Stolen Destiny: The Story of Stitch Options

[Khajiit_Thief01]

Hello everyone!

This is a story that I began years ago, and was originally published in part on the official Elderscrolls Forums. I figured it would find a better home here, and I would greatly appreciate your insights, comments, and advice.

Special thanks to Treydog, who has been my editor for this tale during it's sporadic (and still ongoing) updates!

So, without further ado.....

Stolen Destiny:
The Story of Stitch

FOREWORD

Heroes can't be Thieves.

This is a universally accepted truth among most law-abiding folks. In order to become a good, upstanding person in society, one must obey the rules and follow the laws. Children are to mind their manners, stay in school, and share their toys. Nothing is taken; everything is payed for. Good morals will be followed, bad morals will be disregarded.

For this reason, the Heroes portrayed in history are those who are generally noble and virtuous: Knights, Crusaders, Legionnaires, and so on. A Thief embodies those values which are seen as morally wrong: selfishness, greed, and a disregard for civil law. Thieves are not heroes, but enemies, and should be regarded by history as such.

I have told these things to myself many times over the years. These ideas, these rules, are what kept me from telling the story I am about to tell. It was a decision I made on my own, influenced by nobody else. Just as a Thief is supposed to do, I selfishly stole and then guarded what I viewed to be my possession.

But as the years go by and I start to reach the age where life takes away from me more than it gives, I realize that the possession was never mine to keep. It's a strange thing for a Thief to say, but some things must be shared with others. The thing I am referring to in this case, is history. Not the history that is read in the schools and libraries of today; the history I speak of is the True History, the history I stole from the people to protect myself and my way of life.

In the year 3E 427, history records the start of the journey taken by Balen Andrano, a Dunmer faithful of the Tribunal Temple who would eventually be acknowledged as the Nerevarine and change the world forever. That history is the wrong history, and with the next few strokes of my quill I will give back the Truth I stole in that same year:

Balen Andrano is not the Nerevarine. I am.

CHAPTER 1

The year 3E 403, outside of Balmora, Vvardenfell....

The rain was steady this night; not too hard, not too soft. Except for the quiet sound of the raindrops on the window and roof, it was completely still in the tiny home situated a few miles north of Balmora. The two Khajiits who occupied the home slept peacefully, the husband's arms around his wife's waist.

A loud, almost deafening knock woke them both up instantly. Fighting off the haze of sleep, the husband got out of bed, his wife attempting to follow.

"No," he said to her in Ta'Agra, their native language. "Go back to bed. I will see who it is." With a dreamy nod, the wife rested her head back on the pillow and fell fast asleep once more.

The male Khajiit walked to the door slowly, still shaking off his fatigue. Three more loud knocks impatiently prodded him forward.

"Patience! Dro'zhar is coming!" the Khajiit yelled, this time in the Imperial tongue. By the time he reached the door, the knocking had subsided. When he opened it, there was not a soul in sight. Dro'zhar eyed the entryway confusingly.

"Hello! Is anybody here?" the Khajiit yelled out in an annoyed tone. When a few moments passed with no answer, he stepped out onto the doorstep to better view the surrounding countryside. When he did so, his furry foot hit a round object, and suddenly the silence was broken by a baby's cry.

The Khajiit's ears extended upward in surprise. "What is this?" he muttered to himself, looking down at the source of the noise. The source turned out to be a straw basket, with a Breton baby inside who was now crying, his sleep undoubtedly disturbed by the Khajiit's foot.

"What is the problem? Why is my husband not back in bed?" the Khajiit's wife said a moment later, having snuck up on him from behind. Dro'zhar looked at his wife, annoyance in his voice now replaced by shock and confusion.

"It's a child. A Breton child. Look's like a boy," he answered, both of them now kneeling next to the basket for a closer look.

"Yes, it is," Dro'zhar's wife said a moment later. "Where is the mother?"

"Nobody was here, Kizza," Dro'zhar said to his wife. "The mother must have abandoned the child on our doorstep and left."

"Is there a note in the basket?" Kizza asked rhetorically. She searched the contents of the basket, careful not to poke the crying baby boy. After a quick inspection revealed nothing, she sighed. "No. Nothing but the boy."

"What should we do with it?" Dro'zhar inquired.

After a moment of reflection, Kizza answered, "What else is there to do? We must keep it and raise it as our own." Dro'zhar frowned.

"Raise the child? That is no small task," he reflected. "But my wife is right. There is nothing else we can do." With both Khajiits in agreement, they picked up the basket and brought it inside the house, away from the rain.


The year 3E 408, in the backyard of the Khajiits' home....


"But Mama, it's too high!" the 5-year old Breton yelled from the top of the tree, fear evident in his voice.

Kizza responded with the authority of a teacher to her student. "You will jump down from that tree or you will sleep there tonight. It is your choice, Tobias."

"But Mama! I'll hurt myself again!" the child protested, tears beginning to form in his eyes. The distance from the top of the tree to the field below him seemed a thousand miles away.

"You can not let your fear control you," she said, more soothingly this time. "You are not a Khajiit, but with much practice and training you will move as silently and gracefully as one. But you must be willing to try."

The child choked back the tears and nodded his head. "Ok, Mama. I'll try." The boy counted to three, and then jumped down from the top of the tree.

