So why were you captured?

[Sweetroll Thief]

Great thread! Hope it's okay if mine is a bit long.

Janu: Was living a marginal life in Hammerfell and was slowly making her way along looking for a more prosperous place for a thieving career. Should have known that the foolish Imperial guard with the jangly purse had nearby friends looking out for him!

Evodhla: Was trying to get *out* of Skyrim, not in. Banditry is the way she found to avoid starvation-- when they ended up caught in an Imperial ambush, the other bandits fled and Evodhla was the only one captured.

Taeni: Was running from the Thalmor. Her name wasn't on the list because her inquisitor parents weren't about to admit their child not only defected but got away unscathed, but her execution was most definitely particularly ordered.

Amelie: Was bored. She had a very good job with a very good mercenary company, but the possibility of a lifetime of this daunted her. Skyrim, with all its troubles, looked like a promising place for a skilled sellsword looking to make a new start (she had no idea her brother went there, of all places, with the money he got selling her into indenture). She has no idea why she was mistaken for a rebel, and is still a bit irked about it even now.

Sarendan: Was on the run from thieves in the Imperial City, after a fellow thief assassinated their guildmaster and tried to kill her (his clear chosen successor). Is beyond baffled that, after this many years worrying about being caught, she was nearly executed for a crime she actually *didn't* commit.

 

[Bexy]

This cat stole a sweetroll. How cheeky. I was hungry, come on!

 

[thanks2Ralof]

BECAUSE OF OBAMA!!!

 

[ColleenG]

It was clearly a case of mistaken identity. I'm just a simple handyman.

 

[nightmare16]

i was tryin to smuggle crack addicted gerbils into mexico.....oh your talking about on the game.....just ignore that first part. i was caught trying to smuggle skooma addicted khajitt into skyrim

 

[Irishman]

Shot 1 too many guards in the knee

 

[DrunkenMage]

In the most bizarre case of extremely unlucky timing, my drunken Nord mistook the prison carriage for a standard one heading to Whiterun. He stumbled over towards it, and anyone who may of stopped him had either chosen that moment to turn, or was distracted. When they had turned back around and noticed him, he was already in line.

After a nap, he woke up with a killer headache and some blonde bloke talking to him about Imperials, Stormcloaks, Helgen, some girl, mead with berries and some Governor. Too much information, so he zoned out, then zoned back in when a Dragon was wrecking the place.

 

[raido KASAI]

Along with my younger brother and two friends, we were tracking a bounty head Khajiit trader who got sneaky fingers with the wrong person. He was operating near the imperial encampment at the time. Case of wrong place wrong time as we got mistaken for being in with the rebels.

 

[shadowkitty]

Leeloo the Khajiit: This one was sneaking. Looking for food and shiny things. Khajiit would have got away with it had it not been for silly Imperial waking up.

Wyldfyre: I was lost, half starved and mad with grief over the loss of my family. I had no idea where I was; not knowing a thing about Skyrim. I stumbled on the camp with the red soldiers and stole some food but was caught, beaten and taken to Helgen with a load of soldiers in blue cloaks.

Shadow the assassin: I did it deliberately. I had a target in Helgen and allowed myself to be captured as a means to gain entry into the Imperial occupied town. Having escaped from the Dragon, I sort out my target, completed the contract and then used the tunnels under the keep to exit the city.

Gregrick Sepio: It was a mistaken identity which I hold no resentment over. It was all sorted out quickly once I made my way to Solitude. I had been captured by the Rebel Stormcloaks who in turn were attacked by our Imperial force. Superior numbers caused the rebel scum to surrender, but I was loaded into the wagon with them.

Indari Shadow-cat: After my village was destroyed by a dragon and my father (a retired Stormcloak soldier) killed, I sort out a Stormcloak camp in the hopes that they could teach me how to use my fathers sword so that I could wield it with honor. Unfortunately we were attacked by Imperials and those of us who were left were taken.

 

[The Saviour of Skyrim]

My first character wasn't role-played, I have no reason for him.

My old wizard was an Argonian named "Speaks With Souls", so named because of his innate talent for being able to see, speak to, and summon spirits. Recognizing his potential in arcane pursuits, he decided to seek knowledge and hone his skills in the magical arts. Already having a penchant for cavorting with the dead, he chose to make a pilgrimage to the College of Winterhold, which is known for being quite tolerant of Necromancy in contrast to the more cosmopolitan magical guilds in Cyrodiil. Dunmer are famous necromancers, but, owing to long-held negativity against Dark Elves (as most Argonians have), he did not seek their knowledge. Unfortunately, his choice of traveling gear was hardly inconspicuous: black, skull-logoed necromancer robes, poisonous and exotic alchemical ingredients, a plethora of soul gems, a cursed ebony dagger and a couple of humanoid skulls. While trying to make his way incognito to the north, a patrol of Stormcloaks came down the same road as he and took notice of him. His appearance clearly angered and frightened many of the Nords present, who, along with some inherent racism, seemed to be convinced he was up to no good and appeared to be considering taking him hostage when they were all suddenly surrounded by dozens of Imperial soldiers with drawn bows. The Nords laid down their weapons and for a moment it seemed he would be fine after all - until the Imperial Commander took notice of him also, and came to the same conclusion as the men he had captured. His "evil" belongings confiscated, he was thrown in a cart with the others. And the rest is history.

