Hey, you asked.
1. Welcome to the cold land of Skyrim. Please, introduce your Dovahkiin.
Arthmael was born and raised in an unremarkable fishing village on the Northpoint coast a day's walk west of the city. Even by Breton standards he was remarkably gifted in magick; but he was equally concerned with faith, being a deeply religious child. Such a small town had no temple to speak of, but the locals (as is typical of Bretons, especially traders and merchants) generally venerated Zenithar, maintaining a small shrine to Him. Arthmael found this unsatisfying, without really knowing why. He was fortunate that his uncle was a known and respected merchant, with a reputation from Northpoint city all along the coast to Shornhelm; his good name (and hospitality) attracted visitors, and he often hosted travellers between the capitals at his pleasant estate above the village. One such was Breselan, a young man training for the Priesthood of Mara in Daggerfall, travelling on temple business. Arthmael and Breselan immediately took to each other, being bright young minds of a common outlook. Breselan was astonished by the magickal gifts of the boy Arthmael, and he in turn was much taken with Breselan's passionate and lucid speeches on the teachings of Mara. In them, Arthmael found what was lacking in the local Zenitharian cult, and the nine year old resolved that – although he would properly observe and venerate all the Divines – he would serve only Mara.
Some years passed. Breselan in due course rose to be a priest of Mara, and his duties took him elsewhere; and young Arthmael grew, and flourished. His command of magick was “beyond any I have seen in a long career”, “instinctive and intelligent”, “exceptional” to quote his masters in the Guild; indeed, the flowering of his ability was such that it could not go unnoticed. Even at the age of 11, the Guildmaster at Northpoint himself passed a note to his King stating “this boy has a potential the like of which I have not seen, or imagined. In all truth, Your Grace, his gifts will surpass my own very soon, and I know not where they will go after that. There is something in this boy, something I have never encountered; he should be watched, and encouraged to remember where his allegiance properly lies. He is already overly taken with worship of a Divine not commonly followed in Your Grace's possessions, spurning just Stendarr and industrious Zenithar for the gentler word of Mara. I need not remind Your Grace of the main centres of that Divine Lady's popularity.”
Arthmael was young, but no fool. It took no great magick to sense something in the air around him – the change in the way his masters would approach him, the discouragement he received when speaking of travel, the assignment of extra lore on Zenithar and Stendarr, and even Julianos (just to keep his mind purely on the study of the craft, he suspected, rather than uses to which it could be put). It was clearly time to be elsewhere. He set out quietly for the kingdoms around Illiac Bay, knowing them to be strongholds of the Lady Mara; at first luck seemed to be with him, as he slipped away and down the coast road without incident. But as more and more mounted patrols seemed to thunder along the road, ever more desperately questioning every traveller they saw, he knew he must strike inland and away from a predictable route. Swinging wide to the west of Shornhelm city he headed due south, hoping to hit the Illiac coast and perhaps pay for passage on a trading boat heading out to Anticlere. Sadly this took him directly through Orsinium, where he was not made welcome. A deep and violent loathing of the Orsimer took root in the young man in this difficult time, which would be hard to eradicate; he could hardly be blamed, after the aggressive and brutal treatment he received at every turn. If it were not for his ability, he had no doubt that his journey would have ended there; and though he tried to take no lives in defending his own, he could never after be quite sure that he had not killed at least some of this bestial people.
Finally arriving at the Benevolence in Anticlere, he made himself known to the Priestess. It was clear that she had been expecting him, and he was welcomed openly and handsomely. This rather took young Arthmael aback, as he wanted nothing but peace and security in which to study, but it quickly became clear to him that this was precisely what he had found. Taken on as a student by the local Guildmaster, and spending what free time he had in the service of the Benevolence, these were good years for Arthmael. He grew from boyhood into youth, his powers excelling, his soul replenished. Ironic indeed that this very contentment led him to seek its end; he felt a profound need to do more, to be more. The Lady Mara would not be satisfied with a worshipper so gifted, but who used those gifts so sparsely in Her service. He knew he would have to go out into the world in Her name, and help those who could not help themselves. Love behind a wall is an easy, empty thing – love must flow out into the hearts of those around us, to be worth anything at all.
From his talks with his friend Breselan, he remembered tales of a temple of Mara far to the south and east, in a city of primitive Skyrim called Riften; to his youthful imagination this seemed like both a call from on high, and a great adventure. There was talk of civil strife in the province, with rumours that the savage Nords had killed one of their own tribal kings as part of a rebellion against the Emperor. Also there were the hated Orcs, still present across Skyrim, and likely to kill on sight a young Northpoint man – or try to. And the city of Riften itself was rumoured to be corrupt and venal to its very heart. But Arthmael would not quail; he had heard the call of Mara. And he would answer.