On the way down, a branch made a deep cut in the boy's leg, forcing him to wince in pain and break the concentration of his decent. He landed on his stomach and the world bounced for what seemed like eternity. When it settled back to its normal position, the young Breton boy sat up and cradled his knee, crying in pain. Kizza ran over to her adopted son, hugging him with one hand and holding his knee with the other as she inspected the wound.

"This cut is deep," she said, a mother's concern in her voice. She looked in her son's eyes and calmed him down. After the sobs subsided, Kizza smiled as a thought came to her mind. Confusion took the place of the child's pain, curiosity getting the better of his tears.

"Mama? Why are you smiling?" the child questioned. Kizza laughed to herself, still looking into her son's eyes.

"If you keep getting wounds like this, your mother will have to call you "Stitch." She laughed to herself again, and the child smiled.

"I like that nickname," the boy sniffed.

"Oh, do you? Then we must make it stick," she resolved, standing up. "Climb back up the tree, my little Stitch. We have more training to do."

The year 3E 415, inside the Khajiit's home....

"No! Still too fast!" Dro'zhar said. "Stitch must learn to slow down his movements. His steps must be softer than a feather, yet quick as the sands of Elsweyr! Noise is the enemy; silence, the friend," the Khajiit instructed. "Do it again."

"Father, I can't! I don't have feet like yours!" the 12-year old Breton complained. They had been practicing the proper technique of sneaking for several hours now, and the boy was tired.

The father just smiled. "Ah, but my Stitch can! Remember when he said he couldn't jump from the backyard tree?"

"But it took forever to do!" the child shot back.

Dro'zhar continued to smile. "But now he lands with the grace of a Khajiiti acrobat! It takes time, son. More time than a Khajiit child, true. But when the technique is mastered, it is never forgotten!" After a brief pause, Stitch's father continued. "It is this one's job to teach; it is your job to master. So, we will continue now."

Stitch nodded to his father, inspired by the Khajiit's words and determined to finish the task. "Yes, Father. Let's continue."


The year 3E 420, on the road north of Balmora....


Smoke in the distance. It looks like it’s coming from...no, it couldn't be. It must be somewhere else. Has to be somewhere else.

Running, sprinting, gasping for breath. Just a little bit closer now. Have to keep moving.

Almost there. Can't stop running. Must make sure.....oh no.

No. No, it..."MOM! DAD!"

The flames engulfed everything he knew...the house, the yard, the tree he used to jump from...all of it in flames.

"MOM! DAD!" Still no answer. He heard nothing from inside. They must have gotten out. Had to have gotten out. He had to go and check....

"MOM! DAD!" he sprinted towards the burning building. Still no answer. He had to save them. They couldn't be...

"Hey! What the hell are you doing? Don't go there, kid!" An Imperial guard was running after him. "Stop! Don't go in there!"

The guard caught up to him and tackled him to the ground. "Kid, are you crazy? You'll die if you go in there!"

Stitch tried to fight the guard off. "Get off me! I need to see if they're in there! I have to..."

"You have to calm down, kid! You'll get yourself killed if you run into that fire!" the guard interjected. He held the 17-year old Breton down with ease.

"Get off me! Get off me!" Stitch yelled, still trying to squirm free.

"Wake up! Wake up!" the guard told him. "STITCH, WAKE UP!"


The year 3E 427, at a house in Balmora....


"Stitch! WAKE! UP!" I heard the voice of a Khajiit yelling into my ear.

"Argh...Ra'veer? What are you doing here?" I asked him, still half-asleep.

"The same thing I do every damn morning. Waking you up!" he responded.

I sat up straight in my bed and proceeded to rub my eyes. "Hmm...I thought for sure that new lock I put on the front door would keep you out of here."

"What, are you serious? I could have picked that thing with a scrib's leg." Ra'veer was always one for jokes. "Now get out of bed and get dressed. There's business to be done and drinks to be drunk. Not necessarily in that order."

I pulled the covers off myself and sat on the edge of the bed. "Did I mutter anything in my sleep this time?"

"No, but you were squirming worse than a constipated guar. Another bad dream?"

"It didn't start out that way. But it ended that way, yeah."

"Well, it's nothing a nice bottle of Flin can't fix. Hurry up before I lock you in your own room," the Khajiit challenged.

"Lock the Master Thief in his own room? How do you figure you'd do that?" I asked.

"By tying you to the bed and locking the door. A bit brutal, perhaps, but it will get the job done." We both shared a good laugh.

"Alright, give me a few minutes and I'll be ready," I told him.

As I stood up and walked over to my dresser, I couldn't shake the dream from my head. Most people saw their lives flash before them right before they died; I had been seeing mine flash before me in my dreams. It seems that even after all these years, I still wasn't completely over what had happened. My parents had burned to death in that fire. A fire that was no accident...

I shook the thought from my head and pulled out a brown, hooded robe. I put it on and then sank my feet into some leather boots. After that was finished, I walked over to my closet and opened a chest that contained my Daedric shortsword, which I strapped to my side. I had stolen the sword from a Redoran nobleman three years earlier, and though I rarely ever needed to use it I never left home without it. You never knew when the Camonna Tong would try something nasty, after all.

After I had finished getting ready, Ra'veer and I walked out of my home and towards the South Wall bar across the Odai River. It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to rise. It was a bit chilly outside, but the Hlaalu guards were still sweating in their heavy Bonemold armor. They grunted as we walked past, but didn't say a word. It was just as well; thieves and guards don't mix, and it wasn't hard to point out who was who.

