I am finally getting the time to start reading more. Rales is such fun to catch up on! Little things like this:



really make him come alive.


Edit:

Okay, I finally caught up. It is so much fun to go back to the start and get reacquainted with Rales again.

This is so Rales!


Important safety tip below!


This is a good piece of writing here:

The reason I say that is because it shows Rales is not perfect. Instead he is a real person, loses his temper sometimes, and snaps at people when he should not.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 21 2010, 06:39 AM

Arrille was far from amused when I dropped the goods I had taken from the crates in the smuggler’s cave on his counter. He said he wasn’t buying the moon-sugar from me and that I needed to get rid of the substance before he’d do business with me. Ah, so that’s what the strange satchels were. I had heard of moon-sugar but had no idea what it looked like. I shrugged, put all the goods back in my bag, bid Arrille a good night with a smile and returned to the shack. I was tired anyway, selling the goods could wait to the next day.
I stuffed a Kwama egg and some bread in large chucks in my mouth, flushed it away with some water and went to bed early.


Day 5

The sun hadn’t even come up when I awoke. Surprisingly enough, Arrille was awake as well. I sold him all my redundant goods, had a hearty breakfast and headed out into the wild. I didn’t plan on returning for days.
I was traveling light, I had brought my sword, the bow and arrow, some food, a sleeping bag and some dry clothes.

The following days I spent exploring most of the bittercoast region. Halfway the first day I noticed a beautifully crafted stone arch over a sturdy wooden door into a mountain.
A sign told me it was the Samarys ancestral tomb. There’s a first time for everything and this was the first ancestral tomb I had ever seen. Or been into for that matter. Praying to the ancestors to forgive me for what I was about to do, I opened the door and entered the tomb.

To be honest, the place gave me the creeps. More than once I considered turning around and head back home but every time I crushed those instincts asking myself where my sense of adventure had gone. Surely, I wasn’t a coward?

My sense of adventure got me into trouble as soon as I opened the door that had been trapped. Again, I was punished for my lack of attention. I noticed the trap too late and ended up with another scar.

As I proceeded farther into the tomb, something straight from a nightmare screeched and attacked. A collection of bare, white bones wrapped in a rag floated towards me with obvious malicious intent. The first spell hit me when I was still frozen in fear. Ever sat too close to a campfire? Well, this spell felt like I was sitting in a campfire. My entire skin burned. The good thing about it was that it brought me back to my senses and started hacking at the bones with my sword.
A few well-placed slashes and the bones scattered throughout the entire room. Actually quite amusing, if only the damn thing hadn’t hurt me so much.

The whole tomb was infested with bony things. I was a bit more careful throughout the rest of the tomb. The first bony - that’s what I was calling them - had taught me an expensive lesson. First; carefully look out for enemies and only then barge into a room. It saved my hide several times with taking out the other bonies in the tomb.
I had something to show for when I emerged the tomb dusty, tired and bleeding from more than one gash, though.
In a chest next to what appeared to be an ash-pit, the remainder of what I presumed were the ashes of the departed Samarys ancestors, I had found a really expensive looking ring.
It felt a bit like theft taking it but, then again, they shouldn’t have left such a nice trinket for anyone to take. Or perhaps that was the reason why the bonies were there, as guard? Nah…..
Shaking the guilt, I slid the ring around my right index-finger and marvelled on how good it looked.

Besides looking good, the ring was enchanted with a powerful spell as well. As soon as I put the ring around my finger, I could feel a positive tingle throughout my entire body.
I wasn’t sure but I felt more determined and more focused, like everything would be easier to achieve and comprehend.

The rest of the days of my exploration trip were hardly noteworthy. I went through some more caves, where I encountered bandits, smugglers, slaves and slavers, bonies and other undead things, bagging me some potions, weaponry, scrolls, food and had gained extensive experience using my weapons.
Having exhausted my arrows, most of my useful food, not having any more dry clothes and a soaking sleeping bag from the rain the last night outside, I headed back to Seyda Neen, back home.


Chapter 2: Blades

Day 9

I woke up, feeling well-rested in the safe confines of Foryn’s shack. It had felt exceptionally good sleeping in something more resembling a bed rather than the cold hard ground I had slept on the previous days.
When I put foot outside, it was raining, turning the soil in Seyda Neen to greasy mud, another downside of being situated amongst swamps I presumed. I ploughed through the mud to Arrille’s with the intent of selling the goods I had found on my trip the last few days. I’m sure there never had been anyone in this run-down town having more gold in his pocket than I did that day after selling it all.

Grinning contendedly I encountered a sad looking Imperial, called Vodunius Nuccius. I had seen him a few days ago, thinking nothing of it but he was still looking miserable. Something had to be wrong.
When I asked him he said he was sick and tired of this lousy town. He had had enough of this wretched province and wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had squandered his money on a ring sold to him but now he was stuck with what he called a cursed ring.

His plan had been to earn some gold on what he thought to be a profitable deal but it turned out he had been scammed. Yes, the ring would enhance your stamina but the Redguard trader hadn’t mentioned it would also drain your life. No-one wanted to buy the ring so now he couldn’t afford the trip back to Cyrodiil anymore. He couldn’t remember the trader’s name unfortunately.

