The Story of Trey- Chapter 2 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 2

"Not everyone who [dumps] on you is your enemy; not everyone who pulls you out is your friend; but most of all, when you are up to your chin in [sewage]- keep your damned mouth shut!"

Jack Beauregard (Henry Fonda) in “My Name is Nobody”


It is now the middle of Last Seed here on Vvardenfell, near the anniversary of my arrival so many years ago. If you were to ask me what I had for supper last night, I would be hard pressed to say. But if you asked me to recall my first days in Morrowind, I would do so with ease. And so I shall.

As I went north out of Seyda Neen, I remembered a promise I had made to a Khajiit and two Argonians. Turning west to the sea, I cast a spell of Water Walking and traveled out to deep water. Once there, I dropped three slave bracers, symbols of a practice I hated with every fiber of my being. Having been a victim of forced servitude myself, a slave in all but name, I would do whatever I could to cripple the foul practice. Promise fulfilled, I turned back toward shore and discovered one of the major limitations of magic: spells do not last forever, nor even as long as one might wish. In fact, spells often expire at particularly unfortunate moments. For example, when the spell-caster is well out into the sea and preaching the evils of slavery to an audience of one. One moment I was gliding across the surface of the water, composing one of the greatest anti-slavery speeches in the history of the Empire, the next I was gasping and trying not to swallow a significant portion of the Inner Sea. For future reference, it is better to compose great speeches and plan grand crusades from a comfortable chair in front of a warm fire.

My situation was quickly noticed by several small green fish, which seemed to be composed mostly of mouths full of long, needle-sharp teeth. If my sword technique on land had improved any, it was not noticeable in the water. My thrashing and cursing would have proved highly entertaining to anyone watching; I believe I overcame the slaughterfish as much by churning the water as by swordplay. Once my attackers floated on the surface, I was able to examine them and discover that, in addition to their impressive teeth, they possessed scales with some properties useful for the making of potions, such as Water Walking. Such as... the spell that I had cast to get out here, the spell that I still knew, the spell that I had sufficient magicka to cast perhaps another 9 TIMES! If the water had churned when I fought the slaughterfish, it positively boiled as I realized that I could have just cast a simple spell. I was much damper and much quieter as I slunk back to shore. On a happier note, I didn't quite drown when I noticed some kollops and dove to check them for pearls.

Back on more or less dry land, I downed one of Thavere's healing potions and decided to practice with that bane of my existence, the chitin short bow. My targets of choice were mudcrabs; they tended to be slow and not require 50 or 60 arrows to kill. That may seem cruel to some, but I had several good reasons. First, I was not a ranger; I didn't go flitting through the forest singing songs to the birds and furry creatures. Second, I needed the crab meat to keep me going- there weren't any provisioners out there. And, finally, I really needed to improve my skill with the bow if I wanted to survive. There were plenty of creatures that could hurt me badly if I allowed them into close range. Other than the mudcrabs and a few rats, I met no opposition. Of course, I did bypass several tombs and caves, feeling that my equipment and skills simply weren't up to the kind of trouble I might find. Besides, undead sort of, um, what's the word ... scared me.

I didn't hurry, but I didn't want to waste time either- I had probably left some enemies behind me- enemies that might prove powerful. I needed to get to a town large enough to lose myself and to perhaps join a guild or two. Guilds can be annoying, what with rules, duties, and membership dues, but they also provide some protection. In the real world, most lone wolves either starve to death or get taken down by the pack. It's a romantic image, but I had to think about survival, not image. As I passed the wizard-shaped depression in the road where Tarhiel had discovered one of the fundamental laws of physics, I turned east, wanting to work my way inland. The coast was humid and muddy; I hoped to find more pleasant travel conditions across the foothills. Also, I had just about all the mushrooms I would ever want; I hoped to find different plants farther inland.