I looked at Ra'veer and thought of the past, of the good past. We had practically grown up together; our parents were great friends and Ra'veer was always over at our house when we were younger. When my parents sent me to the Imperial school in Caldera, Ra'veer had insisted to his parents that he go, as well--and after many days of constant arguing, they relented. The Imperial tutoring we had both received explained why Ra'veer, unlike most Khajiits, could speak in the first-person; our parents, however, were all natives of Elsweyr and so only talked in the third-person, as was common among Khajiits. It was unusual to the innocent bystander to hear a Khajiit using the word "I," but to us it was just another sign of our strong bond of friendship.

We arrived at the South Wall in a few short minutes and immediately went downstairs to the bar. We were greeted on the way down by Solitude and Sugar-Lips Habasi, Guild members and friends to us. Sitting ourselves down at the bar, we were each served a drink---Flin for me, Cyrodillic Brandy for Ra'veer---and we began to laugh and joke around as we always did every morning. It looked to be another normal day, business as usual.

It stopped looking that way halfway through our first drinks. We heard Solitude's voice from upstairs; she was clearly yelling so that we would hear her. Fearing the worst, both of us dropped our drinks and ran upstairs, hands on our weapons, ready to draw them if need be.

When we got up the steps, we saw Solitude arguing with two Imperial Guards, likely from Fort Moonmoth. They were speaking softly to her while she was protesting loudly. As soon as they saw Ra'veer and me, however, they stopped their conversation and looked at us. Solitude gave me a look of fear, and I knew the subject of the conversation.

"Tobias "Stitch" Do'bara," one of the Imperials began, "You are to come with us to Fort Moonmoth immediately. If you do not come peacefully, we will resort to using force."

This post has been edited by Khajiit_Thief01: May 29 2011, 05:00 AM

[mALX]

*

This bit of foreshadowing is my favorite line in the chapter:

Balen Andrano is not the Nerevarine. I am.

Really catches the attention! Whew! Some powerful scenes and (I assume memories) in this first chapter! Great Write !!!




This post has been edited by mALX: May 29 2011, 06:32 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Well, this is a bit unusual twist on the usual Morrowind beginning. I'm not familiar with the game, but I've read enough MW fiction to recognize the Nerevarine and to know that this isn't the arrival on the ship that is the beginning of the game.

Another thing that jumped out at me is that our main character (Tobias/Stitch, correct?) is a Breton man who was raised by Khajiiti. That's a welcome change from the recent Bosmer invasion on these forums. Erm, no offense meant, Teresa, Buffy, Derelas, Talendor, Syl, and any other Bosmer I might have missed. You are all enjoyable, but there's other folks in this Nirn too, and it's nice to hear from them once in a while!

I also liked how the story flowed through the MC's childhood in a smooth manner reminiscent of - well - reminiscing. It didn't feel hurried or rough or choppy at all.

I hope you continue this story to its conclusion. I'll like to see more.

There is only one nit from me:

Nothing is taken; everything is payed for.

I believe you meant paid.

I didn't notice any other glaring nits. Well done!

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: May 29 2011, 05:50 PM

[Acadian]

A hearty welcome to a new story!

An excellent prologue that set the stage.

You then provided us Stich's youth via several detailed and intimate active scenes. That was a wonderfully effective way of 'showing' us the key elements of his background and everything we need to know at this point.

And finally, it may be off to jail?

'The Khajiit's ears extended upward in surprise '
This was delightful! I love how Khajiit can tell you what they're thinking by their ears.

[Khajiit_Thief01]

@mALX: Thank you for the kind words. I really enjoyed writing the Foreword and wanted to make it as engaging to the reader as possible. I am glad I succeeded.

@haute: Good catch! I'll fix that little nit right away. As for the beginning of the story and how it differs from the game, I really sought to "break from the pack," as it were. Stitch's story will follow the Main Quest to a point, but it is still HIS story, and needs to be told in its own way. Thank you for the praise, and I will definitely tell this story to its conclusion!

@Acadian: Khajiit are my favorite race in the games, and I too love how their mannerisms can tell so much about them even in the absence of words.


This next part will conclude Chapter 1. Enjoy!
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The fact that the Imperial knew my real name was disturbing to me, but I did not show it. I responded in a calm tone.

"On what charges am I being held? I've done nothing wrong." I was lying, of course; it was no secret I was a thief. However, I had no bounty on my head and I knew the guards understood this, as well.

"There are no charges. None yet, anyway. We have orders from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself to bring you to Fort Moonmoth. For what reason, I don't know. But if you do not come, then I am required to charge you with this list of infractions," he said, handing me a scroll. I unrolled the parchment and read the charges. Somebody had clearly done their homework, because I was staring at an exhaustive list of virtually every crime I had committed over the past seven years. It was well more than enough to warrant the death penalty ten times over.

I re-rolled the parchment and handed it back to the guard. "Very well, I will come." I turned to Ra'veer and quickly whispered, "If I do not come back, you know what to do." He nodded his understanding and with that, I was escorted out of the South Wall by the two Imperial guards and over to nearby Fort Moonmoth.