My new character is more boring. He literally was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He stopped to talk and trade with the Stormcloak patrol he came across (he had no idea who the Stormcloaks were and assumed them to be local militia), and this was enough for the hot-headed Imperial Captain that captured them to make him a prisoner as well.

 

[Lady Redpool the Unlifer]

Alecxzius: Grew up in Cyrodil and wanted to join the legion as a scout to fight the Thalmor. Deserted due to being disgusted by the White-Gold Concordat. Sold her sword in Cyrodil under a false name for years. Crossed into skyrim to aid The rebellion she had heard about. Found near the border by some imperials who were celebrating a successful ambush. Her old commander was among them.

Nameless: After not only rejecting his innate magical abilities in favor of skill with a bow, and also being part of a rebel group in the summerset isles, This high elf fled north trying to get to high rock and as far from the Thalmor as possible. Unfortunately was caught by rather racist nords crossing the border into skyrim, and when the imperials captured everyone, didn't bother asking why a high elf was bound in rags in the camp.

RedNeK: I grew up in the deserts of Hammerfell, learning all there is about the art of the blade. When the cry of war was uttered, I joined to preserve my way of life. I was captured by the Aldmeri Dominion and spent time in a prisoner of war camp and was there during Ulfric's brief stay. While he was released, I was not. I've been in the same camp for so long, but always plotting, readying, waiting. When the opportunity arose, I fled finally, and made my way towards skyrim. I could not believe my luck when i found Ulfric and his men and he recognized me. I believed my luck once again when the imperials ambushed us. Such is the story of my life.

 

[The Honorable Gidian Diva of Sass]

Shot 1 too many guards in the knee

You mean you married one too many guards?!

 

[raido KASAI]

Shot 1 too many guards in the knee

It's okay though because as I heard from a credible source, you didn't shoot the deputy

 

[The Honorable Gidian Diva of Sass]

Gidian fell into Nirn through a fracture in time, caused by the elder scrolls. He was, at first, buried in the ground for ages. A sequence of events led to the Stormcloaks stumbling upon him. Resembling a brother nord, they gave him a change of clothes and food. This led to the ambush, and so on.

Out of his element and finding himself in an unknown and hostile world, he must come to terms with his new life and try to regain some of the power he lost, as well as some new ones along the way.

This is my justification for putting my novel character into Skyrim, the game.

 

[Brofski]

Sorry, was smoking a little something something and got carried away

_______________________________________

Tyr - Nord

Tyr knew his ageing grandfather did not have long left. As his only living relative, he knew he'd make the journey across the border with the old man so he could die in his homeland. His only wish left in life. He entrusted his forge in the hands of brother in law Torbald and he and his wife Svenja began their journey, old man in tow.

A week or so passed before he saw it. Home. Well, at least it was for a brief few years. Before his father had taken him on what he promised would be a voyage to etch their family's name in history. Turned out it just made his father, mother, the boat, their voyage and his freedom history when the pirate ship pulled up beside there's. He tried to figure out how many years ago it was. He may have been 10, or possibly 11 when that happened. He imagined it would have been a further ten he spent with the pirates. Ten long years of ironing metal for them, day and night. Lucky to get half a raw fish for his troubles. It had probably been 2 years after he escaped that he'd met Svenja. Maybe another two before his grandfather had turned up at his house in Dune, a tear in his eye, smile on his face and arms stretched out so wide he could have held Masser between them without discomfort. Around 4 years he reckoned he'd lived like that. He tried to figure out how old that made him. He realised numbers were not his strong point, so gave up and decided he was old enough.

Home. "Grandpa, we're hear" whispered Svenja, her voice as soft and light as ever. "Just over the hill. We'll be in Falkreath by nightfall". Tyr looked a his wife. He saw the expectation in her face. She too would be seeing Skyrim for the first time in.... he forgot how many years he'd decided it had been. Numbers were not his strong point. Her story was as harsh as his, but she seemed far more eager to touch upon her past. He was not so keen. He pulled the reigns hard and both horses stopped suddenly. "What is it dear?" whispered Svenja. "We're being watched" Ty replied under his breath. He gripped the hilt of his sword. "Ah dah dah dah dah dah. I don't think so friend. Reinforcements, eh?" A swollen faced man crept from the darkness. Two other men shadowed him, bows drawn, arrows ready to fly. Imperials he’d assumed. He’d seen enough of them the past few days while travelling through Cyrodil. Well fed these were. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get their own armour for all the fat they had on their bones. He thought they’d probably need a friend’s help in fact.

