"In the waning years of the Third Era of Tamriel, a prisoner born on a certain day to uncertain parents was sent under guard, without explanation, to Morrowind, ignorant of the role he was to play in that nation's history..."

Born to ashlanders from opposing tribes (Ahemmusa and Erabenimsun), orphaned at an early age. Grown tired of the petty infighting over dwindling resources, moves to Balmora in hopes of taking what's theirs. Quickly discovers the problem is complex, and that he's out of his depth. Isn't treated much better by the House Dunmer, but the Morag Tong recognizes his skills as a hunter, inducting him as an assassin. Climbs up the ranks. Accepts a writ taking him all the way to Cyrodiil for several years. Gets caught in Cheydinhal, spends a few years in the Imperial Prison. Out of options, accepts Uriel VII shipping him back to Vvardenfell, out of nowhere, for a special mission.

"Come Nerevar, friend or traitor, come."

Typical Dunmer attitude—proud, sharp, violent. Blunt affect, curses freely. Creepy, morbid, haunted—becoming the instrument of a daedric god's will hasn't helped. Taking reach heaven by violence seriously this time. Religious but in the Dunmeri way, which is off-putting to most (murder is okay). Poetic and philosophical, the lingering influence of a certain warrior-poet, the gravitas of reincarnation and a life well adventured.

Despite it all, poster boy for angry hope (a better world through struggle and violence, every agony to temper my blade). Undercurrent of curiosity, lacking self-interest or self-preservation. Introspective, prefers to assess situations and people if given the chance—if. Serendipitously charismatic, the echoes of Nerevar, but hidden under an unsettling mien and multiple layers of trauma. Difficulties with vulnerability, believes if he's caught unaware it's a skill issue on his part. Reacts well to praise, unsettled and undone by kindness.

The ritual betrayal and slaughter of his past self left him with a soul deep wound. Sadomasochistic, drawn to relive and reprocess old pleasures and pains. He'll live and die as many times as it takes to know.

Knows exactly who he is, his role in history, and makes no apologies for it. Contentious relationship with Indoril Nerevar, however.

Libertine, prefers it when men drop the act and simply ask to fuck him, though won't say no to some wooing. Mephalan, freak in the streets and the sheets, ritualistic sex a favorite. Curiously indifferent about his appearance, more proud of his skills in the bedroom than purported attractiveness—if you didn't earn it is it worth bragging about? Loves breaking the repressed. The chase is just as sweet as the catch.

Uses melee and magic in equal measure, with fire-based Destruction spells a favorite. Prefers thin and supple daggers, shortswords and bows (e.g. bonemold, ebony, Akaviri, Ashlander, Telvanni styles), light armor in traditional Dunmeri styles (warmth toned fabrics, insect-like plating, i.e. Morag Tong chitin). Assassin, hits hard and fast but ultimately a glass cannon. Will flee to reassess if battle cannot be won conventionally ('secret murder'). Master alchemist—poisons all his weapons, paralysis the most common.

Pale ashen grey skin, shoulder-length pitch black hair worn loose. Eyes with red sclera and sectoral heterochromia (ash grey, blood red) in oversized irises, typical of Tamrielic mer (elves). Ashlander scarification shaped like bumps tracing the swell of his cheekbones and the rest of his body. Piercings aplenty, most hidden under his clothes, lip ring and chin bead on his face. Fangs. About 6 foot (1.8m), toned. Wears chitin light armor from head to toe, with two bonemold daggers strapped to his sides. Bow and arrows appear occasionally.