Interviews with an Assassin, From the journals of Martinus Serruq - Professional Author and Mage Options

[Ahrenil]

Introduction

I arrived in Morrowind from Cyrodil in the year 427 of the Third Era and was immediately struck by how exotic the place was, in the heartland you could stand on the plains and see for miles upon miles, to the great snowy peaks of the North to the steamy Nibenay bay and Leyawin. But after I emerged from the hold of the Pelagius, which had agreed to take me to Ebonheart before it unloaded it’s prisoners at Seyda Neen, I was immediately struck by the dense fog that lurked over the waters behind me, and the great hills and trees that blanketed the land, blocking off the horizon and permeating the land with a strangely claustrophobic feel.
I came to the volcanic island to try and make a book out of the local customs and institutions in the land, some of which bore a keen resemblance to those of the Imperials and other human races, and some that seemed completely alien to me. My journey led me to Vivec, perhaps the most spectacular city I had seen in my travels. Saying that the city is situated on the coast would be a lie, it is built directly out of the sea, the fat multi tiered cantons rising out of the muddy waters and mist like elegantly carved mountain peaks.
Unfortunately on arrival I was struck by how tired I was, as sailing had never sat well with me. After getting off of one cramped wooden prison ship and onto a cargo ship I was completely sapped of any will to begin my studies, or so I had thought. I had sat down to a strange meal in the first inn I found, a plate of the largest egg I had ever seen and some tough local tubers and plants mixed into salt-rice, when I noticed the Bosmer.

I had sat down at a table I had thought was deserted, but upon carefully examining the large “kwama” egg and not deducing any obvious way to eat it I had looked up to try and observe the locals and found myself staring directly at the man sitting opposite me. I hadn’t seen or heard him sit down and he was posed to an extent that spoke both of comfort, but also of constant awareness, that made me realise he had been here long before I had arrived. I chastised myself inwardly for being so rude and introduced myself.

“Sorry friend” I apologised quickly, smiling sheepishly at the man “I hadn’t seen you there, my names Martinus Serruq, do you mind if I sit here?”
“Not at all” the Bosmer replied, his eyes flicking to me. “I’m Threndafel”.
There was something about the man that put me on edge; he had a bluntness and carefulness you don’t usually associate with the “Tree Sap” people. He never seemed quite relaxed, his eyes moved constantly around the inn, as if he was trying to absorb as much information from his surroundings as possible, and the way the staff watched him made it seem like they expected trouble.
I coughed nervously and returned to my egg, carefully poking it with my knife while contemplating the idea of the lovely imperial barmaid who’d served me snickering in the stockroom at the stupid foreigner.
“Slice away the shell”, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the elf spoke, his voice was surprisingly hard with a hint of either boredom or annoyance in his voice. “Then section up the inside and mix it in with the rest, it’s all bland together but the tastes on their own will make you retch until you get used to the dining”
“Um, thanks” I replied, while following his advice, he was right it was quite bland, but something didn’t sit right with my palate that suggested I’d regret my order in the morning. “Could I get you something in return? Maybe a plate of, what was it, Hackle-Lo?”
The elf regarded me coolly for a moment “You don’t know much about Bosmeri do you?” he declared in a manner that suggested no matter what I thought he was right. “We’re carnivorous, or at least we Valenwood natives are.”
“Ah, well perhaps something else, maybe...” he cut me off quickly with a slight motion of his hand
“A flin would be good though”

A few drinks later we’d opened up to each other as only two and a half flasks of sujamma and a mutual dislike of mudcrabs can make you. I was busy stuttering out my plan for my book, how I’d visit all the cantons and try and get interviews with the highest ranking, and some of the locals, to learn about how the influence of Imperial guilds was changing Dunmer tradition when he stopped me in my ramblings.
“I can help” he muttered, taking another swig of the potent drinks we’d ordered “You don’t get much more traditional than my institute”. He declared, perhaps a tinge of pride creeping into his voice.
“Lemme guess” I blurted out “Telvanni, magicka and mischief righ’?”
“Do I look like ah mage?” he grinned. His eyes flicked towards a dunmer staggering out of the door in that disconcerting manner of his. As soon as the man was gone my Bosmer friend straightened, and I realised he had been acting drunk this whole time. “You don’t get more Dunmer than the Morag Tong” he said before standing, and it was only now I noticed that under the loose fitting cloth shirt and leggings he wore was a dark set of leather armour, and around his waist was a selection of knives. Then he was gone, following the man out of the door.
When I finally left in the morning I was confronted by an Ordinator, one of the elite guards of the city and of the local religion. “Sir, do you have any information regarding the assassination of a male Dunmer last night? By the name of Feruren Oran?” he growled at me, one hand resting always on the hilt of his sword.

My mind reeled with the possibilities as I politely lied my way past the masked guard and made for the balcony outside. Had I spent the last evening talking to an Assassin? A legalised murderer? Little did I know as I made my way towards the Redoran canton that I would meet the man again, and that he would form the basis of what may be my best work?.

