I kind of got carried away with the back story part, but oh well.
Name: Cool Hand Luke
Race: High Elf
Class: Master Assassin/Unholy Paladin
Major Skills: Archery/Sneak/Pickpocket/One Handed
Level: 71
Factions: Dark Brotherhood, Thieves’ Guild, Volkihar Vampire, College of Winterhold
What are they up to: Stalking the wilds, preying on the innocent, lawful and holy.
Alliance: Whoever is willing to pay.
Back story: Rysmond grew up a beggar on the streets of Riften and quickly became a skilful pickpocket. He would steal from guards and travellers to sell their belongings to the local merchants. One day, when he was close to man hood, a man from the Thieves’ Guild approached him, the man saw promise in Rysmond’s talent and took him under his wing. Over the next year, Rysmond learnt the other arts of thievery and that reputation is almost as important as the coin in your bag.
Although he prospered under this man from the Thieves’ Guild, Rysmond never felt truly satisfied. He left on good terms and began travelling the wild of Skyrim. Left to his own devices, he no longer stole from empty houses and the pockets of sleeping wonderers, instead, he would kill wealthy individuals and leave his signature mark: a gold coin, hammered into the victims forehead.
Two years had passed when Rysmond’s life changed forever. He was standing in Whiterun market, stalking his next victim, a poor man, but one who had slandered Rysmond’s name when he saw her. A girl, his age or thereabouts, was playing tag with a group of younger children. He instantly forgot the bald, fat man he had planned to kill and instead focused his energy on learning about this nord girl. Her name was Wyla, she liked lavenders, she liked her purple dress, but it was worn and ragged from over wearing, her mother had died and her father was drunk. Rysmond loved her.
She had known him three months before they had wed. She, like him, had fell in love at first sight. Her father’s complaints about high elves were quickly silenced by a gift of a generous amount. Rather than just getting married in the temple of Mara, Wyla wanted to go one step further. So, they had joined the priests’ ranks and lived together in love filled bliss. Rysmond had given up his previous, unlawful ways and lived happily in the temple for exactly seventeen days.
At the very end of this seventeenth day, a gang of guards threw open the temple doors. They pinned Rysmond down before he could fully wake, rifled through his belongings and retrieved something, he could not see what. A guard smashed the butt of his war hammer into Rysmond’s face and as he lay there, slipping into unconscious he heard Wyla, “Royce, have you got ‘im? Hurry up and take ‘im, the Jarl said I’ll have a title for this. Can you believe that?! Come and live with me in...” Her voice trailed off as Wyla and this ‘Royce’ walked away and Rysmond walked off into a dream world.
He woke up in the Riften jail. “Aaaaaah, you’re fffffinally up.” The voice was slow and a whisper.
“I know aaaaall about your betrayal, I do. And aaaaaas it happens, I’m going to help youuuuuuu”
“How?” Rysmond replied, suspecting of more foul play.
“With a giffffft. A gift thaaaat will bestow you with the abilities to take your vengeance” the stranger whispered, the sound of a guard’s footsteps came faintly to Rysmond’s ears. “Be quick in deciding if you want my help or not” the voice snapped.
“Ok. Ok, do it” he replied quickly. Small, almost skeletal hands slipped between the bars. Rysmond could see a multitude of scars that covered this thing’s arms. The hands came up to Rysmonds temples and he flinched away, the arms grew and the hands clasped his head. Red eyes shone through the blackness of the cell. “Feel the hatred” the voice said, it had grown deeper and inhuman, “Feel it coursing through you, do not fight it, do not reject it. Let it fill you up and take you beyond the limit. Do not let it control you, you will be worthless if you do.” A faint light began to creep into the corridor his cell was in and the beast that stood before him became visible. Rysmond saw the twisted being that stood before him, pale as moonlight, completely hairless, his arms covered with tough sinewy muscles that held unaccountable strength. Its teeth were razor sharp and its nose had been replaced by a gaping hole. The scars covered the rest of his body as well, “One for every false god I have slain, for you see, they are all false, the ones you call Daedric Princes have less than shadows of my power and the ‘Great’ Gods and Goddesses are less worthy than the dirt on my sole.” Its grip tightened, Rysmond could feel blood carving rivulets in the dirt on his face “You are to become my agent in this world.” The red eyes became Rysmond’s world, nothing existed but them and the voice, “You will not falter, you will not flee, you will not love. My powers will be given to you as you will give the blood of the innocent, the holy and the lawful to me. You will masquerade as one of those seraphic warriors, but you will be a servant to the true god. You will no longer be known as Rysmond, but you will be called ‘Cool Hand Luke’. You are free to take the vengeance you seek before...”
“What the hell?!” the guard had reached his cell. A third arm sprouted from the monster and pulled the man to him. A barrage of mouths and claws erupted from the creature to meet the man. It was over in seconds. “before I will have need of you again. I will construct many obstacles and challenges to test your worthiness. You will be taken to Helgen, where you will face a death penalty. Do not fear, you will not be harmed, I have set powers in motion that will affect your world greatly. Once I leave, I will not come to your aid and I will not contact you until I deem it necessary.” The hands receded from Cool Hand Luke’s head and the world went dark.
When he awoke, he was on a carriage. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Helgen. And shut up” a guard replied. Cool Hand Luke closed his eyes, saw the face of his god and felt the anger roaring inside him.
Other Details: Wears the ‘Ancient Falmer’ armor with several enchantments and the ‘Aetherial Crown. Uses an upgraded Zephyr and an upgraded/enchanted ebony knife. Has short white hair, white eyes and the closest thing I could get to scars on the side of his face.
Preferred Combat Style: Single enemy: Pickpocket poison into their inventory and watch them die from the shadows. Multiple enemies: Stick to the edge and pick most of them off with the bow, then close in and take care of the leftovers with my knife, staying undetected.
So I decided to make a character that would have an unusual approach to combat. So looked into Illusion and the rest just fell into place 
