20’s. I focus on a timespan of about 10 years that coincidentally cleanly encompasses his twenties.
Born:
In Morrowind, to a small rural house Sabasif, a satellite lineage within House Dres and under the Great House’s jurisdiction. His sign is the Lady and he grew up on an ex-plantation farm.
Occupation:
Hamza daylights as a hammer for hire, freelance adventurer, mercenary, whatever whoever’s handing him the gold wants to call him. He, however, considers his real job to be thinning the population of Aedra worshippers both as violent veneration of his god and as an attack against theirs. That doesn’t pay well though, so he does any adventurous work he can get his hands on, retrieving loot and turning in bounties. He also does some smithing as a hobby and will repair armor or forge heavy weapons for some extra money. As a Daedric cultist and a morally/physically grey person, he does not care if he’s hired as a hitman or a thief or a thug.
Hamza does very well for himself and is currently considered “fucking loaded.” This pleases those around him, as he’s generous *and* flippant with his money.
[tons more under the cut]
Background:
Hamza is the youngest of three brothers, and in childhood was dweeby, small, and sickly. He was indoors and alone often, filling his time primarily with books. He became nerdy and booksmart by his tweenagerhood, and took interest in traditional Dunmeri religion and by extension religious history.
Around this age, his elder brothers were well on their own and out of the house. His parents were proud of their exceptional sons, and Hamza was not one of them. The oldest was a locally-famous arena fighter and professional demonstrator/teacher of the infamous Dunmer combat arts. The second eldest had shipped off to what equates to Boethran seminary school, and was becoming a historical author. He’d send Hamza loads of books and bring him drafts to proof when he visited home.
Hamza envied them both. His brothers were much older than him, successful, and indulging in his own interests in lucrative ways. His father around this time started to bear down on him hard for his geeky nature and lack of physical prowess that had carried his brothers so far. He got angry. Over a small span of time, he cultivated a captive rage towards his brothers and the expectation they’d set for him. Their parents who enforced it, too. He had a bit of a breakdown around 12 or 13 from the overbearing pressure to succeed in ways that would honor his House.
As a teen his sole focus shifted to becoming someone his family could be proud of. Quickly this sentiment morphed into a need to surpass and outdo his siblings. He spent his teenage years working off his sickly childhood and putting himself through rigorous regiments and training. His body was changing and was changable, and he commited himself to getting buff, basically. Generally other kids found his drive impressive but permeating - he was a 15 year old whose primary concerns were eating right and getting jacked. He did succeed. By 18, Hamza was attractive, strong, and popular with his peers. He had reversed his reputation and those living in his little town had largely forgotten his prior pitiable past. However, his parents were bored of having a kid in the house and had detached years ago, and had no pride left for this son after all. He left home, but stayed in town.
Shortly after he’d left the family home, his younger-older-brother, the author in clerical college and in union with the Good Three, died. He was accidentally killed in Boethran ritual, at school, far from home. The grief left Hamza without his parents and consumed them wholly. They’d lost a prized and perfect son, one whose whole race could be proud of him. The death rocked Hamza, too, as he was closer to this brother than any other member of his family. He was the only one who’d indulge his inclinations towards reading and learning when Hamza was smaller. He was humbler, and allowed himself to love Hamza, and likely loved him the most. Hamza chose to follow the footsteps this brother left behind. Somewhere along this path, he found a new rage - this brother held like a golden heirloom for his whole life can just die? It seemed to him that this was not very possible. It seemed to him he could carry his brother on and surpass him at the same time. He would do a better job. He could try.
He set out to school, too. He was strong & affable and was recieved well by his cohorts in Boethian studies. Nearly built for exactly this. This was rewarding; this indulged his lifelong interest in his own Dunmeri heritage and history, this excercised the body he worked hard to build. He felt favored by his friends and fulfilled by his studies. The mock-combat with students and real combat under retired war generals thrilled him absolutely. He learned and grew and started maturing into a mighty man. An ego he’d never had before formed.
