So if you're reading this, then it means I have saved the world and fulfilled my destiny. Truth be told however, I was skeptical at first of creating a novel that told of my travels, much less wondered if I would still be alive to write it. Dear reader of Tamriel or beyond, what I write in here is nothing but the truth, as there may be some things in here that may shock you. Just know that I take full responsibility for my actions whether they be good or bad. Without further ado, let me introduce myself, I am Adonlvan Omoerus, a Dunmer of Morrowind. I am the Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim, the slayer of Alduin, Champion of Azura, Archenemy of the Thalmor, Nemesis of Molag Bal, the Harbinger of the Companions, the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, and the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I am happily married and the father of three children. This is my story.
My family had a history which started in Morrowind. My parents lived in a Manor inland within the Bitter Coast close to the border of the Ascadian Isles. My father served in the Great War as a battlemage in his early years, and nearly lost his life retaking the Imperial City from the Thalmor. He was sent back to Vvardenfell with an honorable discharge. When he returned home, he received letters from both houses Redoran and Hlaalu, which informed him of growing tensions between both houses. Putting up the sword, he proposed to both houses to take up the task as an Arbitrator. He wanted to act as a safeguard, overseeing situations be it political or otherwise that were too big for either house to handle alone. He also stated that since his own ancestors held lineage in both houses, he ought to be given the right to advocate for both as well and possess the task of an Arbitrator, to which Redoran and Hlaalu wisely accepted. Soon after, he met my mother, who was the result of cruel parenting within House Telvanni. They soon fell in love and she happily moved in with him as his new bride and business partner. One day however, father was making some food when he felt the entire house began to shake. He looked out the window to see a pyroclastic surge coming down from the Red Mountain. My father immediately grabbed his wife and hid with her in the basement and felt the fiery avalanche decimate their home, leaving most of their belongings exposed to the ash that rained from the sky. Feeling disdain from the disaster that befell them, they collected as much as they could and moved to Solstheim, and island north of Skyrim and east of Morrowind. Since Solstheim was considered at that point in time to be House Redoran territory, they decided to keep their part as Arbitrators. And there, I was born.
My childhood was rather uneventful, as there were barely any other children on the island besides that of the Skaal to mingle with. The Skaal were a group of Nords that lived on the other side of the island. Being the innocent and enthusiastic soul I was back then, I didn't understand the concepts of racial differences when it came to the ideals of friendship, especially the fact that Elves and Men didn't really get along well. Most of the time, I had to sneak out of the house to spent an hour or two with some children from the Skaal village.
One day, when my mother was gather alchemy ingredients, she came across a lone Altmer girl sitting on the beach near the Earth Stone. The girl told my mother that her parents had just recently left her there to starve. She never spoke of where they're from or what race they were, as it seemed to bring too much sorrow to her. Therefore, we adopted her and she became my sister. Her name was Layla. We had so much fun together on the island, it still makes my heart fuzzy to this day.
Eventually, we both grew up, and I wanted to become an adventurer. Father said that it was too dangerous in Solstheim, especially with the Ash Spawn threat increasing and Ash Hoppers becoming more ravenous. Plus, there were rumors of werewolves lurking about on the island. Being the small piece of land it was, the only job I was able to find was working for a Nord sailor known as Captain Bernard Salt-Skin. It was from him where I first truly learned the harshness of Nordic Xenophobia and plain stubbornness. It took me three bloody years to become his first mate, while my sister Layla was on the other side of Tamriel. Layla had decided that since she was Altmer, she would become a Thalmor Diplomat, as she wanted to assist in maintaining the peace between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire. She believed strongly against non-violence, and once told me when we were younger that she couldn't harm an insect. Heck, she even used to play with them. Life seemed to be picking up for me as I seemed to be earning a bigger wage and better respect from the Captain.
It was then tragedy struck. While I was unloading crates of Flin and Matze, a courier came rushing towards me. I could tell by the look on his face that he had some bad news, I just didn't know how bad it was until I looked at the report he delivered. According to the reports, she had somehow turned traitor against the Thalmor and was executed for high treason. I couldn't believe what I had read. That did not sound like my sister at all. My lungs ached as I slowly walked into the Temple of the Tribunal and fell to my knees at the shrine of Azura. I wept so much I blacked out. Being in the melancholy state I was in, I didn't feel welcome in Solstheim any longer. I packed my things and boarded the Northern Maiden to Skyrim, as I felt some adventuring should help me get my mind of the sadness. My first stop was in Windhelm were some of my kin had retreated to outrun the ash. When I stepped into the city however, I couldn't believe the lowlife conditions that my people were living in. Feeling outraged how they were segregated in such a horrendous way, I marched to the Palace of the Kings and shouted complaint after complaint towards Jarl Ulfric. It was then he hired his "Stormcloaks" to drag me out and throw the out the city doors. Bloody Windhelm! It was in that moment I knew I wasn't welcome in Skyrim, so I took my chances and hitchhiked to Cyrodill hoping the people there would be more tolerable.
For a time, I found work as a farmer in Cheydinhal and spent most nights at the Inn. I was using a hoe in a Pumpkin field when I received word that the Morag Tong had assassinated my parents. Apparently they were hired by a s'wit named Vethis Ulen who conspired against house Hlaalu for reasons unknown, thus my parents stepped into action and assisted both houses in exiling Velthis for his treachery. Sometime later, he settled in Solstheim and became the one of the wealthiest individuals on the island. How obtained it is unknown. I still get shivers just thinking about it, but my guess is that he stole my family's inheritance, as no will had been discovered from the scene of the crime. I was heartbroken and dumbfounded all at once. This didn't make any sense. The Morag Tong were supposedly disbanded after the eruption of Red Mountain. Rumor has it that these fetchers weren't even the proper Morag Tong to begin with, just filthy impersonators. I clenched my fists and swung the hoe around in a fury, accidentally breaking a wagon wheel. Because of that, I was fired. It was then I truly felt like a lost soul, and soon enough, I became the one thing I vowed to my father I'd never become; a bandit. Believe it or not, I used to be one and frequently robbed caravans and the occasional passerby alongside other bandits. The most luxury I got out of that life was sleeping in an abandoned spider cave with a bottle of mead, some cheese, and a rollaway bed. Did I ever mention that I sodding hate spiders?
I soon came across a contract by a guy named Dupan which I accepted, as the pay was worth quite a lot. I would be teamed up with a blue Khajiit named Inigo. While he certainly seemed like the talkative type, he also seemed to be very good about keeping secrets. I also heard that he was an expert with the bow and arrow. At the time, he was on Skooma, something I wasn't very fond of. So as you can imagine, Inigo wasn't what you would call stable at the time. One night, we were camping out along the Jerral Mountains when I got shot in the head with an arrow from Inigo. Dupan said that if one of us returned from the job we were given, that lone survivor would earn double. Inigo, being on Skooma wasn't thinking straight and therefore took advantage. I must've passed out for a while before I awoke. The next thing I remember was being on an Imperial prison cart in Skyrim.