High Rock

While he would be considered a fairly light skinned resident of Hammerfell, or perhaps a particularly suntanned Imperial from the southern regions, his caramel coloring causes Allen to stick out like a sore thumb in provinces such as Skyrim, or his home in HighRock. He has mannish features, though his Breton heritage allows him to retain a youthful appearance. Allen sports a trim and athletic physique, with dark eyes and shoulder length, unkempt black hair he keeps tied in the back. While his lips are a bit fuller, and his physique is sturdier than the average Breton, save his light chocolate skin, he looks very much akin to them. Some consider him quite handsome, though others find him unnerving by his mixed heritage.

Allen's personality, while often pragmatic and with a calm and collected demeanor, stems from a very rebellious and mischievous upbringing. He isn't afraid to question authority, or to undermine it if he genuinely sees it as the best course of action. He knows just how pivotal a chain of command is, and would only do so under extreme circumstances, something that he has become more cautious with in recent years due to the need to keep contracts.

He shares the belief that his fellow Bretons do, that with hard work and a little luck, one can aspire to greatness. He enjoys learning, and has a curiosity that many thought would be the death of him in High Rock. He enjoys learning other cultures, and making himself a melting pot of skills and ideas, simply because he feels that such diversity defines him. Being a bastard in a society of such tightly wrought places in society, he felt more fluid and freer in many ways than his family members. He began to use his half parentage as a means of strength, rather than a weakness to be exploited, and took pride at being unique among them.

While he relies on trustworthy tactics and equipment, he cannot help but feel a tug of wonder when it comes to dangerous concoctions or magic artifacts. Sometimes he catches himself doing very daring things, knowing that improvisation is key to surviving. Luckily, he improvises quite good he's discovered. Allen makes fast friends, and isn't above a good drink in a tavern or banter during a job or engagement. In fact, he quite enjoys one liners and having the upper hand in both verbal and martial duels. However, to many common folk, he seems married to his various jobs and sometimes unapproachable. He theorizes that's mainly because he cannot seem to stop his pursuit of his many interests, which leaves many others wondering what on Nirn could keep him busy so often.

Allen never knew his mother, only being in her care for a few short months before his father left for High Rock. He had been told that due to his mother's low station in life, it was best if he was taken back to High Rock and live among the Nobility. His father was William Blackmoore of Daggerfall, one of the minor Lords within the Kingdom. He sired 5 sons, all true heirs save the third child. William had extensive dealings of trade in the city of Skaven, and one day brought back a babe, who grew to truly look very much like his father, William.

Because of his darker skin and slightly fuller facial structure, many did not take Allen seriously despite his Breton name and features. He was often poked fun of as a child, at least by other Highborn. He took to a life of mischief, discovering he had quite the ability and enjoyment of climbing. The young Allen would often be discovered in someone's home upon the second story window, or perhaps on their roof to simply bask in the sun or watch the stars at night. He would often take food from the table at his house before his more esteemed family members, which in turn led to him becoming quite the food thief in the city (which caused his father two counts of embarrassment, and angry rants at Allen that he would never forget.)

His father did not mistreat him, per say. Of course, his father would give him a hard look if he ever requested the privileges of his brothers. For instance, they were purchased new swords and horses, and thrown extravagant parties for graduations and birthdays. Allen would be given hand-me-downs, and would be lucky to receive more than a few gifts, like a private affair. His father often told him he was lucky to be treated as one of his own, claiming that as a bastard, this was simply the way things were. That he loved him regardless, deep down.

Lord Blackmoor knew that with such mixed blood, to make Allen a representative of the household would simply not do. However, William deemed that Allen would be a Captain of the Guard and protector of his more true born brothers, and perhaps would be accepted into a Knightly Order when he came of age, so as to bring more esteem to the family. So the Lord had Allen trained in swordplay, and tested in magic when he was very young. Thankfully, Allen's Breton heritage did not betray him here, for his magic potential was not lacking.

For what it was worth, Allen enjoyed learning these skills. His training was given by the best Armsmen in the guard, when it came to martial matters. He was taught to read and write, but he was not encouraged to become more learned any further. Allen did that on his own volition, reading subjects such as history, and alchemy (though he never did practice much), and treatises on swordplay and magic use. He was inducted into the Mages Guild at the age of 16, and it was there he met his first love. A Breton woman by the name of Nalia. Things seemed to be looking up for Allen, but the Divines had different plans that Allen slowly came to realize.