My efforts were rewarded with a large variety of plants, including some that would provide healing. Best of all, no Imperial guards jumped out of the bushes to accuse me of lurking with the intent to loiter or treason or whatever else they could make up. As I came up the path to Pelegiad, I almost thought I had been magically transported to High Rock. The buildings looked so much like my home province that I felt a twinge of homesickness. That was quickly dispelled by the sight of an Imperial fort hovering like a black cloud at the north edge of town. Whenever I began to feel that I could breathe freely, I was reminded that the iron fist of the Empire was wrapped around my throat. Seeking a friendly, non-Imperial face, I spied Kunthar, a Nord barbarian. Generally, I find Nords to be likable; they have a simple outlook on life- smash it, spend it, eat it, or drink it. He explained that the Imperial wart, I mean fort, was only one part of the problem. There were also retired soldiers who had settled here and established farms. Pelegiad would not be the best place for me to settle, then. Besides, I had no way of knowing if the Imperial authorities in Seyda Neen were getting ready to send a message for all garrisons to pick up "one Trey, Breton, to be held on suspicion."

Kunthar was a good fellow; he told me about the services available in Pelegiad- the Halfway tavern and inn, two smiths, a trader, even an Imperial Cult shrine. The inn was of greatest interest to me- I needed a chance to clean off the grime of the road and perhaps sleep in a bed. Inside the tavern, I met a peculiar Dunmer by the name of Yakum who spoke a strange variety of Elvish. Among other odd subjects, he mentioned something about a prophecy, apparently some belief of the Ashland Dunmer. It all had to do with something or someone called the Nerevarine. I hardly understood a thing he said, but I liked the old boy; he seemed like my kind of person. After politely ending my conversation with Yakum, I approached the owner, who offered a selection of drinks, food, and best of all, beds. After buying some kwama eggs, I mentally counted my gold and decided I had enough to take a room. That would give me a chance to repair my gear, mix potions, and rest.

Originally, I had planned to just camp on the road and do my maintenance there. But then it struck me that the "clank, clank, ting, clank, clank" of armor repair might be as good as a dinner bell to any creatures in the area. I might as well just start shouting, "Yoo hoo, monster, come and eat me. Got your nice fresh Breton on the half-shell." No, civilization had its benefits, even if I did have to put up with the presence of Imperials. In the quiet of my room, I was able to mix up some Restore Fatigue potions and repair the worst of the wear on my armor and weapons. Best of all, I got to sleep in a bed. It was expensive, but I kind of liked it. Back home, I generally had to share my straw pile in the stable with whatever kind of "wildlife" might be there. That might be one reason why the silt strider bothered me so much; a flea that size would do a lot more than just leave a tiny bump if it bit you. In fact, YOU would be the tiny bump in the silt strider's stomach. The next morning, feeling rested and well fed for the first time, I got back on the road- ready to find adventure, fame, and fortune. What I found was romance.

This post has been edited by treydog: Mar 5 2015, 01:31 AM

[treydog]

@ArtemisNoir2- I am happy to have Trey’s fantasies about romance bring you back to reality- or what passes for same…

I can relate to your cat food/cereal episode… I made myself a peanut butter and balsamic vinaigrette sandwich the other day. In my defense, both the jelly and the dressing bottles reside in the door of the fridge and have similarly colored and sized tops…

@Colonel Mustard- Many thanks. I am doing much the same, reading only enough to decide what will make the next post, and then “fixing” a few little things here and there. Because, let’s face it, a story is never really “finished.” One of the advantages (for me) of writing the story in first person (besides the fact that I find it easier), is that it forces me into “show- don’t tell.” There is no omniscient narrator hanging around to explain everything to death- only Trey and his particular, callow point of view. Caius is one of the best NPCs ever from a video game.

@mplantinga- Trey is definitely close to Maurrie in the “Naivete Sweepstakes.” The good news is, he will survive the lessons he learns. And everyone here will be happy to see you whenever you can come visit.

