Ariquar

Ariquar — the last Dragonborn, former justiciar-in-training to the Aldmeri Dominion, son of Vaelcelmo of Shimmerene, Grandmaster of the Blades.

Hermaeus Mora’s unwilling champion.

Coming from a beginning of nobility and a life of constant pampering and tutoring, he lives his days now travelling Skyrim’s many winding roads, slaying belligerent dragons and forming allyships with ones willing to learn and change as he has.

SUMMERSET.

Born to two high-ranking Thalmor, Ariquar's life was planned out for him: as the eldest son, he was to endure countless years of training to be the perfect replacement for his father. From a young age, Ariquar was given every asset he needed to excel, and as he grew, he sped through his classes and kept himself on top. Years spent perfecting his magic and honing his dueling skills pushed him directly into the spotlight for the Thalmor heads, pressuring him to be perfect.

There were, of course, hiccups: Ariquar had a mean streak and would challenge his classmates to duels when they offended or upset him. Because of his renown, his classmates would often accept in hopes of besting him to impress the academy's teachers and Thalmor recruiters. Of course, being the son of Vaelcelmo was a benefit in that Ariquar had the best tutors in the area, and he held pride in the fact that he'd never lost a duel, on or off school grounds, save to his tutor.

The duels were … not appreciated by his parents or his teachers — his mother, Eiramere, being both. Many times they were cut short and Ariquar was given more schoolwork and practice to tire him out, but his determination and desire to be the best meant he could endure hours of work with no issue.

So his punishment for his cocky behavior was ultimately decided by the Thalmor recruiters: he would be shipped off to a troublesome area in need of Dominion interference and put at the bottom of the roster. Ariquar had scoffed at the idea when he'd been told his fate, thinking it would be easy for him to climb the ranks and ascend beyond the head of whatever team he was sent to be a part of.

SKYRIM.

In 4e 179, Ariquar was sent to Skyrim to assist the group tasked with eradicating Talos worship and stirring the civil war. The war had been brewing under the careful guidance of the Thalmor interference, coaxed into a head with the death of the high king. Ariquar was, like any young and fresh Thalmor recruit, itching to prove himself and assist in drawing the war out to take a toll on both sides' resources.

However, his impact was less than substantial. He was immediately put into place as nothing more than an errand boy for Elenwen under the careful eye of his mentor, Taelinwrie. It was insulting to Ariquar to be treated in such a way, but he endured it; he knew that if he proved himself, he'd be above Taelinwrie before long.

Or he hoped.

The years dragged on, and Ariquar saw no boost in rank. He did get tasked with the occasional patrol or sent to help question the locals, but for the most part his job stayed the same. Most of the time he was alone, often riding across Skyrim with papers from one justiciar to another, told not to open or read them unless he was in danger and had to destroy the physical information.

It was, however, just that task that became the catalyst for his entire life changing.

HELGEN.

In 4e 201, Ariquar was tasked with taking important documents to the justiciars positioned at Helgen. Imagine his surprise upon riding up the hill to the city to see an overabundance of smoke.

And his fear upon hearing a dragon. At seeing a dragon!

When Alduin had left the city in ruins, Ariquar had taken it as a moment to gather information and — perhaps — impress his superiors. He'd crept into the city, stumbled through the wreckage, and found one Justiciar alive enough to give him the basics of the situation: the dragon attacked, freed the prisoners, destroyed the town, and shouted something about not finding what it was looking for. Ariquar took the information back to the embassy.

What he got wasn't a promotion but simply a shift of duties — he was the one with the most recent experience with a dragon. He was to make an expedition across Skyrim in search of more information regarding the return, disguised to look like an average adventurer. Easy enough, really.

In theory.

His exploration took him to Helgen once more, where he made his way to Riverwood, asking questions about where people had seen the dragon, where did it head next, have you seen one since the first attack? He was ushered toward Whiterun to ask the court wizard Farengar what he knew.

