Jar 'Dur Droth

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Name: Jar 'Dur Droth
Age: 150
Race: Vampire/Redguard
Flair: His eyes are an offsetting yellow that give off a faint glow. His skin is cracked, torn, and pale. One could easily see the purple veins weaving through his face. His face is scarred from battle. His hair and beard are a dark brown collective of nappy and unruly hair. His skin is cold to the touch. His face is fierce at default.

Rumors: He has been seen lately coming in and out of the harsh wilderness at seemingly random hours. One might also hear that he is feared by bandits spanning the entire Valenwood region. The wood orcs would tell you that he's done unspeakable things to their strongest warriors. The blacksmiths would tell you he has a steady arm and nice product, though his products feel unsettling to the touch. The local banker would tell you that he's from nobility by the amounts of gold he withdraws.

Background:

Jar 'Dur was once a simple Redguard, tending to his cattle in High Rock. Kings, counts, nor dukes would bother him for taxes and his life was nice. He would often peddle his excess animals in the markets surrounding the city of Daggerfall. One day, however, he awoke to find that his cattle were all gone save for one. The sheep was brutally mutilated and its limbs were strewn across his animal pen. Disturbed by this, he immediately grabbed the closest sharp tool and ran into the wilderness in an attempt to find his animals. After what seemed miles, he found a dead carcass of a sheep, its blood trailing off in one direction. He summoned the courage to continue and discovered a small cave carved into the side of a mountain. The cave went down a fair way and then he arrived into the main chamber. To his horror, he found his poor animals and their thieves. Pale skinned bodies darted toward Jar 'Dur and before he could retaliate, was pinned to the floor. He managed to knock out two of the assailants before his head was bashed into a rock.

When he came to, he felt different. Everything felt cold, dead, and meaningless. His right bicep had been chewed up pretty bad, and was poorly bandaged. One of the pale bodies came to Jar 'Dur and introduced himself as a lowly thrall of Clan Droth. By this time, Jar 'Dur realized what had transpired. He realized that he was now one of them. Blood suckers.

The clan welcomed him in due to his displayed strength during their first encounter. In order to survive, he stuck with the clan and helped out where he could. He honed his abilities as a warrior and discovered his natural affinity with fire, the very force which could vanquish him. With the Droth, he learned how to fight. He learned proper swordplay and blocking techniques. They taught him how to one day exterminate them. For several years, he bettered his physical prowess. He sated his appetite of blood. He praised Molag Bal. He became stronger than he could have ever imagined.

The clan's downfall came swiftly. He decided from the start that he would make them pay with their lives. One day, while most of the clan was out hunting for food, he approached the Bloodfather from the shadows and with no words, put his blade through the vampire's skull. He then feasted on the blood of the clan leader. He felt his power grow and he knew he could not stop there. He set fire traps for the unsuspecting vampires in hopes of killing them efficiently. They soon arrived and walked right into his trap. He watched as every single last one of them crawled toward him, quickly turning to piles of ash. His retribution had been complete.

He then set out into Tamriel, exploring its many vistas and cities. He took no companions for there were none to be had. Careful of his condition, he went from city to city, seeing what each had to offer. He wound up in Auridon, where he first met the Merchant's Commune. He decided that their newly made honest mantra would fit him well. He decided that he would somehow find work with them.

His hunger for blood, however, never died.

(Those are some pauldrons!)