I felt bad for the poor Imperial. So I offered to buy the ring from him, I had plenty of gold and was sure I had a use for the ring. If only to dump it in the nearest swamp, which I, obviously, didn’t do but I did consider it. If only for a short while.
His face beamed when he finally got rid of the cursed ring, I handed him his gold and wished him a good trip back home.
‘Thank you, friend! I will never forget it,’ he shouted over his shoulder while running towards the docks. That was the last I ever saw of him. I hope he got home safe.
I rested throughout that day and prepared my trip for the following one.

Day 10

I got up early, I had packed my belongings I thought I was going to need before I had gone to bed, grabbed a quick bite and headed off to the stiltstrider-port north of town.
The rain of the previous day had dispersed, a watery sun was coming up. The surrounding swamps were shrouded in a dense, low-hanging, eery mist. Dew was trapped on the spiders’ webs between the trees, making it look like a ghostly veil. I remember just standing there for a while, in awe of the beautiful scenery.

The stiltstrider driver greeted me with a warm smile, she had been a friend of Vodunius and had heard of how I had helped him.
‘Where would you like to go?’ she asked. ‘I’ll make you a special price.’
‘To Balmora please.’ I replied with a smile.

The trip was calm, I found riding a stiltstrider really relaxing although somewhat icky, considering you were seated in the hollowed-out body of a huge bug.
I didn’t even start to fathom how the driver got the bug to go where she wanted.
All I could tell, she was pulling some sort of strings. I found out much later those strings were in fact the animal’s nerves.

The town of Balmora was gorgeous. In my eyes, it could measure up to the Imperial City. It even had a tower. Taking it all in, the first few hours I spend wandering through town gawking at everything, like a tourist. To be honest, I got lost but that doesn’t really matter if you have no particular place to go.
What was strange was that everywhere I looked crates, urns and baskets were standing outside. Even stranger was that nobody minded them and I could take from them whatever I wanted.

The first crate I opened, I did cautiously. There was a guard, entirely covered in an armour made from a material I had never seen before. To me, it looked like an insect’s exoskeleton and made the guard look very formidable. Not someone I’d fancy getting into a fight with.
I opened the lid, the guard said nothing. Slowly I put my hand in the crate, still the guard didn’t react.

It would appear the crates were no-one’s because when I took all the goods from the crate, nobody objected. Not even the guard, two steps away from me.
I shrugged and emptied all the containers I could find from useful goods.
By the time I was finished, it was getting dark and my bag was bulging with everything I had gathered. Even some gold coins. Now, who in his right mind would leave gold for the proverbial dogs?
Wandering around some more I eventually returned to where I had entered Balmora, the trader’s district nearby the stiltstrider.

I sold most goods I had found in the crates to Ra’Virr, a friendly Khajiit trader.
He tried to sell me a Daedric weapon but when I pointed out they weren’t Daedric but plain weapons carrying an enchantment, he quickly acknowledged I was right.
Still, I could see they would be very useful. I didn’t know much, but I knew swords.
Unfortunately, they were far beyond anything I could afford so I stuck with the blade I had found on Tarhiel’s body and continued my search for a place to sleep.

There was the option of taking the stiltstrider back to Seyda Neen but that meant I would arrive deep in the night. I aimed to spend the night here, in Balmora.
A local Nord woman pointed me towards a place to stay the night, called the Eight Plates. She told me not to expect too much but according to her the food was allright and the beds soft and as a bonus, not really expensive either.
Just what I was looking for.

Good work!

Rales's musings about the crates and urns highlights one of the most ridiculous things I ever saw in Oblivion (obviously in Morrowind, too) - the amount of perfectly good stuff left in "unowned" containers, even gold! Yours for the taking! Sheesh!

I admit it makes survival easier when I can collect repair hammers, lockpicks and gold coins every few days. Food too, if my character actually got hungry.

Yeah Rales! Now hurry up and go meet Zerina !!!!! Lol.

I felt there, Rales...Sarethi...No it's Remko, right?

@Zalphon. Hehe, you're right, Rales is an extension of my very own personality. Even the names Rales isn't something I grabbed from thin air. Rales Sarethi is the exact same amount of letters as my own full name. Although I only figured out last week that Rales is also a nasty physical condition....
mALX I'll increase the size of the posts to get there faster, ok?
Hauteecole Rider: That's something I couldn't resist taking the piss out of Just like the very first sentence of day 5. I am glad they adressed the 24/7 openess of shops in Morrowind. Although it is convenient I guess the convenience store was actually invented in Vvardenfell.

Day 11

The next morning I decided it was a good day to search out Caius Cosades and get rid of whatever it was Selles Gravius had given me to deliver at Caius.
After asking around, I found out his house was in the poorest district of town, the north-eastern part.

Not knowing what to expect, I knocked on what was apparantly Caius’ house and waited for a reply. An elderly voice said I could come in. I was greeted by a balding Imperial man, only wearing trousers. Something smelled familiar in his messy house but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Untill I started looking around that was. I saw familiar satchels, empty bottles and a pipe underneath his bed. The man was a Skooma addict!

‘You have a package for me I presume?’ he asked me.
‘Possibly,’ I responded. ‘After you tell me how you knew that.’
He smiled mysteriously and said it was his job to know.
This didn’t sound like a in-coherent addict at all. There was something in his eyes, something sharp that made me think maybe his addiction was a cover. But for what?
Since the old man already knew I decided it wouldn’t do harm handing him the package - after all, it was destined to him anyway.

Caius briefly went through the contents of the package – I couldn’t see what it was – he looked me over a bit and asked me if I was ready to accept orders from him. Again, orders. Thinking that nothing is for free, not even a prison realease, and that I didn’t have a job yet, I might as well accept. It sounded exhilarating as well.

