I have an argonian up for approval, I've been wanting to do one of these for a long time.
Silverscale is mildly based on my dragonborn, more of a magical tank, and "explorer who has to unlock every magical secret".Name:
Silverscale grew up on the docks of Windhelm, not even a twinkle in his mother's eye when the dragons were slain. Silverscale was born into the Skyrim Civil War. As nordic cultural pride and patrotisim flourished, fit to burst under Ulfric. He heard talk of war, of battle, he saw Stormcloaks training on a daily basis. Silver-scale's mother died of disease when he was 7 causing, leaving the young Argonian to eventually be sent by family to Honorhall orphanage. He blamed Ulfric and his followers for her death, and the neglect of the docks, the predjuice, and the poverty that prevented them from buying a potion.
It did not help at all when the cruel mistress of the orphanage, was murdered by an armored figure, and conditions improved...
Like the rest of the orphans he made a living stealing, and doing work for The Guild, or The Blackbriars. His magical talent for distruction allowing him to escape on multiple occasions, or fight back against riften's corrupt guards. The city only went downhill after the end of the civil war ended and Maven, eventually her son Sibbi, came to power.
He began adventuring at the age of 16, taking out his fustrations and rage on the various bandits, Drauger, and trolls, supplimenting his income working the forge with metals for he brought back and selling the jewlery to Modesti. He shiften blame for his problems with poverity from Ulfric and the nords, to just Sibbi and Riften, and so he went on holding grudges. A prime target for deadra, especally the tainted wispers of Morag-Bal.
What changed him was running into another argonian named Delves Deep, the haggard wretch of a woman shoved a cube of dwemer metal into his hands, The Lexicon. It called to him, gave him purpose, it wispered with the minds of millions, and wracked his brain. Even forcing him to sleepwalk in a single direction. Yet he could not throw it into the lake.
He followed it, using Clarvoyance to delve into a massive dwemer ruin overcoming traps, Falmer, and dwemer automons. Eventually the young adventurer came face to face with a dwarven weapon three times his height, made of steam, steel, and possessed of a wicked cunning. He destroyed it, returning the Lexicon, and as a reweard he imparted Dwemer knowlage to him, cramming knowlage of metalworking and armor training into his mind.
He went into the ruin an angry, spiteful mage. He came out a heavily armored hero. He has devoted the next ten years of his life to delving into dwemer and nordic ruins, (often on payroll of the mage's guild or Calcemo a famed dwemer scholar) and plunging into the depths of the underground. His ultimate triumph came when he was contacted to help discover how the dwemer dissapeared. After two years of research he and the mage he was working with succeded in replicating the process. Throwing the mage out of existance, and sending Silverscale plunging into the depths of Oblivion. He shifted back to Mundis a week later with his hand buried in the heart of one of Morag Bal's servants, bringing the corpse with him.
He seculded himself within the ruined forgeworks of Winterhold off the coast, and for a month worked tirelessly, scaring locals and mages alike with the colored fires bursting from the old forge. It was only the courier who interupted him, to deliver the letter.
When the letter arrived he learned his mother who died all those years ago was a Blade. for the first time it wasn't hate, or instinct, that drove him. It was pride, it was looking towards a brighter dawn.Major skills1:
The SteedMain weapons/spells
Often prefering fire and electricity he carries a heavy mace as backup, however he has a varied repitore of spells. His armor is the ultimate expression of his metalurgical and distructive magical knowlage.