Author notes: This is my first fanfic. It may be a bit much for me to handle for my first but I'm gonna have go anyway.
Chapter 1: how it all startedI was only nine when I took an interest in adventuring. Well, it was combat of most sorts, but it lead to adventuring. I was out on one of my many camping trips with my father, I always loved them. We would go just south of my home town, chorrol, into the lush forests that surrounded it. Even in the winter, when all the leaves had fallen off the tree's, there would be a layer of snow, covering the forest like a soft, white blanket. These trips often involved us going without much equipment, and could last for over a week. Thus, we would often have to hunt for food.
That's where the archery comes in. Once, on a sunny Loredas in the middle of sun's height when we were about a days worth of walking away from the camp, My father fell ill. Thankfully he knew enough about alchemy to know of a cure. This cure would take days to make though, So I would have to hunt alone until the potion was ready. The first day I went out with my father's oak bow and after about 20 minutes of searching I found a herd of deer. I readied my bow and prepared to strike. I had been taught the basics of wielding most weapons, just not a war hammer because I couldn't lift one of those (how those Orcs and Nords to wield them still baffles me today).
My heart raced I hadn't killed a living thing before, I had only had my father leaning around me, holding my onto hands and controlling the bow. I closed my eyes and let go of the back of the bow. I quickly opened my eyes, looking to see whether or not I had killed a deer. I had. There was a herd of deer bouncing away from me like rabbits, I always wondered why they ran like that. In the place where the now bouncing herd of deer had been there was a lone deer lying on it's side. It had an iron arrow lodged in it's neck. It was only small, a child perhaps, but it was surely dead. I used a knife from the camp we had set up to cut off the meat from it, and an enchanted sack to carry the meat back. The sack's enchantment was a fairly strong heating spell to cook the food by the time you had carried it for a minutes.
By the time I got back the food was cooked, we both devoured the food and my father carried on making the now bubbling potion. A week later we were back home, my father fully recovered, and me happily playing with my toy sword. You may be wondering why I haven't mentioned my mother, The truth is she died when I was 2. Bandits destroyed the village I lived in and killed about half of the townspeople. Oh yes, I didn't always live in Chorrol. I was brought up in the small town of wispshire until I was two (when the village was pillaged, forgive the pun). It was a small town, with only 20 or so people, but we were a friendly village.
But back to my mother. She had very dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, a lot like me. She grew her hair down to her shoulders and had a habit of scratching her head vigorously when she was worried or was asked a question she didn't know he answer to, well apparently, as I said I didn't know her properly because she died when I was two. My father had short black hair and was fairly chunky, not fat, just chunky. He loved sport, especially outdoor survival, and was a great cook.
As for me, I have fairly long, dark brown, relatively straight hair and I have mothers deep blue eyes. I have an interest in outdoor survival like my father but I tend not to like the particularly active sports. I'm 21 now and I still live in Chorrol, but I would occasionally travel to Bruma. I have a lot of nord friends there, but you would be surprised how hard it is for an imperial to get nord friends.