‘Good,’ he said and then proceeded to swear me into what he called the Blades - the secret Imperial intelligence agency. So that’s what the cover was for. The man in front of me was his Imperial Majesty’s spy-master.
‘Intelligence? Then what am I doing here?’ I joked.
He frowned but didn’t answer.
Instead, he told me to practice my skills, buy some weapons and training or buy a pair of shoes for all he cared, handed me two hundred Drakes and said I should return when I felt up to the mission at hand.
Caius also taught me a secret hand-signal with which fellow Blades could recognise each other.
‘Oh, and get a job, you’ll need some sort of cover. I’d advise you to join a guild,’ he pointed out just before I left.

***

Joining the Fighter’s Guild didn’t really appeal to me. If it was anything like in Cyrodiil – and why wouldn’t it? - it would be just a glorified name for a bunch of mercenaries. A place with swords for hire and where every life was counted in gold - as in how much would anyone pay to end someone else’s life.
I needed – no, wanted – something more glorious, something honourable. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help people, not simply smyth them with a piece of iron with a pointy end.

Next to the fighter’s guild was the guild of mages. It occurred to me that if I wanted help with my alchemy, this would be the place to find it.
Ranis Athrys, the head of the Balmora guild, told me to talk to Ajira I I wanted to be instructed in the art of alchemy.
I could find her downstairs, all I had to do was follow my nose towards the foul odour.
I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to Ajira or to her potions.

Ajira was more than willing to help an aspiring alchemist out. For a fee obviously.
I doubt she would’ve been as helpful if she had known what she got herself into.
She was shocked when she asked me to give her the ingredients I had collected so we could start with lesson one. She shoved all my ingredients into a bin underneath her desk saying the ingredients were useless. All of the properties of the ingredients had been corrupted by throwing them together. Made sense if you thought about it – which I hadn’t.

She took some fresh ingredients from a drawer in her desk. I could see she had each ingredient in separate small pots, neatly labeled with name and properties.
Ofcourse she had me pay for the ingedients. The next thing she did was hand me bundle of small satchels. Seeing my puzzled face she said they were to store collected ingedients while out in the wild. ‘Or would you prefer to carry a desk with you,’ she asked with a semi-serious face.
She had me pay for the satchels as well. It was a small price to pay to prevent another disaster that had happened on my first alchemy try.

The next thing was to learn the properties of plants available in Vvardenfell.
When I asked Ajira how she knew and kept them apart, she pulled a huge book from a cupboard behind her with all plants, other ingredients and its major properties. For now, I was allowed to use the book to find plants with similar properties that would together create a certain effect. But if I wanted to become an efficient alchemist, it would be advisable memorising the most important ones.
‘Do you have the necessary apparatuses?’
Proudly I dug up the mortar and pestle from my bag and put it on the desk in front of me.
‘Where’s the rest?’
‘The…. rest?’ I hadn’t a clue what she meant.
‘Yes, the rest. Calcinator, alembic and retort.’
‘I- I don’t have those.’
More expenses, my gold was drying up fast. Anyway, after buying the additional required apparatuses we continued. Of course only then Ajira said I didn’t really need the additional tools but they would help making better and stronger potions.

The Khajiit alchemist had me starting with preparing a basic potion with only the mortar and pestle. The use of other tools would be adressed in the next lessons.
She told me to find the ingredients to make a relatively simple potion that would restore fatigue and gave me some useful pointers to help me out. It didn’t take me long to seek out the necessary ingredients in the book: a Kwama egg and a loaf of bread. There are plenty more but those are amongst the ones most common. Making the potion however, was a different matter altogether. It took me ages to get it right. I added too much water, not enough water, cooked it too hot or too cold. Too much of this or not enough of that. I was really starting to lose my temper when finally I got it right. I had made a useful potion, one I wasn’t afraid of drinking without poisoning myself.

Eating the ingedients would have the same effect but would be far less effective than with a concentrated potion, she said. But would taste far better. We had quite some laughs over the afternoon. I always enjoyed the company of the Cat-folk. They are uncomplicated, usually friendly and have a wonderful sense of humour. Many of my child-time friends had been Khajiit. I guess that’s why I was so shocked in Addamasartus.

At the end of the day, my alchemy skill had increased greatly. I knew (well, in theory) how to make the most practical potions and already had memorised the main properties of some of the most common ingredients. Ajira told me most ingredients have more than one effect but only the more skilled alchemist knew which those were, how to recognise them and that I should forget about experimenting with those for a while, unless I had a serious deathwish. She also warned me that I had been lucky that I hadn’t killed myself with the poison I had made in Seyda Neen. It could have been far worse than the effects I had encountered.

Chapter 3: Rings

Day 12

Straying through the, now almost empty, streets of Balmora I was growing restless.
Caius had said I should find a job at a guild. I had already decided the fighter’s guild wasn’t what I wanted. I considered the guild of mages but I sincerely doubted I was mages guild material. Sure, I enjoyed dabbling with alchemy, especially now I - more or less - knew what I was doing but spending hours and hours researching a spell didn’t sound very exciting.

No, if I truly wanted to make a difference and help people, I needed to find something else. Since I had put myself on the, in my eyes, noble path of freeing slaves I thought I’d join the legion. I knew for a fact that in Cyrodiil, where I had grown up, the people frowned upon slavery and as such, as its defender, so did the Imperial Legion.
The Moonmoth Legion, south-east of Balmora didn’t need anymore recruits but the Legion’s commander, Radd Hard-Heart, mentioned the Gnisis Deathshead Legion might be looking for recruits.

