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Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass.
You’re a Greenspeaker for your village, husband to a lovely adventurous merchant, and a father of five wonderful children.
Everything in life is lovely, the distant war has little effect on your village and family. Your town has been spared an attack by the nearby Drublog tribe. To make things even better, trade has been prosperous.
Until suddenly, things are no longer wonderful-not even good.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass.
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five.
Fire consumes your village, the houses having been arduous to create and the neighbors lost leave an ache in your chest. You and your sons get the other villagers out with few succumbing to the flames, but your wife and daughters stay back to fight. You think that things will be the same as always; some people will get lost but overall the village will heal stronger than before.
However, you hear your wife scream out. You can’t hear what is being said but you hear your eldest daughter scream back and you know it’s bad. Mindra never yells at her mother. Blood rushes in your ears and you faintly hear the name of your youngest being yelled out by your wife while you four run through the burning village to your remaining family.
Your blood turns to ice when you’re told your youngest child got taken in the chaos and there was no sign of her.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and dedicated father of five.
You and your family search for your missing kin for nearly a month, leaving no stone unturned in your frantic search for a young woman with a heart of gold and fire in her veins. On the second day you had summoned your familiar, Elbir. The bear becomes the shining beacon of hope for your family, his trained nose following the scent; the scent of the woman who was once a girl who rode on his back.
As Elbir led, you followed and soon you ended up in the Imperial city. Things were much different from the last time you had been in the famous city- the streets bare and buildings crumbling. Oh and the deadric creatures roaming the streets alongside people in black robes; cultists.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five
You are reunited for only a moment, your youngest child locked in a cage with eyes dim like an ember. Pleas leave her cracked lips, begging you and your family to leave her to her fate. Your wife refuses and attempts to unlock her cage but only gets one tumbler locked into position before your presence is noticed.
Several cultists apprehend you, your wife, and your older children. You are all led to the nave of the church while your youngest is dragged up to the altar. Little to no light fills the church until suddenly all the candles along the altar are lit. Instead of a typical Aedra symbol banner at the front, you see the symbol of a wicked deadric prince.
The god of domination, slavery, vampirism and corruption: Molag Bal.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and grieving father of five (you refuse to belive what you saw)
You watch an Altmer start a ritual at the altar, corrupted magicka at his fingers and a dagger in his palm. You are forced to kneel and watch as the mer continues the spell and drives the dagger into your child’s body, right in the center of her torso. A scream tears through your throat but you fail to recognize your voice. The sounds you and your family make is borderline inhumane as you watch the blood spray and spill, eyes unable to look away from the spasming body of your kin.
You watch her as she screams in agony, her mind too stubborn to leave her unconscious, and you watch her struggle feebly. Her strength leaves her and the scum above her takes that as his cue to pull her soul from her body. The blood-curdling screams that escape your child will echo in your mind for years, but in the moment you can only try to scream louder; beg and plea that your child is spared, however late you already are.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of…four.
You are forced to watch as your child’s body turns to dust upon the altar, the mer who took your baby no longer in the church as he portaled himself away the moment the soul was stolen.
Finally, after what feels like eons, you are released from the bruising grip of the grinning cultists. You do the one thing you can manage at the moment of freedom; pull your remaining family close to you as you choke on air and tears. Your two youngest sons, once part of a set of triplets, now twins, cling to your clothes as their sobs turn into mournful screams. The eldest two cling just as tight, their sobs wracking their bodies as they try to comfort the youngest two.
Your wife clings to all four of your children, her face bare of any tears, but you know with one glance at her eyes that she is in shock. Her mind had yet to process what had happened and part of you is glad that she doesn’t have to suffer this heartbreak for a moment or two. Your chest aches as if your soul itself was now broken, pieces now missing at the death of your youngest daughter.
You watch out of the corner of your eye as your middle son Thoron subtly lets a small vial with a coating of spark jelly and a fire rune fall to the ground and under one of the many benches in the chapel.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and grieving father of four.