I was surprisingly not led into the jail area, but rather to the bunk area where the guards slept. I was told to stand and wait there for further instructions...instructions that would apparently be given by somebody else, because the two guards who had escorted me promptly left. After a moment, however, a familiar figure emerged from beyond a bunk and spoke.

"Good Morning, Stitch." It was Larrius Varro, Captain of the Imperial Guard at Fort Moonmoth. He was a tall, muscular Imperial, whose visage would be appropriate on any Legion recruiting poster. Needless to say, we were not friends.

"We'll see how good of a morning it is, Varro," I snapped back. "Why am I here? What's this about the Emperor wanting to speak to me?"

The Imperial Officer chuckled a bit and then spoke with a smile. "The Emperor does not wish to speak with you, no. He wishes for you to speak to me. He thought it'd be more...productive if you were brought here, that's all."

"Well, I'm here and we're speaking. Get to the point," I growled. I was uncomfortable in an Imperial fort and even more uncomfortable being confronted with a warrant the size of the Pocket Guide.

"Please try to control your temper. I promise you neither I nor the Emperor wants to charge you with any crimes. It was just the only way we could guarantee you'd do what we ask of you."

"Blackmail, huh? I expected better from the Legion," I said sarcastically. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You have been known to engage in certain “extralegal” activities before, have you not? Or have you simply forgotten our last encounter from years ago?”

For a brief moment, I could see Varro’s face turn slightly pale, his head slightly flinch as if someone had swung their fist to strike him and then recoiled at the last second before impact. The change was brief, so brief that most would have missed it. But I was expecting such a reaction--indeed, it was my goal to elicit it--and so it did not go unnoticed by me.

When Varro spoke again, however, he did not mention the past encounter between us I had alluded to, choosing instead to focus on our present business. "The Emperor wants you to report to a man named Caius Cosades in Balmora. You are to give him this package and follow his instructions," he told me, handing me a package as he did so.

Upon hearing this, I looked at the Imperial in disbelief. "That old skooma addict? Why the hell does the Emperor want me to talk to him?"

"You'll find out when you get there. I'm not entirely sure myself. I'm just telling you what the Emperor told me."

"And let me guess: if I refuse to do this, I'll get charged with all those crimes you wrote down on that nice golden parchment?" I asked, still fuming at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Precisely. But again, we'd rather like to avoid that if possible," the Imperial said in a casual tone.

I looked at the package and then looked back up at Varro. I considered agreeing to do the task, and then going into hiding...but if they had managed to compile a list of charges that long, then there'd no doubt be a massive manhunt across the island and a death warrant with my name on it. And as much as I believed I could stay alive, I didn't relish the thought of a life of solitude. In short, I had no choice but to accept.

"Fine. I'll do as you've asked. But you can tell the Emperor I think he’s a big, fat, foul-smelling piece of guar sh..."

"Yes, I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear that," Varro interrupted. Our business done, he walked away and a few moments later the two guards from earlier returned.

"You're free to go," they told me. "Would you like an escort off the fort?"

"No, I've had enough escorting for one lifetime. I'll go on my own," I snapped. They nodded impassively and walked away.

I walked back to Balmora as quickly as I could, thoughts racing through my head faster than I could process them. Why is this happening? What does Cosades have to do with all of this? How does the Emperor know who I am, and why does he want me to do this? All these thoughts and more ran through my head when suddenly, as if by my feet's own volition, I found myself at the door of Caius Cosades's house in Balmora. I lingered at the door for a moment, wondering what awaited me inside and what was about to happen. I considered for one last time going into hiding, and then with a great sigh I walked into the house.

And with that first step into Cosades's house, I set my feet on a path that would change the course of history forever.

This post has been edited by Khajiit_Thief01: May 30 2011, 08:47 PM

[haute ecole rider]

So Stitch got blackmailed into ultimately becoming the Nerevarine? Somehow that doesn't surprise me. A lifelong thief doesn't just suddenly go all noble on us and decide to save Nirn for the sake of some Emperor. But coercion is much more effective.

I applaud your decision to "break from the pack." I think in writing a thief character it's a wise one.

I didn't see any nits on this readthrough this time.

[King Coin]

This seems like an interesting story. I've never played Morrowind so all of it is new to me.

[Acadian]

Nicely done. This whole episode was about setting up this conclusion:
'In short, I had no choice but to accept.'
I think you did a great job in setting the stage, both accounting for and removing options until Stitch's conclusion above seemed a very true and believable statement.

Like your other readers, I too am an Oblvioner. What I know of Morrowind will not quite fill a thimble.

[mALX]

The little slips of foreshadowing once again reveal your own personal twists to the questlines and how creative your imagination is. I foresee a very interesting slant brought to this !! Great Write !!

[treydog]

I really enjoy the snippets from his childhood (will except for the deaths of his parents- but even that is done quite well). And the way you manage to flow from present to remembrances of or references to the past is quite pleasing. It gives the story the feel of a memoir, almost spoken rather than written, complete with side-trips.

Also welcome is the decision to change the way in which Stitch is "recruited."

Finally- I am thrilled to see you posting this story here- welcome to Chorrol!

[Grits]

Stitch has a distinctive voice already, and I like it. Looking forward to more.

[Khajiit_Thief01]

@haute: Glad to see no nits in that last one. While I wouldn't consider myself a "grammar Nazi," I do place a high importance on proper grammar and spelling. I comb through every portion looking for mistakes before I send it off, so it kind of irks me when some slip through. Hopefully this portion will be nit-free, as well!