By age 18, he was inducted into the guard as its new Captain, the previous one now taking a well deserved retirement. Needless to say, Allen had less free time on his hands, re-configuring the guardsmen to what he deemed necessary, learning the schedules and making a relationship with his quartermaster, sergeants, etc. He was also required with accompanying his brothers and father on important meetings. Still, he did his best to find time to read, and study in the mages guildhall. He excelled in the two schools that helped enhance his swordplay, alteration and enchantment. He was encouraged to learn of such by his father as well, one of the few things they could agree on. It would aid in his guardsmen duties.

Perhaps it was an overwhelming sense of wanderlust that seemed to take him, or perhaps it was his newfound position weighing on him. He could only learn so much of the wider world through books, he knew. Perhaps it was because his new love, his new capabilities, were too good for himself in his eyes. He was not used to such a feeling, nor did he feel he deserved it. The Nine did give more concrete evidence it was nearing the end of one of his cycles in life, with the loss of two of his brothers over a three year period.

He was only 16 when his closest and older brother Beric disappeared. One day, he had simply vanished without a trace. This was something that hit Allen like a mace. He had been Allen's closest friend, and sometimes even a mentor. They'd both had a rebellious streak growing up, something that Allen had not (nor would he) grown out of. Lord Blackmoore looked high and low throughout the city, but they never found traces of Beric. Allen was glad his father went to such lengths to find his older brother, but deep down, he wondered if the Lord would have done the same for him...

It was nearing his 19th birthday when the news reached him that his oldest brother had been assassinated. It came as a shock to many, for he had been an upstanding citizen and seemingly had no rivals, nor offended anyone. It was not until later that love notes with Jezebel Falthoren of the Daggerfall Falthoren Merchant Company were discovered. Her suitor was Donovan Kirkwall, a high ranking Knight in the Ironbrothers. The death of his oldest brother hit him hard, as it did his father. Unfortunately, his father began to blame Allen, citing that it was Allen's duty to keep tabs on his family, to protect them. It was his only duty, and he had failed. Father and son had such a heated argument that the common folk could hear it on the street passing by. It was later that night that Allen made a rash decision. He grabbed a small fortune of his father's money, only as much so it wouldn't be missed but just enough to give him some security, and he fled. He left the city, unable to go against his yearnings to break free any longer. He did not even tell Nalia, for fear of her rejection, for he would have asked her to go with him. Even to this day, he regrets that, and later swore to himself that he would never run from a loved one again.

He arrived in Hammerfell, hiring himself out as a guard for a caravan traveling through Bangkorai. He made it to the city of Skaven within the month. He had never been, and while deep within his heart he hoped he would find his mother, he knew he was here because it was the only convenient place he could end up at the moment. Still, he made the best of it. He sold his sword whenever he could, stealing food when in need but trying to keep his criminal activities to a minimum. Even a few months in the city, he realized the politics of Hammerfell was very abrupt and dangerous. The Crowns and The Forebears were often at odds with one another, though the Crowns seemed to fancy themselves as the rulers of Skaven.

He would remain in Skaven for a year, lending himself out as an extra sword for scouts or caravan guard duty, learning just how the warriors of Hammerfell fought. He went into mock combat with them once or twice, finding their dueling tactics fierce and tough to beat, and very unorthodox. While he wasn't helpless against them, after sparring, and then needing to fight Redguard raiders twice over the course of a year, he understood why they were referred to as the most feared warriors on Tamriel. These were his mother's people, and he felt somewhat more whole with having lived so very close to them.

A year had gone by, and the sun was just fading into the night as Allen made his way back from the marketplace. It seemed the fate decided he'd been walking in the wrong alleyway, for he was jumped by two Redguards. Without thought to the consequences, he unleashed his magic to defend himself (as well as his sword of course) and ran through one of the men, and the other ran.

To his growing horror, he realized just who he had killed. Kneeling down, he found the black and crimson sash of the Duskmoons, a group of Highwaymen and bandits that had made a name for themselves as ruthless cutthroats. Upon further inspection, he realized this man was Frajid, the cousin of the Duskmoon's leader, Jara. The one that got away would tell him who killed his cousin, and worse yet, that Allen was a mage.