Your family is forced out of the city not even an hour after your child’s death. The moment you’re all over the bridge out of the city, you collapse in a boneless pile of limbs, each of you desperate to hold onto the rest of the family. When you have collected yourselves enough to move forward, you plan the quickest way out of Cyrodil and start going, running for as long as your legs are able. You all are aware that the moment that Sillas activates Thoron’s trap you’ll have targets on your backs.
That night, in an improvised tent, you watch your wife fall apart as the events of the day finally sink in.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of four.
You get back to Malabal Tor several days faster than when you left, spirits worsening seeing the state of the village. The Treethane had started the process of rebuilding, but she wasn’t as well trained as you were. Everyone looked to your family as you came back home, eyes shining with hints of hope until they see the lack of Wylarin. The youngest Rosegrass was charismatic enough to have befriended the whole village long ago, so the loss of her presence was surely going to damage the already broken morale.
You reluctantly shoulder off your pack and go to plan things out with the Treethane, pushing your grief to the side for the sake of the village. After nearly a month, the village was fully rebuilt and you were allowed to sit down and think about your spiraling emotions. Part of you wants to just lay down and ignore the world but the other part of you wants revenge. You want to hunt down anyone with ties to the cult that took your baby and make them suffer.
When you tell your wife and children, they disagree with your choice of plan, but they know that you need to do something with those poisonous emotions so by the following morning you have a pack stuffed with anything you could need.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, father of four, and caravan guard.
You decided early on to work with a caravan of traders, your knowledge of banking and your skills with magic making you valuable to the group who hired you. Your payment is meager but you hear many rumors during your time working with the caravan.
It was nearing on your seventh month traveling with them around Valenwood and Elsweyr when you heard the rumors of a talented recruit of the Dominon army who had washed ashore with no memory and no soul. The rumors described the amnesiac recruit in jarring details; a short Bosmer woman who was no older than thirty, coppery golden skin covered in freckles and a climbing briar tattoo across her upper body, bright blue eyes and brilliant red hair that was frizzy no matter the climate.
The rumors describe your dead daughter. Though based on the rumors, it turns out she lost her soul but managed to escape the prison the sacrifices were sent.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, father of four (five, but it’s hard to put hope in rumors), and caravan guard.
You convince the caravan leader to head to Khenarthi’s roost, that being the last place you heard your daughter was at. All the while, when you came across Worm Cultists, you were sure to end their lives. Now it wasn’t necessarily out of vengeance, but in order to save other parents from experiencing the loss your family had.
You finally get to Khenarthi’s roost and find a slue of people who sing your daughter’s praise, though your daughter goes by a new name due to forgetting her own; Sleeping Sun. You see the obvious signs of old battles having been fought all across the island. By the time you get to Mistral, your heart is full of pride and heartbreak. You’re beyond proud of your baby but you are also hurt by the fact that she is going about the world without any memory of who she is and who is waiting home for her.
You meet up with a Khajiit named Razum-Dar who, once positive you are who you claim you are, tells you about how Wylarin was found washed on the shore of the beach, looking half dead. He tells you how she quickly started working for the army and was what got the Maomer out of the island. It was during that conversation that you also learned the Silvenar had been killed after meeting your child.
In your parting words, Raz (as he asked you to call him) told you that he had sent Wylarin to Vulkel Guard just a few days before you got there.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five.
You follow your daughter’s footsteps across the beautiful island of Auridon, hearing and seeing first hand accounts of your child’s achievements. People of all background talk of your child, their eyes full of a hope that only heroes can inspire. Warmth fills your heart, knowing that you, a simple Greenspeaker of Valenwood, raised an amazing person. All the while, you hunt down rumors of Worm cultists and hunt the people down, refusing to let the monsters ruin the peace and hope your child worked to make.
Before you can follow your child back to the home province, you meet up with Raz and, to your surprise, Queen Ayrenn Aldmeri. Raz makes quick introductions between you two, and soon you find yourself sipping some green-pact friendly drinks with the leader of your alliance.