This post has been edited by Ahrenil: Jan 18 2011, 01:58 PM

[Ahrenil]

Bah, not so happy with this one, had to write it during my exams, I would re-write it but I want to finish this story soon so I can get on with the next one. Anyway, there will be more to come. Enjoy the next slightly interesting chapter.

---Interview 1 Continued---

“I came from a small border town, on the Elsewyr border” The Bosmer began, he was no longer looking at me, but past me and he had visibly relaxed. I began reciting the instructions for a shield spell in my head, a snake always looks most relaxed just before it strikes.

“I lived a fairly normal life, grew up as a hunter, following my parent’s tradition, and got quite good with a bow and a knife, but the borders were never a quiet place. I came home from hunting one day to find the village had been burnt to the ground by bandits. I never found out whether it was the Khajit or not, no one was left to tell the tale. Not dead, they had just fled. While I was picking through the wreckage to try and find any sign of my family and friends I was found by a group of armed men and women. They were bandit hunters, everyone on the borders new of them. We praised them for being the only line of protection we had, the only people who would retaliate against the Khajit, the city folk called them troublemakers, people who incited war by striking at our neighbours.”

“Wait, you mean the army didn’t do anything?” I interrupted, his story was already pretty difficult for me to believe, sounding fairly cliché.

“Of course not, you expect Valenwood to have an army?” replied the Bosmer, a slight grin spreading across his face. “The area is massive, heavily forested, and filled with dangerous creatures. An army wouldn’t be able to respond fast enough to anything, and a full fledged invasion is pretty difficult to carry out anyway. But the country shapes every Bosmer to be a natural born hunter in some way or another, any invader has to face a nation of angry mer who can hide in trees and shoot an apple off an imp’s head from 300 feet.”
“But, that’s ludicrous! You can’t expect me to believe that there’s no official defence force for a subject of the Empire?!” I exclaimed, trying to run the logistics in my head.

“Hey, you don’t have to believe anything, i’m just telling a story” replied the Bosmer.

“Fine, fine, so what happened? I expect you join up with these people and they teach you how to be a killer right?”

“Not at all, I joined up with them all right, but I was young and actually...” Threndafel looked around quickly before leaning in closer and whispering in a hushed voice “I’d always wanted to be an actor.”

“An actor? Really?” I exclaimed. “Are you telling me that these tough, no nonsense warrior wanted you to prance around on a stage?”

“Pretty much, have to keep morale up somehow.” Threndafel replied, completely straight faced. “There were the twins, Alawen, Sylvestia and me, though Alawen always resented not being allowed to go into battle with the rest. We did our own little songs and sketches, as well as any plays we could find the script for. Eventually we left for the Imperial City to try and make some proper money. Alawen only went because the twins did, I think she was in love with Farrel.” Threndafel continued, his voice had taken on a slightly airy sound, and his eyes didn’t seem to be focusing on anything in particular.

“Then it all went sour. We were on our way back from performing at an inn across the lake, in a town called Weye, when we were stopped on the bridge by some men. Three Nords and an Imperial against five Bosmers and no legionnaires in sight, it didn’t look good. They had split our group in two. Sylvestia and Farrel were in front, Alawen, Donlen and I behind. The men were obviously drunk, and had the wrong intentions for Sylvestia, she was our lure, the beautiful face for our plays, hair like autumn leaves, a pale face, small and gentle...Anyway. Farrel tried to get them to back off. I don’t know exactly what happened but suddenly there was blood all over Farrel’s chest and the Imperial had a knife. All hell broke loose, but it was mainly the two girls. Alawen wrestled a shortsword off one of the Nords and turned into a whirlwind of fury, Sylvestia was more like a trapped lion. By the end of it we were all bruised and cut, but our attackers were dead."

"We dumped the bodies over the side for the slaughterfish and carried snuck Farrel back into the city through the sewers, the guards already saw us a thieves just for our race and profession and returning beaten and bruised, we would’ve been arrested for assault. Alawen was a state, wouldn’t leave his side, he passed away in the night despite our best efforts. The next morning though...that was the worse. We were all pretty shaken up, we’d seen death, but never like this...and then...”

The Bosmer paused; his face contorted with what I could only guess was a mixture of pain and regret. I couldn’t find words to try and comfort him. He had just owned up to one of the most mysterious cases in Imperial history, I wrote my first report on the Weye Bay Bodies, the bodies of four junior watchmen washed up on shore covered with cuts and bite marks, one with a sword still buried in their stomach, and no witnesses for suspects.

Eventually he spoke again, his voice had become more and more strained throughout the tale, but now it was cool and collected once more.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to be going, avoid the mages guild tonight I’ll...we’ll see about finishing this” he mumbled before taking off through the large doors on the other side of the arena.
I sat with the beginnings of a biography, a confession, and what sounded like a fan’s terrible re working of good fiction in my hands, and mourned what I believed to be the loss of my greatest work.

This post has been edited by Ahrenil: Feb 4 2011, 02:07 AM