A year or so into his journey towards holiness, he met a small group of students who considered themselves a fringe cult. They had odd and extreme views on how to enact Boethiah’s will on Nirn that the school could not quite condone. They readily became each other’s closest friends. They also readily became increasingly more detached from standard worship and began to invent rules and rituals they felt better served Boethiah. The troupe found trouble often, razing shrines and roughing up followers of man-gods and fighting for sport among each other. Involved so fully with this league of violent kooks, Hamza started appearing in classes less and less.
On the fine line between pious eccentricity and religious delusion, the cult developed a plan to widen their scope. Each member chose a province, and each set out on foot to it, with the goal of being extensions of Boethiah and exterminating her opposition across Tamriel.
Hamza came to Skyrim five years before the dragon crisis. He puts himself out for hire, makes bank, and later finds himself to be THE Champion of Boethiah. Of course he is. He takes up the title naturally, and Boethiah’s blessings with it. He is endowed with further strength and prowess, in function and form. Boethiah’s blessing makes him hotter canonically.
Notable Relationships:
Erandur
Hamza’s current legal husband and dearest held love of all. They meet in Windpeak Inn, and Hamza is attracted to Erandur for his appearance right away. Erandur, in turn, is attracted by the young stud for his looks *and* because Hamza appeared to be a.) wealthy b.) able to lend a hand and hammer to help wake up the folks under miasma. They hit it off fast in the days they spend together in Nightcaller Temple. They’re inseparable quickly, though the relationship’s pretty shallow back then and they’re riding the high of a new, good lay more than anything else. When that novelty begins to fade, they find themselves compatible friends, and commit to one another in only a few weeks.
Hamza is a beacon of bravery and strength for Erandur, and makes him feel safe and protected. Erandur is also unemployed, so Hamza’s pockets fund his life, and he’s spoiled by him.
Erandur is a source of softness and reason for Hamza. He is the only person who has any chance of talking Hamza out of anything. His meek, kind personality balances Hamza’s loud, large one. He accompanies him on jobs he can morally justify and is a homemaker when he’s not out with his sugar daddy. Hamza views him very wifely, and tends to subtly emasculate him, but Erandur does not mind. He enjoys the unpredictable and volatile lifestyle Hamza gives him despite never admitting that. He’s enamored with Hamza and his percieved freedom, but feels a lot of conflict for cavorting with a Daedric lunatic while calling himself a Priest of Mara. Truthfully, he only gets to the temple when Hamza takes him there. Truthfully, he doesn’t practice as he should. He is spiteful that he must follow a self-imposed Maran lifestyle while his lovers do whatever the hell they want. His faith is used as a pearl to clutch over Hamza and co.’s less than legal activities.
They marry in the temple in Riften about a year and a half after meeting, while living in a rented house outside of Whiterun. Hamza runs into Avinor through their converging lines of work around this point.
Avinor
Avinor starts stalking the pair months before befriending Hamza. Neither had, or currently has, any clue that he did. He decides Hamza would be a beneficial acquaintance to have - in him he sees a good coworker, a body guard, a wild fuck, and a similarly carefree attitude. He orchestrates a “coincidental” meeting in Riften, “running into” Hamza by “chance” and they become, essentially, work friends. He meets Erandur much later, who is apprehensive of him for being a weird ass guy and a vampire. Erandur gets over it, but quietly wishes Avinor would consider seeking a cure. Avinor grows closer to the couple over a few months, but especially Hamza. Both younger men are fit criminals with youthful humor and a poor grasp on their mortality. The old man keeps their reigns on. They have a grand old time, all the time. Hamza lays covert pipe here plenty before he and Erandur formally approach Avinor about a relationship. Avinor admits he’s got a man already, but feels they could make something work…
Ondolemar
Avinor’s man. They met in treacherous circumstance and had been together a while before Avinor breeches the topic that he’s made a new friend, well, actually they’re pretty close, umm, you’d like him really, his husband is old and youre old too I bet you’d get along….