@King Coin and Acadian: Thank you both for the kind words and support. I realize that Morrowind (and it's expansions) are now considered "old" games, and it is my goal with this story to make it accessible and enjoyable to everyone. Those who have played Morrowind will no doubt pick up on some things you "Oblivioners" will not, but it is my hope that even those who have not played the game will still find the story engrossing. I am glad to hear that, so far at least, I have succeeded.

@mALX: Wow, thank you! I don't really have anything else to say, except that I hope you enjoy the next part of the story.

@treydog: The master speaks! Thanks for the welcome to Chorrol, as well as for the praise and for your continued assistance as I write this. It all definitely motivates me to continue writing, even when Real Life does it's best to delay that.

@Grits: Sometimes, I feel like less of a writer and more like a stenographer. Stitch speaks to me, I just provide the dictation.


Well everyone, the beginning of Chapter 2 is here! Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 2

The house I entered was typical of the dens of most skooma addicts: small, dirty, and a skooma pipe within easy reach. The man that stood inside the home was a shirtless Imperial who spoke meekly when I entered.

"What do you want? I'm just an old man with a skooma problem."

The man's response, coupled with the dismal condition of the home, did little to convince me this wasn't some sort of trick orchestrated by the Imperial Legion. The fact that the Emperor had ordered me to speak to this man and give him a package was so ridiculous that I was starting to wonder if I was the one on skooma. Nevertheless, I complied with the orders Varro had given me; if nothing else than to be done with it all as quickly as possible.

"I've got a package for you. From the Emperor, apparently," I said with no small hint of disgust in my voice. "I was ordered to give you the package and await further instructions."

The old man raised an eyebrow and spoke with suspicion in his voice. "So, you say you've been told to report to me and deliver a package?"

"I don't think I stuttered. Here it is," I said with great annoyance, handing him the package as I did so.

Caius Cosades took the package hesitantly and, after a moment of consideration, opened it. After viewing the contents of the package, he spoke to me again, this time with the tone and authority of an Imperial Officer.

"Yes. Very interesting. So. It says here the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades. And that means you'll be following my orders. Are you ready to follow my orders?"

The combination of his words coupled with the abrupt change in the old man’s demeanor made my jaw drop to the floor. It took a few moments for me to regain my composure and respond.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right. Did you just say the Emperor wants you to make me a Novice in the Blades? As in, I'm supposed to be a spy for the Emperor?"

"I don't think I stuttered," he replied. The irony in his response did not go unnoticed.

"There's got to be some mistake here. I'm not cut out for government work," I said, shaking my head in complete disbelief.

"No mistake. It says, 'The man who is to deliver this package to you, known as ‘Stitch’ amongst his friends and associates, is to be inducted into the Blades as a Novice. Furthermore, he is to follow your orders and instructions.' Signed by the Emperor himself," he said, handing me the cover letter as proof. "See? No mistake. Now, are you ready to follow my orders or not?"

I read the cover letter at least five times over, looking for some sort of loophole or error that I could exploit. There was none. For better or for worse, I had to become a Blade and work for Caius Cosades. The other option was a trial and a death sentence.

"Fine, I'll follow your orders. But I'll detest every minute of it."

"I'm sure you will," Cosades replied. Then he cleared his throat and spoke in a more business-like tone. "Good. First, as you already know, my name is Caius Cosades. I'm the Imperial Spymaster for Morrowind, and since I'm the ranking Blades agent in the province, you'll report to me. You follow my orders, and we'll get along fine." He paused for a moment and then continued. "Welcome to the service, Novice Stitch. Now you belong to the Blades. We're the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces. You can use my bed if you need to rest, but leave my personal stuff alone unless I say otherwise.” He added an extra bit of emphasis on that last part. “If you like, you can improve your skills with our Blades Trainers now. Or if you're in a hurry, I can give you orders right away. It's up to you."

The decision was an easy one for me; I was eager to finish this business and get back to my normal life. I was a Thief, not a spy, and the knowledge that I was now in the Emperor's service tore away at me like slaughterfish devouring a drowning kagouti.

"I'm ready now. What do I have to do?"

"Eager to serve the Emperor, I see," he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Good. Normally, I'd tell you to get a cover story before accepting any assignments, but given the fact that you're a well-known Thief and are suspected of being the head of the Vvardenfell Thieves Guild, I don't think that will work. So, my best advice is to act like you normally do and appear to be doing business as usual."

"What, you mean DON'T act like I'm now an agent of the Empire? Who would have thought to do that?"

"Careful with that mouth. Don't forget you're taking orders from me now," he shot back. "Go talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild. Ask him what he knows about the Nerevarine secret cult and the Sixth House secret cult. You'll have to do him a favor first. Probably an ugly favor. But do it. Then get the information from Antabolis and report back to me. Those are your orders. Dismissed." With that, he turned his back to me and continued to look at the contents of the package. Getting the hint, I left the house without saying anything further.

Even though it was implied that I was to start on my new assignment immediately, I instead began walking in the direction of the South Wall, rather than the direction of the Fighters Guild. The decision was partially out of a desire to rebel against the Emperor's wishes as much as possible, and partially to meet up with Ra'veer and explain the situation to him. I knew that revealing the fact that you were now a spy to someone was probably very much against spy protocol, but I knew that if anyone had the right to know about my current situation, it was Ra'veer.

