Welcome to a Skryim story! Blame 
(Sorry, I don't normally say ~ y'all ~ but it felt appropriate just now. xD)
So, I made the mistake of installing RaceMenu and spent nearly an hour making this young lady before beginning her story. But allow me to introduce you to Ellu'kha Kael, who has the glory of being bestowed the name I once gave to a Blood Elf Warrior in World of Warcraft many, many years ago.
All images in this post are screenshots that were taken by me, 
Enjoy! 😀
A few years ago, Ellu'kha Kael was arrested and jailed for eating some neighbours she had a disagreement with. It's the Bosmer way, after all. Alas, no-one in Skyrim cared about her culture and beliefs, and soon the guardsmen brought her in front of the Jarl.
Jarl Juniperberry wanted nothing to do with the cannibalistic wood elf and instead asked the local Imperials to deal with her, which they gladly did.
Laughing and chortling, they dragged her to a remote prison built both high above a flowing river and deep inside a jagged cliff-face and threw her into a cell.
"You'll die here, skeever," they sneered, tossing the key into a pile of hay as they strode away.
She almost did.
No-one has come to feed her in weeks. Months. Perhaps even a year. Time no longer holds any meaning. Desperate, she banged and rattled the bars until her bony fists bled. Feeding upon scurrying insects and drinking what little water leaks through a tiny gap in the wall, she prayed, pleaded, and screamed.
"I will help you," a woman's voice caresses her ears and a soft hand touches her shoulder. "What is it you want?"
"I want to escape this cell," Ellu'kha whispers.
Three lockpicks manifest on the table.
"Your life is yours to grasp, if only you can take it."
The woman's apparition vanishes.
Ellu'kha picks the lock on her cell and stumbles into the remains of the old jail. It is silent but for a steady drip, a drip that would drive her insane if she were to stay for much longer, and she hurriedly tries to find an exit, to face the outside world once more, to feel the wind on her face and breathe air that didn't smell of death.
The ghosts of the past, offended by her living presence, try to force her to join their ranks, but they are no match for the desperation that courses through her veins.
Grabbing an old Imperial sword and some hide armour that survived the chaos, she pauses. There is a note on the table, as clear as the day it was written. She skims the fine text and pales.
Kill them or let them drown.
"Those bastards," she breathes. "I'm going to kill them all!"
Embraced by the morning sun, Ellu'kha breathes in the cool Skyrim air. The first clean breath in what feels a lifetime.
She peers across the horizon, all horizons, and familiarises herself with her location.
Those Imperial bastards took her so far from her home... she narrows her eyes. Home. Her home was forfeit when the Cyrodiilic scum dragged her, kicking and screaming, from her city. She would need a new home, that was, if she was to survive her quest. A lone bosmer against the might of the Empire? It was laughable. She would need backup.
Windhelm was to the North. A city that had always despised the Empire and their Thalmor overlords. There might be like-minded souls there...
With a destination and a goal, she eagerly sets forth with an unknown stamina driven by vengeance.
The miles were long and the weather was cold, and yet, though snow drifted around her and chilled her elven flesh, it didn't feel as cold as it had in her cell.
It had taken her two days of fighting the wildlife and making slow progress, but she had at last arrived at Windhelm and her stomach was satiated for the first time in a long time! That sabre cat in particular, though a frightful foe, had been delicious. Not as delicious as Imperial flesh would be, she smirks.
Scurrying down the mountainside, much like the insects that once sustained her scurried down her cell walls, she held her head high and strode proudly through Windhelm's gates.
After a fleeting audience with the Jarl, a Jarl who was quite happy for her to fight Imperials as long as she did so "honourably," she strode into the war room and inspected the map.
Noting down all Imperial camps onto her own map, she rolled her eyes.
Honour.
That was not her way, and she very much doubted that they would approve of her consuming her enemies. She would do what she could. By herself. She would be one with the shadows and pick them off one at a time. They would never know where she was. They wouldn't be able to defend. The Imperials would pay with their blood and she would feast on their hearts.
If she was to become one with the shadows and be as invisible as the winds, she would need divine help. Though she had never seen them with her own eyes, there had been rumour of some sort of magical stones near Riverwood, one of which would bestow the gift of Sneakiness upon whoever prayed at its base.
She would go to them. And she would go to them now.
Unwilling to travel such a large distance by foot, she chatted up the local carriage driver and convinced him to take her to Whiterun, the nearest city to her destination.
After speaking to the Riverwood locals, Ellu'kha triangulated the exact coordinates of the stones she sought and soon set off.
"Bestow upon me your fine gifts," she pleads. "You will never have a worthier candidate!"
The magic that lived inside the stone listened and shot forth a bright blue beam that pierced the heavens and informed the Divines. Young Ellu'kha felt a tingle through her blood and instinctively crouched.
It worked. She was as the night itself. It was almost time; first, she needed some better armour.
The blacksmith in Riverwood helped her craft a finer chestpiece than any she had ever owned, now she needed to complete her set.
Hunting low and high, inside and outside, for every iron source she could find, Ellu'kha soon had copious amounts of iron ore at her disposal. The Riverwood smithy didn't have a smelter, but surely there would be one back at Whiterun.
Kicking up her heels, she ran back to the city, killing all leather-bearing creatures as she went. They would be required also. Together, iron and creature combined would make for a fine creation in which to face the Imperial scum.
She had never felt readier to fight. Those Imps were going down. May their bodies meet the dirt and may their flesh feed her for a hundred nights!
Checking her map, she realised that just down the road from Whiterun was an Imperial-owned fort! She would begin her slaughter there.
Unfortunately, fate thwarted her.
A group of bandits beat her to it. They had dared to take her enemies. Enemies that were supposed to meet her blade!
Growling with an anger hotter than dragon's breath, she fought through the bandits and cleared out the fort.
One Imperial body remained from the bandits' onslaught. It was old, cold, and beginning to smell. Decay was not delicious. That was one Imperial that would not make friends with her stomach lining.
There was only one thing to do.
Driven by rage, she sheathed her sword, flung her bow over her shoulder, and set forth for Solitude where the Imperials were known to reside.
Vengeance, though not hers this night, would belong to her within the week. It was a certainty.
Until next time 😊
Thank you for stopping by!
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