Gnisis wasn’t really around the corner. It would be a several day walk or half a day with the stiltstrider. I decided on half-way. I took the stiltstrider to Ald-Ruhn and proceeded by foot to Gnisis after asking some directions. I wanted to see my birth-land, what better way than crossing it on foot?

It was on the third day of my journey that I came across a crying Breton lady.
She explained her ring had slipped from her finger into the small pond nearby when she was taking a drink from the sweet, clear water. When I asked her why she couldn’t retrieve it herself she told me she was a dancer and needed to get to Gnisis and couldn’t afford getting her hair wet. It had taken her hours to get it just right. I could see why, she looked absolutely stunning. I prayed she didn’t notice I was staring.

‘Lady,’ I said confidently, ‘don’t cry, I’ll find your ring.’
I stripped myself from my armour and clothes to my loincloth and dove into the pond. Even with the clearness of the water, it took me nearly two hours finding her ring.
Triumphant, I surfaced holding out the ring only to have an arrow swooshing by, just missing my left ear.
As fast as I could, I moved away from the pond towards the pile with my weapons and clothing while keeping my head down.

Synette, the Breton dancer screamed that she wanted the fancy ring on my finger and said if I didn’t hand it over her friend would put some holes in me and take it from my lifeless body. I shook my head and told her she couldn’t have it. I had almost reached my weapons, slowly I moved my hand behind me to reach out for my sword. Cleverly I managed to keep the dancer between me and where I suspected the hidden archer to be.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Synette pulled a dagger and jabbed at me. I managed to avoid the blade by letting myself fall backwards and grabbed my sword and bag at the same time. I was well aware I was unarmoured, if I wanted to get out of this alive I would have to be clever. I knew if I’d face the two women at the same time with only a sword, they’d have me for breakfast.

I scrambled back on my feet and ran to a cave I had passed about half an hour before I encountered the lovely Breton and her mysterious friend. Even though she had lunged at me with a deadly weapon, I still thought she was pretty and I didn’t really want to end her and her friend’s life. Surely, there would be another way that didn’t result in either having to hand over my ring or with me or them ending up dead?

Luckily for me, the ladies had lost my track and I was safe for a while. Ruffling through my bag I dug up a pair of invisibility potions I had found a few days ago. Knowing the inherent problems with invisibility, Ajira had explained any action would cancel the effect immediately, I exited the cave after having rested for a while and headed back to my armour. I just hoped the effect would last long enough to reach my armour and the rest of my weapons unseen.

My plan worked. I managed to reach my stuff, quickly grabbed it all, drank the second potion and ran back to where I had hidden before so I could put on my armour in safety.
Armed and ready and quite frankly; rather pissed off, I figured it was time for a talk with a pair of misguided girls.

Unfortunately for her, Synette was prettier than she was clever. She attacked me, again. With me being fully armoured. ‘It’s not too late,’ I warned her. ‘Put down your cutlery and I will put down mine.’ Her uncertainty was reflected in her beautiful eyes and they kept darting off to a place behind me. Towards the hidden archer’s position I assumed.

There wasn’t an arrow stuck in my back yet, meaning maybe the fight could be diverted. I heard a clang of a weapon being dropped behind me. Focusing my attention to the Breton in front of me I saw tears welling up in her eyes while she dropped her weapon as well. I lowered my sword.
‘If you want, I can escort you back to civilisation,’ I offered.
She said that wouldn’t be necessary, the girls were capable of taking care of themselves.
I gave Synette her ring back and wished the girls all the best.
‘Look me up if you are ever in Gnisis.’
‘I will,’ I responded and continued my path to fort Darius.

This post has been edited by Remko: Mar 23 2010, 12:14 PM

Rales is also Laser...

It has been a lot of fun re-reading the beginning of Rales. He is such a fun character. There are so many "Hey, I do that too!" moments I come across while reading. Like rooting through all of the barrels and crates for loot.


ewwwww!


I loved this:



nits:

Looks like a Cliffracer ate the space between Of course.


That is cutlery.

I enjoyed the alchemy lesson. I had to laugh at the way Rales's gold was trickling away from him during the lesson! Just like college - the tuition's only the start! Then you gotta pay room & board, buy books, get your own lab safety gear, etc, etc! He he!

Good stuff. I like the informal fun style. You really catch morrowind to, the sense of exploration and alienness of some things. Nice and smoothly written too.

apparatuses - I found this a bit odd, it is strictly correct so perhaps it's just my accent but I've allways used apparatus as an uncountable noun. Just jarred me a bit really.

Nice stuff, I'm interested to see how joining the legion goes.

You're scaring the other writers, Rales... You're making us feel inferior!

I love the way you are able to move the story forward, from Balmora to Gnisis in less than two paragraphs. Even the Mages Guild is hard pressed to transport people that quickly. I also like the touch of the hand signal that Blades use to recognize each other.

And this:

is what we all love about Rales.

Thanks you for the praise! I wanted to write a fan-fic that MW fans immediately recognised. I think I've succeeded in that.

AFAIK apparatuses is correct. Saw it spelled like that on the UESP too. Perhaps the "-es" is silent that's why you never noticed


Chapter 4: Legionnaire

Day 17

Two days after my run-in with the ladies at the pond, I arrived in Gnisis and proceeded to the fort. The “fort” was hardly more than a wall into a mountain with some beds and a storage room and it was utterly devoid of soldiers and activity.
I was in the wrong place. I wandered through Gnisis and noticed soldiers entering and exiting a large building. Thinking that must be the barracks, I entered the building and started asking around.
The Legion’s commander, General Darius was to be found in the Madach tradehouse, in the center of town, an Orc legionnaire told me.