"We're just visiting the homeland" Svenja whispered as she smiled at the leader. His face softened a little. He slowly walked around the front of the horses, his eyes fixed on Tur the entire time before sitiching his attention to Svenja when he got to her. “You look tired love. Why not climb down and come rest with us at our camp” Tyr shot up and pulled his sword from his hilt. “Are you stupid, man? My archers are ready with arrows would take less than a breath to reach your heart! What is in the f***ing cart!?” Svenja slowly climbed down, her angelic smile still as wide and pleasant as when she’d first spoken to him. Tyr would have remembered how that first made him felt seeing it, but he was too fixed on thinking of a way to deal with the two archers to his left. He had no doubt there would be a few more, lurking to his right or would have made their way behind the cart. “My husband’s grandfather. He is close to the end of his days and wishes to be in his homeland when the light does finally leave him. We’ve travelled quite a distance to give him his final wish.”

“You choose an odd time to grace us with your beauty darling” the leader croaked. A Small, hideous man, deep into his forties, Tyr thought. He would have described him as pig faced, but realised he’d never seen a pig so ugly. “Why do you say that sir?” Svenja asked, smile still sewn into her cheeks. “Have you had your head in the sand?” the uglier than pig faced man asked with a frown. “There’s a bloody war going on!” Tyr wondered how he’d known where he’d travelled from, but then realised it must have been a figure of speech. “Those thankless, ignorant Stormcloaks don’t agree with the Empire ruling here. They openly pray to Talos, they talk of rebellion and justice, they kill soldiers of the Empire! Treason of the highest order! If you are not reinforcements, you have nothing to hide! My men back there will search the cart, the men to your left will take your weapons and I,” he turned to Svenaj, eyes wide as his shield, “I’ll search this beauty here.”

Tyr heard the twang of a bowstring. He expected to feel a pain and hear his own flesh rip. Instead he heard a scream from behind and a loud clang, like that of a sword hitting metal. He looked behind and saw wriggling. Then he noticed the old man falling from the cart, bow in hand. He’d been asleep most the week. Of all the times to wake up, it would be now. Tyr had his bow beside him all week. Of all the places to leave it tonight, it would be there. Before he could move, he heard the old man groan and saw him hit the floor. He jumped to his right. He landed knee first, all his weight behind him, on top of the leader’s shield. He pushed his sword through his gut. He pulled it free and swung it down slightly to his left. He chopped his arm off just above the elbow. The leader screamed, but Tyr only heard the blood rushing in his head and his heart beating. He pulled his sword from the dirt and with the same fluid movement pulled a knife from his boot, span almost full circle towards the darkness and let go of the knife. Tyr hadn’t been a great shot most his life. Of all the times for him to have aimed it perfectly at a man’s throat, thank the divines it had to be now.

“Hide behind the cart” he screamed at Svenja. She threw herself behind it. Tyr heard footsteps in the mud to his left, from behind the horses. They were nervous, almost considering whether to make a run for it or not. He saw the man’s legs through the horses and waited. At the exact right split second, he slapped the one on it’s arse and it charged. The other panicked and followed him. Tyr watched them sprint over the hill. A few metres away, the crumpled soldier lie, face down in the mud. It took three strides for Tyr to be within striking distance. He jammed his sword into the back of his neck, right in the top of his spine. He turned to his right, and saw the leader on his knees, clutching the remaining half of his arm with the other, a horrified look on his face, desperate eyes staring at Tyr. His lips trembled for a second before he yelled at the top of his lungs “Rebe…” He did not have time to finish his word, before Tyr had swung his sword, and the leader’s horrified look was now in the mud, looking up at him.

He spun to his right at he heard some tussling. “Drop… your…... f***ing….sword! I… will…. slit…. her….. f***ing…. throat!” He’d wondered for a split second where the other archer had gone. Tyr glared at him. His eyes flicked to Svenja’s. Gripped with fear, wide with worry, blurry with tears. “Don’’t think I won’t rebel. She is nothing but a rebel too. A dog! I wouldn’t think twice about killing a dog that attacked me, so take this chance to keep her safe!” Tyr relaxed the grip on his hilt and let his sword fall to the mud. He felt a colossal crack at the back of his head. Somehow the world went entirely dark but was also filled with a great light. He fell to his knees. He felt a hand grab his hair, another two grab each shoulder. Everything a blur, everything turning and twisting. His eyes began to focus and he saw Svenja’s face again. He stared at her, eyes rolling. “You stupid fluffing rebel, I said I wouldn’t think twice and I will not start now!” Tyr still stared at her face. Nothing else was in focus. Her beautiful, snow white face. Red began to flow from below it. He reached out an arm. He felt another huge crack. The closer the mud got, the darker everything went.

