Name: Shylara Honor-Bound (Not her real last name)
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior, Woodsman
Gender: Female
Age: 13
Birthplace: Windhelm, Skyrim
Appearance: Dimunitive for her age.
Clothing & Weaponry: 1h Sword, Shield, most finely crafted custom armors. She's 13 and small, you can't expect her to buy off the rack!
Weaknesses: Extreme fear of fire and distrust of magick.
Bio: The only child of affluent goldsmiths and mine owners, Shylara was born and raised in the upscale Jeweled Quarter of Windhelm. Despite her wealth, Shylara dreamed of adventuring. She loved hearing stories about Tiber Septim in their devout Talos worshiping home, she often acted out her favorite scenes in the basement of their home.
At a young age, her father noticed her skill at swordplay. Her balance, her speed, her agility, her fluidity, her confidence. He took it upon himself to teach her what he knew. WIthin a year or two, he could teach her no more. She was besting him with the heavy wooden swords he had Nils carve for them. Since cost was no object, Shylara's father would often import trainers from all over Tamriel to help train his daughter in combat and survival. The Swordsmen, Shield-Maidens, and Rangers would stay for months at a time imparting their knowledge to the young girl, all of them leaving impressed and with many bruises.
Just a month after her twelfth birthday, Shylara awoke in her bed after a terrible nightmare. She rushed out of her room to check on her parents only to see them slaughtered near their great hearth. The fire from the hearth flickered, casting ominous shadows on the wall. Shocked, she grabbed her family's sword off the wall and spun around looking for what may have done this. All she heard was giggling.
From out of the shadows emerged a child. No bigger than she was, the girl's mouth dripped with blood. Shylara charged at the girl only to be left paralyzed by the ball of green energy that the girl flung at her. The girl stood over her, blood from her chin dripping onto Shylara's white nightdress.
"What a shame, our contract only called for two deaths... but I suppose accidents
can happen," she giggled. The girl dipped her hand into the pool of blood surrounding her parents and pressed her hand firmly on Shylara's chest. She giggled with delight.
Shylara, unable to move, was filled with terror. She watched as fire leapt from the girl's hand igniting her family home. The curtains and tapestries were the first to burn, then the furniture. She felt tears roll down her face as her parents still bodies succumbed to the flames. The girl took one last look at Shylara and hit her again with the evil green magic. The smoke from the fire was quickly filling the room and Shylara started to panic. The flames had started burning the floor of the second story. Pieces of the top floor of their home were now crashing down around her. The girl leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Courtesy of The Dark Brotherhood," she said. With that, the girl vanished into the smoke.
Shylara could feel the heat from the fire singeing her hair and blistering her skin. She coughed painfully as the smoke entered her lungs. She felt her lungs burn from the heat of the air. Suddenly someone came crashing through their backdoor. Out of oxygen, Shylara blacked out.
Days later, Shylara awoke inside The Palace of the Kings. Wuunferth, the Court Mage was applying a salve to her burns. "Ah child, you're awake." Shylara's lungs were too damaged to provide a response. "There, there, just rest." She closed her eyes and fell asleep, the effect of the salve comforting her.
Late that evening, Shylara awoke to conversation, a woman's voice. Niranye's.
"Wuunferth, I have to get her out. If they knew she survived, they will kill her. They were careless once, you can be damned sure they won't be this second time," she said.
"Niranye, look at her, she's in no condition to travel! Her lungs are still damaged, her skin still oozes with pus. She will not survive without care! Look, I know what her family meant to you, but I cannot allow this. Even you yourself are not healed! Look at your own burns, you broke your arm smashing down their door!" he replied.
"I ... I know people. People loyal to me, they will get her out. She cannot stay in Skyrim. She needs to go somewhere that the Dark Brotherhood will not find her. I will hire an alchemist to travel with her, with what I'd be paying her, I wouldn't doubt their loyalty."
"Ulfric owes her family as much as anyone, he promised to protect her and raise her as his own. Again, no Niranye, she will die on the road," he sighed.
"She will die here old man!" Niranye stormed out of the room.
Shylara closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Wuunferth approached her bedside and placed a cool towel on her forehead.
"Poor child, so naive to the schemes and plots of your father. We all knew that one day it would catch up to him. Hopefully his soul rests in Sovngarde," sounding exhausted, Wuunferth left the room and closed the door behind him.
Unable to sleep, Shylara lay in bed re-living that conversation between Niranye and Wuunferth and what the Court Wizard had said after she left. What was father into? Schemes and plots? Who could possibly want father dead?
After hearing the wolves howl for hours, sleep finally came to Shylara. She dreamed of the fire, she dreamed of the green ball striking her leaving her powerless even with steel in her hand. She woke in a cold sweat, her hand gripping a sword that wasn't there. She wasn't alone.
"So the girl survives?" said the familiar melodic giggle of the girl. "I heard rumors that it was true, but I had to see it myself." The girl held the same ball of green energy in her left hand. "Uh uh uh, don't even think of screaming. My my my aren't you a fighter? Oh well, now that it's been confirmed, once our employer hears of this, I guess I'll be visiting you again."
Shylara managed a raspy response, "Who are you?" It pained her throat for the words to emerge.
"I'm Babette, pleased to meet you!" The girl winked at her and vanished again.
More questions flashed through her mind. Was this now her lot in life? A life of fear? Waiting everyday for death to arrive? Her questions halted as the door to her room creaked open. It was Niranye.
"Oh, you're awake. Come child, we need to go." Shylara nodded in agreement and struggled to sit up. She could feel the new skin on her back stretch and tear. "Poor child, I'll do what I can to keep you comfortable, I owe your father so much."
Before dawn break, Shylara was riding in the back of a covered carriage, hidden in a box. The alchemist, Sjoliria quietly hummed a tune while doing her best to prepare ingredients in the bumpy carriage. It would be a long ride to Cyrodiil. Shylara left Skyrim with nothing but the clothes on her back, the burning in her lungs, the pain of her body, and the letter from Niranye that she promised she wouldn't open until she reached _________________ .