When I decided to make my new Skyrim adventures into a serial #1

I started up Skyrim again. Mostly because I wanted to get those last four pesky achis  on Steam. But while I worked on my old char I fell in love with the game all over again and decided to start anew. I Skyrimised the dark elf I used in both Morrowind and Oblivion, and after an intense modding session I was off into a whole new world, although it was my fourth attempt at a playthrough (fifth if you count the one I started on the 360). But while playing with this new char an idea formed in my head to make a sort of serial, or feuilleton, of my new char's adventures. I thought it would be a fun way for me to keep my writing active while I'm looking for new ideas, and also maybe someone would find it fun to read? Anyway, here we go.

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Hi, my name is Neela and I'm a Dunmer born and raised in Mournhold, the capital of Morrowind. When I was little I was told by my parents that shortly after I was born I was cursed to live a 1000 years, by some unknown wizard. Thus far I'm about 250 years old (I've lost count), but I neither look nor feel any older than 20.

I was very young when I ran away from Mournhold and made my way into Cyrodiil. I found my way to the Imperial City and there I was soon arrested for thieving. Before I knew it I was on a ship, transported to Vvardenfell, and thus back to Morrowind. While I was there I got caught up in all sorts of things and I hardly had time to stop and reflect. Soon I was frequently speaking with Azura and after no time at all I found myself in the middle of the Red Mountain on my way to fight Dagoth Ur and end the Blight. I still don't know how that happened, but for a long while afterwards people kept calling me the Nerevarine.

I got involved with the Morag Tong and found myself fighting a war against the Dark Brotherhood. I was sent to Cheydinhal to find out where they were hiding and finish them off, but I was discovered and once again found myself in a prison cell in the Imperial City. In Cyrodiil no one knew of the Nerevarine and the title that gave me access anywhere in Morrowind held no value there. I was released by one of the Emperor's whims and had to watch him die. I once again got caught up in events I couldn't control and before I knew it I was the Hero of Kvatch, the Savior of Bruma and the Champion of Cyrodiil. All because I was dim-witted enough to enter through a portal to the Oblivion realm of Mehrunes Dagon. Repeatedly. And come out alive. Repeatedly. After saving Cyrodiil I felt like I belonged there more than I did in the politically divided, hostile and complicated province of Morrowind from which I hail, so I decided to stay in Cyrodiil. My loyalties changed and I soon found myself a member of the Dark Brotherhood rather than Morag Tong. That's when I found the door to Sheogorath's realm of the Shivering Isles.

I lived in the city of Mania in the Shivering Isles for 200 years, before I decided that I had had enough of madness and I made my way back to Cyrodiil, up north, past Bruma and towards the border to Skyrim. Maybe some rowdy Nords would be a nice change of scenery? But luck was never really on my side, and just before crossing the border I found myself in an ambush and taken to my execution. It had been 200 years, no one would believe me if I told them I was the Nerevarine or the Champion of Cyrodiil, so I kept my mouth shut and obediently walked towards the execution block. I was cursed to live for another 750 years - either the curse had broken during my time in Sheogorath's realm or something would happen. Something did happen. A huge black dragon something. I managed to escape a destroyed Helgen with Hadvar who showed me the way to Riverwood and from there to Whiterun to get a message to the Jarl. There I made my first friend in Lydia, who followed me on my adventures. She was a great help on my journet up the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar! Though, she did have a tendency of always blocking my way. Lydia, you're adorable but a little dense.

Things spiralled out of control again and after I had enforced a temporary treaty in the civil war I found myself riding on the back of a dragon named Odahviing, on my way to Skuldafn and then onwards to Sovngarde. Sovngarde was amazing and I suddenly wished I was a Nord. It was amazing battling Alduin alongside the Nord heroes of old, and when he was finally defeated and dissolved into nothing I didn't miss one second of it. I was returned to Skyrim and the Throat of the World by the gatekeeper Tsun, and there I was greeted by Paarthurnax and many other dragons as Dovahkiin. Great - another title.

I returned to the Greybeards and then the Blades and was devastated by Delphine asking me to kill Paarthurnax if I wanted to continue being one of them. I decided I'd rather be a Blade than living the Way of the Voice and travelled back to the Throat of the World to kill one of the dragons who'd become my friend. With Paarthurnax dead I returned to the Blades and asked Lydia to become one of us. I did the same with the sellswords Jenassa and Marcurio, both of whom I had run into while finding a way to defeat Alduin.

I bought a house, my first, in Whiterun and then went on to explore the Bards College in Solitude. I thought that would be a nice way to relax after fighting dragons and saving the world (again), but nope. Viarmo immediately had me running off into a Nord ruin fighting draugr to find Olaf's verse. I succeeded in becoming a bard and after helping several of the members of the College recover stolen instruments of value, I decided to take a quick trip back home. There I brawled with Uthgerd and won so she became my new friend and follower when I went on my way to explore the College of Winterhold.