I left the barracks and headed off to the tradehouse. The place was bristling with people. I made some short inquiries by just mentioning his name:’Darius?’
‘Downstairs and straight ahead,’ the proprietor told me.

Politely I introduced myself to an Imperial clad in gold-coloured armour, his stature and armour were indication enough to me this would be the Legion’s commander, and stated I wanted to join the legion.
‘Do you think you have what it takes to represent and uphold the honour of the Empire,’ he asked me.
‘Yes sir,’ I firmly answered.
‘Well then, recruit. Report in with Optio Bologra for your uniform and return to me for orders.’
I saluted as I had seen the Legion do in Cyrodiil, wheeled around on my heels and marched to the barracks for my uniform.

‘So, you’re back,’ the same Orc I had spoken to earlier, rumbled in their typical way.
I nodded and said the General had ordered me to get my uniform from Optio Bologra.
‘That would be me, drillmaster Optio Bologra,’ Optio said and handed me an Imperial ring-mail cuirass.
‘Now, get out of here. Report with the General.’
‘Yes drillmaster!’

‘Why are you not in your uniform?’ the General roared.
“I.. I euh..,’ I stumbled over my words. ‘I haven’t got around to it, General Sir,’ was the honest answer.
‘I’ll let it slip this time because you are a new recruit, but from now on you will wear your uniform at all times, understood recruit?’
‘Yes. Sir!’
As quick as I could I changed my light Chitin cuirass for the mail cuirass.
‘Now, are you ready for orders?’

Another yessir later I was briefed upon my mission.
I was to retrieve a land deed from a Dunmer woman who had lost her husband in the local eggmine.
The Legion needed the Zabdas land deed for an additional dock so the town could finally reached by ships and that I shouldn’t take “no” for an answer.
I could see it being useful to the Empire but I couldn’t help but thinking bullying a widow out of her land didn’t seem honourable at all. Had I made a mistake joining the Legion?
I put my prejudice aside and decided to investigate on it first before expressing my opinion.

Widow Zabdas’ house was just west out of town. It didn’t take me long to reach the location.
The area was lovely, it was nearby a river and the surrounding pastures were green and lush. Several Guars were grazing happily on the fields.
The calmness of the area was highly in contrast to my state of mind. I really wasn’t happy with my mission. I swallowed a lump in my throat and knocked on the door.
‘Go away,’ was what I got.
‘Muthsera Zabdas, I wish to speak to you concerning your husband.’
‘Will it take long?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Well, allright then. Come in.’

She opened the door, offered me a seat and asked me to state my purpose for being here.
I explained the Legion had send me and that they wished to acquire her land. The Legion would provide her another place to live. I didn’t know if they would but if there was some decency left, they would, I was sure. Ofcourse I didn’t tell her the General hadn’t mentioned an alternative house at all. There and then, I made up my mind that if the Legion wouldn’t, I’d take care of that myself.

‘First, the Legion murders my husband and then desires my land as well?’ She was furious.
‘Murdered?’ I murmered. The General hadn’t mentioned anything about a murder. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Yes, murdered,’ she yelled. ‘My husband was one of the most experienced miners around. I don’t believe for a second he had an unfortunate accident as that foul beast says. I will never, ever, relinquish my land,’ she spat.
I had obviously overstayed my welcome. I got up, greeted her politely and walked back to the tradehouse with a heavy heart. I was torn between my duty towards the Legion and my own personal feeling of right and wrong. How was I going to explain this to the General?

The General turned out to be a lot more understanding than I could have ever hoped.
When I briefed him with what widow Zabdas had told me, Darius ordered me to investigate the miner’s death and complimented me on being discrete. He could see a bright future for me with the Legion, he concluded and dismissed me.
I can’t express how relieved I was. There was honour in the Legion after all!
The best place to start the investigation would be the eggmine, east of town.
Again, I was investigating a murder.

A short walk later I encountered a Dunmer guard outside the eggmine who said no-one was allowed to enter. When I told the guard I was here on Darius’ orders he unlocked the gate.
‘Just be careful, the Kwama queen has contracted a Blight-disease.’
At that time I had no idea what a Blight-disease was but I knew diseases so I took his advice to heart and thanked him for his warning.
I investigated the entire upper level of the mine and asked the workers what they knew or had seen. None of the workers knew anything and had seen just as much. I suspected one or two to be lying but I couldn’t prove it. There was nothing else to do for me but investigate further.

Had I known Kwama warriors were that territorial, I would’ve been more careful.
As soon as I set foot through the door into the lower level, lightning forks seared passed me, barely missing me. There were too many for me to handle so I raced past them. A bit farther, an Orc legionnaire barked at me to get out of this place and that I had ten seconds to do so. He was leaning leisurely on an axe the size of a small child and muscles, thick as boatropes, were flexing under his green skin. I muttered some excuse I can’t even remember and ran towards a door, leading even further down. Facing this Orc in battle would be my downfall, I was certain.

The moment I stepped through that door, I froze. An apparition, nearly transparant, floated above an underground river. I readied my sword and prepared for battle.
Slowly, the ghostly figure floated towards me but not in a threatening way at all.
From experience, I knew ghosts never came close, they kept their distance and flung nasty spells to you. This one didn’t. Instead, he started talking.

