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[Mathra Hiede]

Ken.
This is legendary - powering up Skyrim to do this now!

[Desiderya]

I wanted to do this as well, but got SO lost in gaming I took no notes, whatsoever. With level 15 some mages killed my imperial warrioress in a very anti-climatic way. I guess that's what heroing does.

I think I'll retry when I roll another character. It's fun, and the real fear about dying leads to quite another playstyle. I.e. not giving everything a shot.

[Senn Typhos]

I'm gonna try this with my Bosmer assassin, whenever it is I get around to making him.

My Nords have all already died terrible deaths.

[Victoria Stecker]

I'm actually doing this at the moment with my Kahjit sneaky, but since I no longer have access to Backstage at work  and am somehow more inclined to play Skyrim than write about it once I get home... nothing has been written yet. Bugger. I'll get around to it at some point, maybe tonight.

[Ken]

Hmm, may help to keep a pen and paper journal going on the side for this sort of thing.

[Senn Typhos]

Oh, Ken, I forgot to mention.

If after all my successful and wide-spread adventuring, this challenge should somehow jinx me into dying at level 2 because of a hard fall off an ice shelf, I will place the blame solely on you.

[Misan]

Welp, had a character at level 4 that I was going to post about, but looks like when I closed the game and it crashed instead all those saves got wiped out...along with some of the more recent ones from my older character. FFFUUU

Might have had something to do with using the savegame manager, but either way. 

Restarting now.

[Ken]

Valdrun Bale-Eye
Nord

lthough descended from a respectable clan of the Reach, many decades ago Valdrun's grandfather was accused of practicing a particularly abhorrent form of necromancy and was lynched by an angry mob.  His kin were driven from their ancestral lands, taking the name Bale-Eye as a mark of shame for their progenitor's error.  Quarter was not to be found among the barbarian Forsworn, and thus the family became refugees living around the edges of Solitude.  In time, the young woman who would become his mother settled near Dawnstar, where Valdrun was born.

hen he was a young man, the Great War between the Empire and Dominion raged on battlefields far away from Valdrun's icy home.  His family's outcast status made him undesirable for military duty in the eyes of Skyrim's Legion recruiters, but he believes the war shaped him still.  You see, magic runs strong in his blood, as it did in his grandfather's.  In the long nights of the far north, vast and terrible voices called out to him on the cold, bitter wind.  They roared and screamed to him their nightmares of fire and betrayal and death.  Or did they?  Many people say the wind whispers to those mad enough to listen.

o matter.  While hunting in the wilderness in the years after the White-Gold Concordat was signed, the young Valdrun occasionally found himself alone as a fresh snow began to fall and the utter quiet of such a moment descended around him.  In these times, he would often glimpse the image of a childhood friend walking just within a distant treeline, perpetually out of earshot.  They moved slowly, but not cautiously, and although he never caught up to them before they would disappear into thicker growth, Valdrun was always able to recognize them.  They were the friends who hadn't returned from the war.

aunted by ghosts and feeling always that he stood on a precipice between this world and some other, Valdrun eventually fled Skyrim and sought a new beginning in Cyrodiil.  There he took the counsel of a Dunmer mystic, who was fascinated by the attention the dead seemed to pay to this rugged northerner.  The elf, who called himself only Demnevanni, eventually taught Valdrun how to channel and harness magical energies and broker more agreeable meetings with those who had sloughed off their mortal coils.

reams called Valdrun back to Skyrim.  Only a week after Demnevanni died, taken by a combination of age and serpiginous dementia, the elf came to Valdrun as he slept and explained in the non-language of dreams that the winds of the north had yet more to tell.  So, following his mentor's final guidance, on the 14th of Last Seed 4E 201 Valdrun left Cyrodiil and went home to seek his destiny...

Arrested by legionnaires at the border crossing yesterday morning.  Blighted sergeant thought it would be funny to knock me out.

Woke up in the back of a cart with a bunch of rebel prisoners and a pounding headache.  Turned out to be thrown in with Ulfric himself!  Looked as if they meant to execute us all, but the winds told me different.  Something else in store.  Then a dragon (!) attacked Helgen.  Fled with a Stormcloak named Ralof and made it to Riverwood.  Good lad.

Stayed there overnight and came to Whiterun today to tell their jarl of the dragon.  His wizard wanted help digging up some ancient dragon relic from a nearby barrow.  Slept at the Bannered Mare.