Ondolemar doesn’t even get along with Avinor. Ondolemar doesn’t really like anybody, but might love them. He’s fiercely possessive of Avinor and would protect him with his life, but can’t for the life of him stop taunting, nitpicking, and negging him. Or anyone else really.
When they meet, he finds Hamza to be brash and cocky, and conflicts with him easily. But again, Ondolemar can do that with anyone. Both being very competitive, he and Hamza tend to turn anything they can into a dick-measuring contest. Hamza likes to piss him off and Ondolemar likes to just fucking fight the guy for it. They prod each other constantly, though for Hamza it is good fun and for Ondolemar it is venomous. It is impossible for Hamza to take it seriously.
He does enjoy Erandur’s calm company after all, and in him there is sanctuary from the stressors of directing the region’s Thalmor operations and his troublesome vampire thief jailbait boyfriend. They have crotchety old coot bitching sessions often. They also bond over both their boyfriends being despicable.
The four call their polyamorous relationship official about two years after Hamza initially meets Erandur. The rental outside of Whiterun is used as their hub for a while, as Erandur and Hamza live there, Avinor in Riften, and Ondolemar in Markarth. It’s a decent middlepoint, but small, and as their relationship matures and it gets more important to them all to see each other often, it becomes clear they’re going to need a bigger space, and maybe more than two beds. Also dragons are here now. Dragons, as it turns out, can turn a wooden house to ash. There’s pressure to move. Hamza buys a house on Markarth’s interior, with the assumption the stone fortifications will protect them. Ondolemar, finally, gets to move out of his shitty bunk-room in the Keep and everyone converts to living full-time in Markarth.
Ghorza gra-Bagol
A casual friend of Hamza’s but one he can rekindle his nerdhood around. He can get technical about jewelrycraft and mention a specific author in her company, and she actually knows what he’s talking about. They chat books and smithing and trade tools and tips, and Hamza will make deliveries to and for her. They are similarly driven and hardworking people, and Hamza can forgive Ghorza for her race because she redeems herself, in his mind, by being a lot like him.
Strengths:
Strength. He stong. Big muscles. Big hammer. Boethiah’s blessing.
Luck. Things work out for him when they shouldn’t.
Charisma. Though painfully racist towards non-Mer, Hamza can charm anyone. He has a happy and and goofy nature and a natural draw. He’s also simply hot. He knows to shut his trap and not act like the bigot he is when he needs to interface with an Imperial or Nord.
Conviction. Though his goals may be wack as fuck, he is committed to them. If he is set on a task, he cannot be shaken from it. He gets everything done that he thinks needs done.
Smarts. Hamza was born a nerd and is still one deep down despite transitioning to jockhood. He has a lot of read knowledge and background understanding. He can summon it when needed, and understands more than he lets on, strategically.
Weaknesses:
Lack of foresight. Hamza is prone to making decisions without considering their effects. He’s stubborn and often caught up in adrenaline and as a result will make choices that have consequences that injure himself or Erandur.
Acquired Himbitis. Hamza doesn’t think before he acts. Or think a ton at all, anymore. Things tend to go his way without much effort, so he can sometimes forget to have a thought and act stupid.
Adrenaline Junkie. He can be worked into a violent state relatively easily, and has a hard time coming down from it. He’s done freakish things in the heat of a fight. He’s bitten a chunk out of a man in blind rage, and gotten himself into fights he had no stakes in countless times. He loves to feel powerful, often to his own detriment.
Horny. He’s not hard to cheat with and flirts liberally with all genders. He has encountered backlash for buttering up married people. He thinks with his dick more often than his brain, when he thinks at all.
