The first thing I remember is waking up in a cell and a very tall woman barking orders at me, saying to stand back as she was about to open the door to my cell. I had no idea what was going on, so I followed her orders, picked up a weapon from a dead body and began hacking away at anything that would attack us.
She eventually told me I was dead and was in Oblivion, but honestly nothing she did or say make sense. Meeting Sir Cadwell was the bright spot of that day, and when he told me he thought she and the "prophet" were a little soft in the head, it made perfect sense and gave me some clarity to keep on going. (I could go on a tangent here, but that's a story for another day)
Eventually I was back(? Not sure, since like I said, I don't remember anything prior to the prison) in Tamriel, and told to roam the land finding people to help. I didn't know what to do, how to fight, who to believe in...For a while I didn't even know I was a Bosmer. Even that, I had to be told.
I had no money, no home and no one. I fought because I was told to - and because I needed the money. I used things I found or took from people I killed. Every single weapon I had in my hands felt...wrong somehow. I used them, sure, but didn't feel right until I found my first staff.
The very first time I used a staff I knew that was who I was - a sorcerer! I learnt everything I could about magicka, even joined the Mages' Guild (granted, I also joined the Fighters' Guild, but in my defense, I needed the money). I have no loyalties other than to my friends and my pocket. I didn't go into missions out of a sense of loyalty. I knew from the get go that I was a tool, and if I failed my missions, whomever hired me would find someone else - a stronger, better fit fighter.
So I went through the Aldmeri Dominion, doing odd jobs here and there, hoping to come across someone or something that would unlock the memories I knew would be somewhere inside my head. Nothing in Auridon seemed familiar, and I was excited to learn I was going to Grahtwood next. Surely the land of the wood elves would bring me some much needed answers, or at least, clues to my past.
My heart sank when I first step foot in Grahtwood. It didn't feel like home, it was oppressive. Even though the land didn't bring back memories, nor did I find anyone who knew me, the people and situations I've met in Grahtwood did confirm that not only I looked like a Bosmer, I was one of them.
I knew it in my heart, and in every fiber of my being that I was a wood elf, and I was proud of it. I also discovered that even though I was a sorcerer, I wasn't a very good one. Sure, I could complete my missions, but I was just decent and I knew, even back then, that I would never shine as a sorcerer. I stuck to it, though, because I couldn't do any other job.
Somewhere along the way I stole something for the first time. What can I say? Maybe I needed whatever it was and didn't have the money for it. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe I was trying to see if I could steal and get away with it. It doesn't matter. What matter is that at that moment I found out something I was really, really good at. I might be a mediocre sorcerer, but I am a very good thief.
...Or was. This last Morndas I woke up feeling funny. I have some unfinished business in Vvardenfell, so I decided to drop by, and I felt odd. The world felt odd. I decided to take it slow that day and didn't do much. I went to bed wondering if I'd just woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something. Then yesterday I went to the Clockwork City, and I found out I'm not that good at stealing anymore.
There is this one bag by a group of students who are playing dice - if you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. The bag is just tossed against a wall, and everybody is too preoccupied with the game to pay attention to it. I've ran past it a hundred times. Heck! I stole from it dozens of times. I took pride in doing it too, because it isn't easy - what with all those people around and the guards walking by.
Every single time, until yesterday, I was able to steal from that bag. Not anymore. I spent a good ten minutes trying to figure out a good angle of approach. I've tried every trick I know, I even put on some magical gear that is said to make me less detectable. The loot inside that bag was too good to pass, so I got a bounty for it.
What happened to me? Which deity is so angry with me that they thought to punish me is such a cruel way? They took away the only thing I was good at. Why?