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EP Dunmer Arthon Duskfall [NA]

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~ Name: Arthon Duskfall l Gender: Male l Age: 27 ~
~ DOB: 11th of Evening Star l Height: 5"9' l Occupation: Mercenary for Hire ~

Personality
Standoffish, rather lacking in empathy and emotion towards strangers and acquaintances, but very warm and caring to those close to his heart. Typically quiet and reserved, but articulate and thought-provoking when speaking. Logical and driven by mind over heart in most situations.
     
Backstory
Born close to the heart of Morrowind, Arthon grew with a strong sense of pride for his people's land since a young age. Ebonheart seemingly only gave shelter to the Dunmer, the only people Arthon would know and be comfortable with for quite a significant portion of his life. Coming from House Indoril, the political and social atmosphere that he would become accustomed to often preached the superiority of the Dunmer race. Arthon was raised by his father, Telivos, and mother, Valynda. His parents got along well, and often pushed their ideals onto Arthon during his early stages of life. Their ideals included attempting to coerce Arthon into practicing magic, to become a powerful and well-respected mage someday. Despite their incessant attempts to steer him towards joining the Mages Guild, Arthon never displayed significant interest in it. Even though both Telivos and Valynda supported their son with his choices, they believed they knew best for him and eventually forced him into a mentorship at the age of 14.
   
Arthon was never a troublemaker as a child, nor did he perform poorly in the activities he pursued. In fact, he excelled in skills related to weapon smithing and gathering. The skills and hobbies that he took up did not line up with the vision his parents foresaw for him, however. The push for Arthon to become an adept mage irritated him, but he did his best to understand the reasoning behind it. Even not in House Telvanni, Dunmer were typically expected and known to be very powerful casters. Outside of the daily training in the Mages Guild, Arthon started practicing hunting in the lands around his hometown. Never one to cause unneeded confrontation, for the years of training under the wings of the mentors within the Mages Guild, he kept quiet and never aired his frustrations with just how boring he found the arts of magic.
   
At the age of seventeen, an internal conflict began to take over within the mind of Arthon. The drums of war were once again calling as the three factions converged on Cyrodil for control of the Imperial City. While reading out of the small library of books his family had collected over a few decades, his attention was interrupted by the faint sound of an argument in the entry of the house. Telivos was considering joining the war effort, and Valynda was strictly against it- for fear of losing her husband and leaving Arthon without a father figure to guide him. Even though she was frustrated and angered with Telivos, she knew that he did not have much of a choice in holding him back from fighting for the Pact. Telivos would be gone at war for more than a year, missing Arthon's eighteenth birthday. Back at home, Arthon had begun to deceive his mother about attending his daily Mages Guild trainings. Instead, he was training for the war effort, as it gave him a real use to the skills he had spent the last four years practicing: archery and melee combat. Still, he felt stuck between two diverging paths. A war inside of his own mind waged over whether he would run away to serve House Indoril in his own methods, or follow the path towards pleasing his parents and honoring tradition?
   
That long, stressful internal fight came to a close with a knock on the door a year and two months into Telivos' tenure in Cyrodil. Both Valynda and Arthon were shocked to the core and sent down a spiral of distraught when they were told that Telivos had been slaughtered by a group of Daggerfall Covenant soldiers. Taking a toll on both of them, the home felt empty and void of warmth. Arthon stayed in his room for a few days, only coming out for dinner that had suddenly become much more dull. Valynda tried her best to be the best mother she could for Arthon, but it was plain to see the impact the death of her husband was having on her. Being significantly less emotional than his mother, Arthon went through the stages of grief quicker, which triggered the event that would set his life on a completely different path. To him, the Pact was being targeted and unfairly under siege, brewing anger under the resentment that already existed after the death of his father. Packing up clothing, food, and money, Arthon's head spun with emotion as he tied up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Stepping out of the house, Valynda rushed to question him. After divulging the plans he had to finish what Telivos started, she broke down, not wanting to lose her son, too. Doing his best to calm her, Arthon promised to write letters when he could and come back if the town of Ebonheart welcomed him back after his self-exile from both the town and House Indoril. No matter the life he could have had, nothing mattered to Arthon more than settling the score to make someone, anyone, pay for the death of his father.
   
