Mavimiir Velendas - Dunmer

28

Blacklight, Morrowind

Male

Winterhold

Dunmer (Dunmer and Altmer)

Necromancer / Conjurer

6' 0" | 175 lbs

Elven Dagger, Bow, and Arrows

The Ritual Stone: allows him to reanimate corpses to fight for him once a day.

+10 Destruction, +5 Alchemy, +5 Alteration, +5 Illusion, +5 Light Armor, +5 Sneak

Mavimiir and Mirril Velendas was born to the late Barenziah lineage of Dunmer Nobles in Blacklight, Morrowind. Unfortunately, he cannot remember his parents' names but he does not find it to be a loss, instead he seems happy that he has forgotten. He was raised as a spoiled Prince with a silver spoon in his mouth at all times. Mavimiir never wanted or needed for anything, besides to be apart from his sister. Unlike normal twins, they did not suit each other in any way, especially because Mavimiir had a very cruel personality and Mirril had a gentle, caring personality.

They were the opposite of each other and seemed to hate one another, but after a couple of years, they were starting to get along more than before. First, it was little things like playing "House" with his twin, a stupid game in his opinion, but he played because he wanted to plan to work. Even letting Mirril sleep in his bed became the norm when she would have nightmares. It was something unheard of, for Mavimiir to be nice to his twin, but nobody questioned.

One day, Mavimiir suggested a game that they should play, a game he had made up so she would agree. After a moment of hesitance, Mirril agreed, which was her downfall. She should have known not to trust her twin. Mavimiir's game ended up being an experiment of Necromancy, something that was frowned upon in his society, but being the curious boy that he was, he didn't care. He was a Prince. Nobody would stop him, which is why he had decided to pre-draw the ritual circle on the floor. First, Mavimiir gave Mirril a poison that he stole from the Court Wizard a couple days ago so she would die. As her life faded, Mavimiir felt a proud sense of accomplishment, a thrilling sensation that almost drove him mad with sick pleasure. He didn't have to deal with her anymore..

Mirril was finally gone! Out of his life! Forever! The sense of happiness spread from his spine all the way up to his brain as he opened up the "Raise Zombie" Spellbook in front of the corpse of his sister. This was finally it, a test of his natural abilities. After reading through the pages of the book, Mavimiir recited a few words and raised his hands towards her body. A faint purple tendril of magicka came from his fingertips, slowly making its way through the air to her. After a small, dull flashes of purple from Mirril, Mavimiir watched as the body actually stood back up, as though she was back from Death. But he knew she wasn't. She was really dead and now, she was an undead being!

A servant walked in on this scene, Mavimiir's hands in the air in triumph. All that was heard was a bloodcurdling screech that traveled through the manor house. After this time, Mavimiir does not remember much besides other servants rushing in on the scene. The image of Mirril's pale, dead body standing above a ritual circle haunted all of their eyes, the Princess they had raised was gone. Many blamed Mavimiir, but since she had agreed and he was a Prince, there wasn't much to be done with him. His Father sent him into exile to Skyrim shortly after. At the time of his exile, Mavimiir was only fifteen (15), but a boy destined to roam the frozen lands of Skyrim.

After he landed in Skyrim at the age of sixteen (16), Mavimiir became angry and resentful towards his family, the one who had exiled him in a place filled of filthy Nords. He was a Prince, not a local beggar at a tavern! He deserved more than this. The resentment never died, not even after Mavimiir found a home, the College of Winterhold. At the time, he had already become rather good at Conjuration, and had even learned more than a normal apprentice taken into the College.

Soon enough, Mavimiir rose through the classes, channeling his anger and hatred into a more useful energy, magicka. Classes that adept students had to take were too easy for him, so he finished even more studies than anyone had ever done before in such a short amount of time. Warned time and time again, Mavimiir chose to disregard any and all comments made about his climbing skills. He had never felt this good in his life, not even when he killed and brought back his twin. It made him feel ecstatic and beyond the reach of the Divines. Like he could do anything.

This is around the time he started to go back to researching Necromancy, pleased to see that he still felt the thrill of it shiver his spine in happiness as he felt the power go through him. This made his Conjuration go even higher in power. Almost as power as some of the Elder teachers in the school of Conjuration. He never revealed that he was studying Necromancy though, because he never wanted to be disconnected from the only thing that made sense to him again. The exhilaration was too much for him to be disconnected from again.

After many years of tutoring and studying, Mavimiir's hard work finally paid off! He was offered with the position of Scholar of Conjuration, which was the main teacher position in the school of Conjuration. He began teaching, teachers and students, and he finally started to feel the want for vengeance fade slightly, replaced with his happiness at the College. His star students were offered to take place in his Necromancy studies, some joined, some did not. The first time he was rejected, he had gotten so angry that he had struck out at the student, essentially killing him before he could reign in control. Instead of dumping the body, he decided to eat it. At first, the thought seemed strange, but once he tasted the tenderness of the flesh, he couldn't help but want more..

Each time Mavimiir could pull it off, he would grab a traveler from the path outside of Winterhold and strip the flesh from his bones. After everything useful was taken off, he would then experiment with the remains, trying to find a way to regenerate the skeleton back to the original body. So far he has not managed to do it, no matter his skill in Conjuration and Restoration, but he will not give up on trying.

His main goal is to surpass the Archmage and become one of the most powerful Mages ever. It was a feat that he felt he could do, a sort of life's goal that compelled him to keep working. This helped him rid himself of his hatred for his parents, so that now that was left was feelings of disappointment. They would be left out of his History, a worldly history showing the lies and betrayal from his own family and how he had become the greatest Mage in the known world. For years he slaved over studying, but never rose more in the ranks than what he was at.

It was a bright, sunny day when he received the inheritance letter stating that his Father had passed. As the courier handed him a giant purse of gold and jewels, Mavimiir laughed with the knowledge of the death of his "Father". The letter was a vague message from his Mother, of all people, saying that he could come back home. "Home" was not there anymore. He had been a brainless child, but now, he got more out of his "job" than gold or riches. Knowledge and Wisdom.. It was not something he would trade anything for, not even a petty manor in Morrowind with gold laying in piles.

When he got to his dorm, he shredded the paper and burned it with a simple flame spell. As he watched it burn, he remembered his hatred for a few flickering moments, but it did not come up full force once again like before.

Once Mavimiir turned twenty-six, he realized that he had really changed in the past years with his exile. Physically and mentally, he had grown and honed his skills to a point, leaving little room for much else in his life than what he had. But he had so much more than material things; he had wisdom, knowledge, and power beyond his wildest dreams. At this point, he truly believed that he was even more powerful than the Archmage, but he now had nothing to prove.

He didn't care; it wasn't like the Archmage really controlled anyone and s/he seemed to trust him, so it wasn't worth it to try to "overthrow" him/her any longer. He would do his duties as Scholar of Conjuration. If you think this changed Mavimiir's personality, then you would be completely wrong, if anything, he seemed to be even crueler sometimes, with the false pretense of "helping" his students.

One student, a conjurer that had started to study Necromancy with Mavimiir, told him about Namira, the Daedra of all things repulsive. The student said that he would be a good fit, because of his love for flesh. Instantly, Mavimiir knew that was where his faith should go. A worth name to say before each meal.. And that is who he adopted for his beliefs. Most Dunmer would worship Azura, but Mavimiir had never been spun into that web of lies.

As of now, Mavimiir teachers classes, most of them dealing with Conjuration, and has the occasional drink of San's Spiced Wine.