I arrived at the South Wall a few minutes later and was greeted by many people asking many questions. I shrugged them off with as much charisma as I could muster.

"What, you all think an Imperial fort could hold ME? Honestly, don't you remember who you're talking to here?" This was met with much laughter from my interrogators.

"But Stitch, will they come back for you?" Sottilde asked, concern in her voice. I waved my hand dismissively.

"No, they won't come back. The situation has been taken care of. Nothing a few Septims couldn't solve."

"But how did they know Stitch's real name? Not even Habasi knew Stitch's real name," Sugar-Lips Habasi asked.

"Beats me. But does it really matter? Like I said, the situation has been taken care of. Nothing more to worry about," I assured her.

Satisfied with my response, the crowd of people dispersed and went back to drinking downstairs. Ra'veer, however, stayed behind.

"Not that I doubt your fine abilities of persuasion and bribery, but something tells me there is more to this than what you are saying," he said, his voice hushed to prevent any lingering bystanders from overhearing.

"And you'd be right. But we can't talk about it here. Let's get back to my place," I told him. He nodded his agreement.

"Let me at least grab a bottle of Brandy before we go," he said.

"Why? You know I've got some back at my house," I objected.

"I'm thirsty now. I haven't drunk anything since you were taken away by those Imperial pigs," he insisted.

"Missed me that much? I'm touched."

"Hah, you wish. I was pre-occupied with thinking about which of your things I was going to take once you were locked up."

"Never without a comeback, are you Ra'veer?"

"You don't exactly make it hard for me," he responded. We both chuckled.

"Alright then, hurry up and get your Brandy," I relented. He did so in under a minute, and soon after we set off for the safety and security of my home across the Odai.


Stitch's home, about an hour later...

Ra'veer leaned back in his chair across the living room table, his mind soaking in all that I had just told him.

"So, old Cosades turned out to be an Imperial Spy? Didn't see that one coming," Ra'veer reflected.

"Neither did I. He had a good cover. Guild members have been giving that man skooma for years. Never would have guessed he'd be what he is," I said.

"None of this makes sense though!" Ra'veer objected, slamming the legs of his chair back onto the floor and standing up. His lips were pulled back to reveal all of his sharp, white teeth; it was a snarl of disgust he reserved only for slave traders and the Camonna Tong. "Why the hell would the Emperor want you to be a spy? Why not arrest you if he cares so much about your criminal record?"

"He doesn't care about my criminal record. If he did, I'd be in a boat sailing for the Imperial City to stand trial for all the crimes I've committed," I noted. "He's got something else in mind for me. Something bigger than just making me a spy."

"A spy for what, though? He obviously doesn't want you to spy on the Guild. You're supposed to talk to Hasphat Antabolis about some secret cult or whatever. Why must you be the one to do that? Why not have someone else?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But I suppose there's only one way to find out."

"You're not actually going to do this, are you?" the Khajiit protested.

"What other choice do I have? I don't do it, I get charged with 7 years' worth of crimes and sentenced to death. What other option is there?"

"Spit in that Spymaster's face and tell him to find someone else!" he offered.

"As satisfying as that would be, you know I can't do that, Ra'veer. I have to follow his orders. For now, at least."

"Yes, I know," Ra'veer said with a sigh. "But I don't like it. It smells of guar dung."

"I think you're right. But until I think of another way out of this, I have to play along with the Emperor's little game," I concluded.

I stood up and looked Ra'veer in the eye. "You're to tell nobody else about this. Understand?"

"Don't worry, your status as an Imperial Service spy and, by association, pig, is safe with me," he joked.

"I'm serious, Ra'veer. This stays between us."

"Yes, ok. I understand," he grunted in annoyance. "Now hurry up and do what the Spymaster says so that we can go back to the way things are supposed to be."

"Right, I agree. Think you can handle the Guild while I'm gone?" I asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time I've had to take over for awhile," he reminded me.

"True. Now, let's get out of here. I've got a job to complete."

Nodding to each other, we exited my home and parted ways; he towards the South Wall, and I towards the Balmora Fighters Guild.

This post has been edited by Khajiit_Thief01: Jun 3 2011, 12:08 AM

[Grits]

"I don't think I stuttered," he replied. The irony in his response did not go unnoticed.

I love it!


"There's got to be some mistake here. I'm not cut out for government work," I said, shaking my head in complete disbelief.

Ha! Even better.

Stitch living in Balmora gives everything a new twist. The conversation between Stitch and Ra'veer definitely sounds like good friends hassling each other. I’ve never played Morrowind either, but I’m still keeping up.

[King Coin]

I knew something was up with the old guy, but the Blades? Wow. Don't screw with them, they have cover that the thieves guild can't break.

I really like Ra'veer. Khajiit are my favorite! Good thing he grabbed some booze before this story. I really wonder if he'll be able to keep his mouth shut though.

[haute ecole rider]

Hello hello hello! We meet the infamous skooma-suckin' Spymaster, huh?

I enjoyed the dialogue between Stitch and Ra'veer. It had the bickering air of long-time buddies or even brothers. No male bonding necessary here - it already happened quite some time before this story even started.

