Valdimir Start

I was a mere 53 when the Aldmeri Dominion fell to the Empire and that horrifying creation they called Numidium. I’d already fought countless battles against the Sload and Maormer, I knew what I was capable of, though, at the time I had no idea what more potential I had. My story is a long one; spanning nearly all the way to the beginning of the second era. Allow me to properly introduce myself, my name is Valdimir, and tonight I shall be your host, your weaver of tale, and of course, your provider of ale. So please, relax while I begin.

My story begins with that of another, that of a woman who is very famous in some circles, and considered taboo in others. Lamae Bal, the Blood Matron. For those of you who don’t know her story, Lamae Bal was an Arkay priestess who found herself… Defiled by Molag Bal. After Bal had his fun he left her for dead. However, she healed from her wounds quite quickly, and startled the caravan she was riding with. Due to this they believed her to be a witch and immediately tried to burn her at the stake. However as they lit the pyre, Lamae awoke and decimated the wanderers. Killing the women and children and raping the men as brutally as Molag Bal had done to her. Eventually she came back to herself, mortified by what she had done, she prayed to the one god she knew could help, Arkay, though, Arkay did not answer. You can imagine the sense of betrayal she felt was quite immense, as such, she began to turn everyone against everyone, much like the vampires of Cyrodiil, who only sought out personal gain, and would take the necessary risks to achieve such.  Now, after Lamae had settled into her new life of vampirism, she began her own cult. This cult would eventually insinuate a ritual known simply as “The Rite of the Scion” in that those who wished to become more powerful disciples of Lamae would experience her past, as well as profane religious symbols of both Arkay and Molag Bal, for those who abandoned Lamae. The disciple would then be submerged underwater, and have their blood completely removed and replaced by Lamae’s herself, thereby making them a full-fledged Noxiphilic Sanguivorian vampire. Now of course, you may be asking yourself, “well what’s that got to do with our esteemed host, Valdimir?” Well my wonderful guests, you yourselves are looking at a bonafide member of the Lamae bloodline.

Soon after my first battle with the Maormer, I was gravely wounded. Someone of the Lamae bloodline must’ve taken pity on me, as I was reborn as a vampire. Though it would be many more years until I was considered a pureblood, I knew exactly how to prove my worth. I made sure that I never left the battlefield, I thrived there. I could kill and feed to my heart’s content as a foot soldier. Eventually however, I started to climb the ranks of the war effort and as such, started to see less and less front line combat. So I had to start being sly about my feeding. I’d take a night-watch shift when we were stationed, sneak to an enemy camp and feed on a sentry or two, then return within the hour. My bloodlust was sated, one of my men got a good night’s rest, and I struck terror into the heart of the enemy. This plan of action was especially useful when the forces of Tiber Septim finally invaded our lands.
 I was only nineteen when the Tiber Wars began, I was a captain in the Aldmeri forces, tasked with defending our nation from Septim, and driving him back, no matter the cost. I stuck with my usual plan of feasting on sentries every few nights. It truly drives an army mad when their soldiers die from mysterious causes, with mysterious symptoms, and no possible suspect to be found. However, I failed my country in that I let Septim win. I don’t know how I could’ve possibly competed with against such an unfair advantage as Numidium, however, after my staunch defeat, my country thought me dead, and it was preferential to keep it that way. As much as I hate to abandon my people. It was around this time that I finally got to begin my transcendence. I was, for all intents and purposes, killed on that battlefield. I found myself in Coldharbour with Lamae’s priests. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I was frightened of course, but excited; for now I’d have the power to save any, and everything I’d choose to. I couldn’t quite recall the visions of Lamae’s history that I was supposed to have undertaken, nor the desecration of the symbols of Arkay and Bal. However I can vividly remember the pain of all the blood being drained from your body, only to have It be replaced by someone else’s. Trust me, my esteemed guests, this is a pain you will never expect to be worth suffering, and I of course questioned if the potential power I was promised was truly worth the enduring of this. But I assure you, in hindsight, I made the correct decision. I was now a full fledged member of the Lamae coven.

After Lamae blessed me with her gift, I returned to Summerset Isle a changed man. I no longer had a pale appearance; everything about me gave off a red aura. My eyes, my complexion, my skin tone, even the powers I had adopted from my new blood, all of it was evil. However I wasn’t going to let it take control of me, understand? I’ve seen how power corrupts, and I knew exactly how to circumvent this. I was only going to use my powers to help myself and those closest to me. Or so I thought.

A century or so later, in the third era, came “The War of the Isle.” For those of you who don’t know, this war was between Antiochus Septim, and king Orgnum of Pyandonea, the king of the home of the Maormer. Apparently today’s historians believe there was some kind of a plot spawned by Queen Potema or something. I don’t particularly care to dabble in politics. I only took up war due to my thirst for blood and my love of combat. I fought hard alongside the forces of Antiochus, though being careful to never let either side know who I was. What I said earlier about the mysterious assassin works both ways, it can be quite a morale boost to the faction that’s not being decimated. We managed to fend off the Maormer for a while, and even won the war due to a rather large storm helping us out. Some credit the Psijic Order for this, while I’d say otherwise. I don’t believe we were meant to lose that war, maybe it was Lamae looking out for me, hearing my plea for a new life off this isle. Regardless as to who it was that won our fight for us, all that matters is that we did. As such I sought a new life off the Isle, for there was far  too much conflict for me here. I wanted to settle down, perhaps develop more… Subtle methods, and what better place to do that than Skyrim, the birthplace of the Lamae bloodline?