* * *​

He had no idea how long they’d been travelling. No idea how long his back had been jarring. No idea how many painful bumps in the road they’d hit. No idea how long this damned man had been talking for. There were four of them in there. Next to the one with verbal diarrhoea, sat a man with a gag in his mouth. Tyr wondered how much plops he must have talked if the other one wasn’t forced to wear one too. He hadn’t looked up all journey. Tyr turned his head to the left. They were approaching a fort. He’d never seen it before. It didn’t look new, so Tyr thought they must be in the southern part of Skyrim still. He didn’t know where though. He only knew one thing. If he ever got out of this fortress, he would make his captors pay. He would make the murderers of his wife pay. He would make the killers of his granddad pay. The poor old man died no more than 100 metres from his homeland. He didn’t even get his final wish. He would make them pay.

 

[TheJackall]

Goerblot the Nord.
Goerblot is probably the oldest man in Nirn. Being just a boy when the dragons ruled he and his sister, Hāer, lived with the dragons as dragon-priests, they did the good old trick of wearing stilts for 10 years. At last they were found and was going to be executed by the dragons. However, Hāer was unmatched with apothecary and managed to create one Zeü potion. The Zeü potion was an immortal potion which gave Goerblot the power of immortal-ness. Many years on Goerblot wanted to find the remains of of his sister Hāer and properly give the burial she deserved. Goerblot killed any one who stood in his way to get into Skyrim, where his sister died. Although he was attacked in a Imperial ambush against the Stormcloaks and attempt to "dispose" of the Imperials. However, they overpowered Goerblot and mistook him for a Stormcloak rebel!! So now Goerblot is caught up in Skyrim's stupid civil war. He can only hope that he survives and fulfils his task.

 

[Bulldog]

Reginald Edmund Humperdink the High Elf was caught masturbating to the book the Lusty Argonian.

 

[Stalker]

I was apprehended after getting inside the animals.

 

[Bulldog]

There is a group of specially trained assassins in the Black Marsh that little know anything about called the Deathscales. The Deathscales, is the most elite of the Shadowscales. There is a special committee that watched the warriors closely and determines who will be part of this special group.

Only 1 out of every 10 or so will even be considered as canidates. After the candidates are tested 1 out of every 50 will be chosen to partake in the training and then tested. 1 out of every 100 will actually pass and go on to a more specialized training that focuses more exclusively on stealth and archery than anything else, though everything is taught to them. Their downfall is their limited knowledge of magic. It is after they pass all of their training are the inducted into full fledged members of the elitist group the Deathscales, and have their names changed. This is where Gah-Neeus Gelleesh was changed to Gizmo.​

​

Gah-Neeus, whom will be referred to as Gizmo from now on. Ulfric had sent couriers to Black Marsh to see about hiring their best assassin to join the Stormcloaks in their fight again the Imperials. It was then Gizmo was hand picked by a special committee consisting of the leaders of the Deathscales along with Ulfric Stormcloak and Galmar Stone-Fist. They leave immediately to claim their first victory with their new secret weapon. That was when the Imperial ambush came up and caught some of them off guard. Gizmo, who, was riding alone wasn't part of the initial ambush. He perched on top of a hill firing arrows down quickly and quietly taking out several Imperials and even a couple Thalmor. It was when a seperate attachment of Imperials saw him is when he got involved fully. Taking out 2 quickly with the bow he proceeded to dispatch one bare handed whilst going for his daggers. Slicing the throat of one, and stabbing the other in the heart the hard blow of a warhammer came crashing on the back of his skull. This is and will be the only time they will ever outsmart him he thought as everything went black.​

 

[tyrannocopters]

Draconem, Nord: "My father was a farmer, we lived on a small steading outside of the Imperial City. And that is where we were when the Thalmor showed up at our doorstep. They gave my father an ultimatum, leave now or watch as our farm was burned to the ground. They left promising to return. My father was a Imperial soldier, he was a true Nord. He told me to run, he told me to hide. -Sigh- But I was young, stupid, I begged him to let me help. To fight the invaders. He knocked me out cold and hid me in the cellar -chuckle-. When I woke up it was completely silent. And when I finally climbed up to the surface. My father was no where to be found. I cried, I cried for hours on end. And when I finally stopped. I started making my way to Skyrim. It took me 6 years, only to be captured at the border. I guess it's not all bad though, I have a wife and children, and I am respected by many. I can only hope that I can be as good of a man as my father."

- The Dragonborn