VEX

[VEX .]

vex .

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EQUIPMENT
Vex favors dual wielding, usually a sword combined with a dagger, both steel. However, she's also handy with a bow and arrow. More often than not, she's wearing her Thieves Guild armor.

SKILLS
She's the best in the Guild as far as lockpicking is concerned, and she won't hesitate to inform you of that constantly. She's very good at sneaking and pickpocketing, and her archery and one handed skills are both pretty high too. Magicka and Speech are probably her major pitfalls, since she hasn't an ounce of magic in her bones, and although she can be perfectly charming when she wants to be, she loses patience quickly.

L'HISTOIRE
I don't exactly want to do this. Writing down everything about myself, everything I was, everything I am now, it's dangerous in my line of work. I don't like letting other people into my head. But after a certain... incident, I've decided it's time to do it. If only because I've forgotten a lot about my childhood. I'm just unsure whether it's better to leave it that way, or to try and figure out my mess of a life, pinpoint the exact moment things took a turn for the worst. But unfortunately, I think that was my birth. There's jack all I can do about that.

That sounds so dramatic, doesn't it? But it's true. My mother was a serving girl in the inn at Windhelm, bringing men their mead, flirting with each of them in turn to make them feel special. She was an Imperial, had run away from her merchant parents when they decided to set her up with a husband. From what I learned later, my mother also had a bit of a job on the side, inviting men into her room for a few extra septims to keep herself afloat in a town where anyone who wasn't a Nord bore the full brunt of their racism. I think Mother tended to keep her heritage a secret, and her hair was just light enough to keep most of the Nords guessing as to where she came from.

I can only assume I was fathered by one of my mother's customers, a Nord if my fair coloring has anything to say about it. He must have bolted as soon as he heard my mother was pregnant with me, or perhaps he didn't know... Mother never actually said if he knew about me or not. I romanticized the situation entirely, though, in the stupidity of youth. Perhaps he was a rich lord who would one day return to pluck me and mother out of our squalor. Bullshit.

My childhood was easy, compared to some. We never had a lot of money, but my mother never put her worries on my shoulders, and if we had to go without food for a day or two, so be it. I spent a lot of time roaming the streets with the homeless children, and the Dark Elves who were our neighbors in the Gray Quarter. They introduced me to thieving, my way of providing for my small family. It was only small things, stealing an apple off a stall, or cutting someone's purse while they were inebriated, but I rarely ever got caught. You could say I had a knack for it. One of the few times I did get caught, the guard only winked at me, asking me to say hi to my mother from him. Pig. Anyway, I was a talented thief, and it wasn't long before many of the orphans around town were relying on me to provide them with food each night, despite being only eight or nine years old at the time. I even broke into an old warehouse to give them somewhere to sleep at night. I was so... noble.

When I was eleven, an old friend of my mother's turned up in town. A scholar by the name of Baldur, who taught the children of Jarls and Thanes to read and write. Seeing as Baldur would be in town for a while, my mother asked if he would teach me my letters. He agreed, and my lessons began. It was slow work at first, but I worked hard at it, wanting to prove myself to this stranger, that I wasn't just some bastard child, that I was worth something. It was almost a year later when I could write without continuously asking if I was right, and read with little effort (although big words still stumped me). I'd actually written my mother a letter, and took it to her room, where she and Baldur were being... intimate. And let's just say that my teacher was a fan of more violent sex. I was rooted to the spot where I'd opened the door, unable to process what I was seeing. It was about fifteen minutes before they even noticed I was there, and when they shouted after me, I ran away for the night, spending it in one of my friends little holes under a shop. I didn't see Baldur again, although my mother seemed to hope he would return someday.

As a bastard, my marriage proposals were not very forthcoming, despite being what my mother called, a beauty. "Victoria," she always used to say (Victoria being my name before I adopted Vex) "you'll be wed someday to someone powerful, someone with an eye for pretty things and a disregard for propriety. Just you wait and see, my beauty. He'll whisk you off to Solitude, any day now." Well, she was wrong. No one wanted me, at least not for a wife. By the time I was fourteen, I was working in the inn myself, learning the tricks of the trade and how to get the men to fork over more money for being friendly to them. I was always told that I was truly my mother's daughter, and I always thought that it was something to be proud of. But I was wrong.