Her majesty tells you of your daughter’s deeds for the dominion, of how she thinks of your child as a friend and trusted confidant despite barely knowing her. She tells you how she has made Wylarin a member of her spy network, recgonizing her talent for subterfuge and her uncanny knack for getting into places most cannot.
You tell Ayrenn stories of your daughter’s childhood, tales of how the three babies of the family would get into so much mischief and of the heart attacks Wylarin herself caused you many a time. You two laugh and bond and for one of the first times, you think that the Dominion will be strong.
You are pointed to Grahtwood, you missed your daughter by two days.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five.
You continue your journey to find your daughter, following her movements and always just barely missing her. You meet the king of Valenwood, Camoran, and he gushes about how brave your daughter is. You hear many more stories about her accomplishments and your pride grows.
You meet more members of Ayrenn’s order of spys and guards and you hear about the treacherous prince who tried to take power for himself but was stopped by your darling daughter. The amount of danger that gets thrown at your child gives you your first grey hair at the ripe age of one hundred and twelve.
You continue to hunt down the worms, not a single stone unturned in your hunt.
By the time you make it to the gate that leads to Greenshade, you know you’ve missed your daughter by a week.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass.
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five.
You journey through Greenshade, keeping pace with your daughter and being behind her by only a few hours on good days. You follow her as she saves even more people and befriends even more wondrous people. You hear that she helped find the new Wilderqueen and you are not at all surprised.
You take a rest at Marbruk the same time that Ayrenn is visiting and she tells you about her experience at the Orrery in Grahtwood, about how she watched your daughter fight firsthand. There is wonder in the Queen’s eyes and your chest feels warm and fluttery from all the pride.
You learn that your daughter is heading for Malabal Tor, your family’s home for generations. However, the queen does let you know that your child has yet to remember anything about her family and life, only knowing very basic things like her age, race, and how to fight.
Part of you prays that Wylarin will stay away from Tanglehaven, for you know it will break your family’s heart to see the husk that was once your youngest.
You and the Queen leave the town at the same time, a day behind your daughter.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass.
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five.
You somehow end up being ahead of your daughter as she cautiously makes her way through the home she once galavanted through without a care. Your heart breaks as you watch her from afar, her once vibrant personality now diluted into a mere sample of who she once was. You watch in person as she looses more of herself each day, her humanity slipping from her the more she fights. Her eyes are no longer the color of the summer sky, but instead the color of a unlit skyshard, the blue barely there in a sea of white and silver.
She is summoned away from Malabal Tor a few weeks into her journey there, and you’re left to wait to see what will come out of the summoning. From what you gathered later around the fire with her colleagues, she was needed by both the Mages Guild and the Fighters Guild. From what they know, Wylarin had been going off on her own at night to wayshrines. She would answer some of Raz’s questions but the answers he got were very cryptic.
Warning bells went off in your head, worried for whatever your daughter was taking part in. Part of you trusted she would be safe, but the rumors of the old emperor’s companions preparing to fight a god made it hard to not worry.
You and the people who traveled with your daughter made it to Silvenar and helped the people to the best of your abilities while incoming traders told you more stories and rumors of the Vestige- what the general population of Tamriel was calling your child.
One day, the air shifted and you knew deep in your gut that something tremendous had occurred.
Your youngest child defeated Molag Bal.
Tales of missing people returning suddenly started forming overnight, as if a whole slew of captured prisoners got released en mass. However, your giddyness was short lived when the next day hardly anyone remembered who the Vestige was. No one sang your daughter’s praises anymore and when she did eventually come back to Silvenar to attend the wedding of the new Greenlady and Silvenar, only the royals and the two getting wed knew who she was.
Almost every friend your child made had forgotten her overnight.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass.
Greenspeaker, husband, and father to five.
You followed your daughter across the continent for another year, watching as she slowly reclaimed pieces of herself she had lost along the way. Each time you caught a glimpse of her she looked more and more full of life and joy, her eyes sparkling and smile blinding all those who she met. She saved countless towns and villages, becoming a scourge to all evil in a way most armies could only dream. You watched her blossom like a beautiful and rare flower.
