The only child of a stablemaster in a minor town in Glenumbra, Ilsabet was raised modestly and sensibly. She was always inquisitive and loved exploring the forests and hills nearby, usually returning home with a bundle of scavenged loot. She never actually liked riding horses, having grown distrustful of them after an unfortunate childhood incident with an unruly horse that she couldn't control. She insisted on learning to use a bow along with the local ranger's sons, but she never had a reason to do any real fighting aside from hunting in the woods.

Two months prior to awakening in Coldharbour, she was given the task of delivering a fine horse to a wealthy client in another town. She didn't really want to do it, but no one else was available and she couldn't pass up the chance to bring her family some good coin. On the way she was accosted by a group of bandits. She was willing to give up the horse to save her own life, but unfortunately the bandits decided that a lovely young girl would make a nice bonus next time a slave trader passed by.

Ilsabet repaid them by pilfering half of their stash (enough to cover the cost of the horse, plus a few extra trinkets just for spite) and running off in the middle of the night. When they caught up with her, she was ready to fight to defend herself - but the bandits had apparently been impressed with her showing and decided that she might be of use to them, so they offered her the chance to join their group. She decided that this was preferable to fighting a losing battle for her life, but she never did fully trust them and she always kept her eyes open for a good chance to take her leave.

That chance never came. The last thing she remembers before finding herself in Coldharbour is overhearing the bandit leader talking about a big score in the works. She can't be sure if that has anything to do with her being sacrificed, but it's a pretty good bet. Rather than returning home and facing the uncertainty of resuming the life she left behind, she's struck out on her own to make her own fortune. She's still very young and inexperienced, but her innate resourcefulness, quick fingers, and archery skills have given her a good start.

Growing up in an unremarkable family in an unremarkable town in Falkreath, Linnea learned early on that she didn't like being given guff by anyone, and a good way to not get guff is to carry a big sword. Whether it's a surly drunk in a tavern or a cutpurse who thinks he's quicker than her draw, most everybody who's messed with her has only made that mistake once. She doesn't go out of her way to avoid trouble, though, and she's been known to complain when it's been too long since she had a good fight. She particularly dislikes bears because "they think they're so tough."

Despite her imposing physique and affinity for swinging around big heavy weapons, don't even think of referring to her as manly - she quite enjoys being a girl, and she somehow manages to balance maintaining her femininity with the rugged outdoorsiness necessary to get by in the wilds of Skyrim. The only thing she enjoys more than a good beatdown is a good corpse-looting, and her honorary surname attests to her acquisitiveness.

She has no idea where this whole being dead thing came from, but she's sure that it couldn't have been a fair fight. She'd like to take a good swing at the rat who did it, but other than that she doesn't have much interest in conspiracies and rituals and whatnot. Just point her to the nearest tavern and then let her loose on whatever hooligan wants to look at her the wrong way.

Lolly knows you're not actually interested in her backstory, and at this point it doesn't matter much to her either. As long as everyone stays alive and she gets her share of the loot, the rest is just idle chatter. But if you'd like to get on her good side, here are some useful facts:

Things Lolly likes:
Lollygagging
Drinking rum, especially while lollygagging
Shiny stones
Letting other people swing around the big heavy weapons
Setting things on fire
Swimming

Things Lolly dislikes:
Being told not to lollygag
Hangovers
Constricting clothing
People stepping on her tail
Slaughterfish

Actual backstory:

Lolly was a slave on a small Dunmer plantation in Deshaan. (Of course she was a slave, do you even need to ask? Wasn't everyone a slave?) She always resented being mistreated and forced to work, and so she made a point to do as little work as possible. She quickly learned that overt insubordination was a good way to get punished, so she became more subversive in her disobedience and developed her healing skills as a way to help herself and her fellow Argonians survive the beatings and harsh conditions.

Her people clung to the Hist as an integral part of their identity, but she never found much value in it. It was good for group morale, she supposed, but it never seemed to do her much direct good, and she didn't really have any use for things that didn't help her in some observable way. The concept of Sithis was always more intriguing to her. Whether it represents change, or nothingness, or the inevitability of death, there was always something... relatable about it.

