So, as I was chatting with Hank in the discord I mentioned that I had written a whole fake backstory for Jaraleet. Well, here it is:

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Born in the city of Helstrom, located in the unassailed heartland of Black Marsh, to Han-Maat and Simeesh, Jaraleet’s early life was shaped by the presence of his parents who, due to the death of his egg-siblings, turned all their efforts into raising their sole remaining hatchling. From his father, who was a hunter, Jaraleet learned to look for tracks and how to hunt the beasts that lived in the heartland of Blackmarsh, amidst many other things related to hunting throughout the years, and from his mother, he learned the basic principles of alchemy and from which creatures and plants he could extract the ingredients required in potion-making. 

The knowledges imported by his father and mother set the routine of his life, as by day Jaraleet would help his father with his hunts -aiding him with progressively more tasks as the years went by- while by the evening he’d help his mother mix the potions that she sold. THis little routine continued on for years, Jaraleet’s knowledge in the crafts taught to him by his parents growing with each year, until tragedy struck out the family. When Jaraleet was 20 years old, and out hunting with his father, his mother was attacked by one of the many dangerous beasts that live in Blackmarsh as the woman was distracted gathering ingredients for her potions and was unable to return home. Both Jaraleet and his father worried about the disappearance of her when she failed to return home at the time she usually did and, with the help of the town guard, a search group was organised to comb the area for the missing woman. A group of the guards sent out to search found Jaraleet’s mother but, unfortunately, by then it was too late. 

The only consolation that father and child would have laid in the fact that they were able to say their goodbyes to Simeesh before she finally passed away and rejoined the Hist. Simeesh’s death irrevocably changed the relationship between father and son, not to mention the ambiance of the house. Whereas before there was an atmosphere of serenity and contentment what few individuals came into the house in the wake of Simeesh’s death, be it to pay their respects to the deceased woman or to trade with Han-Maat, noted that the ambiance seemed to be charged with tension and that a gloomy mood seemed to permeate the household. This was mainly due to Han-Maat, who was unable to move past the loss of his dear wife. The hunter began drinking greatly, first in his spare time but eventually, little by little, this tendency began to creep upon his work as a hunter until it turned into full-blown alcoholism as Han-Maat was drunk even as he hunted. This habit eventually wound up costing his father, for during one hunt the elder Argonian was too slow to evade an attack from an animal due to his drunkenness.

This would have proved fatal, where it not for Jaraleet’s presence, who was able to drive away the beast and bring his father back to Helstrom, where the healers tended to him as best they could. Unfortunately, his father was left crippled and unable to continue his work as a hunter and was forced to remain at home. Jaraleet would try and support himself and his father by taking over the job of the latter as a hunter but it quickly became that, by himself, he was unable to hunt enough game to provide for the both of them. Before his father had been crippled, the both of them had been able to hunt and thus bring enough game to sell so as to sustain themselves and, even before that, his mother had chipped in with her work as an alchemist but now, Jaraleet was the only source of income in the household. 

It quickly became apparent to the young Argonian that the present situation was unsustainable and that, sooner or later, both he and his father would starve to death if they didn’t find a source of steady income. It took Jaraleet a long time to find a suitable solution to the problem he and his faced father, a hard time where they had to sustain themselves on the meagre incomes obtained from Jaraleet’s hunts, but in the end, the young Argonian found out what he thought was the best solution; he’d enlist in the garrison of the town and become a part of the army that the An-Xileel had formed after they took control from the Empire. Everything seemed to work perfectly for a time, Jaraleet stayed stationed in Helstrom and he was able to visit his father regularly who seemed to be showing signs of recovering from his alcoholism. While it was clear that the old Argonian couldn’t return to his old work as a hunter, the fact that he was overcoming his alcoholism, and seemingly also moving from his wife’s death, meant that Han-Maat not could look for new avenues of work and not be entirely dependant of Jaraleet.

Problems came when he was transferred to the frontier between Blackmarsh and Morrowind. Skirmishes between the two nations were common in the border between both nations and, as such, fresh soldiers were needed in a, relatively, constant frequency. However, years as a guard hadn't prepared Jaraleet for combat in the border between the two nations; as days went by and the fighting continued and more and more of his comrades died, Jaraleet's spirit slowly began to break. The final straw came when, during yet another skirmish, a particularly incompetent commander led Jaraleet and his unit right into an ambush. The fighting was ferocious and, in the end, the Dunmer forces were routed but at a terrible cost: most of the unit had died. Only Jaraleet and the commander had survived the fighting, but that was not to be for long. Driven mad by the accumulated stress and the recent fight, Jaraleet savagely murdered the commander while blaming him for all the deaths that had occurred. When he finally came to his senses and he realised what he had done, Jaraleet ran away. Once the adrenaline had died away, Jaraleet knew that, where the truth to come out, he would be tried as a traitor and exectued but, more importantly than that, he also realised that he couldn't take the strain anymore.   

And so, with that in mind, what came afterwards was a mad dash as he fled in the general direction of the only place that he felt that was safe: Helstrom. It took weeks of arduous travel but, by some miracle, Jaraleet managed to arrive in Helstrom before news of his desertion of the An-Xileel’s army did. 

Jaraleet rushed to his father’s home, finding out that luckily he was there. His father was surprised to see him returned, to say the least, having heard words of his transfer to the Blackmarsh-Morrowind border and, more importantly, that his son wasn’t supposed to have returned yet from his faraway assignment on the border between the two nations. Taking a second to calm himself down, Jaraleet explained to his father his whole story, hiding no detail from him, and while the elder Argonian was conflicted by what he had heard from his son, he still agreed to hide him at least long enough for him to recuperate his energies. A week passed and word of Jaraleet’s desertion arrived in Helstrom, not to mention a bounty for whoever brought him alive to the respective authorities. By that point however, Jaraleet had already come up with what he had to do; it was impossible for him to flee by boat, the agents of the An-Xileel would easily locate him if he tried to do so, and going to Morrowind was equally out of the question, which left him with only one option: flee to Cyrodiil. During the night, Jaraleet sneaked out of his father's house and began making the arduous trek towards the homeland of the Imperials.

The trip was fraught with peril but, after weeks of travel, in the end, he reached the Imperial City. At first Jaraleet tried to live as a civilian, working in the Waterfront District, but as time went on, he realized that after what he had seen he wasn’t fit for civilian life any longer. Taking up his arms once again, one of the few possessions he had left from his time as part of Argonia’s armies, Jaraleet joined up a small time mercenary crew, who acted mostly as guards for caravans not rich enough to hire better mercenary companies or employ the assistance of the vaunted Fighters Guild. The job was simple enough as to not to trouble Jaraleet’s already fragile conscience and the group was tight knit, it seemed like Jaraleet had found his place in the world but it was not to be forever. While the group was resting in the Imperial City after a successful contract, the returned Dwemer attacked the cosmopolitan city. The rest of his friends died, trying to protect some of the refugees evacuating the city, and Jaraleet was the only one left alive; numb from the attack, he went on with the rest of the refugees towards Skingrad. However, once in the outside of the cities, shock quickly gave way to anger, and now Jaraleet searches for a group that’s ready to take the fight back to the returned Dwemer.
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