Adventures of young High Elf Options

[Lopov]

Hello everyone,

this is my first attempt at writing in fan fiction. I've been regularly posting updates on Beth forums but since I recently started a new character, I decided to share his stories here. He's a High Elf and everything else of importance will be revealed through his stories. I'm playing dead-is-dead which means no reloading under any circumstance - if he dies, his adventures are over. English is not my first language, so there will definitely be some grammar mistakes but at least in the first short story most of them are intentional.

The Introduction

Anvil, Cyrodiil, 27th of Last Seed 3€433…

On 27th of Last Seed 3€433 an old ship sailed into Anvil docks. A few Redguard sailors had jumped overboard, tied the ship up and began unloading a cargo. The merchant ship was called ‘Child of Ra Gada’ and it belonged to captain Amut (known simply as The Capt’n), sailing between Hammerfell, Summerset Isles and Cyrodiil. But this time it was besides the cargo ‘transpouting’ someone else.

Firsthold, Summerset Isles, a week before…

“Nou,” said The Capt’n, a little angry because young High Elf obviously didn’t hear him the first time. “We’re nout transpoutin’ people, ye know, jest cargoo…”

“I’d really like to get to Anvil as soon as possible. I can pay you, of course,” quickly answered young red-haired High Elf. The Capt’n was all ears!

“Paaay me? Hmmmm… lemme fink nou… ther’ might be sam place fer ya, young oun… but it depends – hou mouch are ye willing too paaay?”

“Will hundred septims do?”

“A hoondred, ye say… hmmm… mrmmm… ufhm…”

“Two hundred?”

“Twoo… like twoo… hmmm…. that’s bett’r, young oun… but… hrmmm…”

“Three hundred then. My last offer.”

“Free hundred, young oun?! Ye’ve got yeself a deal, young oun! Junp aboard, we’re leeving soon…”
The Capt’n couldn’t know that a ‘young oun’ would be prepared to pay much more than three hundred septims just to get away from The Summerset Isles but luckily, that was not necessary. He jumped on ‘Child of Ra Gada’ and after a few minutes the ship sailed from the docks and headed for Cyrodiil. As High Elf was standing on the stern and watching his homeland disappearing in the distance, he felt heavy burden being lifted from his shoulders.

Anvil, Cyrodiil, 27th of Last Seed 3€433…

While sailors were unloading the cargo, young High Elf handed a small pouch to The Capt'n. In the last week he got quite attached to the funny captain, his accent and the sailors - they were a merry bunch, particularly compared to his family.

“Thank ye, kind oun! And don’t get yo’self kill’d in the cap’tal, ye knou…”

“I’ll do my best. Thank you and… happy sails!” Having said that, a young High Elf left ‘Child of Ra Gada’. Immediately after he left, first mate Smoush approached The Capt’n.

“Take a good look at him, Capt’n, because that’s the last time you see this young man.”

“Ay knou, Smoush… poor kid, hi’ll get hisself kill’d in a matt’r of days… aye, a pity, hi looooks nice and well-mann’d. ”

“Indeed, Capt’n. But he must be as mad as the hatter! He hopes to succeed in the Arena! The A-r-e-n-a! Have you ever heard of a High Elf who survived the Arena? The A-r-e-n-a?!”

“Stoup spellin’ on mee, I get ye’… I couoldn’t belief heem when hi said that hi’s goin’ to the Arena. Imag’ne, a High Elf… I tould heem hi was bo’n t’be a mage, magus, whateveh… but hi j’st smiled and car’lessly waved hees hant… bout hi wasn’t a snobby one leyk most of them ar’!”

“Yes, he seemed down-to-earth. Aye, aye, poor kid…”

“Pour indeeyd…”

“Yay, yay…”

“That’s enoughg! I’ll sta't creyin’ if I jest fink abaut heem a littl’ lounger… let’s unload th’t cargoo, th’n we’re leevin’…”

“Yes, Capt’n!”

And while ‘Child of Ra Gada’ was sailing from Anvil, young High Elf was still standing on the pier… admiring the sunny sky, people chattering and strange yet amazing architecture of a town called Anvil. He felt a stunning relief, being far away from the Summerset Isles… and his family.