When the Pact leaders declared an end to Argonian slavery, Lolly didn't celebrate or spit on her former masters. She simply turned and walked away. She still preferred lollygagging to working, but at least now the work she did was for her own benefit. She drifted for several years, finding ways to survive as she went, until one day she awoke in Coldharbour. The thing that irritates her the most about having been sacrificed is that her survival skills must have failed her and she can't explain why. But really it's more of a passing inconvenience, and now she's back on her feet and back to getting along.

Beneath her apathetic demeanor and apparent penchant for laziness, Lolly is a keen observer of the world around her and a master of the art of getting by. Her primary interest is her own well-being, and she has no ambitions to be a hero. She's been through enough to know that just staying alive and finding happiness in small pleasures is all anybody can really ask from life. She sees having survived the plantation as a source of pride, although she usually dismisses talk of the old days. She retains a cold distrust of authority figures and dislikes being told what to do, although if the rewards are good enough or she can tell herself that she's helping on her own terms, it's not actually that hard to convince her.

A proud warrior among proud warriors, Naazli caught the eye of the son of an influential family in a neighboring village in Hammerfell. Swayed by his apparent adoration, she agreed to marry him - but it soon became clear that all he wanted was a trophy wife, and he tried to cover up his own inadequacies as a man and a fighter by exerting control over her. He tried to dictate her appearance, dressing her up like a princess, and used their public interactions to show her off while curbing her independent activities. It didn't take long for her to rebel against this treatment, but this only provoked her husband's rage.

Faced with the prospect of having to maintain perfect appearances with a husband she loathed and distrusted, she made plans to leave the village secretly. But when the time came for her to go, her husband confronted her with several of his friends. No longer having anything left to lose, she finally let loose all of her pent-up battle prowess and slew them all. Knowing that she would be a marked woman as soon as the bodies were discovered, she made her flight. But her journey would be short-lived, although not for the reasons one might expect. She has no idea how it happened, or who was responsible, but only a few days after leaving her old life behind, she found that she had left Tamriel itself behind. Now given a chance to start over on her own, she concerns herself only with self-preservation - at least until she comes across someone who cannot stand on their own and needs her help.

Mireiya was born in Alinor to a painter father and glass artisan mother. She developed an early fascination with light, and this sparked an interest in magic when she discovered that it was possible to create and manipulate light and color with nothing but her own hands. She was raised with high expectations to follow in her parents' artistic footsteps, and she gravitated toward glass and crystal as media. She had a habit of slacking on her art studies to pursue magic, though, and eventually her parents relented and allowed her to put art on hold to hone her skills as a mage.

They held her to even higher standards in this area, and she proceeded with the understanding that if she were to falter even a little, that would be the end of her full-time magic studies. She remained her teacher's prize pupil for several years, until a newcomer joined the school and immediately posed a challenge. The new girl was as fascinated with darkness as Mireiya was with light, and the rivalry that developed between them was like a clash of elements. At this point driven almost entirely by her own pride, Mireiya vowed to outdo her rival no matter what.

This proved to be a more difficult goal than she had expected, and she started looking for more creative ways to get the upper hand. This included research into the darker arcane arts that her rival favored, and to her surprise she discovered a scope of power that she had never even considered before. This got her wheels turning, and when the time came for the students to present their ultimate displays of magical mastery, which would determine their future as mages, Mireiya stunned everyone by unleashing an unbridled torrent of summoned creatures, both light and dark in nature. But the spectators' surprise and Mireiya's self-satisfaction soon turned to horror as the creatures revealed their true essence - they were in part manifestations of Mireiya's jealousy and hostility toward her rival, and they attacked the girl without remorse.

The teachers and other students leapt to counter the creatures, but it was too late to save the poor girl. Now sensing that their master was in danger, the creatures surrounded Mireiya and turned on those who tried to oppose them. Mireiya had never developed the discipline to fully control her summoned minions, so she was helpless to restrain them as they lashed out at her teachers and schoolmates. By the time the creatures were subdued, leaving her sobbing and shaking on the floor, two more students were dead and several teachers and students had been seriously wounded.

