Trey In Mournhold, Chapter 2 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 2

So far, my sojourn in Mournhold had resulted in a beating from a Wood Elf, nearly being eaten by goblins (and their pets), and the acquisition and subsequent loss of 1000 drakes. And I was no closer to finding the Dark Brotherhood or the reason they had been hired to kill me. The prices at the Winged Guar (and the payment I had received for one day’s work) showed me that Mournhold was an expensive place. If I was going to continue this search, particularly if I didn’t begin to see some results, I was going to have to come up with some cash. That problem I could solve, at least temporarily. Although the sight of all the ornate buildings and richly dressed citizens made my palms itch, I restrained my larcenous impulses. It is unwise in the extreme to ply the burglar’s trade in an unknown city- the risks usually outweigh the rewards. Although Helseth’s palace guards seemed to be restricted to the royal quarter, the same could not be said of the High Ordinators, silver armored busybodies who seemed to be everywhere, doing what Ordinators did best, issuing threats and watching everything too closely to allow an honest thief a sporting chance. But if a little creative redistribution of wealth was out of the question, I still knew where a few weapons and shields could be picked up. More important, I knew that the former owners wouldn’t make any objections. Despite their dietary habits, or perhaps because of them, goblins tended to make high-quality arms and armor. And given the fact that the only way for a non-goblin to obtain such was to kill goblins, those bits of merchandise should be fairly rare in Mournhold.

The Craftsmen’s Hall had been pointed out to me as the best place to purchase quality armor, so I gathered up a couple of goblin shields and a club and made my way there. The first fellow I encountered was an arrogant Imperial (is there any other kind?) who made a great show of being terribly busy and put-upon. It was obvious that the fellow was just waiting for an audience upon whom to unburden himself. A peculiar, some might even say perverse, aspect of my nature is that I tend to ignore overly dramatic, self-absorbed fools who attempt to draw attention to themselves. Beyond his theatrical manner, one look at this fellow’s smooth hands and spindly arms told me that he was not the smith. Therefore, I pressed on, following the smell of heated metal and the sound of hammers ringing on anvils. When I spotted a muscular Dunmer and a sweating Orc assistant, I knew I had found Bols Indalen, master armorer. The smith laid aside the tower shield he had been bringing to a mirror finish and asked if I had come for a set of custom armor. He further explained that he could work with glass, ebony, or his specialty, adamantium. Besides being measured for the armor, the customer was expected to provide the raw materials and a substantial payment. While I found it quite interesting that Master Indalen would speak so casually about trading in restricted materials, I knew I did not have the money to pay for such fine armor. Therefore, I raised a hand and explained,

“Actually, I am selling rather than buying.”

His red Dunmeri eyes widened slightly when I revealed the items I had to offer. He clearly recognized their goblin origin, but he did not speak of it as he carefully examined each piece. Finally, he gave a satisfied grunt and said,

“I don’t know how you came by these, and I don’t want to. However, if you are hunting goblins, you really should consider purchasing some of my custom armor. In any event, I will give you 2000 septims for the lot. And if you ‘find’ any more, please give me the first chance at it.”

That was a reasonable price, so I accepted without any haggling. Now that my visit to Mournhold seemed profitable again, I tried to think of a way that I could convert some coins into information. Master Indalen did not seem a likely source regarding the Dark Brotherhood, but he did reveal that adamantium ore could be found beneath the city. For obvious reasons no one was willing to say exactly where the deposits were located, but lost workings were known to be somewhere in or under Old Mournhold. If it came down to it, I might consider mining as a way to make money to finance my search, but I had no real desire to go grubbing about underground if I could help it. I wasn’t averse to manual labor, particularly not when it paid so well, but dangerous creatures and even more dangerous people had a tendency to lurk in dark places deep under the earth. With that thought, a feeble spark of an idea reached the dry tinder of imagination, and an idea burst into flame. With a distracted “thank you,” I turned away from Master Indalen and nurtured that thought. The Dark Brotherhood was a band of killers, not respectable businessmen. They didn’t have “two-for-one specials” or hang out signs advertising their headquarters. And given the nature of their “work,” they weren’t going to be found in the better part of town. No, they would be hidden somewhere away from prying eyes, somewhere hard to reach, somewhere that “decent” folk did not go; a place like the sewers and the ruins of Old Mournhold.

[treydog]

I am actually not sure when the original Trey began…it would have been 2004 or 2005 though, yes.

As to the difference in style between Trey and Athlain, despite my enormous ego, I won’t get too deep into analyzing my own writing. I will say that the picture in my head was of Trey writing more of a “retrospective,” using his notes from the actual events. And so he had some sense of “writing for the ages.” Athlain is writing more “in the moment,” with no certainty of what will happen next. The other thing is that Trey has an awareness (and a bit of a complex) about his background, and so tends to seek a more “scholarly” tone.

And speaking of scholarship, I decided to have a little fun with the preface, and to adopt the persona of a stuffy academic who pretends to “know the truth” of events he never witnessed, and who would soil himself if he faced a drawn sword.

As to the non-reply period- Black Hand is mostly right… and remembers correctly my remark about “not spamming my own thread.” (And the fact that he does recall that is frightening in its own right!) I know I had Reasons™… mostly wanting the story to stand (or fall) on its own. But then- by seeing the example set by mALX and Acadian, I realized that this could be a much more interactive process- and that the readers deserved more than just answers to direct questions. That said, I did usually PM a first-time commenter to say thank you- which is how minque and I began corresponding all the way over at “T’Other Place.”

The other major difference with this story (and the previous) to BoTM is how closely it follows the main quest. I did not have enough confidence in my imagination to stray much… So- at least to date, Trey has never done anything “original”- although… he is immortal, and there are these rumors of dragons in Skyrim…. As someone who fancies himself a bit of a naturalist, might he go and see…? Hmmmm…

A word about the “goblins” in Tribunal. They are NASTY. More like Orcs or similar than the weak little scapers in Oblivion. Plus, I purposely tend to play my RP characters under-powered (adds that spice of “Oh good grief- time to reload- he died AGAIN). And Trey had real trouble with those beasts…

And the fact that potions and/or spells come with a cost (beyond just burning mana or gold or ingredients) is one that always “felt right” to me. The energy has to come from somewhere…

I had forgotten that bit about old Ten Tongues… I had occasional moments of lightness in what is mostly a dark story. When you meet the Orc smith, I think you will see what I mean…

Finally, much as I would like to take any credit for anyone else’s writing… Just… no. Their talent is their own- I am glad that seeing me get up there on the tight rope without a net encouraged some highly creative folks to do the same. After that, the interweaving of stories was just too much fun to pass up.

Many thanks to you for reading- it may cause me to do the same. (In fact, looking for the “suffered under the name of” bit, caused me to find and fix a typo).