My mother was slowly wasting a way, no doubt a by-product of some disease she caught while working on her back. I was the main provider in our household, earning money at the inn, stealing whatever else I couldn't afford. The winter of my fifteenth birthday was particularly harsh, and the cold complicated my mother's already poor health. I didn't have enough coin to help her, and she passed away early one morning in Morning Star. I was given some of her wages to help cope, but all I felt was empty. My mother might have disgusted me in some ways, but we were close, and there was no limit to the admiration I felt for her. She was strong, and I fought hard to emulate that now that I was on my own. I began to save money to move away from Windhelm, perhaps to Whiterun or even Solitude and start completely anew.

But my mother's patrons wouldn't leave me alone, wanting me to become their new whore. It started as simple innuendos over the inn counter, something they could pass off as being innocently poking fun at the pretty young serving girl. But it turned serious fast. I was grabbed one night, just outside my home, the bastard ripping my skirt and throwing me to the ground roughly. Obviously he didn't expect me to fight back, so after well placed kick to his balls, and threatening to cut off his manhood, he was on the ground. I spat on him, ran inside, and locked the door behind me, though I was still unable to sleep at all that night. I thought they'd all get the message, but it only seemed to make things so much worse.

I arrived at the inn the next evening, only to be literally thrown out by the owner. He called me a whore, as well as a string of other filthy names. Apparently, my supposed "customer" had run his mouth after drinking too much mead, telling all how delightful my company was, and how cheap my services were. Outraged, I took what little savings I had and bought myself a dagger. I waited with it one night outside the inn for what felt like hours, waiting for my attacker to appear, only to be stopped by the very same guard who had let me off so many years before. He had heard what had happened, and since he was genuinely wanting to help me out, he arranged for me to leave with a merchant for Whiterun, via Riften, the next morning. Knowing that I wasn't a killer, and the asshole was more than a stint in jail was worth, I agreed.

The merchant wasn't the nicest man around, but we got along all the same. I was a little bitter most days, my life had taken a turn for the worst in what seemed like such a short time, but he seemed to enjoy my company all the same. Unfortunately for me, my "free ride" wasn't so free. Not only did the merchant want company on his journey, he wanted the warmth of another body beside him, after so many years of being lonely. I wasn't sure what had made my attitude towards sex change so drastically, perhaps it was the fact I was now branded a whore by all those who had known me since childhood, but I went along with it. We lay together several times before I got bored. A couple of nights past Riften, I broke into his strongbox, stole what I could of his gold, and ran back to the city. I made a home in the lower level of the city, thought I didn't dare enter the Ratways. I'd heard stories in the marketplace of Skeevers, vagrants and whatever else lived down there, and although I was brave, I was not stupid.

Slowly, I began to steal again. It hadn't ever really departed from my life, although it was more a hobby than anything. As I grew older, I began to break into some of the stores in Windhelm for the items that were worth real money, discovering I had quite the knack for picking locks and breaking and entering. So in Riften, picking up where I left off was easy. The marketplace was my primary target, considering it was so busy, people didn't notice if they got jostled a bit and their pockets were cut. I got brave enough to sneak behind stalls, unlock their strongboxes and take their returns for the day. It was a good six months before anyone caught me.

I had just made a sizeable hole in his pocket, when his hand grabbed mine, tight enough so that I couldn't struggle and pull free. In my shock, I dropped my trusty dagger, and he stooped to pick it up, admiring it in the light. It was then that he turned his eyes to me, cold and gray, and all I could do was stare him down. I was deathly afraid, but I couldn't look away."What do we have here, then?" When I narrowed my eyes and spat at him, he just laughed. "Well, then. Come with me." I thought I was going to be arrested, but he led me down to the Ratways. And that was my first meeting with Mercer Frey, and my introduction to the Thieves' Guild.

I made a name for myself quickly, more so as the seventeen year old who could unlock every chest in the practice room in under ten minutes. I honed my lockpicking until not even the toughest chest Mercer threw my way was no problem. In this way, I became known as the one to turn to for infiltration jobs; burglary, shill, sweep and heists became my forté. I was dedicated, brought in more money than anyone had ever thought possible of the blonde haired recruit from the streets. I became arrogant and a little rough around the edges, not wanting to allow people to think I was weak or unfit for my line of work. Since my arrival, I had become known as Vex, and Victoria was something of the past. I was now a thief, and a damn good one at that.

Eight years on, and I'm now third in charge, tied with Delvin. I'm one of the more experienced members of the guild, despite being one of the youngest. I've never turned down a job, or failed one. That is, until Goldenglow. But I can't write about that now. It's too raw and recent, the one job where I let everyone down.

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INDIE .

EIGHTEEN .

SIX .

I'M AN ADMIN .

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