He'd seen a few Duskmoon's on the streets, of course. That, and any rogue worth their salt knew to stay away or join them, at least in this section of the city. Allen also had an unfortunate altercation with them at one point, catching one of them cheating at a game in one of the local taverns he had been playing at. It led to Allen getting into a brawl with them, only for the fight to be halted by the appearance of their leader Jara, a man not known for his mercy, but was fair in this instance. He let Allen walk with only a minor beating. He would be far more creative with a punishment this time.

Needless to say, Allen went into hiding, taking no more contracts and keeping to himself. He felt the roads would be watched heavily by Duskmoon scouts, so he decided to lay low. The sun would rise and fall, and he would do his best to go near none of his usual haunts, which meant he decided to go to the one place that he had never been. Essentially, it was where the Crowns resided, the section of the city with the upper class. Towering spires, circular and oval in nature surrounded him like vast trees. Palaces stood between them, like soaring tidal waves of incredible architecture. He couldn't help himself, and began exploring, looking for good places to steal a trinket or two. The Crowns were not wanting, they would not miss a few jewels would they? He staked out the buildings, sleeping at the top of one of the spires. He could remain unseen if he wished, and so far his little project in the High Class area of Skaven was keeping his throat from being slit by the Duskmoons, who were surely looking for him now.

One night, he lay trying to sleep atop one of the spires, merely gazing at the moon and wondering what Nalia was doing. If she was looking at the same moon...
He shook the notion out of his head, and not moments after he had taken himself out of his reverie did he see a curious figure moving through the shadows.
Not below, for even he couldn't see the street well from so high up. But across. Upon one of the other spires, a lithe figure climbed expertly. As he made his way into the moonlight, Allen could see a wicked Knife clenched in the man's teeth.

Allen acted on impulse, making his way down his own spire and upon the closest parapet, his footfalls silent as he traversed the architecture to chase this man who must have had ill intent. He was halfway up the spire in pursuit when he heard a distant cry, and the young Spellsword thief pushed himself to greater speed. Moments later, he vaulted through the oddly shaped window into the chambers of a beautiful Crown woman, who was fighting for her life against this black clad assassin.

She was trained well, having held her own with her curved blade for close to a minute. But any misstep and the Knife wielder would have her. Allen leaped, and sliced the man on the back, causing him to stagger forward, right into the woman's blade. It erupted out of his back, and he slumped forward.

Allen asked if she was harmed, and she shook her head, unable to decipher if Allen was an enemy or not. He explained he was...in trouble in other parts of the city and thought to remain here, to stay hidden. He had seen this man climbing up, and went to investigate. She believed him, introducing herself as Savranah Mirel, and offered one of her necklaces in thanks for his good timing and helping hand. He was going to deny it, because in good faith he was probably going to steal what she was going to give him just then anyway. But...he was a bit enthralled by how pretty she was, and he let her go and get it without saying a word. As she went to fetch it, he slipped the Duskmoon sash onto the dead man's belt, to give the Duskmoons something to worry about now.

When she presented him with the necklace, they both shared a smile, and he graciously accepted. "On one condition," he told her.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Tell whoever asks, it was stolen." he said with a grin and a wink. She was confused, but nodded. He disappeared out the window, with a new jewel and perhaps a reputation.

Naturally, he couldn't stay here, and traveled to Helgathe. It reminded him of the coastal cities of High Rock somewhat, and he stayed there for a time. Two months, he reckoned.
The first two weeks in, he began wearing the jewel the High born had given him. He had thought to sell it, but there was a sense of honor, and indeed haughty arrogance, that had him keep it to wear.
His arrogance, for once, rewarded him. He feared hunters going after him, but instead he received a small contract from what he later to learn was the thieves guild. Despite his thieving and roguish behavior in his younger years, he never did seek the Guild, nor was he sought after. It seemed the reputation of his last altercation had caught up with him.

Once he had stolen a mere trinket from one of the more fortified towers overlooking the city, he began to take other jobs and he gained a few contacts, though when he found an opportunity to earn a living another way, he took it. Not because thieving wasn't exciting, but he found he wanted a blade in his hands again.
He set up as a crewman and hired sword for the ship called the SilverSaber. It was a warship now used for hauling cargo up and down Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. He only felt it was going to be a temporary job, perhaps for a few months. Allen spent three years in the crew, working his way up from deckhand to Quartermaster. He fought in four engagements, using his magic and sword skills to great effect. One particular instance where he was grievously sick in, and he managed to kill one Imperial who went bellow decks to the crews quarters by casting feather on his sword, his weakened body able to spin his blade nearly as deftly as he would normally.

