MushroomGenius
Jarl of Fungi, Great Khal of the Mushraki
An Arrow In The Back - The Forsworn's Uprising 4E 201
Female. Bosmer. Forsworn.
One of these words doesn't fit, but it is my lot in life. Raised for most of my life in a Redoubt, I make no qualms with my upbringing, no matter the circumstances surrounding it...
From what I've been told, my blood family fled Valenwood generations ago when the Thalmor invaded. My family had settled down in several places, always moving on as we felt tensions in the region rise. We were hunters by trade, generations of trackers doing our best work under the cover of night with a bow in our hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to our backs. Even our station in life would change.
When the two moons of Nirn, Masser and Secunda, suddenly vanished from the night sky, hunting at night became an impossibility. We stumbled around in the dark, trying to hunt, but our torchlight always alerted the deer and bear of our presence. Over time, the bears even learned to start attacking the areas where they saw fire after dark. Easy pickings for the brutal, ever hungry monster.
With our hunting revenues drying up, my grandfather steered the family into the merchant trade, specifically as fletchers and trainers. We travelled the lands, going farmhouse to farmhouse, city to city, offering my grandfather's, and eventually my father's, skill to anyone willing to pay us a little coin. We had no preference on who we trained, just that they be attentive, respectful, and pay up front.
My grandfather's accuracy and speed caught the eye of the new Emperor, Titus Mede II at an archery exhibition. Emperor Mede offered us a place to stay within the city proper and discounted the taxes levied against our business as long as we agreed to help train his troops. Our family finally set our roots in the Imperial City.
Business prospered under Mede's rule. We had a steady stream of soldiers that stopped by for training with my grandfather despite his advanced age. He helped them visualize and focus their art, mostly. The mechanics of the hunt was left to my father to teach.
I was born into the merchant life (4E 172). I don't remember much about life in the Imperial City. I was only two when we were forced to flee when the Aldmeri Dominion attacked. My grandfather, too weak in his old age, stayed behind. We never saw him again.
After fleeing the Imperial City, my father and mother went back to the transient lifestyle that my father was familiar with growing up. We continuosly made our way north, eventually crossing the border into Skyrim, the farthest place from the Great War. Travelling this northern country is still harsh, even under the best conditions. Thankfully, the abundance of wild game kept our bellies full.
As a true testament to my bloodline, I took to archery like those before me. I felled my first rabbit at the age of 4, my first deer at the age of 5. I would join my father on his nightly hunts, learning to track our prey and leaving no trace of our presence. Everything we took from the land, we consumed. Every living thing that fell by the daggered-tip of our arrows, we consumed. Even bandits. We followed the Green Pact to the letter.
At the age of 8, I started hunting alone. Because of my lack of strength, I limited my hunts to small game, typically rabbits, goats, and foxes. Anything that I could field strip and haul back to our campsite. While my father continued to hone my hunting skills, my mother trained me in survival techniques. She showed me the herbs we could consume or crush into a salve to heal our wounds. She showed me how to craft protective clothing from the hides of the animals we consumed. She even showed me the proper way to bury our kills in the snow to preserve the meat. As we moved from location to location, she always made sure to bury provisions for the future should we need them. She marked each site on our map as well as tying a blood dyed strip of hide to a landmark to signify where the provisions were buried. My mother was meticulous in her planning and execution. When we were moving on to a new area, it was like we were never there.
At 10, my father contracted a sickness that my mother could not cure. No manner of salve or potion that she brewed seemed to help. My father continued to cough blood. Before it was too late, my parents decided that we should head towards Markarth, to see a healer at the Temple of Dibella.
Along the way we were fortunate enough to find an abandoned cart, my father probably could not have walked much farther at this point. We loaded my father and our belongings into the back of the cart, but it was too heavy for my mother and I to haul. My mother asked me to wait by the cart while she trekked off into the wilderness.
A few minutes later, I heard the all too familiar roar of a bear and my mother's shouting. I recognized her voice, but not what she was saying. She sounded... primal. She emerged from the brush with the massive bear following her! I drew my bow and hurriedly grabbed some arrows. My mother's raised hand put me at ease. The bear was actually listening to her.
My mother and I quickly strapped the cart to the bear, all the while, my mother whispered into the bear's ear. We continued our trek towards Markarth, my mother and I out front, the bear and father, in the cart, following behind. Along the way, my mother explained to me how she was able to command the bear. She taught me some songs to help me remember the process. We sang those songs for the next four hours as we walked.
We estimated we were about one hour's distance away from Markarth when we had to stop and rest. We continued singing as we rested until a loud "thwip!" broke our chorus. I never saw the arrow that took my mother's life.
My mother was bleeding profusely from the neck, she immediately fell over trying to stop the flow of life draining from her body. With her focus distracted, the bear started to growl. I turned to see the bear now towering over me, more than twice my height.
The cart had overturned, still attached to the bear's hips, my father lay sprawled on the cobblestone road. I reached for the dagger I used to skin the animals, but it was too late, the bear took a swipe at me and I fell to the ground, losing consciousness as the warm blood flowed from my head. I heard my father yell and saw him fire several arrows at the bear while he lay on his back. The bear fell, crushing my father beneath him. I blacked out.