‘Have no fear, I won’t harm you. Listen to my tale and do as you will afterwards.’
I nodded briefly in agreement and the ghost continued:’My name is ….Zabdas, I was a miner here untill ill fate came upon me. A quarrel with a guard was my downfall.
The murderer’s axe is still lying with my broken body, proof that I was struck down innocently. Retrieve this axe, and let justice prevail so my weary soul can finally find peace.’ Upon his last words, the apparition moved to the side and pointed towards the underground river. I followed his lead an peered into the river. Underneath the surface I could see a corpse and an axe. Sofar, the ghost had spoken the truth.

It was too deep to dive into with my armour on, the weight would surely drag me drown and I’d die a horrible death.
To prevent such a gruesome fate, I undressed and left all my gear on the embankment and dove in to retrieve the axe. While I was under, I checked the corpse for proof as well. I didn’t find much although in the victim’s midsection an axe-wide wide gaping wound was a sign he had been struck down with an axe. Judging the depth of the wound, he had been struck hard. I suspected the poor fellow had died instantly.
The words the widow Zabdas had spoken arose violently.
‘As that foul beast says,’ she had concluded her rant. Had she meant the Orc in the other room?

Having found the proof I needed I scurried back to the tradehouse, past the ill-tempered Orc and the even worse tempered Kwama warriors.
‘This is Lugrub gro-Ogdum’s axe allright.’ The corners of Darius’ mouth turned downwards in a sad grimace.
‘How could he have betrayed the Legion? He is one of my finest,’ he murmured in a melancholic monologue.
Lifting his head he said:’Recruit, you will have to execute the traitor but do try to find out why he has betrayed his duty first.’
‘Yes Sir!’ I saluted and marched out his office without displaying any of my doubts about the mission I had received. How was I, a lowly recruit, going to defeat a highly revered legionnaire and one of the Legion’s finest warriors? Once more I had doubts about my choice joining the Legion. I needed to think this all through. In my own time. Hoping it wouldn’t be considered desertion, I left Madach tradehouse and Gnisis. I had enough of orders for a while.

This post has been edited by Remko: Mar 24 2010, 12:21 PM

Remko...will you be bringing your Oblivion story over here too?

Excellent descriptions, Rales.

Rales joins the Legion! One thing I thought was lacking in Oblivion was that you could not join the legion there.

nits:

I think you are looking for the word horrible here.


I do not think you want the word cleavage here. In English it typically means the valley between a woman's breasts. You probably want something more like rent, or hole.
It is also a very long sentence. You might consider breaking it into two sentences, like this:

SubRosaI never realised the word cleavage is never associatiated with weapons. Strange that some weapons are called cleaver.. Thanks!
@mALX1 Yeah, I guess I can do that. Yay, finally a reason to start working on that again as well.

Chapter 5: Feathers

Day 28

I wandered for days and days in a row. I didn’t record much of what happened, I had sunk far into dark thoughts and self-pity.
One event brought me back to reality. I stumbled into some cave, tired, hungry and wet. Nearby the entrance I sat myself down, went through my inventory, sharpened my weapons, repaired dings where necessary, mended my armour and slept for a while. My dream was haunted by visions of dead people, screaming Mer and a huge Orc trying to bash in my skull.
I woke up in a sweat because of a rumbling sound from deeper within the cave. I snuck farther into the dark hole to find out what it was that had awoken me.

I reached a ledge with a ladder into a pit. In the pit several bodies were strewn around some sort of green blob with arms and legs. The blob didn’t try scaling the ladders so I assumed it was too heavy, too big or both. Shocked, I realized how unnerving that assumption was. If this thing understood it was too heavy for the ladders, it also meant it was sentient, intelligent. I would have to take care not underestimating it.
Not really fancying taking this monster on up close I started with shooting lots and lots of arrows at it from a safe distance. It didn’t even notice the pinpricks.

When I unleashed all the spells I had on my repertoire on it, I only managed to anger the hideous thing and draw its attention to its assailant, yours truly. If this would take any longer I feared it might find a way out of the pit somehow. In a desperate attempt to get rid of the creature, I scaled down the ladder, slowly approached it and with all the strength I could muster hit it with my sword. Its thick, scaly skin deflected my sword easily. Spinning around it swung its hammer-sized fists in my direction. I managed to dodge the first one but was too slow to dodge a swing with its other fist. It hit me straight on the head, sending a spur of pain through my entire body. I could swear from that day I was about an inch shorter than before. It certainly felt that way.
There was no way I was going to be able to defeat this creature, I turned and ran.

The creature tried to follow me but somehow it managed to get itself stuck between the walls of the pit, the ladder and some crates - it wasn’t that intelligent after all - I got away from it safely and even had time to grab some of the goods the former occupants, the ones lying dead all around, had left behind. I also found some sort of meat I had never encountered before. It smelled strangely familiar, even though I had never seen meat with that specific colour before. I shrugged, took a satchel from my bag to preserve it and put the satchel with the meat into my bag. Maybe an experienced alchemist would recognise it.

After the encounter with that monster I had seen enough caves for a while. I headed north-east and explored the coastal area. I was made painfully aware my skills weren’t up to scratch. I lived on what I could find or hunt, slept in caves when it was raining and in the open field when it was dry. The following weeks, more times than I’d like to recall, I barely escaped a grisly death by the hands of creatures, bandits and by something conjured up in Oblivion and dropped into Vvardenfell.
Venturing deep into the ash-regions of Vvardenfell I heard a wailing sound but couldn’t pinpoint its origin. ‘Not another Bosmer,’ I amused myself by imagining the strangest of scenarios just to keep my mind from wandering into melancholy again.