That was the plan, at least, until a dragon decided to make its appearance near Whiterun. To get close enough to it to take in the situation meant he'd have to be in range of it seeing him. Of the city guard seeing him approach. He'd weighed his options and went with his first reaction — help the guards take down the beast to get a closer look at it.

But as it attacked, as it saw him, it spoke. Which came as a shock to Ariquar, as he didn't know dragons spoke at all. It had shrieked something about him, first in common tongue and then lapsing into its own language.

He knew it was about him because the dragon lay on the ground, felled by arrows and spells alike, turning its massive eye to him and growling,

"You are brave. Bahlaan hokoron."

He'd stabbed it through the snout after daring to step close enough, and the dragon called him something before it shut its eyes, its body stilling.

And then the scales started to fall away.

That was the strangest part of the situation. What followed was a strange Nord legend being passed on to him and Ariquar scoffing at the idea. He'd brushed off the Nords staring at him and had gone to further his investigation. To Farengar, gathering more Nordic nonsense about the Dragons and the legends that surrounded them. To a Barrow somewhere near Riverwood, to take a stone slab, and then —

Why could he read one of the words carved into the wall?

Why did he understand what it was?

The word — Fus — he'd only muttered it under his breath and it had sent the stone and dust around him flying.

Alright. So there was something to this Nordic myth. The only thing that mattered regarding it was how he could use it to further the Thalmor agenda in Skyrim.

Take the stone back to Whiterun. Have Farengar translate it. Sit around while his associate chattered with him and then take what he needed. He had his information. He'd send it back to the embassy with the first patrol he encountered.

His response back from the embassy was to roll with the Nords and their superstition regarding him — but not to take it too far. So he disregarded the people telling him about the Greybeards summoning him. What did he need from a group of old human men when he could apparently learn himself anyway?

Well. He'd find out.

His travels took him across Skyrim once more, tracking dragons and their flights to where they rested. Some upon mountaintops, others among ruins and forests. Some sat upon walls that had more of that language he could seemingly understand a few words of, others upon hoards of discarded armor and weapons, gold and treasure that Ariquar had no way to carry.

SOUTH OF WINDHELM.

Somewhere south of Windhelm, in the region of hot springs and overwhelming humidity, Ariquar ran into some very interesting people. Two men in strange masks carved from — bone? Bone masks, tattered robes, and a strange aggression in their stance as they followed him down a worn road. The encounter turned to a fight as they confronted him, accusing him of lying about his status as dragonborn. He wouldn’t have that, and not for the first time, used his new shouting as an offensive maneuver.

These masked strangers, however, refused to back down, babbling about a man named Miraak, and didn’t quiet until Ariquar had driven a sword through both of them. Papers on their person revealed their origin from the island of Solstheim, an itinerary detailing their route from the island to Skyrim. A ship docked in Windhelm could take him, and so Ariquar went.

It took convincing for the captain to want to go back. Ariquar paid him well.

SOLSTHEIM.

The island was worse than Skyrim, Ariquar had decided the moment he’d set foot there. Surrounded by bitter and rude dunmer and covered in ash and soot, he wanted the expedition to be done and over with as soon as he could.

However, he had an issue: he had a map of Skyrim, but no map of Solstheim. This island was completely new and foreign to him, and he wasn’t about to go blindly wandering in a new place with no assistance. He found the nearest inn, spent the night ( complained about the ash and the drink ) and the very next morning hired the only mercenary in the small town of Raven Rock.

( Teldryn had jokingly told Ariquar a rate that was twice what he normally charged, and Ariquar doubled that. Teldryn didn’t argue and took it. )

So, he had a guide and a problem to solve. Who was Miraak, and what could he do to stop him from interfering with his goals?

Well. That led him to a temple where a Skaal woman named Frea tried to stop him from touching anything ( how was he supposed to get anything done if people wouldn’t let him? ) and together with Teldryn, they made their way into an excruciatingly detailed and carved temple. Dragon bones made for strange decor and undead and cultists stalked the halls and Ariquar could deal without Teldryn’s commentary on the whole thing, thank you, please be quiet.

