The Mormont Account --1

• Posted by Jonathan Y October 15, 2012 - 569 views

  The story so far...

  My name is Mormont. I've been a wanderer in the lands of Tamriel for many a year. And the majority of those have been spent in the confines of Cyrodill and under the lock and collar of Imperial order. My story so far has been a long journey (for that atleast I can be thankful) but altogether a forgettable one.

  During my early years, I joined the mage's guild in the Imperial City, there I practised the arcane arts for which I seemed to have an aptitude for. However within a year I realised that the mages there were naught but a bunch of self-important scholars who had little or no influence on the comings and goings of the Imperial City, let alone Tamriel. Despite my reservations, I stayed on with the guild for over a decade, eventually learning to enjoy the quiet tranquillity of studying whilst dreaming of a life beyond the walls of the Imperial City.

  Towards the final years of my intellectual endeavours I became more and more restless. Why the sudden change you might wonder? Quite simply I was beginning to feel age creep up on me. Superficial as it may seem; my thinning hair had made me realise I didn't want my life to wither away in front of books. I craved adventure, and a new perspective on life. So I left the guild and became a sellsword, a thug-for-hire.

  For years I was a bodyguard, a highwayman, a sailor, and once I even enlisted as a vampire hunter. Despite being shunned by the fighter's guild multiple times for my proficiency in the arcane arts for which they held a great disdain, it was my unique skill set of arcane destruction and physical prowess which meant that I was never short of a job. However during this time that I often came into contention with the law. 

  After a particularly long jail sentence in Bruma for my involvement in the skooma trade, I decided to start my life afresh in Skyrim, my ancestral homeland. By this time I was no longer a young man, the grey hairs and baldness at the crown of my head were a testament to that. However my mind and body had yet to fail me, I could still carry my weight in heavy armour and stolen loot, and my sword arm hadn't deadened yet. Even still I knew that my youthfulness was fleeting. And so it was that I made the long journey north through the Jerall Mountains by the Pale Pass to the land of the free Nords.