Needless to say this was a grievous blight on the school, Mireiya's magehood, and her family. She was kept in solitary confinement while the authorities could deal with the situation and decide what to do with her. Now completely withdrawn and listless, she spent her days gazing out of her small window at the shining spires of the city, which she knew she'd never see again.

After a few weeks, when she was beginning to wonder when her punishment would ever come, she awoke to find herself in Coldharbour. At first she didn't care if she lived or died, but then it dawned on her that she might be getting a second chance to refashion her life and develop the magical proficiency she should have had before she ever tried summoning. She moves forward now, more aware of her own abilities and limitations, driven by an inner yearning to have a reason to reclaim her personal pride.

Khajiit was once the wife of a prosperous merchant in Senchal and the mother of many beautiful kittens. But the fruits of this family's labors were not to be enjoyed, as filthy pirates killed the husband and carried off the wife to serve as scullion on their grimy ship. These scoundrels forced this one to bargain for moon sugar and skooma at their trade ports, and many years were lost to them before escape became possible. Now this one wanders alone, lost and friendless.

A most pitiable story, yes? You feel moved to reach for your purse to offer aid to a poor old Khajiit? Yes, please do...

Amara started out studying magic, having been accepted into Shad Astula despite not being from an important house. When the Akaviri invaded in 2E 572, she and her classmates were sent off to join a unit of battle mages. Despite her reservations about killing people, she followed orders - until one fateful night when their camp was infiltrated by a group of Akaviri assassins. Amara happened to be awake reading and realized what was going on. But fearing for her life, she cast an invisibility spell and hid, watching in terror as her compatriots were slaughtered in their cots one by one. Ashamed of her cowardice and still afraid of being killed, she deserted and tried to flee the battlefield.

She soon discovered that there was nowhere to run, and when she came across a ragtag group of Nords (with a few Argonians mixed in), she realized that it would be worth her while to join up with them for her own protection. Despite their racial tensions, she convinced them to let her come along with their unit. They initially clashed over their differing combat philosophies, and to keep the peace she had to tone down her reliance on magic and learn to use blades. Her new comrades did come to respect her magic just a little after she used it to save them a few times, but by necessity she became a fairly adept blade-wielder and kept the fire spells for backup.

When the Akaviri were repulsed, Amara found herself with nowhere to go. She couldn't return home or go back to Shad Astula, since she was sure everyone would know she had abandoned her classmates to die and she would be considered a deserter at best and a traitor at worst. So she swallowed her pride and asked her Nord associates to let her accompany them back to Skyrim. They agreed, although the Argonians were never that happy to have her along, and they warned her that she would probably have a rough time as an outsider.

She spent the next several years adventuring in Skyrim, falling in with various groups of mercenaries and rogues as opportunities came and went. Then, just as she was starting to feel nostalgic about Morrowind, she met a group of Dunmer travelers in an inn in Windhelm who were happy to strike up conversation with her. They had a lot of questions about her time in Skyrim, particularly her experiences mingling with Nords and Argonians. When they invited her to travel back to Morrowind with them the next day, she felt compelled to accept.

As they traveled east together, she started noticing some strange things. First was the suspicious looks the group got from the Nords and Argonians they passed by, which she supposed was to be expected since nobody in Skyrim would trust a group of Dark Elves. But she also sensed something among her new companions that she couldn't quite put her finger on, something in the way they watched her while her back was turned, the way she was suddenly aware of the Nord habits and mannerisms she had subconsciously picked up, the way she suddenly felt self-conscious about her rusty magic skills.

The next thing she knew, she was dead in Coldharbour. Did those shifty Dunmer sacrifice her as part of some kind of ritual, or were they all waylaid by some vengeful Argonians or opportunistic Nords? She may never know, but at least she's used to making her own way and relying on her varied skills to survive.

Gurtha has never been good at much of anything except eating. The only daughter of a stronghold chieftain, she never received any offers of marriage, probably due to her total ineptness as a blacksmith and warrior and her lack of physical charms. Her father finally managed to convince a chief in a remote stronghold to marry her sight-unseen, but once her prospective husband laid eyes on her she was sent home humiliated. After that her father resigned himself to her spinsterhood, and both he and his son after him regarded her as the hopeless daughter/sister that they had to keep around because she was family. While somewhat chagrined at her own lack of prowess, Gurtha was always content to just hang around home, watching the world go by and putting her limited domestic skills to limited use.