A little insecure because of the new land but cheerful at the same time, Loypuur headed down the pier.

[Lopov]

Watchman of the merCandise

Anvil, Cyrodiil, 29th of Last Seed 3€433

It was around 11 am when Loypuur, now an apprentice of the Fighters guild, entered Lelles’ quality MerCandise. The architectural design of the store was something that Loypuur didn’t get used to yet. In the crystalline towers where he spent most of youth, the ceilings were so high that it was hard to see how far they extend. In Anvil, for instance, ceilings were so low that he had to be careful not to bump his head into them. As he introduced himself to the Breton trader and told him why he had arrived, he couldn’t help but notice that Norbert Lelles wasn’t impressed. Loypuur couldn’t blame him, after all a High Elf wielding a battle axe was not something one could see every day. ‘Perhaps he expected a bulky Nord or tough Orc’. However, Lelles entrusted him with watching over his store and told him to seek him out at The Flowing Bowl when / if he solves the break-ins.

As he left, Loypuur felt that gentle feeling of being a little nervous. It happened rarely that he was entrusted with something important and although Lelles told him that break-ins happen during the night, Loypuur decided to take his assignment very seriously and patrol also during the day. When he thoroughly searched for all possible entrances to the store, he sat down in a wooden chair behind the counter. From the chair he had a good view at the back entrance and the main room at the same time.

To pass the time, he read Provinces of Tamriel and admitted that a description of his homeland was quite accurate:

»… and the natives are unwelcoming to foreigners, so the ancient, chivalric high culture of the Aldmeri is little affected by modern Imperial mercantilism«

Yes, very true. Loypuur sometimes wondered if he should consider himself as a mistake of the nature since he was not alike majority of his race. When his brothers and sisters were practicing magic, he was skipping the lessons and preferred spending time with his father’s warriors. At first they thought that Loypuur’s father, a powerful and cruel mage, is sending his son down to spy on them but once they realized that Loypuur is with them at his own will, they gladly accepted him. Even when Loypuur saw that not all of them were performing their duties as they should and didn’t turn them in, some of them especially their superior Khedira, repaid his kindness – they taught him what he wanted to do the most –to fight. To feel like a true warrior. Loypuur smiled whenever he remembered those warriors but his smile waned because he always remembered their demise. The demise for which he was responsible. He suddenly heard the door creaking and his thoughts quickly shifted from past to present… someone just entered.

As it turned out, it was one of the customers - Mirabelle Monet whom Loypuur had yesterday while looking for Pinarus. Loypuur explained to her that the shop is closed today but Mirabelle decided to spend some there nonetheless. Loypuur didn’t object of course, he preferred some company and although they were mostly silent, Loypuur often took a look at her. A quilted doublet fit her nicely. He received two more visits during the watch. The next one was S’shani, a Khajiit whom he met at The Count’s Arms. And the last one was no other than Quill-Weave, famous writer whose secret was safe with Loypuur. High Elf had to admit to himself that he made quite some ‘friends’ in his short stay in the Imperial Province - folk in Anvil was nice and easy-going.

He had a supper at the counter and since nighttime was slowly approaching, he decided to equip the rest of his battle gear – rusty gauntlets and a helmet. He positioned himself next to the display case in the corner to have even better control over the store. As he noticed his reflection in the glass of the display case, he leaned closer to see how he looks like – and once again he had to admit that he couldn’t look intimidating no matter what. Rusty helm made his bright blue eyes even more noticeable and his very thin face looked even thinner. Loypuur wondered if he’ll look the same clumsy in the Arena. In the end, that’s why he came to Cyrodiil. To prove to himself that he can succeed as a warrior. As a fighter. As a duelist.

Back in Summerset Isles, a Redguard warrior Khedira, who worked for Loypuur’s father, once called him a ‘duelist’ because Loypuur was very good with a mace in an amateur duel against Khedira’s kid Sami. The name stuck with Loypuur and he later became a trainee of the afore-mentioned Khedira. So despite his non-intimidating appearance Loypuur was (for a High Elf) quite skilled with blunt weapons. The only weakness, as told by his mentor Khedira, was that Loypuur hesitated too long before attacking. He was too often dodging the attacks and moving around instead of being offensive. But when he attacked – nothing could stop him. Loypuur smiled when he remembered his mentor and his son but once again his smile waned away. And once again he heard the door creaking…

He quickly turned around and noticed a bulky Nord sneaking inside. ‘Now, now, what do we have here’ thought Loypuur and stepped in front of the Nord.