It was nearing his fourth year when they took a special job to haul cargo to Elsweyr. Unfortunately, the ship was badly damaged in a storm and could not make it to its destination. Most of the crew drowned, but a few managed landfall on the shores of Elsweyr. It was a strange land, hot and humid with lowlands surrounded by lone hills of jungle. He was one of the few to live, and couldn't find more than a few corpses having washed ashore. He had kept a hand on his sword, but it was badly soaked and he set it in the sun for a long while to make sure it had as little rust as possible.

He made his way into the countryside and to Torval, where he was cared for by a Khajiit named S’Zin and his three children. During his state of heat exhaustion and starvation, he heard many strange rumors around town that confirmed the rumors he had heard at sea. Many Khajiit were disappearing into the wilderness for no true reason. He found himself in the position to find out why. Once he was healthy, he felt compelled to offer his help. On his honor, and with a few other Khajiit to aid him, they went out in search of recent disappearances.

One week out in their venture, they found Khajiit and Man tracks near one of the jungle hills further east, inland. They found an entrance under the waterfall of vines, making their way in, until they found themselves in a surprisingly dank cavern.

Allen and the Khajiit with him explored the lower depths of the hillside cavern, finding small sleeping areas and bags of supposedly stolen goods, but no people. That is, until they made it three corridors deep, and found the cavern they were in sloping upwards. It led to an upper landing that overlooked the inner canyon of a large cavern. At the center of it was nearly a dozen bound Khajiit, and swordsmen discussing heatedly on how to deal with the intruders that had tripped their traps.

Many of them ran outwards to find those who dare intruded on what was transpiring here. S’Zin and the other Khajiit went back to ambush them, for there was no other way out than where the captors were headed. Allen promised them he would free the Khajiit captives, and he shimmied down the upper cavern to the lower canyon, his sword drawn as he cautiously approached.

A man garbed in black cloth approached him, a one handed blade pointed at Allen's throat. In his offhand, he held a book bound in red and black leather. He asked Allen what his purpose here was, though the Spellsword knew he wouldn't get out of here if he simply walked away. It only took a short exchange of words before he realized this man's goal. To kill the Khajiit for their corpses, and perhaps to harness their life energies for himself. Allen struck the Necromancer first, but his blade was blocked with a deft movement.

The two dueled before the bound Khajiit, the prisoners knowing whoever won this fight decided their fates. Luckily, Allen was victorious after a minute of suspense, using a counter riposte that sent the necromancer stumbling back and bleeding into the stone. The book in his offhand fell onto the ground before Allen, scuffing his boot and opening by its front cover. He was about to kick it away when he saw a familiar script engraved just behind the cover. It was Beric's name penned into the book. It took him many moments to move, but when he did so, it was almost as if he was moving with a mechanical stiffness as he freed the Khajiit. He took a night or two to think on it in his own way, withdrawing into himself. He decided not to remain too long, and felt a wanderlust to flee this place. The book haunted him as he continued to flee the land that brought this revelation, and brought so many questions.

He traveled through the lands of Cyrodiil, heading along the northward roads until he came upon the Black Road leading to Chorrol. He barely made it past a few bandits, and arrived in Chorrol. He stayed there for a few days, road weary. After his time was done, he decided to head northward along the Orange Road. He thought it would be a quiet journey before he came upon footpads robbing a Dunmer merchant. There were four in all, but Allen came upon them from their flanks in a surprise attack, opening with his sword bursting into flames and searing the leader in the back (mid speech). With that, he charged forward on his horse to cut one down before he could properly defend himself.

The Dunmer merchant attempted to flee, but was stabbed by one of the highwaymen as Allen fought the second, finishing them both individually after having received a rough gash across his head and shoulder, as well as a stroke upon his blade that had broken it through its center. He wiped the blood from his vision, but realized he could not heal the wound in the dying Dunmer merchant. The Dunmer thanked him for attempting to help, but asked two boons of Allen. To take a letter to the Dunmer's sister in Dawnstar (named Ferain, a smith), and to take his fine steel longsword as a gift for Allen's aid.

Allen traveled northward with his new blade and a final mission. He had just given the Dunmer's sister her letter, and has been in Dawnstar for only a day, having heard of a band led by one named Ashav...

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