It may be that her uselessness and inability to bring honor to her family somehow led to her sacrifice, but she doesn't really have the brain capacity to think about things like that. Since reawakening she's been preoccupied with figuring out how to survive in a strange world without the comforts of home and strong warriors to protect her. Quite by chance she found a staff on the ground while trudging through the Wailing Prison, and the pleasant discovery that she could fend off the things trying to kill her by throwing fire at them opened the door for her to take up magic, which had never been considered an option back in the Orc stronghold. She's still not much good at it, but she gets by, which is all she can really ask for.

Shrewd and opportunistic, Hostawen was always a master at finding and exploiting money-making prospects - and skirting the line between driving a hard bargain and ripping people off. She would scour the areas around her village looking for goodies to bring home and sell, either plundering the more easily accessible parts of ruins, helping herself to abandoned stashes, or haggling for deals from traveling merchants or simple folk living in the forest. Her success notwithstanding, she had a habit of splurging away her earnings on jagga and entertainment.

After pushing her luck one too many times with subsequently-disgruntled townsfolk, Hostawen decided that it might be preferable to take her show on the road, and she became one of the many traveling merchants wandering the Valenwood. This opened up new avenues for exploration and procurement, and Hostawen also honed her survival skills taking care of herself out in the wild.

One evening in a tavern she struck up conversation with a friendly man of the cloth, who mentioned that his order was looking for some artifacts and might be interested in her services. Seeing the advantages of such an arrangement, she eagerly agreed to meet the priest's associates the following evening. However, upon arriving at the specified meeting place, she discovered that her prospective clients belonged to the Worm Cult - and that they were more interested in her soul than her services.

Since returning from Coldharbour, Hostawen has been largely absorbed with nursing her wounded pride (unaccustomed as she was to having other people take advantage of her) and getting her bearings in an unfamiliar place. She might get around to helping the Prophet someday, but for now she's back to doing what she does best: making money.

As a teenager, Katarin relocated with her family and a group of fellow settlers from northern Bangkorai to the edge of the Wrothgar mountains. They had always been hardy folk, but over time the strain of the unforgiving climate and the constant attention from ravaging Orcs and goblins took their toll on the settlement's population. Finally Katarin set out on her own, and for over two decades she's made her home in the wilds of Wrothgar.

A master hunter and survivalist, Katarin found most everything she needed in the wilderness. She had always had a talent for magic, and took inspiration from her frosty surroundings as her skills developed. She avoided the Orc settlements, and sometimes went months without seeing another person. She took sporadic breaks from her seclusion to serve as a guide for travelers or barter pelts and materials with traders.

The last job she took was from three robed men who needed to get through a certain mountain pass. They gave her a bad feeling, but they paid well, and she expected she'd be able to handle them if they tried to pull anything. But just as their destination was in sight, she blacked out and then discovered herself in Coldharbour.

Finding herself back among "civilization" is actually more of a culture shock than anything else. The Three-Banners War had been nothing more than distant gossip to her, and she's still weighing how much other people's problems need to concern her. But it doesn't look like she'll be making it back to the mountains any time soon, so her innate survival skills may be getting put to use in ways she never would have imagined.

Remi (it's short for something long and stupid, don't bother asking) has always been known as a wild child, even among her outlander tribe in northern Valenwood. She always preferred spending time in the wilderness to the company of other Bosmer, and even as a child she sometimes wouldn't be seen by her family for days before returning home dirty and scraped-up. Tough and scrappy, she was never one to back down from a tussle, whether with wild animals or the boys who would tease her for having "too much Wild Hunt" in her blood.

One of those boys grew up to develop very different feelings for the headstrong girl. While they shared a tacit understanding that her independent nature didn't lend itself to being tied down in a relationship, he did become one of the few friends that she would accept as an occasional companion on her wilderness outings. And then, when he set out to join the Vinedusk Rangers, he talked her into coming along.