No interest in:
-Aging
-Human races or motivations
-Being a good person
-The civil war
-Stopping anytime soon
No concept of:
Mortality. As Champion, as a learned and rugged man, and as a youngshit, Hamza hasn’t considered he can die nor that he is doing a lot of things that could bring that about. He wouldnt directly say he *is immortal,* he knows he is not in some abstract way, but he certainly feels untouchable, unkillable.
Shame. He is rarely embarassed even if he should be, and his lack of shame has gotten him into hot water for a lot. In this vein, he also has a very high opinion of himself and feels like if you got to interact with him, lucky you. He’s a treat.
Fear. Hamza lacks a voice in his head that tells him he better not do that, or that he could be harmed. That’s what Erandur’s for. Without that angel on his shoulder he would charge headfirst into a lot more bullshit than he already does.
Character:
You know the guy.
As a person, he is lighthearted and goofy, but headstrong and holding odd, somewhat delusional opinions of his place in the world. Hamza feels like God’s favorite little guy, and is in fact Boethiah’s strongest soldier. He’s funny and extroverted and chasing thrills.
Hamza drinks a lot and casually uses skooma, usually trying to justify its use. He will tip back a vial before or after a high-stakes fight, or for a fun night with the boys. He hasn’t yet hit “addict” levels, but give it 15 years. He’s gonna fall pretty hard.
In battle:
He’s the Champion of Boethiah. He is skilled and formidable. He is capable of divine acts of violence and does not often lose a fight.
He has two favored war hammers, a blessed, antique ebony one, and a restored Dwarven hammer enchanted with flame named Victimbender. Its name started out as a joke, but stuck.
He wears heavy armor, and has a favored set of Dwarven peices he restored himself.
Trivia:
- Hamza has a flightly black horse. The horse is nervous and not a good candidate for a warhorse, so he’s mostly ridden for scenic evenings and long-distance trips.
- Hamza got cursed by a Forsworn witch once and she considerably shrunk his dick and balls for ~3 days. His ego took a hit.
- He cuts his own hair even though Erandur is right there.
- He does not meet the Last Dragonborn and doesn’t know who it is. He’s aware there is one.
- He is bisexual, but after a couple girls in college never romances one again. Hamza is strictly homoromantic nowadays, and though he may sparingly bed a woman for the good old fashioned pleasure, it’s no habit.
- Loves dog meat. This upsets humans. He also eats plenty of raw meat. It’s a religious thing to him, he says.
- Sticky fingers…
- He can use some magic, but nothing super intense. He can raise a wolf from the dead and use the fire magics innate to Dunmer.
- He is shown with varying tattoos and piercings. He gains them over time.
- Does not like feet. (Unfortunately, the artist does.)
thank you for reading! i was tagged by @sulphuricgrin , among others.
if you enjoyed this at all, ask questions and do it too!
My only joy in this godforsaken world is THEM!!! 🤧😭💕
This is my first attempt on drawing Brynjolf in my style. (well aside from practise sketches. I'm always terrified to f*ck it up with colour!)
I usually struggle to draw men and need more practise. 👉👈🥹 It's very hard for me and I'm very hard on myself, but I needed BryNo art or I would've imploded 🤧
They're literally me everything and there's so much more stories to tell about them, but I also feel shy, which contradicts the urge to yap, which then contradicts to fear of being annoying, which then contraditcs the urge to give a damn and yap twice as much 😂
It's complicated, ok? Alexythemia is one of me problems 😂
Here's Some Random Brynjolf & N Facts ❤️
Whenever N has had a particularly awful day, Brynjolf's hand somehow ends up on top of her head. He knows all he has to do is give her a few head rubs and, just like that, the angry little skeever turns back into his sweet little mouse. (Seriously. He weaponises this. N and head rubs are basically Superman and Kryptonite.😂 One rub, and she falls asleep!)
Since Brynjolf is usually busy looking after everyone else and keeping an eye on the Guild's recruits, N quietly makes sure he actually gets to eat. If he misses lunch again, there's almost always an extra portion waiting for him somewhere. Sometimes she'll even leave him a sweet roll with little sugar hearts piped on top. Cute things have no business existing in the Ratway... which is exactly why her tiny acts of sweetness mean so much.
