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]

Pit Dog – part 2

The Imperial City, Cyrodiil, 9th of Heartfire 3€433

Loypuur raised his shield in front of him just in time to block the incoming attack. “Hiyaaaaaaaaaa!” shouted the Wood Elf and swung with her sword again, this time hitting Loypuur in the left arm.

‘What’s wrong with me??... I just can’t hit her back. She looks weak and would probably fall after the first strike… why did I come here, why did I come here?? But her eyes… her eyes are telling me that she’s exactly the opposite. Each my wound makes her happy, she enjoys the sight of my blood…’
Loypuur blocked an attack after attack while not dealing any blow in return. With time he began to dodge the attacks and Wood Elf missed on more than one occasion. But Loypuur could see from her eyes that she won’t stop until he’s dead.
‘Now that’s enough… I can’t stand here, hiding my face behind a shield, looking like a coward… I came to fight and I SHALL FIGHT!’

Encouraging himself, Loypuur jumped back, avoided the powerful blow and in next second swung his silver axe, powerfully hitting surprised Wood Elf in an arm, wounding her. She staggered, obviously surprised to receive a blow like this but she quickly returned it. Loypuur successfully blocked it and then hit her again… and again! And again! Wood Elf managed to strike him on occasion but soon it was clear to Loypuur that’s she’s about to fall… after one well-placed strike to her head, Wood Elf dropped her sword to the ground and a second later… lifelessly fell on the ground.

“WE HAVE A WINNERRRRRRRRRRRR!”

A roaring voice resounded over the entire Arena, people stood up, clapping and waving at Loypuur! He was standing above the corpse of his former opponent, holding his bloody axe in right hand and Kvatch shield in the left. ‘Fight to death…’ he thought as he bent over the corpse. ‘A young Wood Elf… about my age… why did she come to Arena? Did she also escape from her home, hoping to succeed in the Arena? Who knows… I’ll probably never know… I don’t even know her name.’
Loypuur sheathed his weapon and shield and put Wood Elf’s corpse in such a position that her head was turned towards the sunny skies. People at the Arena were getting quiet, obviously curious what was he doing. Then he took her sword and placed it in her right hand and a shield in her left hand.
“Rest in peace, warrior” he said aloud, enough to be heard on the tribune. After he bowed to the fallen opponent, spectators exploded… either his gesture touched them or had they simply not seen a combatant doing this before… they were waving, clapping and cheering as Loypuur left the Arena and returned to the Bloodworks.

He removed his helmet and refreshed in the Basin of Renewal, regenerating his lost magicka and healing his wounds which disappeared in a matter of seconds. ‘Strange… I don’t feel victorious at all. Not even tired as I expected. It’s just that once I began… I couldn’t stop. After first hit… I couldn’t stop. Is that good or bad? Hard to say… I should return to the Arena just to see… to see… if I can manage to do it again.’
And so it was – Owyn was surprised when High Elf told him that he’s ready for another battle.
“It’s your funeral so do as you like, pit dog!”

Loypuur already knew the way and this time he didn’t stop to stare at bloody walls. This time he knew what to expect. His 2nd opponent was an Imperial, wielding a sword and shield just like the late Wood Elf. Fight was short and less intense than the previous one, mostly because Loypuur didn’t hesitate this time. He blocked and attacked just as he was taught! On occasion Imperial dealt him a heavy blow which staggered him but a duel was over in a few minutes. ‘Another life taken… another son who won’t be returning home to greet his mother… or husband who will never greet his wife… Why did I participate in another fight? Now I don’t know… I feel more like a taker of lifes instead of a warrior…’
Just as before, Loypuur placed a sword and shield next to his opponent, bowed to him and left the Arena. After he collected his payment from Owyn, he removed his raiment, put on his cuirass and silently left the Arena.

Only when he came outside, he realized how starved he was. He remembered an inn called The Feed Bag in the Market District and that’s where he headed. ‘Funny… I pass all these strangers and they greet me… yet none of them knows that I’ve just cold-bloodedly killed two people in the Arena…’ As he was eating some fresh beef and drinking cold beer, he began to feel exhausted. ‘It’s no wonder, after two fierce battles…’ He wasn’t feeling well when he left The Feed Bag…

...it was in the afternoon when he entered The King and Queen Tavern.
‘Aelwin was right, rooms are really cheap and they’re clean and cozy’ thought Loypuur as he unlocked the door to his private room upstairs. He removed his cuirass and put on his shirt, sat on a wooden chair, crossed the arms on a table and leant his head on them.
‘I doubt my future is in the Arena… I expected something else… I expected that I would feel victorious after a fight, not like a scum… like a pit dog! The name is appropriate… we were like hungry dogs, trying to tear each other apart… what if my father was right? What if I was truly not born to be a warrior? Perhaps I admired warriors because there were so few around men and ‘being a warrior’s seemed so distant at that time… something unrealizable yet attractive… I took two lifes today… two lifes… although they would’ve gladly taken mine, it doesn’t make me feel any better…’

Exhausted from battling and sad, Loypuur went to bed early, hoping that he’ll feel better in the morning.