

Agatha: Do you want to give him a few hits too, or are we done here?

William approached Ahman, who suddenly began to laugh.

Ahman: (his tone shifting from pleading to sadistic) Hahaha! Okay, I've been found out! What a pity you survived, my dear. I would have loved to see you become one of those brainless slaves. You see, there's one thing Arondil didn't mention in his letter: he didn't just give me gold in exchange for providing him with new wives; he let me keep some of them!

At that moment, two of the mindless slaves suddenly burst from the adjacent room and lunged at William and Agatha. The two mercenaries quickly knocked the slaves to the ground and stabbed them in the head. Meanwhile, Ahman rushed to the fireplace and retrieved a Redguard curved sword.

William: Forget it, Ahman. We're two skilled mercenaries; you don't stand a chance.

Ahman: You know what will happen to me if the jarl and the townspeople find out? I'd rather die right here and now!

He lunged at William and tried to strike him. William effectively blocked the blow before severing Ahman's weapon arm in retaliation.

Ahman cried out in pain as Agatha impaled him with her greatsword. Ahman fell to his knees and, after a few seconds, collapsed to the floor, dead.

William: He's finished. Let's go inform the jarl before anyone sees us.

William and Agatha then left Ahman's residence and went to the jarl's longhouse at Dawnstar. There, they explained what had happened at the mound, Ahman's complicity in the women's disappearance and his death, and collected the reward, which they shared. They left late that evening.

William: That was a job well done!

Agatha: What are your plans now? Are you going back on the road?

William: Not now. It's getting late, so I was thinking of spending the night at the Inn. And since I owe you one for your help at the mound, I was wondering if you'd like to come.

Agatha: That's perfect, i was planning to stay at the inn anyways. Actually, I owe you one too for your help at the mound, so let's have a round. You can tell me more about yourself, as promised.

William: (amused) What do you mean?

Agatha: You never told me how you became a werewolf, as promised i'd like to hear all about it.

William: That's true. Alright, let's go now. I'll buy you the first round.

Agatha: As long as I pay for the second, that's fine with me.

William: Deal.

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!

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.

Don't know who sent them as there was no note, but it was probably the Thalmor since we had recently been to the Thalmor headquarters in Solitude and stole all their cheese wheels, sweetrolls and books and we may have defiled their map table also 🤣

Spent the last 2 days working on clips for my little Babyzillas, as you can see they aren’t so little anymore! While I had a blast with this it sadly crashed my game numerous times! But while I work tonight I’ve got the footage and am editing it for tomorrow morning. If you all like this the Babyzillas who are now Youngzillas will make more appearances