Female. Bosmer. Forsworn.
One of these words doesn't fit, but it is my lot in life. Raised for most of my life in a Redoubt, I make no qualms with my upbringing, no matter the circumstances surrounding it...
From what I've been told, my blood family fled Valenwood generations ago when the Thalmor invaded. My family had settled down in several places, always moving on as we felt tensions in the region rise. We were hunters by trade, generations of trackers doing our best work under the cover of night with a bow in our hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to our backs. Even our station in life would change.
When the two moons of Nirn, Masser and Secunda, suddenly vanished from the night sky, hunting at night became an impossibility. We stumbled around in the dark, trying to hunt, but our torchlight always alerted the deer and bear of our presence. Over time, the bears even learned to start attacking the areas where they saw fire after dark. Easy pickings for the brutal, ever hungry monster.
With our hunting revenues drying up, my grandfather steered the family into the merchant trade, specifically as fletchers and trainers. We travelled the lands, going farmhouse to farmhouse, city to city, offering my grandfather's, and eventually my father's, skill to anyone willing to pay us a little coin. We had no preference on who we trained, just that they be attentive, respectful, and pay up front.
My grandfather's accuracy and speed caught the eye of the new Emperor, Titus Mede II at an archery exhibition. Emperor Mede offered us a place to stay within the city proper and discounted the taxes levied against our business as long as we agreed to help train his troops. Our family finally set our roots in the Imperial City.
Business prospered under Mede's rule. We had a steady stream of soldiers that stopped by for training with my grandfather despite his advanced age. He helped them visualize and focus their art, mostly. The mechanics of the hunt was left to my father to teach.
I was born into the merchant life (4E 172). I don't remember much about life in the Imperial City. I was only two when we were forced to flee when the Aldmeri Dominion attacked. My grandfather, too weak in his old age, stayed behind. We never saw him again.
After fleeing the Imperial City, my father and mother went back to the transient lifestyle that my father was familiar with growing up. We continuosly made our way north, eventually crossing the border into Skyrim, the farthest place from the Great War. Travelling this northern country is still harsh, even under the best conditions. Thankfully, the abundance of wild game kept our bellies full.
As a true testament to my bloodline, I took to archery like those before me. I felled my first rabbit at the age of 4, my first deer at the age of 5. I would join my father on his nightly hunts, learning to track our prey and leaving no trace of our presence. Everything we took from the land, we consumed. Every living thing that fell by the daggered-tip of our arrows, we consumed. Even bandits. We followed the Green Pact to the letter.
At the age of 8, I started hunting alone. Because of my lack of strength, I limited my hunts to small game, typically rabbits, goats, and foxes. Anything that I could field strip and haul back to our campsite. While my father continued to hone my hunting skills, my mother trained me in survival techniques. She showed me the herbs we could consume or crush into a salve to heal our wounds. She showed me how to craft protective clothing from the hides of the animals we consumed. She even showed me the proper way to bury our kills in the snow to preserve the meat. As we moved from location to location, she always made sure to bury provisions for the future should we need them. She marked each site on our map as well as tying a blood dyed strip of hide to a landmark to signify where the provisions were buried. My mother was meticulous in her planning and execution. When we were moving on to a new area, it was like we were never there.
At 10, my father contracted a sickness that my mother could not cure. No manner of salve or potion that she brewed seemed to help. My father continued to cough blood. Before it was too late, my parents decided that we should head towards Markarth, to see a healer at the Temple of Dibella.
Along the way we were fortunate enough to find an abandoned cart, my father probably could not have walked much farther at this point. We loaded my father and our belongings into the back of the cart, but it was too heavy for my mother and I to haul. My mother asked me to wait by the cart while she trekked off into the wilderness.
A few minutes later, I heard the all too familiar roar of a bear and my mother's shouting. I recognized her voice, but not what she was saying. She sounded... primal. She emerged from the brush with the massive bear following her! I drew my bow and hurriedly grabbed some arrows. My mother's raised hand put me at ease. The bear was actually listening to her.
My mother and I quickly strapped the cart to the bear, all the while, my mother whispered into the bear's ear. We continued our trek towards Markarth, my mother and I out front, the bear and father, in the cart, following behind. Along the way, my mother explained to me how she was able to command the bear. She taught me some songs to help me remember the process. We sang those songs for the next four hours as we walked.
We estimated we were about one hour's distance away from Markarth when we had to stop and rest. We continued singing as we rested until a loud "thwip!" broke our chorus. I never saw the arrow that took my mother's life.
My mother was bleeding profusely from the neck, she immediately fell over trying to stop the flow of life draining from her body. With her focus distracted, the bear started to growl. I turned to see the bear now towering over me, more than twice my height.
The cart had overturned, still attached to the bear's hips, my father lay sprawled on the cobblestone road. I reached for the dagger I used to skin the animals, but it was too late, the bear took a swipe at me and I fell to the ground, losing consciousness as the warm blood flowed from my head. I heard my father yell and saw him fire several arrows at the bear while he lay on his back. The bear fell, crushing my father beneath him. I blacked out.