@hazmick- That is a most excellent quote- I shall appropriate it for my own use. Trey’s experience of that first brief flame of love being doused by a cold bucket of reality came purely from my imagination, rather than my experience. Yeah, right. And yes, the bad directions issue is one that shows up in Morrowind a number of times. That may be the origin of the hated “quest compass” in Oblivion…

@McBadgere- Time for more “Truth in Authorship,” regarding the opening quotes for each chapter. For some reason, known only to my Past Self (shakes fist- curse you younger version of Me!), I did not keep the quotations with the chapter files as I saved them in Word. And so- when the original forums went pear-shaped and then pruned all of “the Story,” the quotes were lost. I kinda, sorta vaguely remember some of the ones I used, the Jack Beauregard was not one of them, but… it seems appropriate.

As noted previously, the real humor of the Rumble in the Sea (with Bonus Fish!) is the fact that it happened because the player (me) forgot that the character (Trey) could just water walk and avoid it. And the whole Maurrie and the Bandit thing just played so perfectly into Trey’s image of himself. If it makes you want to write again, that is a very good thing ™.

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Once I had gotten in out of the rain, a momentary flash of sanity caused me to remember what had happened the last time I entered a cave. A short passageway led to a second door; before attempting to explore further, I cast Beggar's Nose. As I had suspected, the cave was inhabited, and at least three of the inhabitants were of the non-human variety. As I approached the inner door, I heard an ominous growling. Perhaps the intelligent thing to do would have been to go back out into the rain, but I was just drying off. And I was curious. What creature made such a noise? My training in alchemy, such as it was, included the study of creatures and their habits. As I leaned closer to the door, I brushed it with my left shoulder and triggered some sort of magical trap. The flare of released magicka was followed by a feeling of a great weight settling upon me. However, my possessions were few, and I preferred light armor; so I was still able to move. Hoping that the trap had not alerted whatever creature was on the other side, I swung the door open. At the time, it didn't occur to me that creatures don't set magical traps.

Before I could take in the room behind the door, a scaly, green, four-legged creature with glowing red eyes bounded forward, growling. I went into a guard position with my sword and shield and let it approach, hoping the narrow doorway would hamper its movement. When it was within a few feet, it swiped at me with a massive 3-toed forefoot. The doorway and my armor provided adequate protection and I was able to fell the strange creature with a few blows of the sparksword. After making sure it was dead, I knelt to examine the body. It soon became apparent that this was what was known as a nix-hound, a nuisance animal that was common to the wilder parts of the Empire. They could be trained and used as guard beasts if captured young enough and hand-raised. The flesh could provide fatigue restoration, although it was rather stringy and had a faint taste of chlorine. I was so fascinated with my natural history studies that it took me a moment to notice the Dunmer woman on the raised wooden platform on the right side of the cavern. In fact, it wasn't until she drew her sword that I became aware of her.

There was a closed gate between us, and she seemed reluctant to open it. Remembering the trap on the door, I believed I knew why. I moved closer, thinking perhaps she was a prisoner; but if that were the case, why would she pull a sword on me? Just then, a second nix-hound bounded up from the tunnel behind her. The large beast ignored the woman and stood growling at the gate, clearly waiting for a chance to rend my flesh. I stepped nearer to examine the gate and got a bit too close. In a flash, the woman's sword and the hound's claws reached through the slats and wounded my unarmored legs. In fact, the hound managed to hold me pinned against the gate for several agonizing seconds as his mistress attempted to get a clear angle for a killing blow. With difficulty, I broke free and cast Hearth Heal. Still, they did not come through the gate; it was clear that there was a trap on it which they feared. Studying the situation, I realized that it was possible to strike at them around the right side of the gate; the gatepost would shield me from most of their return attacks. As soon as I thought of it, I put my plan into action, with mostly satisfactory results. So eager were the hound and the Dunmer to attack me, they took my return blows without thinking of retreat. I suffered some wounds, but the enchantment of my sword proved too much for them and they quickly fell.