Encircling the entire region, Cyrodil had pockets of soldiers from every faction, fences lining open spots of land, and walls that couldn't be scaled without being seen. Even in a war, the Pact still had strict regimes and rules for fighting, which Arthon had no plan to follow- in fact, he never officially joined the army. Arthon's personal mission became avenging his father's death through any means, and to make the enemy suffer, because he'd be suffering mentally the rest of his life over the death of a man who did everything to make his life as good as possible. Watching from the tree line just south of Cyrodil with inquisitive sight, he watched an open pocket between a fort wall and a guarded section for an opportunity to slip in. Suddenly: Cannon fire. Smoke. Fire. Jumping into the chaos, an orc stood feet away from him. Anger lit up Arthon's eyes, as he charged the orc, slicing his mainhand dagger directly into his chest, and kicking him to the ground as quickly as possible to run for cover within the walls of Cyrodil's battlefield. Just in time, he thought, as a group of soldiers approached from the west. Safely, he found cover in the tunnels just outside of the walls of the Imperial City.
   
Months into his vigilante operations, Arthon faced the thin veil separating life and death. War had taken it's toll mentally and physically. The bloodthirstiness that drove him eventually faded after witnessing months of endless bloodshed and countless deaths of Dunmer soldiers. Over time, a motivated and vengeful mind faded into hopelessness and despair after seeing nothing change, but an endless tug-of-war for control of land. That's all it was. Land. He'd never get his father back through endless, meaningless, slaughter. These thoughts filled his mind as he bled out in a cave after being impaled by the sword of a Redguard just an hour ago. As the static of semi-consciousness drowned out reality, a glimmer of light burned bright as Arthon gained a sudden urge of motivation to live. Everything he had yet to experience, the dreams he had yet to carry out. This mission of personal vengeance can't be the death of him. No. It won't be. It can't be. This cannot be the end.
   
By extreme chance and luck, a fellow Dunmer saw Arthon near death and carried him to a nearby camp in the dead of night, under the cover of the forests. They had taken him in and given him a place to rest while the wound healed to a point where he could endure travel back to the edge of Pact territory. During this time, Arthon had opportunities to reflect on the past years. The attitudes of superiority end in bloodshed. We fight because we believe we are the only ones worthy enough for the land. Faction division grew to be a poison in the opinion of Arthon. He now realized what felt so strange about growing up in Ebonheart. Now, he never planned to return to it. Soon, he healed and was given a ride to The Rift.
   
Arthon had survived hell, and the close stand-off with death itself had completely changed his perception of life and society. After returning to Morrowind, he moved into a small town in Deshaan, where he lived a few years in peace, holding down a few different jobs over the time he lived there. He was twenty-three now. While stopping in Mournhold one evening, there was a listing for a Guard position for a House that was relatively welcoming to outsiders.
   
Dutifully, for a year, he served that House. It gave him a fresh start to serve a noble cause that accepted the ones who did not fit into the standard roles of their homes. During the tenure, Arthon met a Bosmer girl who took a liking to him, named Chloe Destin, and they quickly became best friends despite issues between her friend and the Lord of the House. For months, Arthon and Chloe spent much of their time together, from Tea House evenings to exploring lovely locales throughout Tamriel. At twenty-four, in a rather cold Sun's Dusk, Chloe and Arthon got married and spent many great moons together.
   
Current Happenings

After laying low for quite some time for unknown reasons to most who were close to Arthon, he has been seen all over Morrowind in recent months. Living a much more stable, happier life, he is now a member of House Tavari after being transferred from House Indoril, and is working on reconnecting with his wife that presumed he had died.
Posted Aug 24, 17 · OP · Last edited Apr 13, 19
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Rewrote the entire backstory.
Posted Apr 13, 19 · OP
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