But still, there was more...more than a righteous call to service of the Goddess. More even than a pragmatic sense of self-preservation, pushing him to stay a few steps ahead of the Northpoint militia. There was a palpable pull in him. He could feel and almost hear a deep thunder in the earth, urging him into Skyrim. He had always dreamed of learning at the college of the Mages, undoubtedly the greatest magickal school he could ever hope to see; and the lore told of Skyrim as a land steeped in magick, where ancient ruins and mysterious caverns held great stores of power and learning, just there for the taking – if one had the nerve and the talent. But no, this was MORE. Something was calling to him. Someone was waiting for him. And something in him was waiting for them...
2. Troubled beginning... Why was your Dovahkiin captured in the first place?
Not entirely sure of some of the details. Taking a quick breakfast at the Three Stags inn below the Pale Pass, he was politely ignoring the rowdy Nords bawling loud and implausible songs about the Emperor's personal habits. It might have been wiser to leave before the Legion patrols arrived; he certainly should have anticipated that the Legate's demand for silence would have been met with a barrage of chairs, bottles, and threats. And a more experienced traveller would made a run for it as soon as axe met sword, and not put an Ice Spike through the chest of the soldier who tried to drag him away. Then from behind there came a violent oath in a broad Imperial accent, followed by a heavy blow to the back of his head...next thing he knows, he's in a cart with a "King". It came as quite a surprise to find his day actually getting worse from there.
3. Now show us what your Dovahkiin is good at.
Lesson learned: stand back coolly from trouble. Mush the minds of those who would do you harm, until they cannot; if this fails, call upon beings of a more boisterous disposition to handle the physical side of matters. Axes are for woodsmen, bows are for hunters. A civilised person employs their wits.
4. Most favorite NPC vs least one! What happens?
Favourite is the valiant and ravishing Lydia. Arthmael feels a wider duty to his gifts, to his able mind, and to the people of Tamriel; if it were not for these duties, he would gladly settle down with her.
Least favourite has to be Belethor. A fellow Breton, but a loathsome money-grubbing lowlife. Arthmael cannot escape a sense of shame that in the city he loves, his only compatriot should be such a reptile.
5. Everyone needs some lovin! Whom does your Dovahkiin want some from?
See above. It's never said, or acted upon, but he is in love with Lydia. He knows it, she knows it; but he is a mage and a scholar and a servant of the Gods, and she is a soldier. Their duties keep them simultaneously together and apart.
6. What about quests ? Which one is your favorite?
I think Pilgrimage, where the aim was to heal a wound in a daughter's heart by reconciling her with her late father. It just felt like exactly what the Lady Mara would want Arthmael to be doing.
7. Factions, Factions... Which one do you prefer?
For expediency, the Stormcloaks. The Nords have some growing up to do as a people, as far as relations with others goes, but they'll get there. In the meantime, the Imperials can dress it up any way they like - the fact remains they have sold out to the enemies of all humanity, and now do their bidding. Skyrim must be the start of a new age for man, an age without Elven tyranny.
8. What if your Oblivion/Morrowind character met your Dovahkiin?
Skyrim is his first visit to Tamriel.
9. What did you like most in Skyrim?
It's nice when a game makes you think about choices, and those choices have real consequences. This is my second character, but when I played my first I agonised for weeks about what I should do in the war - pick a side, or stay out of it? Which side? I enjoy it when games invade my waking life, and I find myself pondering them when I should be working/commuting/etc.
Also, just the "physical" brilliance of the game, and its environment. Before ever buying the game I read a review which brilliantly observed how it breaks a cardinal rule - ease of use. In almost every other game, the ability to move around and get where you are going is a given, but in Skyrim - somehow - the fact that it is hard to move around, and sometimes near impossible to get where you want to, makes it all the more enjoyable. I know every single time I go to Haafingar if I leave that one road leading up to Solitude, I am lost. It's a much richer experience just walking around, reading the map, heading for landmarks, and all that.
10. Is there anything you didn’t like?
Petty things. Different hand animations for different spells would have been nice, as would a wider selection of robes. Nothing too serious.
11.Anything else to add? Then rate the game and spread the TESV: Skyrim Meme love!
I shall add that I enjoy the game greatly, and *checks* 509 hours in, I am still impressed and even surprised by it. I also feel like I am just scratching the surface.
Finally getting somewhere around here. I've enjoyed reading all the stories guys and some have been quite funny. Though Bryn I think I should inform of two minor things I left out (since I read Deadpool's just now).