Now there was the problem of the gate. It was built in such a way that I could not climb over it; neither did I possess a spell, scroll, or potion that would allow me to levitate. Finally, trusting to my ability to heal myself, I decided on the direct approach. Grasping the latch, I received a severe shock, which I healed with a spell. I was going to have to find some way of dealing with these traps besides suffering the damage. The woman carried nothing extraordinary, so I moved deeper into the cave. Perhaps getting rained on had washed some of the cobwebs out of my head; perhaps I was learning from experience; but in either case, I remembered that my detection spell had indicated THREE creatures. Two nix-hounds were dealt with; where and what was the third creature? I decided to move in the shadows and as quietly as I could. When I reached a cross-corridor, I cast the detection spell again. As it showed the third and final creature far back in the cave, I silently thanked my mother for birthing me during Frostfall. To the right was an open gate; from the bones and scraps of flesh, this was clearly a kennel. Still worse, some of the bones were human.

Again staying in the shadows as much as possible, I continued down the main passage. The third, and (I hoped) final nix-hound attacked me a few feet beyond the kennel. Again, Tarhiel's sword provided the advantage I needed. Also, although I hardly noticed at the time, my sword work was getting smoother. Finally, I came to yet another “worn” door. I began to wonder if there were any “new” doors anywhere on Vvardenfell. Perhaps the smugglers could forget skooma and start a black market in doors. This portal I checked for traps; I didn't know what I would do if I found one, but it paid to be cautious. I opened the door and was instantly rushed by a Dunmer with a peculiar hairstyle- a strip of hair standing straight up that ran down the center of his scalp. Shouting, "There is no escape!" he charged me with his fists raised. At first I thought he was referring to his own situation, but no, he expected to beat my sword and armor with his bare hands. I might have understood if he was a Nord.... His death at my hands proved that his final words had portended his own fate. Papers in his pockets indicated that he was named Gilyn Drobar. I wondered what desperation could have caused him to attack an armed opponent with his fists. Maybe the bad haircut had driven him to madness.

Whatever his reasons, Drobar had a cozy hideaway with a wood plank floor, circular fire pit, rugs, cushions, and benches. In fact, there were two cushions for sitting, but he was the only person I had seen in this part of the cavern- perhaps there was someone else nearby. An earthen ramp led upward and deeper inside. Still trying to emulate the shadows, I moved on. In the final cavern of this section, I saw another raised wooden platform with someone standing beneath it. Unseen, I crept up to a stone column and tried to think what I could do. I knew what excess planning had done for me in Addamasartus- nearly gotten me killed- but I couldn't just jump out with my sword raised and yell. Actually, why not? It had the great advantage of being so simple even I couldn't get mixed up. Otherwise, I could try a Fireball, with a 1 in 4 chance of even getting it to work. Or perhaps I could use one of Tarhiel's Scrolls of Icarian Flight, jump really high, and bang my brains out on the ceiling? No, simple may have lacked style, but it had the advantage of working. Besides, only one person was ever going to know how I did it- the other was going to be dead and wouldn't care. In the end, I did cast Dragon Skin before jumping out. Surprise worked to my advantage, but my opponent still managed to bash my legs several times with her club before I prevailed. I needed to think seriously about getting a pair of greaves.

Finding very little of interest, I again healed myself and set off to explore the passage across from the hound kennel. My magicka was getting low, but I didn't want to rest in a cave with an unknown number of enemies. Across from the kennel was still another “worn door”- maybe I should have been a carpenter instead of a thief. Opening this door revealed a passage that sloped upward, leading to another balcony-style platform. Partway up the passage, with her back to me, was a white-haired Dunmer woman. On the platform was another Dunmer, a male. I got the woman's attention by the simple expedient of missing her with an arrow. (Note to self: get better bow. P.S.- Or else get better WITH bow. Thx- love, Trey).

This action had the advantage of luring her toward the door without her companion noticing. She shouted, "Die, fetcher" and ran at me. "Fetcher?" Did everyone on this blighted island already know that I had fetched and carried for Maurrie? Getting my mind back on the task at hand, I cleverly caused her sword to become slippery by bleeding on it, and when she got tired of hitting me, I managed to finish her. She was carrying an interesting instrument called a "Fat Lute;" while I pondered what that could mean, the man noticed what was happening and charged down at me, swinging an axe. I also defeated him, but not before having to use the last of Thavere's restore health potions. But it was worth it, for this cavern turned out to contain a great treasure, indeed.