A book housed in the inner parts of the temple revolted him, but he opened the pages and —

Miraak sneered at him, called him weak and unworthy of holding the title Dragonborn, and grotesque creatures forced him back onto Nirn with a spell that made him nauseous to think about.

Absolutely insulting, he thought, and vowed to kill Miraak.

Angered, he allowed Frea to guide him and Teldryn to her village, where he spoke with her father on the topic of Miraak and his master, Hermeaus Mora. With advice from the old shaman, Ariquar and Teldryn fought a dragon at the peak of Saering’s Watch, gathered information, and freed the Skaal from Miraak’s hold.

It was then that Ariquar felt the first feeling of contentment. Or, perhaps, achievement? Freeing people from their oppressors felt… Proper. It felt right. But he tried not to think too hard on it. His goal was one thing: kill Miraak. Everything else was just something that had to be done.

Except maybe it was good to do things like this. An extra day spent in the Skaal village and preparing for the journey ahead made Ariquar feel a little at peace. Teldryn helped him bundle up properly for the ash-covered southern part of the island and they headed out once more, this time headed to find the help of a Telvanni wizard. Neloth was a crotchety old mer with a voice that Ariquar could do without hearing for a few hundred years, but he was useful. He knew quite a bit and told little, but what information Ariquar got out of him was more than helpful.

From Tel Mithryn to Nchardak, where Teldryn helped him while Neloth watched their struggle as they pushed through water-filled chambers and pushed open corroded metal doors and gates. Ariquar complained about the water, complained about the smell, the Dwemer robotics, but Teldryn took it in stride and kept his commentary amused and teasing.

It was almost friendly. Almost.

The next Black Book took him to meet Mora, who Ariquar found to be… Revolting. Horrific. He couldn’t come up with enough words for his disgust. Apocrypha was terrible, smelling of old ink and musty pages, with slime covering nearly everything. Apocrypha is the kind of place Ariquar never would have believed he’d find himself in, but here he was.

Afterward, after Mora had taunted him and cooed that he’d eventually fall to the Daedra’s whims, he found himself standing before Teldryn and Neloth once more.

Teldryn put a hand on his shoulder, and Ariquar didn’t think he’d ever be grateful for contact like that. Outside, a dragon waited, and after it was defeated, they headed back onto the island. Tel Mithryn was a small respite from the ash and Ariquar was grateful for it.

He recounted his journey, his opposition of Mora, and Teldryn spoke to him in quiet tones as they planned out what to do next: cleanse the stones, release more of Miraak’s hold, and weaken him enough for Ariquar to confront him. Eventually. Their travel took them around the entire island, each stone bending to Ariquar’s voice and Teldryn defending him from unseen attacks. Tedious work and a lengthy journey, but with each stone cleansed and each group of people released from their hypnotism, Ariquar felt something inside him lighten. He couldn’t place just what felt nice about helping people but something was just right about it.

Teldryn seemed to notice.

They spent numerous nights camped out and hiding from the creatures in the ash wastes, in the snowy fields of northern Solstheim. And each night Ariquar became more used to Teldryn’s voice, his stories, his advice. He was a refugee from Morrowind, Ariquar learned, and had spent time in Windhelm. He’d dealt with years of distrust and oppression from the Nords in Windhelm, and had come back to Solstheim to escape a false accusation and a mistake. But he longed to go back to Skyrim and get away from the ash that reminded him too much of home and of the people he’d lost.

Ariquar had never really known how much the Red Year had affected the dunmer in Morrowind or the people of Solstheim. He’d never realised how many had been pushed from their homes, just as the altmer in Summerset had been relentlessly slaughtered by daedra during the Great Anguish.

Maybe he had more in common with Teldryn than he thought.