As much as the Rangers' activities might have appealed to her, the idea of being told what to do and being expected to conform to some kind of regimented organization did just the opposite. But rather than returning home, she simply took to acting as kind of a free agent continuing to travel with her friend and aiding him with his missions.

One of these missions took them beyond the Vinedusk village in Reaper's March. It was there that Remi first encountered the creatures that would change her life, as the pair were attacked by a small pack of werewolves. They were ultimately successful in taking the beasts down, but Remi's friend was left hovering near death and she wasn't in much better shape herself.

For the first time in her life, Remi found herself in a state of near panic over another person. She did what she could to aid her friend, but she knew that only a true healer could save him. She had to do whatever she could to get him back to his comrades in the village.

As Remi struggled stalwartly onward with her burden, luck seemed to smile upon her. She met a group of people who appeared to be mages, who seemed to take an interest in the injured pair and offered to bring her friend back from the brink of death. She'd never really trusted magic types, but in her current state she couldn't turn down the only real chance she had of saving her friend.

The robed people prepared some kind of ritual that they promised would restore her friend to full health, as Remi watched them warily. But to her horror, the ritual involved stabbing the unfortunate man and drawing some sort of energy out of him into a small crystal. Overcome by rage and grief, Remi felt something feral stirring within her. But the perfidious mages were prepared to deal with her, and the last thing she remembers before succumbing to unconsciousness is hearing one of them saying, "He will be pleased to take care of this one himself."

Learning about why and how she ended up in Coldharbour didn't do much to assuage her anger, especially since her friend didn't seem to be among her fellow prisoners. But the Wailing Prison offered plenty of things for her to kill before the giant woman and the glowy old geezer got her a way out.

Neither the glowy geezer nor the smooth-talking cat she met on Khenarthi's Roost offered any help finding her friend, so she ditched them and made her way back to Reaper's March to see if the Vinedusk Rangers could make themselves useful. But there was a hunger within her that she couldn't ignore, something calling to her that she had to answer. And at a rustic shrine to Hircine, the beast that had been stirring within her finally found its true form.

As she lets the hunt drive her where it will, she can't quite get over the memories of the one person she's ever come close to loving. She doesn't know if his soul is still out there somewhere, waiting to be saved, or if she's better off just letting the hunt distract her until she can move past his loss. But she does know that if she ever gets ahold of the bastards responsible for what happened to them, they're going to pay.

Runs is good at running, and also stealthing. The best is when she gets to combine the two. Her favorite game to play is something she calls "What can I get away with?" It usually involves sneaking around seeing how long she can go before someone notices her. She's very good at it. Sometimes she takes things while she's sneaking, just for the extra challenge. Every once in a while she'll kill someone while she's sneaking, but only if she's in the mood for it. The game is actually less fun if the people who might see her sneaking are dead.

One time she played the game with some people she'd never seen before who had set up a camp. Unfortunately they caught her sneaking, and they actually grabbed her and took her away. She wasn't very happy about it until she realized that they were taking her someplace far away. Then it seemed okay to her, because sneaking around the same old places was getting kind of boring.

She waited to see where they were going, and they ended up in a place that was very dark and creepy. It seemed like it would be a fun place to sneak around in, but the people there did not seem to want anyone sneaking around. They were not very much fun at all, and they even tried to kill her! Well, she guesses that they actually killed her. But it worked out okay, and she's not dead anymore.

With that whole experience behind her, she set out to find new places to explore and new people to play with. Eventually she came to a place that was a lot colder, with big loud people who were easy to sneak around because they were drunk most of the time. She wasn't sure whether this made the game more fun or not. There were also much bigger people who had mammoth friends, and they were fun to play with when it wasn't too cold to be outside.

One night she found some strange people who were just kind of stumbling around and making noises like their stomachs hurt. She tried to sneak around them, but it didn't work at all. One of them actually bit her, and the next thing she knew she was talking to a lady about becoming a vampire. She had never thought about being a vampire, but what she heard about the night and the shadows and such suited her just fine. She was very happy to see that becoming a vampire made her even better at sneaking. She's not sure she likes how pasty she looks now, but she supposes it's not the worst trade-off.

