Memoirs Of A Morag Tong Assassin; Volume One: Vvardenfell, Chapter One: "...to the east, to Morrowind." Options

[Black Hand]

The innocent possess no wisdom.

Would you take the word of a guard over a freed prisoner to what the value of freedom is?

Would you listen in earnest to the words of a rich man if he described hunger to you?

Would you believe a savior over a killer as to what regret truly is?

The hand that holds the knife often holds the pen for what is told after. This the case of my memoirs. I’ve tried to be as fair as I can, but I present no delusions that this is the objective account of my life, or the tale of the Nerevarine. This is my life as I have seen it, thus far.

If you wish to judge me, you are certainly free to do so. Though, I’ve made it quite clear in the title, this is the tale of an Assassin. Not the Dark Brotherhood so feared in the West, yet loved in the darkest thoughts of all.

No, I am an Assassin of a different cut, that of the Morag Tong. Perhaps you’ve heard of it, perhaps not. You’ll see soon enough that our order functions quite differently from our counterpart, and as to why we are legal within the Empire. So long as we keep our activities within our own province, that is.

If tales of treachery, deception, spilled blood; without regard to whether or not it was deserved, trouble you...read no further.

I am a Dunmer, born and raised in Cyrodiil, sent to the east, to Morrowind. I am the one who was once known as the Nerevarine. Though, I’ve left that part of my life, and myself behind me mostly. My actions have written a new myth, and that myth is best left in the hearts and minds of those it inspires, especially as I am far less than what it entails.

My name is Sethyas Velas, and this is my tale.

[Black Hand]

The events that led to my arrest and subsequent seeming banishment to Morrowind began many, many years prior inside the White-Gold Tower itself. Though, I have no memory of that time, I’ve learned that my mysterious parentage has,…had, some sort of connection to the Emperor. That story comes much later.

For whatever reason, we were placed within some sort of Imperial custody that later forgot all about us. Some sort of long term gambit with some sort of prophecy. Nearly three decades separated me and my twin sister from these events. It was rather my own folly and shortcomings that led to our rediscovery.

The times between these two were unremarkable. We were raised in an orphanage within Cheydinhal County, the Brothers of Julianos Order. Julianos being the God of Wisdom and Logic, we were well educated despite our station and alien nature to the Province of Cyrodiil.

We were taught to read and write so that we could earn our keep with assisting in reproducing manuscripts.

The Brothers also produced a very exclusive wine that was available seasonally to keep funding coming in, despite taking vows to imbibe no intoxicants. We learned farming and winemaking from them to assist with the production and further earn our keep.

My fellow orphans, however; I learned something quite different from them. I learned that I was an outsider and a freak.

For whatever reason, in a time before I could remember someone had seen fit to tattoo a black hand onto my face. Being a Dark Elf was bad enough; to have such a visage only cemented that gap.

I learned how to take a hit from them. I learned how fight back and I learned how to protect my sister, Setsuna.

As my skill in fighting grew, I learned how to take on entire groups, each lesson was painful, and filled me with anger and hate. It left me with broken ribs, it left me alone and unable to even so much as crawl back to the Temple of Julianos.

What it never did, was keep me down forever. It toughened me up, yes, but not for the purpose of thinking I was better then everyone. Rather, for protecting her.

Setsuna was the only family I had. The person I was closest to, my twin, my friend. Had she not been there, perhaps I would never have had a reason to keep trying. I may have given up..

In a stark contrast to myself, she actually had friends. Not many, but more than I had. She even had a couple of admirers among the boys. They were the ones that were a bit worse to her, trying to get her attention, but having no idea how to do it correctly. An upset glance from me however usually sent them on their way.

As time passed and we grew into adulthood, we were sent on our way, and we would soon learn those without a trade, family or even a past found it hard to make their way into the world. We were far too old to become apprentices, and most folk didn’t take kindly to Dark Elves. Too foreign, too unsettling in appearance.

As such, we took odd jobs that we could find. Farmhands in the harvest season, caravaners in the off-season. It worked well with a dream that as siblings we shared, to see the world around us.

One of the brothers in the Temple had told me that he heard that I was an oddity, amongst a pair of oddities. The people who had entrusted us to his care said that we were both born on the same evening in the twelfth of Morning Star in year 399 Third Era, under the sign of The Ritual.

Setsuna was born first, and then I came technically making me the youngest. However, I did not draw breath right away. No, I did not draw it until the constellation of The Serpent had taken dominance in the sky, forever marking me as different.

I had asked him what that meant, and he replied with a raised eyebrow and a grim look.

He quoted from a book called ‘The Firmament’.

The Serpent wanders about in the sky and has no Season, though its motions are predictable to a degree. No characteristics are common to all who are born under the sign of the Serpent. Those born under this sign are the most blessed and the most cursed.

He said he had an old, crazy Uncle who was the adventuring type who was born under the sign. If I were anything like him, then my luck for survival would be astonishing at times. Our signs tended to be wanderers; never making root any one place for long. They loved the deepest, and lived the longest.

At the time, I had no idea how accurate his words would prove to be, and indeed how much of a blessing and curse living and love could be.

This post has been edited by Black Hand: Dec 21 2013, 02:07 AM