Something resembling a bat, only bigger, smellier, equipped with a tail ending in a sharp end and a ferocious beak, had its mind set on having Dunmer for dinner. Its dinner was cold steel rather than warm Dunmer, the creature looked a lot tougher than it actually was. A stab and a slash had it falling to the ground. I plucked its tailfeathers and stuck it in my hair as a trophy. There was no-one as witness to how silly that must have looked. It was just one of those things to keep me occupied in the lonely wastelands called the Ash-region.

Deafeating a single one wasn’t the problem. I soon found out where there was one, there usually were more. A lot more. Finally, I had some target practice.
Swordplay had always been one of my strong points. Having been brought-up as a Redoran, I was trained with a longsword ever since I had been strong enough to carry one. Before that, I had been playing with a wooden sword.
That day, as I was cooking the flying rat’s meat above a fire, I just wished I had a better sword. The enchanted blade I had found was starting to loose its effectiveness, fighting that green blob made me painfully - literally - aware of that fact.

The weeks wandering around aimlessly, I had the chance and plenty of time to practise my marksman skill. Compared to my sword-fighting it was rather pitiful. I wasted arrow after arrow but after days of practicing, missing and retrieving arrows and running from enemies I couldn't even hope to defeat yet, slowly I was starting to hit my targets.
The flying horrors were soon dropping like flies – untill I ran out of arrows that was, and I was starting to look like a bird myself, with all the flying rats’ tailfeathers in my hair.
For their sake, I hope they reproduce fast, otherwise I wouldn't me surprise me if I had managed to wipe out the entire pests' population thoughout those weeks.

Day 40

There is always a huge down-side to wandering aimlessly through a land you have no or hardly any geographical knowledge about - you are bound to get lost. Well, so was I.
I had no idea where I was or where I was going. It was time to set myself a goal again, I needed better gear. Weeks ago, someone, I can’t remember her name, warned me about wandering into Daedric ruins. Unfriendly worshippers and even more unpleasantly tempered monsters usually occupied the ruins was the bottom-line of the warning. I threw the advice in the wind as soon as I came across a ruin of the sorts I had never seen. Towers with points, jagged edges of broken walls, apparantly aeons ago, and, as I was warned, crawling with creatures so terrible I almost ran.
The urge to find a better weapon got the better of me.
Curse my sense of adventure!

I got far more than I bargained for. Before I even got the chance to enter the shrine, I was assaulted by creatures I used to run away from as fast as I could. A waist high creature with what looked like a collar came running in at an alarming speed. I raised my shield and braced for impact.
I reaped the fruits of the exercise and the weeks of fighting enemy after enemy and managed to keep standing behind my shield. Frantically the creature tried to bludgeon my shield aside in an effort getting to me. Remembering what the master of arms had taught me, I used the creature’s mindless ferocity and strength against it. I prepared my sword and let the shield slip a little, just enough for the creature to break through and impale itself on my sword because of its own speed. Unfortunately, it was also more than the already battered old shield could take. After the fight it was beyond repair and I abandoned it.
The path into the shrine was clear.

Inside, I tried a different approach. Instead of barging in, banners raised, I snuck in, using the shadows to hide my presence. Before the residing worshippers were even aware of me, two Dunmer were lying mortally wounded on the ground, an arrow to the throat is just as effective against spellcasters as a silence spell.
The third was alarmed before I got a clean shot, I stepped on a loose rock revealing my location. These things usually happened when I tried to sneak up on someone, that’s why I usually never bothered.

Drawing my sword I ran at him howling a battle cry. Mid-air my attack ceased. A glow was emmitting from the Sorcerer’s hand, paralyzing me.
There was nothing I could do, I had no cure. I had to wait for the effect to wear off.
Several agonizing seconds passed as the sorceror cast spells at me.
Suddenly, my hands were free and I finished the attack ending with my sword lodged in the Dark Elf’s chest.
Still I hadn’t found a decent sword. Weren’t these ruins supposed to be swarming with Daedra wielding the best weapons?

Disappointed with my findings in the ruin so far, I grabbed the best next thing. On a bowl near a shrine of a really ugly guy’s statue I found some valuable gems.
Imagine my surprise when out of nowhere a warrior emerged wearing a black and red armour from hell and swinging the scariest looking sword I had ever seen. That’s what I was looking for. The only thing I had to do was kill its current owner.

What a battle that was. This guy knew what he was doing. Upon my standard attack - a overhead chop as a distraction, a quick sidestep and a slash to the midsection - he did the exact correct thing. He dodged the chop rather than blocking it so he was ready for the slash to his midsection. Most, lesser, swordfighters were caught off guard by this attack and were usually cut down with the slash. I remember grinning maniacally. This was what the master of arms had trained me for throughout my entire youth.

We blocked each others’ every attempt getting the upper hand in the battle. This was no fight, this was a dance, as deadly as a hidden viper and I never felt more alive than ever. The first miss-step would mean defeat and certain death for either of us.
I almost ended the fight with a quick lunge straight to his gut, just before my sword hit him, he ducked and rolled to the side, recoiled and brought up his sword diagonally across my chest. If I would have been impatient and immediately had stepped in not recognizing the trap, the thrust would’ve cut me in half. I could feel the air displacement from the blade on my face as it flashed by.