“Good evening! What are you doing in the store so late?”

“Just go away!” the rogue Nord said gruffly.

Loypuur needed no other proof – this was the burglar and he caught him in the act. Nord seemed confused as he was now crouching and looking from one direction to another, obviously without any idea what to do.

“I think you’re the one who should go away. Or better yet, come with me. To the guards, that is.”

“I’ve got nothing more to say to you!” replied Nord and Loypuur noticed that the burglar is losing his nerves.

“In that case… I… must make you leave,” answered Loypuur with a shy smile. He decided not to whack the Nord with an axe, after all he was not a murderer and the Nord perhaps wasn’t either. Instead he readied his fists and ‘pushed’ Storn the Burly towards the exit.

“Whaaaaat?!” screamed Nord, pulled out his long-sword and smashed Loypuur. ‘The Nord obviously wants it the hard way’. Loypuur readied his silver axe and hit him, sending him a few meters back. But since he didn’t want to splatter Nord’s blood all over the store, he decided to lure him outside. Besides, guards outside will definitely be able to arrest the short-tempered Nord. As it turned out, the Nord wasn’t alone - here were a Bosmer and a Dunmer waiting outside and they immediately joined their accomplice in attacking Loypuur. High Elf was running backwards, intentionally dodging or blocking the attacks of the trio. He remembered his master Khedira’s words – “Don’t hesitate, Loypuur! Block and attack!” He wanted to but he couldn’t! He didn’t like killing common burglars even if they turned out to be murderers. Loypuur was instead hoping that a guard close to the gate will notice him being attacked and will attempt to arrest the trio.

His predictions were correct and as they got closer to the main gate, the guard joined the fight! ‘This Nord just won’t let me go!’ thought Loypuur because a bulky Nord ignored the guard and continued smashing towards him. Loypuur noticed that both Dunmer and Bosmer were attacking the guard who was now outnumbered and now it was time to stop this!
“Don’t hesitate, Loypuur! Block and attack!” And he did exactly so – he blocked an incoming Nord’s attack and then with one well-placed swing ended the burglar’s life. Loypuur was a bit shocked as Nord’s body lifelessly fell to the wooden ground… it’s been a few years since he killed someone… but now was not the time for the past! Now he needed to help the guard! With a few swings from his now bloody silver axe he weakened a Bosmer and Dunmer and the guard was thus able to finish them off on his own. It was done – the persons responsible for break-ins were dealt with but unfortunately it ended in bloodshed.

As Loypuur was walking over to The Flowing Bowl to inform Lelles about the situation, he got some doubts. ‘Will I succeed in the Arena? I dislike killing, even if it involves burglars or murderers. How much do I even know about the Arena? Very little… apart from what I heard from occasional travelers and adventurers that were passing through Firsthold. There should be even more killing. Duel until death. But on the other hand there must be certain charm in all of this… Guess I won’t be any smarter until I see and experience it with my own eyes… and blood.’

Norbert Lelles was overjoyed when he heard that the burglars have been dealt with. It was a shame that it had to end in bloodshed and while Loypuur agreed, there was no other choice – the burglars were prepared to kill anyone just to get away. Loypuur wondered whether all bandits in Cyrodiil are the same, being over-confident in their abilities even when it’s obvious that they’re going to lose. Sounds like High-Elven attitude. After receiving his payment, Loypuur headed to the Fighters Guild where he decided to spend a night free of charge. He needed to save some septims to afford a healing spell from Trevaia in the chapel and thus he couldn’t afford to pay 25 gold for a room at The Count’s Arms. Besides that, he wanted to save some more gold. Loypuur didn’t know for what exactly, perhaps for some better armor like steel cuirass, boots or helmet… He decided to search for some more work in the morning. At first he’ll pay a visit to the lighthouse, perhaps there will be someone this time and if not… he remembered a desperate looking lady of his race standing on a ship at the docks. Perhaps she’s a damsel in distress and needs a hero to save her!