Having grown up on the streets, both of them know hardship all too well. Maybe that's why they're so good at appreciating the little comforts in life—and squeezing every last drop of joy out of them whenever they can. Then make twice the coin out of it, and share the wealth with their found family. 💕
Nightmares have become rare as adults, but every now and then one still slips through. Whenever that happens, N grabs her scarf, sneaks into Brynjolf's bunk and curls up against him without saying a word. Some childhood habits never really leave.
The first time Brynjolf secretly overheard N playing the guitar, she nearly beat him with it. She was so angry, she refused to speak to him for three whole days and after that, she made him swear—more than once—that he'd take this secret to the grave. Even years later, after they're together, the Guild still never gets to hear her play. Brynjolf remains the only exception... provided he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't tell Delvin. 😂 There's a whole funny story on that one too!
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ A personal note:
Brynjolf is more than just important to me, he’s my very last comfort in this godforsaken world!!!
I just hope everyone can be kind and accept them, accept me and maybe leave a bread-crumb of love for me too.
I've had enough hate and bullying in my life. People calling me a cripple, laughing at me for writing despite difficulties, and so much more.
Your hate can strike the last brick that’s holding a person’s sanity.
I hate myself too, and if it’s a competition you'll lose twice over, because I already hate every inch of me. I'm partially utilising my own trauma in my writing and create a story, where at least I can find a happy end, where I can be whimsical, find love and be loved in return.
N is my vessel for that, but she is also an independent OC.
Being born a literal "no one" I know precisely how my OC feels being literally dubbed "No One".
I've lost everything I had in my life.
All I have left is Skyrim & the Thieves Guild, which are an even better family than the one I had...
All I want is to share my arts, my love for them, my writing and hopefully (if Autism isn't in the way) find some friends along the way.
My autistic special interest I absolutely NEED like air in order to function halfway decently is my storytelling, and it goes hand in hand with art, and headcanons, and world-building and a lot of love for TES lore. This is the only thing I find comfort in.
I just wanna be, feel warm, feel loved, feel safe. Brynjolf & the Thieves Guild is my Safe Space ᓚᘏᕐᐷ
I just wanna do art, and laugh again, and talk about the fictional character I love with all my heart.
Finding him at the basement after beating up all the guards, he flinches at first, his face covered in days old blood and a set of broken ribs. There's his signature chuckle but it's weak and breathless. This stranger just showed up, saved him without asking anything for return. And when they manage to escape the Embassy, they tell him, this is were they part ways and disappear. Brynjolf left alone wondering if he'll ever get a chance to thank them. He didn't even caught their name.
(This could possibly work as an non- LDB-route as well. Still going into the Thalmor Embassy, but maybe being hired to snoop to get rid of Ulfric's dossiers instead.)
Later they'll find out they need to head to Riften and they'll end up finding already familiar face to them.
Some time would go by, then one day in a fleeting moment they'll show up at the marketplace of Riften, or at the Bee and Bar at night. Brynjolf's heart jumps to his throat, his body still remembering what he went through and he'll have a visceral reaction to remember it all again. Maybe it wasn't so long ago. Poor man is about to have a mental breakdown in public.
Their eyes meet, they look at Brynjolf in surprise. "It's you again." They say with a voice barely stronger than a whisper. He survived, and he is well. But seeing Brynjolf's look on his face, they hesitate to approach him - the pain behind his eyes is too prominent and they would turn away from him.
But Brynjolf knows he can't let them slip away again. "At least tell me your name", he pleads them and as he grabs them by the arm, he remembers how soft their hands felt against his bruised cheeks. Safety.
And eventually, it turns out the reason they were in Riften was because they were sent to look down for someone called Brynjolf and evidently, they were meant to meet again.
snowghoul
izzy806
origamiaround
stormborns
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
2087
gummygunk