This was the opening I had waited on, I grabbed the iron dagger from between my belt with my free hand and rammed it between the creases of his armour, into his armpit. The Daedra dropped his sword and fell to his knees. I ended the dance cutting of his head with his own sword in a single swipe. I’d call that poetic justice.

This post has been edited by Remko: Mar 26 2010, 12:48 AM

I love that - poetic justice, lol. and YEAH! I love your Oblivion story too !!!!!!!!!

Several hours later, I continued my search through the shrine. I figured I might as well sweep the entire thing while I was there anyway. The containers in the shrine turned up quite a collection of enchanted trinkets, ingredients, some books that taught me some nice tricks and a pile of gold.
I just had the fight of my life and ended up with a huge treasure. What more could I want?

A Dunmer, clad in an armour blacker than the darkest of nights saw me before I saw him.
His hands lit up in a ominous glow and I faced a monster, devoid of skin and with bones protruding through its flesh. Worse yet, the fleshy beast threw spells at me.
I could feel the strength seeping from my already fatigued body. If I didn’t defeat it or its caster soon, I wouldn’t be able to move at all.
Digging into my own arsenal of scrolls I had collected, I cast a spell to temporarily increase my strength and cut down the monster. My new ebony blade came in handy, it cut through tissue and bones like it wasn’t even there.
The severed parts of the creature disappeared in a puff of smoke clearing the way for me to the conjurer.

The expression on his face flashed between fear and rage. Before he could gather himself and conjure up another of those awful beasts, I physically attacked him, forcing him to have to defend himself with steel. I smiled. After having crossed swords with the Dremora Lord, this was going to be a breeze. I don’t think he realised I was playing with him. My sword grazed his cheek, leaving a bloody trail; I jumped out of the way when he tried to hit me with his axe; kicked his legs from underneath him when he was too static and slammed my elbow into his nose when he did close in.

The far superior reach of my longsword was too much for him. Once more he tried to summon something but before he even had the chance I slashed at his hands which prevented him finishing the spell.
Deciding I had enough practice with my new sword, I dove underneath one of his slow desperate swipes and thrust my blade upward, through his chin and base of his skull and added his armour and his black and red Daedric axe to my collection.

Returning to the main level of the shrine, my eye caught a door I had previously missed. Carefully - the painful memory of the trapped door in the ancestral tomb was still somewhat fresh – I disarmed the trap and unlocked it.
Behind the door was a Redguard woman – Malexa - tied with rope. After having cut her free she told me she had been captured by cultist for some kind of heathen ritual. I ensured her the cultists wouldn’t be performing any kind of ritual soon. It took her a while to understand what I had meant. In fact; when we headed out of the shrine – I had promised her to return her to her husband, Sason, she had been travelling with – she suddenly burst out in laughter when she saw the first bloody corpse. Only there she understood what I had meant.
‘Suits them right,’ she hollered. ‘Are they all dead?’
I nodded, bringing a smile to her face.

Having a companion for a while was a nice change. Malexa turned out to be a member of the great house of Redoran. She even knew my cousin, Athyn, and that I could find him in Ald'ruhn. I wasn’t planning on visiting him yet – I wasn’t ready for that – but it was nice to know in advance. During the journey to re-unite the couple we talked about lots of small things. Some things I already knew but there was a lot I didn’t know. She told me of politics, religion and whatnot. She wouldn’t stop yapping, I didn’t mind at all.

I was highly interested when Malexa told me about the Tribunal. Of course, I had heard of the famous Three, it was part of the Redoran upbringing, but I had no idea they had been mortal before they ascended to god-hood. In return; I told her about my adventures and why I was wearing the feathers in my hair - I had forgotten about those - which amused her to no end.

Day 42

We found her husband the next morning after having spent the night underneath a high placed rock-ledge so we were safe from predators prowling the area. I loaned her my sleeping bag to keep herself warm. It nearly took an hour before my teeth stopped chattering with the cold after we woke up. She insisted on leaving right away. She didn’t want to waste time making a fire and having breakfast before setting off. I knew better than to argue with a lady, besides, she knew where to go.

Seeing the happy couple together again was heart-warming, yet, it also reminded me of how lonely I actually had been the last few weeks. I hadn’t seen a familiar soul ever since I had left Seyda Neen.
The swamp town was a dump, true, but it was the closest to what I could call home.
I longed for a friendly, familiar face.

Good update. I like this story, I think I said it last time but I'll say it again: this story is morrowind. It's more than just the setting and characters which bring bit of gameplay and the world to mind, the whole mindset and the pace and the descriptions are spot on and put me in mind of the game.

If I were to suggest anything I'd say a little more characterisation might be benificial, but that's just my taste (and me looking for something to say) as there's certainly a character there.

I might have to go and play Morrowind again when I have time.

You are right about the word "cleave" and its other forms: cloven, cleft, cleaving. They all mean to cut something in half. It is only specifically "cleavage" that refers to women's breasts. It is a reference to the cleft between a woman's breasts.

Like Olen, reading Rales makes me want to fire up Morrowind and play it. You write so true to the game, that I constantly find myself saying "I do that too!". I have probably said that before, but I think it bears repeating.

I really liked this line:
Its dinner was cold steel rather than warm Dunmer

This is so Rales:
On a bowl near a shrine of a really ugly guy’s statue




nits:
We blocked eachothers’
Looks like one of those Cliffracers ate the space between each other's.