TOUGH-AS-NAILS/NAXHEEL CHARACTER BIO

Name: Naxheel

Alias(es): Tough-As-Nails

Place of Birth: Gideon - Black Marsh

Age: 31

Class: Sellsword

Birthsign: The Thief

Occupation: Vigilante, Prostitute, Mercenary

Timeline: Late Third Era (Morrowind to Oblivion)

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 255lbs (115kg)

BACKSTORY

Naxheel was hatched in the later century of the third era to an Argonian pair who had much trouble conceiving. He was considered a miracle child, a gift from the hist, and from the very start, he was cherished, smothered, and mostly shielded from the outside world. His mother had constant arguments with his father about letting him walk in his footsteps as a huntsman, while his father declared that Naxheel shouldn't be coddled his whole life picking up his mother's trade as an alchemist.

The contentious topic was never truly handled properly. Naxheel would tend to the herbal shop when his mother wasn't available, but secretly, when he and his father had slipped away under a clever excuse, Naxheel would hunt for the fresh game in the western Argonian frontier. It was then that he would develop deftness for the blade and bow alike. And not just that, but he truly learned how to sneak and skulk nut unlike a Shadowscale.

Things went well for Naxheel in his early life, but in his early teens, the apothecary soon hit a rut. Imperial officers began overharvesting plants key for the shop, the best-selling items too, and poachers took more beasts than they needed. Coin was few and far between in the drought.

But one of his friends, one who wasn't too terribly shy about breaking the rules, he had a plan. He was a rusty red-scaled Argonian named Geel-Ra, someone a year younger and a foot or two shorter than him. He was someone Naxheel had known since they were hatchlings, someone who he tried never to sin with, at least up until that particular point.

Geel-Ra roped him into thievery, stealing from anyone with an accumulation of wealth, whether they were Imperial, Argonian, or otherwise. As they grew older, closing in on adulthood, Geel-Ra made contact with a bandit tribe outside of town.

At the age of 17, Naxheel made the fateful decision to leave the honest and respectable work of his parents' business for the bandit lifestyle. It was the last time he saw his parents; he couldn't bare to look them in the eye after what he'd done. However, his new life was profitable. In time, he found it fun; he was good at it.

And as for Geel-Ra? Something in Naxheel's heart bloomed as they coursed through into adulthood. Naxheel was quieter and less outgoing compared to the cocky, more lively Geel-Ra. The slenderness of the younger Argonian's body and his red scales contrasted with the green scales, muscularity, and...growing thickness of his body due to running and sneaking.

Wide hips, thick thighs, a slim waist, and round, plump, and shapely posterior...

Either party were afraid to admit it at first, but the first signs were there - winks, stares, lip-licks, lash-battings. Soon enough, when they managed to get alone, they crashed together.

They fucked. Hard. Kissing, licking, moaning, whispering sweet nothings to each other. Squelches, scalie flesh clapping together, growls, everything. They couldn't resist each other anymore. Geel-Ra couldn't keep himself from admiring Naxheel's beauty and quiet anymore, not to mention how Naxheel rode him like a fine steed, and Naxheel couldn't deny himself the peace and comfort that Geel-Ra brought.

It was secret, but nobody in the camp bothered to find out. Either that, or nobody bothered to care.

At the age of 19, two years after he'd left his parents for the outlaw lifestyle, Naxheel and a few others, including Geel-Ra, got their own thing going. The Dunmer houses Dres and Telvanni came to Argonia for slaves, snatching up members of their kind. Friends, cousins, distant relatives, even a brother of one of the other three was kidnapped.

The splinter began attacking Dunmer boats and outposts, stealing all of the profit, valuables, and freeing all the Argonian (and Khajiit) captives in the process. No one from the main camp found out at first, and the Dunmer never realized it was just bandits, nor did they realize that one of the bandits, a Dunmer named Giland, had infiltrated their ranks.

He was the first...

After a few months, Naxheel, Geel-Ra, and the rest found out that Giland had met his end, slain, presumably by one of the Dunmer houses after they found out that he was the mole. Soon enough, it was the only other Argonian in the group.

One day, the bandit leader, a raspy-voiced, burly Argonian named Dartheeus, called the remaining three members of the group and confronted them, holding their stashed earnings from their mostly noble deeds. A loud, heated argument ensued, and Baric, a Colovian all the way from Skingrad, was executed. Geel-Ra shouted for Naxheel to run.

Naxheel bursted through the guards at the entrance to the cave, injuring them, but not before hearing Geel-Ra's wail of pain. He looked back to find blood pouring out from Geel-Ra's neck from a slash from Dartheeus' blade.

It pained him even to this day, but Naxheel ran instead of fighting the superior numbers of the bandit squad. After that, it was up to him to flee, towards the border to the west. He had to evade Dunmer slavers and bandit clans he formerly called allies.

Then, Naxheel headed past the border into Cyrodiil, Blackwood. He eventually found Leyawiin, stowing himself there due to the strong Argonian community. It wasn't as simple as buying a house and settling. What little gold he still had from the raids went to booze and a room at the Five Claws Lodge, because he felt he didn't deserve any better.

Naxheel wept and drank his sorrows about his lost friends, especially his late lover Geel-Ra. Naxheel never thought he'd be so wanted, so cherished like that again. Of course, the uncouth, sleazy drunkards at the lodge would hit on him, due to the amount of ass he hauled around with him, but Naxheel would constantly brush them off with an eye-roll and/or a growled "Yeah, right..."