I didn't see any nits in the story itself, but noticed one (repeated twice) in the comments. It's and its are terms that are difficult for many people to grasp. It's is contrary to the usual in that it is not a possessive form - that is its. It's is actually a contraction of it is. Just like your is the possessive of you, and you're is the contraction of you are. These are two words that break the rule for possessives with apostrophes.

And I hear you! I'm not a grammar Nazi myself, but it drives me to distraction to read stories that are riddled with grammatical errors and misspellings. I spare myself by not reading those. If the author can't be bothered to polish up their writing so that reading is effortless and the tale can be enjoyed, I'm not going to bother reading their stories. It's one thing (notice I said it's? ) for honest mistakes to be made. But when I keep seeing the same carelessness over and over in spite of constructive criticism, that just tells me that the writer has no respect for the critics who are trying to help, nor respect for the story s/he is trying to tell.

It's obvious to me that you really care about your story, considering that so far I've spotted two nits over three posts, and one of them wasn't even in the story itself! Normally I don't comment on the comments, but the whole it's/its and your/you're thing is one of the most common mistakes (simply because it's so hard to keep 'em straight!) I see in writing. As things stand with Stitch's story, it's been wonderful to read such well-written prose and enjoy the story without getting distracted by nit after nit. It's a great reflection on you as the writer.

[Acadian]

'I was a Thief, not a spy, and the knowledge that I was now in the Emperor's service tore away at me like slaughterfish devouring a drowning kagouti.'
How very TES of you!

I enjoyed your dialogues. Both that between Caius Cosades and Stitch and also the banter with Ra'veer. Very natural, effective and with a nice touch of humor.

So Stitch is now on his reluctant way! At this point, your story is coming along nicely. You may want to consider reading some of the excellent fan fiction stories here in order to benefit from the style and technique of others, as well as to garner/maintain the support and readership of other writers.

[mALX]

I haven't played Morrowind yet, but from the fics I am assuming Caius Cosades is an interesting personality, lol. At least he always is in the fics !! ROFL !!!

Loved the easy dialogue between Stitch and Ra'veer, speaks of either good friends or long time acquaintence! Great Write !!!

[Khajiit_Thief01]

@Grits: Thanks again for the kind words! That bit of dialogue between Caius and Stitch was very fun to write.

@King Coin: Indeed, the Blades are not to be taken lightly. Ra'veer is a very fun character to write -- he has an air of not taking life too seriously, yet he also understands the seriousness of life. Does that make sense? Probably not. The Khajiit have a saying: "q'zi no vano thzina ualizz," which means, "When I contradict myself, I am telling the truth." Take that for what you will.

@haute: Thank you very much for the compliments. I understand how difficult the "its/it's" thing can be, and take great pains to make sure I am using the correct form in my story. The comments I write just before posting the story, and I admit I do not give them the same thorough read-through as I do the story itself. Still, it is good to know that someone is looking out for my grammatical well-being!

@Acadian: I'm glad you enjoyed the dialogue. For me, writing dialogue is one of the more difficult things to do--I want the conversation to feel natural, and I want each character to have a distinctive "voice." I'm glad that, so far, I have achieved both of these things.

As far as other fanfics go, I am DEFINITELY reading many of the others! The problem is I am so far behind, as many of the stories already on here are quite long. That's certainly a good thing, of course, but limited time and "real life" often get in the way of my reading. When I am sufficienty caught up, I will definitely comment on other readers' stories -- I will say, though, that I have quite enjoyed the stories I have been reading so far. So many Bosmer! And yet, each one of them has a distinct voice.

@mALX: Caius is certainly an interesting personality, yes. I am hoping he will be just as interesting in my story as he is in the others!


And now, I present to you a little bit more of the Imperial Legion Swine known as Larrius Varro...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fort Moonmoth, Larrius Varro's quarters...


Larrius Varro's pen glided across the parchment, his handwriting mechanical and, at the same time, elegant. Paperwork was one of the less glorious tasks of an Imperial Officer, but one he had to stomach. Just as he was finishing the last paragraph of the document, three knocks upon his door broke the rhythm of his quill, and he looked up at the source of the noise in annoyance.

"Enter," he commanded. An Imperial guard opened the door and shut it behind him. It was one of the guards that had escorted Stitch earlier. "What do you want?" Varro demanded.

"Sir, I apologize for disturbing you at this time, but something has been pressing upon my mind," the guard responded.

"Out with it, then. I've no time for apologies," the Officer ordered.

"Yes, Sir. I was wondering, sir, why we did not arrest the Thief we brought here earlier? With such a large list of infractions against him, should he not have been immediately taken into custody, Sir?" the guard inquired.

"For any other Thief, yes," Varro said, his tone less demanding now. "But Stitch is a special case."

"Beg your pardon, Sir. I do not mean to question your authority, Sir, but may I be permitted to ask why he is a special case?" The guard was nervous, and it showed in his voice. Questioning your superiors, especially in such a direct manner, was career suicide in the Legion. Varro admired the guard's boldness in doing so, however, and decided against tearing the guard to pieces.

"At ease," the Officer said to the young man. The guard immediately relaxed his posture from rigid attention to a more comfortable stance. "You are new to the island, correct? Just transferred here a few weeks ago from Hammerfell?"

"Yes, Sir," the guard responded. "Served three years in that province before the Legion transferred me here, Sir."