The stones cleansed, the Skaal assisted, Ariquar found the last things he needed before opening the Black Books once more, this time with a renewed determination to stop Miraak. Not because he wanted to be better than him, or because he felt threatened, but rather because he'd realized that the power Miraak held was dangerous and all too similar to the power held by those back home.

He was beginning to see the world in a different light. And that light revealed to him just how clouded his head had been, growing up being told stories of the Thalmor saving Summerset and its people. But had they really been saved, or just contained by oppression?

His time in Apocrypha felt as though it dragged on forever. Winding paths of ink and paper, eyes watching him, staring, studying him until he'd made it to the place Miraak waited for him.

If he can fight a dragon, then he can fight a Dragonborn, he told himself, and held his own against Miraak. The fight was obviously swayed in Miraak's direction, but what shocked Ariquar was Mora's interference and help. As he watched Miraak held up by Mora's tendrils and listened to Mora's taunting, he realized that while he may have stopped Miraak from returning to Nirn, he just sealed his own fate to Mora's whims.

It was a price to pay to do the right thing.

He came to after leaving Apocrypha with Frea and Teldryn at his side and a blanket tossed over him. They helped him regain his steadiness and listened to his account of the events. Frea took the time to tell her people they were safe, while Teldryn stayed beside him to talk quietly in the little Skaal building. Teldryn eventually let him rest, and Ariquar went to sleep with confusion in his head.

What was he to do about the Thalmor?

He didn't want to be a part of something so aggressively controlling, and he didn't want to return to Skyrim and not do something about the dragons. What could he do?

SKYRIM.

He'd offered Teldryn to come back to Skyrim with him, and thankfully, he'd said yes. Ariquar thought having some support in the form of a friend would help him figure things out.

He finally made his way to High Hrothgar to speak with the Greybeards, who welcomed him in and gave him small tasks to complete to show his dedication to being Dragonborn. Off to more Nordic ruins, this time with help — Teldryn proved be very useful, watching his back and listening for danger.

The ruins, then led to Riverwood by a note, and to Delphine. The woman he'd seen in Whiterun with Farengar, who seemed unconvinced that he was what he said he was. He'd already proven it to the people of Solstheim, to Miraak, to Mora. He didn't need to waste his time focusing on proving it to one person — he just needed to continue as he was, and let his actions speak for themselves.

At an early point in his life, Ariquar could be described simply: condescending, haughty, and aloof, like any nobleman his age. However, he’s far past that and has become someone willing to listen to others, willing to help, and willing to improve himself. From an anti-social and smug student of magic and swordsmanship to a humble and gentle dragonslayer, Ariquar has found his place in the world and intends to stay just as he is.

Standing at 6’9 and with the aura of a dragon, Ariquar should be an intimidating presence. However, his warm smile and gentle demeanor make him highly approachable to everyone, even children. It’s not uncommon to see him in the streets of Skyrim’s cities, letting children braid flowers into his long dark hair.

His skin tone is a saturated gold like the majority of those direct from Summerset. Complimenting that, his eyes are a deep gold with amber-orange irises. His lashes are prominent, dark and long.

Wearing heavy armor since his days of leaving the Thalmor has helped build muscle on his body. Top-heavy at the shoulders, and his arms have bulked up as well. Now that he has no Altmer nobles to impress, he’s let his dark hair grow out on his body, resulting in his arms and chest having enough to make him look far different from most Altmer.

— His irises are an orange-ish tint while his scelera are yellow.
— He has a little... eyelash thing that I like him drawn with. Like Link from Twilight Princess.
— His hair color has shifted over the yearsfrom black to a vaguely dark brown-ish color. It doesn't matter if he's drawn with black hair, though the brown is preferred.
— On the note of his hair, he usually has a bun + hair draped over his back. His hair is really thick and goes down to the bottom of his shoulderblades, and usually he's got like, a single bit of hair hanging by his face.
— Faceclaim is a mix of Keanu Reeves and Tony Thornburg.