Soon...soon, Naxheel reached his breaking point during a night of binge drinking. He'd had enough of drinking himself under the table for two weeks, and the constant dogs who would growl at him about the thickness of his ass.

This night in particular, one Orc said the most disgusting things. He spoke of pinning him down, breeding him like an animal, even grabbing his bulge while he said it, anything and everything that could make Naxheel throw up in his mouth.

And in the middle of the Orc's next lecherous vaunt, Naxheel spun on his stool (and on the large, round, shapely posterior that sat atop the seat like a crown), got up, and gave the Orc the most ferocious backhand he could. It was so powerful, in fact, that it caused the Orc to stagger back to the wall and to the ground. Blood seeped from his cheek where the Argonian's claws had sliced him. The Orc then stumbled out of the lodge, for not even the liquid courage he had ingested could steel him for the challenge presented by the voluptuous Argonian male.

But that wasn't the highlight of that night. As the disgraced Orsimer left, one of the uncouth, drunken nords that would constantly shower him with lustful compliments proclaimed:

"Hah! That lizard's tough as nails!"

In that moment, a pseudonym was born; the name just stuck...

After a couple days of formulating a plan, recovering from his constant consumption, he posted fliers of parchment seeking help from any and all capable warriors, all under his new name. The first steps worked, and he attracted some muscle.

An old retired Imperial Legionnaire, a young Nord knucklehead, and a Bosmer hunter and alchemist, the third as if the gods had put both his parents together into a small, neat little elven package.

Naxheel, as Tough-As-Nails, told them of his plan to head to the wester half of Black Marsh and ravage his former bandit clan, slaughtering everyone for what they did to his friends, to Geel-Ra, and to ransack them for everything they were worth.

But first, they needed money! Money for weapons, armor, potions, scrolls, anything that could aid them in their quest.

Tough-As-Nails didn't know what the others did, but he in particular had to embark upon the most filthy, degrading, and shameful thing he did in all his life...

He would approach the drunkards in the Five Claws Lodge, bring them to his room, and sell his body. No kissing, no affection, just them having their way with him in a one-night stand for gold.

It was disgusting, but the septims paid. And in a sad little way, he found it empowering, watching those men ruin themselves over him. He wouldn't let them get too close, however; Geel-Ra was still fresh on the mind.

At the end of the week, the four gathered together their earnings. The others all told Tough-As-Nails of their deeds - hunting, gathering herbs, collecting bounties. When they asked Tough-As-Nails, he responded with a simple yet stern "Don't worry about it."

They stocked up on all the goods they needed for the revenge trip, and the morning after, they set off for Argonia. When they reached Dartheeus and the gang of bandits, a battle commenced. The revenge pact were better armored and more experienced then the brigands, and the latter took the bloody fall. Only Dartheeus was left alive out of the dozen, and that was intentional.

Naxheel, as Tough-As-Nails, stood above his former boss, and he shouted at what Dartheeus took from him. It wasn't the gold, it was his friends, it was his Geel-Ra, the love of his life.

Dartheeus was the only one in the entire slain bandit camp that was to know about the relationship, and that was the last thing he would ever learn. Naxheel paid Dartheeus with a final stab to the chest, and everything was said and done, history.

Tough-As-Nails and his new crew took everything they could, including half of the treasure he and his old splinter did as well. It was initially a one-time thing, but after seeing all the loot from their first conquest, they decided to keep at it. It was much like Naxheel's old life, but under Tough-As-Nails, they were doing it for a better cause.

Now that Geel-Ra had been avenged, all he could think about now was the life he left behind with his parents. He remembered that he was the only egg they produced...the only one. He needed to be better than just some one-time bandit, than some drunkard in a lodge in Leyawiin, certainly better than a prostitute as well.

Tough-As-Nails wasn't just a name anymore, but a persona. He was the kind, courageous, charismatic sellsword who gave his earnings not just to himself and his tribe, but to the sick, the poor, the pious, anyone in need. This one, unlike Naxheel, seemingly wasn't aware or didn't care about how unbelievably THICC he was.

And that's...where his second life continued. He didn't stop selling his body, for the clients he pleased had spread the word to other lust-addled minds, of how that Argonian bitch, sweet and supple as could be, could get your rocks off for a good night.

After making his peace with Geel-Ra, Naxheel would (reluctantly) let some see behind his walls, especially the repeat customers. Whether they were big or small, sweet or cold and raw, he could satisfy any urge...for some coin, of course.

He would give them the same comfort Geel-Ra gave to him, letting his spirit live on.

And now, after little over a decade of selling himself as a mercenary and booty call to support his vigilante organization, Naxheel is fully Tough-As-Nails. More mature, stronger, more stoic than the kid he once was at the ages of 19-20. His crew has sifted in membership since those years, members retiring or falling by the sword. Some of his findings went to paying his guys, and donations to monks, chapels, and even the county proper.

Of course, Tough-As-Nails had a code to work by. He wouldn't fuck married men, or men with families for that matter. He would never, ever hurt or steal from those who didn't deserve it - kids, elders, priests, the feeble, the list goes on.

And soon enough, his base of targets shifted as well. A pirate's booty gets stolen by his crew while he enjoy's Naxheel's booty in private. Embarrassed bandits telling tales of getting robbed at swordpoint by a male Argonian with a fat ass and a seductive edge. A corrupt guard enjoying Naxheel's services while the rest of his crew steals the evidence from under his nose.

Gold and sex, all while being on the straight and narrow, acting as a force for good.