You also watched as she was brutally transformed into a beast of the hunt, a werewolf who desperately wanted to shirk herself of the fur and claws. You knew relasitically that she would never go to the same afterlife as you if she remained cursed, but you saw how she adapted and learned. She became even fiercer than a sench tiger, so when she failed to control the beast inside, you went off and hunted game for her to feast on until she felt it was safe for herself to go back to society.
You kept your distance for a few more months before finally conceding that it was time for you to go home. Your daughter was stronger than ever and wiser to boot- she didn’t need a ghost of a past she didn’t know following her. Once you made it to Daggerfall, you took the first ship to Valenwood.
You last saw your daughter a month before her birthday.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and proud father of five.
You arrive home a month later to a overjoyed village. Your journey had been the longest your village had been without a Greenspeaker since your grandfather was born. Your wife and children greeted you with such hope in their hearts and you were relieved you had nothing but good news for them. Your youngest child was healthy, happy, and thriving. She had her soul back and she saved hundreds of other soulless the day she defeated Molag Bal- one could say she saved the whole world as well.
Later that night, away from the prying ears of the village, you told your family stories of your daughter’s exploits, of the people she (and you) met. You told them everything they wanted to hear and more as you let your pride shine. You also told them stories from your own travels, the people you made friends with and things you learned from the other cultures of Tamriel.
That night you fell asleep in bed with your wife for the first time in almost two years.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Greenspeaker, husband, and father of five.
You still occasionally go out to hunt the remains of the Worm cult, but you don’t go alone. It turns out your eldest daughter and youngest son have been going off hunting for them as well. You three always return after a week, tired but satisfied.
You all live in comfort knowing your daughter has chased away the darkness of the world, so when the village is attacked again by the Drublog and werewolves, you are all left reeling in the shock. You know that your daughter wouldn’t have been able to wipe out an entire group of people, but the shock is still there.
In the panic of the attack, your entire family fails to pay any attention to the sudden arrival of three adventurers, let alone that one of them was your very own kin. It wasn’t until the Treeethane came to you, your family huddled around your wife who had past memories triggered by the attack, telling you that Wylarin was part of the three that came to save the village.
You didn’t even get a word in before your children ran off to go observe your youngest, most likely going to give her a good scare but they’d all be fine. You stayed by your wife’s side as she worked through the throws of memories from the terrible day long ago. Soon, her eyes turned less feverish and glazed and the two of you waited for your children, ALL of your children, to come home.
Imagine you are Argorn Rosegrass
Dedicated Greenspeaker, loving husband, and proud father of five.
You watch as your children come racing home, the other villagers barely diving out of the way as the four came speeding home, Wylarin being dragged by her triplets. The two other people that the Treethane said came with your daughter tag along behind the group of your excited children. You glance at them and when you see they’re looking at you, you offer them a wink before facing his children again.
Thoron and Sillas release their sister, the redhead taking a moment to gather herself before meeting eyes with you and your wife. For a moment you fear she doesn’t remember you but you watch the moment recognition fills her eyes. Her eyes go glassy and suddenly you find both you and your wife having solid, oh so blessingly solid, weight slam into you. You cling to your precious child, a wide grin taking up residence on your face as tears slip down your cheeks. Your heart feels so full that you briefly worry it may burst.
Your wife and daughter let out matching sobs, tears soaking through your shirts and dribbling down your neck but none of you care. Wylarin babbles words so fast you can only make out a few words but you hear the words “mama” and “papa” and you feel your knees weaken. Your wife seems to catch on as she always does, the clever woman, and lowers all three of you to the ground so you’re kneeling.
You never want to let go, but eventually you have to when the rocks digging into your shins gets to be unignorable. You pull away but keep a hand on your daughter’s shoulder, her hand coming up to hold onto yours as if it was a lifeline, her lips forming a wobbly smile as tears continue to fall down her freckled cheeks.
Wylarin was home at last, and you didn’t have to chase after her any longer.