Learned that Whiterun's Priestess of Kynareth is looking to revive the city's great tree.  Her plan involves stealing some kind of weapon from a hagraven.  Not much of a plan, really.  She mentioned the local adherent of Arkay may need some less demanding help.  Turned out to be a few restless souls in the catacombs.  Easy enough to put them at peace and retrieve the old man's amulet from the crypt.

Fifty septims for a carriage to Dawnstar.  Arrived in the mid evening.  Talk of bad dreams troubling the town.  Slept at the Windpeak Inn, but no nightmares of my own worth mentioning.

Spoke with a devotee of Ma---

[a large portion of this page has been torn out of the journal]

Dawnstar's nights shouldn't be troubled any longer...

I feel awakened.

Magic has a sharpness to it I've never known and the suddenness of this change begs answers.  There's only one place in Skyrim for that.  No carriages leaving Dawnstar, so I headed east on the coastal bluffs just after dawn.

Passed a Legion camp about an hours walk east of town.  The soldiers were cooking breakfast and didn't recognize me when I approached.  Hopefully I am assumed to be among to dead at Helgen.

Came upon a slain horse outside Frostflow Lighthouse.  Inside was a scene far worse.  Chaurus burrowed in from beneath...  Killed an entire family living here.  Found crude weapons in the place as well, still slick with the victims' blood.  Falmer.  Disgusting.  Hole in the foundation wall led to an icy passage (no doubt the snow elves' lair), but I meant to reach Winterhold before dark.  As I dispatched the chaurus that lingered in the basement, I felt renewed power surging through me.  My hands, my breath itself was ice.  Something is changing.

Took a coastal path to avoid some Dwemer ruins.  Had enough to do with the Falmer to last a long while.

Ate a hot dinner and slept at the Frozen Hearth in Winterhold.

And... he died. 

Item	#	Score
Level	4	400
Locations Discovered	16	160
Dungeons Cleared	1	20
Chests Looted	55	275
Quests Completed	4	120
Misc Objectives Compl.	6	60
Questlines completed	0	0
Hours Slept/Days	61/7	0
Food Eaten/Days	16/7	-175

Difficulty       =   Adept   

Final score      =   860

[Mathra Hiede]

Vehkal Indoril

Race: Dunmer
Age: 176(?)

'Vehkas Indoril' was one of the few surviving Dark Elves from Morrowind, being in Cyrodiil as part of a merchant caravan on a trip funded by the House Hlaalu to recover from a sour turn in its profits during the early 40's of the Fourth Era, being a young Dunmer in search of his purpose the seemingly incredible trip, little did he know that he would never see home again.

The subsequent eruption of Red Mountain and destruction of Vvardenfell later that year destroyed his home in Balmora and all of House Hlaalu's power, with the sole reason for the trade caravan destroyed they turned to making a profit for themselves.
After spending most of the later century establishing a trade business in Cyrodiil the now well off Vehkas was caught up in the invasion of the Thalmor and the capturing and looting of the White-Gold Tower and Imperial City destroyed most of his company, defeated and finally driven over the edge Vehkas left the remnants of his destroyed life and spent the Great War using what skills he had learnt in the score of years since entering Cyrodiil as a volunteer in the Anvil guard to help re-establish the city.

At the turn of the 2nd century 'Vehkas' had a dream of the cold north, a voice like thunder spoke a single word which he had never heard before and he was engulfed in flame, pursued by this dream for a year Vehkas finally went to seek what was calling him.

[Bacchanalian]

Updated.  Had a very close call with a Falmer caster and his two bug-poisoning-thingies.  Very very close call. 

[Mathra Hiede]

                                  Item#     Score
Level                                   9      900
Locations Discovered           16   160
Dungeons Cleared           4   80
Chests Looted                   39   195
Quests Completed           5   150
Misc Objectives Compl.   0   0
Questlines completed           0   0
Hours Slept/Days           20/3   0
Food Eaten/Days           1/3   -75

Difficulty       =   Adept   

Final score      =   1410

[Graelyn]

Ken! How did he die??? 

[Ken]

Ken! How did he die??? 

There's a random encounter with three bandits wearing legion uniforms.  The group consists of an orc and two others who try to shake you down.  Not even that tough of an encounter really.  He ran across them on the way to Saarthal and got hit with the one-two punch of magic and the orc's power attack.  It was stupid, but it was a death, so... 

I'm working on a new character for another run.

[Ember Vykos]

I'm so doing this. It's how I normally play anyway, but I havent been keeping notes or anything so might as well reroll and go for it. Will post when I get started.

[Mizhara]

Can't do this. I'd be too tempted to 'play for points' and the RP aspect would suffer.