"Right. Then you'd do well to learn a little history of the land you now currently occupy," Varro commented. He stood up from his chair and began pacing the room. "Seven years ago, a house burned down north of Balmora. That house contained two Khajiit members of the Vvardenfell Thieves Guild. These two Khajiits were Stitch's adopted parents."

"He was raised by Khajiits, Sir?" the guard asked in a surprised tone.

"Yes. Though we do not know the whole story, from what we've gathered he was left on the Khajiits' doorstep as a baby. They took him in and raised him as their own. They also trained him to move, sneak, and steal like a Khajiit, and he does it just as well, if not better, than anybody of that race. Would have made his parents proud if they were alive today," Varro noted.

"Is that why he's a special case, Sir? Beg pardon, but if he's that good of a Thief, then wouldn't that give us even more of a reason to take him in?"

"Patience. Your history lesson isn't finished yet," Varro said. The guard nodded and muttered an apology. The Officer paid no attention. "Though the cause of the fire was never determined, it was believed to have been started by Camonna Tong agents. The Thieves Guild and the Camonna Tong were at war during this time, and in a sense still are, though open hostilities between the two ceased over three years ago."

"The reason they ceased," the Officer continued, "is because after that fire, Stitch resolved that he would avenge their deaths and ensure that the Camonna Tong lost in the gang war between the two criminal syndicates. In the span of the next four years, the young Breton would rise from a small-time thief to the leader of the Vvardenfell Thieves Guild. During that four year span, the politics of this island changed dramatically."

"We do not know exactly how Stitch managed to win the war, but we do know what changed. First, the Fighters Guild at the time was in debt to the Camonna Tong, and corrupt. Somehow, Stitch managed to convince the Fighters Guild to side with the Thieves, and the Tong paid heavily as a result. In addition, the leader of the Fighters Guild was found dead in his office, with no witnesses to the crime and no identity of the murderer. That leader, Sjoring Hard-Heart, was later discovered to have owed the Tong a considerable amount of money, and once he died the Fighters Guild was completely free of Camonna Tong influence."

"Secondly, a member of the Balmora chapter of the Camonna Tong was found to be responsible for the murder of a Hlaalu nobleman by the name of Ralen Hlaalo. A week later, all members of the Balmora Camonna Tong were found dead. Again, no suspect was identified, but it is believed that House Hlaalu paid the Morag Tong to execute the criminals, due to information gathered from informants close to House Hlaalu leadership."

"Thirdly, Morag Tong executions of Thieves Guild members, which had been a common occurrence, suddenly stopped. It is believed that they stopped accepting payment for Writs of Execution against Thieves Guild members. From this point forward, they stayed out of the gang war between the Thieves Guild and the Camonna Tong. It was known that the Camonna Tong were contracting the Morag Tong to carry out hits against the Thieves Guild, but since this is legal under Dunmer Law, the Thieves Guild could do nothing about it. However, it would appear that something was done about it after all, though we do not know what or by whom, though we suspect Stitch was somehow behind it."

"Next, several high-ranking members of House Hlaalu were found to be guilty of ebony smuggling and arrested. Investigation into the matter revealed they had links to the Camonna Tong, and as a result it is believed that Tong ebony smuggling operations were greatly diminished. This is suspected to have hurt the organization both financially and politically, and was yet another nail added to the Camonna Tong's coffin. Again, though we have no proof, we believe Stitch was somehow responsible for exposing the House Hlaalu smuggling operation."

"Lastly, informants from inside House Hlaalu told Imperial agents of a secret meeting between Orvas Dren, head of House Hlaalu and the suspected leader of the Camonna Tong, and Stitch. We do not know what the subject of the meeting was about or what was said during it, but ever since that meeting took place there has been a cease-fire of sorts between the Thieves Guild and Camonna Tong. The Thieves Guild greatly increased in power after that, usurping the Tong as the leading criminal organization on the island of Vvardenfell."

"That is why Stitch is a special case," Varro concluded to the guard. "He has made many contacts and many friends through his rise to power in the Thieves Guild. He weakened House Hlaalu politically by exposing the ebony smuggling operation, and it is believed that House Redoran and House Telvanni would protect him because of that, albeit unofficially. Additionally, the sudden cessation of Morag Tong attacks against the Thieves Guild suggests that Stitch has worked out some sort of deal with its leadership, which is no small feat. In short, Stitch has political clout on this island, and arresting him would bring dire consequences to the Legion here on Vvardenfell. The Dunmer already hate us enough, and arresting Stitch would only add fuel to the fire."

The guard listened attentively to all this, and at the conclusion of Varro's speech he waited several moments before speaking.

"Understood, Sir. But if you'll permit me to say so, I still don't feel right letting him go free," he said.

"Neither do I, but there's nothing either of us can do about it," Varro agreed. "Now, I have a mountain of paperwork to finish and little time to do it in. Your history lesson is finished for the day. Dismissed." The guard immediately popped to attention, saluted, and exited Varro's office. The Imperial Officer sat back down and continued finishing his paperwork as if nothing had happened at all.

[King Coin]

Well, Stitch certainly knows how to get things done. Interesting background on our main character told from an interesting perspective. Did I sense some respect in the legion captain's words?

[Zalphon]

Hmmm, Stitch seems to be quite the guy to make sure things get done...