A native of Bruma, young Vicenza was swept up in a love affair with a soldier and ran off with him when his unit left the city. When her paramour decided that she was too high-maintenance as a girlfriend, she ultimately became the unit's "morale officer," finding this preferable to being left behind to fend for herself in unfamiliar and hostile territory.

Along the way she found herself wanting to become more capable, and she discovered that she could draw healing magic seemingly from nature itself. She also undertook some basic combat training, although the soldiers mostly found it amusing that she was play-acting at fighting. They gave her a sword and shield, telling her that she could hide behind it if she were ever in a real fight.

In the craggy foothills of southern Skyrim, the unit was ambushed by Pact soldiers who had in their service a couple of giants. The Imperials suffered heavy casualties, and Vicenza herself was grievously injured. When the unit mobilized again, they left her behind with nothing but a few days' worth of supplies and her sword and shield. It seemed that she was no longer welcome in their beds now that she was so horribly disfigured.

Her worst fears realized, she became a ragged recluse with nothing left but a will to survive. But survive she did, until several months later a group of robed men discovered her in her crude shelter. It didn't take them long to decide that her soul would be a fitting offering for the Worm King.

Upon escaping Coldharbour, she plummeted into the frigid waters off the coast of a small island... inhabited by Nords and Dunmer soldiers. The red banners of the men and women who had left her scarred both physically and mentally were still fresh in her mind, and only her physical and emotional weakness kept her from lashing out at her supposed saviors. She must now make her way within the land of those she blames for her misfortunes, doing her best to protect and preserve herself any way that she can.

As a treasure-hunter extraordinaire, Mir has always prided herself on her toughness and self-reliance. Ranging from her native Morrowind to the western reaches of the continent, she has braved countless caves, crypts, and ruins, only rarely bringing along a companion for backup. Over the years she's gotten out of plenty of scrapes thanks only to her sharp wits and resourcefulness, and experience has taught her that if you have to choose between clinging to trite principles and making it back to the surface alive, you do whatever it takes to make sure it's not your last adventure.

In particular, she has learned to move past her people's age-old taboo against messing with the dead. At first she reasoned that it wouldn't be so bad if she did her digging in the tombs of non-Dunmer departed, and Skyrim and Wrothgar and High Rock certainly offered plenty of opportunities to raid remains that couldn't possibly be counted among her ancestors. But after enough run-ins with draugr and various other not-quite-dead residents of their final resting places, she became almost comfortable with the presence of undead and the inevitability of encountering them in her line of work. And in the space of one harrowing life-or-death confrontation in the depths of a sunken Ayleid tomb, her last inhibitions about using the dead for her own purposes gave way to her fierce will to survive. Surrounded by the remains of fallen predecessors, she willed them to rally to her side, and when the bones settled after the ensuing clash, any remaining misgivings she might have had about manipulating the deceased were gone.

She did her best to keep her newfound powers under wraps, but when rumors began circulating, she drew the attention of the Worm Cult. When their attempt to recruit her to their ranks went badly, they instead fell back on using her as a sacrifice to fuel their master's plot. Having returned to Tamriel and to the Covenant lands where she had spent the most recent stretch of her career, she tries to keep as low a profile as possible and reconciles her unconventional methods with resentment for those who wanted to use her for their own vile ends.

Everything in this world has a purpose. The most mundane, damaged, or otherwise negligible object may be put to use if one is clever or desperate enough. So it is too with both the living and the dead.

The dead are a tool. Death and dying are simply events, passages from one state of being to another. I am one of those who puts the dead to use. While others would leave them to rot in the ground, I give them a purpose.

I too have a purpose. If the King of Worms sacrificed me, it is because my death was of use to him. But death, clearly, was not the end for me. And now my purpose is my own.

Look upon me with horror or with scorn if you must. I know full well that there are those who cannot see past futile principles or deep-seated fears to appreciate the wisdom and practicality of my craft. But there is very little difference between a carpenter's hammer, and a warrior's sword, and the dead-now-living at my side. They are all tools. Just as we all are, even the highest and mightiest among us. The only question left to us is what we will each accomplish with the tools at hand.