Name: Argoham Linclon
Race: Agronian
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Style: Stealth focusing on archery, with an emphasis on thievery. He uses a small amount of illusion magic to help conceal and distract. He wears leather and scale to strength his natural scale. He is practiced in the alchemical arts in order to inflict his opponents with the deadliest toxins.
Psychology Profile: Chaotic good. Born and raised in the swamps, he has an overall good heart and he’ll do what it takes help the little guys. He has no respect for law, authority or governing powers. I real man lives and dies by the strength of his own hands and doesn’t need a committee to tell him what he can and cannot do. He defends the borders of the Black Marsh because it’s the right thing to do, not because he was ordered too. His family means everything to him.
Background: Argoham grew up in one of the many villages of the Argonian culture. He lived, he loved and he learned the ways of his people. As a child, he never longed for adventure, just the quiet life of raising his own hatchlings. Living on the Northern borders made that a hard life to imagine. By the age of 12, Argoham was learning the trade in guerilla warfare to protect the borders from the Dunmer slavers. He learned the art of stealth and assassination, but never relished in the killing, only the thought that for every Dunmer that stopped breathing, another Argonian child would grow to an old age. At 18, he met his wife and started the family he always wanted. Over the following years, his family grew, however he became more and more disillusioned by the will of the elders. They increasingly wanted to push into Morrowind to attack the Dunmer and their families, under the reasoning of protecting the young. To Argoham it felt like revenge and he wanted nothing to do with it. To protect the borders is honorable work for good folk, but to attack means you are now no different than the enemy. This lead to him and his families isolation from the tribes. They lived their lives on their own, with Argoham providing for his family and still protecting the borders. On his 32nd birthday, he was returning home from a hunt when he discovered his home infested with Dunmer and Nord slavers. With his family in chains, he flew into a rage and attacked the nearest enemies. To this day, he doesn’t know what hit him or how he survived. When he awoke, his family was gone, his home destroyed, everything he knew was gone. Since that day he has been searching for his missing family with only a blurred memory of a banner waving in the wind. The insignia is burned into his mind forever. The sign of the firestorm, the raging world killer. Alduin. The journey has taken him through Morrowind, and Cryodiil, and now finally to Skyrim, where his family is waiting his return.
