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]

@hazmick- There will come a time when we will see one result of Trey’s obsession with books… it is still one of my favorite moments from the game. The interesting thing about Trey identifying himself as a “thief” is- he really never did much thieving…. Early life experiences and all that, I suppose. And Caius remains one of my favorite characters from any game.

@mplanting- The books in Morrowind struck the perfect balance (for me, at least). They were detailed enough to be interesting, had the chance of giving skill boosts, and some even contained a hidden message about what really happened at Red Mountain…. As for the Thieve’s Guild… the idea that everyone seems to know where they live does kind of negate the whole “secret society” aspect of their business.

@McBadgere- Having been the victim of a bad haircut or two- I can understand the whole “Are you looking at me?” reaction it might provoke. Of course, most of the “outlaws” of Morrowind are suicidally homicidal… (eyes cross)… or something. The thing of the Balmora trip was… and why I still recall this is somewhat worrisome… Trey did run across several beasties that would have been happy to eat him… and he dodged them all. Since I felt that defined his nature- and his awareness of his less-than-stellar skills- I kept it that way.

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Whatever I had expected, it was not the tiny, squalid room I found, nor the shirtless, seemingly elderly Imperial who was the only occupant. The bed was rumpled as if the sleeper had been a victim of violent nightmares; empty bottles and discarded clothing were strewn about the floor. As I stared at the chaos, the well-muscled old man barked, "You lost, boy? Or did you want something?" In spite of his bloodshot eyes and the fact that he could have used a bath, there was an unmistakable aura of power about him. Those eyes missed nothing and I somehow felt as if I had accidentally stepped into a tiger's cage. This was a dangerous man, and to underestimate him would be a grave mistake. Or perhaps that is mostly hindsight. Maybe when I looked then, I only saw a man past his prime, suffering from over-indulgence in drink or drugs or both. However it was, his sharp tone reminded me of my errand and I stated my reason for intruding- I was to deliver a package to Caius Cosades.

He took the package, which contained a number of interesting papers, and turned away from me to examine them. After a long, tense period he turned back and said,

"Very well Trey. The Emperor wants you to be a Novice in the Blades and follow my orders. Do you think you can do that?"

Of all the possible outcomes of this errand, I had not anticipated that one. No one knew much about the Blades; some said they didn't even exist, were just a bogeyman to scare people into obedience. But now, it appeared, they were all too real, and I was somehow ensnared in their web of intrigue. When I asked, Caius described the organization as the Emperor's "eyes and ears" in the provinces, there to make sure that any information the Emperor needed got to him quickly and accurately. He then spent the better part of an hour drilling me on the political situation in Morrowind, including the names of the major factions. He told me about the three Great Houses of the Dunmer, about the temples and guilds, and about the criminal organizations.

That last particularly caught my interest, for it seemed that the Thieves Guild was in a life-and-death struggle with a native organization called the Camonna Tong. Finally, he gave me 200 drakes and recommended that I go get better equipment and more "seasoning" before I got hurt. That last stung a bit, but deep inside, I knew he was right. His advice was to join a guild or two and do some easy jobs for them to establish an identity and gain experience. He finished with,

"Then when you're ready, you can come back for more orders."

I thought, but wisely did not say, "What if I'm never ready to work for the Emperor?" My head still reeling, as much from the political lecture as from the idea that I was in the Blades, I made my way back outside.

Thinking about Caius, I wondered what could drive the Empire to entrust such a man with so sensitive a position. As was often the case, that was the wrong question. I should have wondered what could drive a man in such a sensitive position to become a skooma addict.

Whether I wanted it or not, I had been made a Novice in the Blades, the Empire's spy organization. There was a saying, or really more of a whisper, that no one ever retired from the Blades. It was a guaranteed lifetime assignment. There just wasn't any guarantee how long your life would be. Caius himself had given me an out; he said I was inexperienced and should join some guilds and do some quests before reporting back for further orders. And he was a skooma user- he might even forget all about me in a week or two. Maybe. Or maybe not- he sure was able to recall a vast amount of information regarding who was who in Morrowind and why it mattered. If he was that sharp while on skooma, I didn't want to think what he would be like sober. Still, he had given me an excuse to stay away for a while. A lot could happen in a few days or weeks. Meanwhile, I wanted to unload some gear that the former owners wouldn't miss and see what Balmora had to offer the new thief in town.

So I wandered around, looking for shops and services, finally crossing to the west side of the Odai River. Meldor the armorer took the extra armor and weapons, including that cursed chitin short bow. I had not given up on using a bow; I just planned to find a better one. Although I didn't get as much as I had hoped for the extra gear, I did make enough to feel somewhat more secure. Best of all, Meldor had a pair of chitin greaves. My bruised and battered legs finally had some protection. Unfortunately, most of the better armor Meldor offered was that brown-yellow material called "bonemold"- good armor, but medium weight, not a style with which I was comfortable.

Next, I found Ra'Virr, a Khajiit trader who took the liquor, jewelry, and miscellaneous clothing. He also tried to sell me some "Daedric" weapons, which turned out to normal weapons with minor enchantments. He took it with good humor when I pointed this out, and I had to admire him for trying. As I wandered the streets, several people noticed the "fat lute" I was carrying and told me I should go to The Eight Plates if I was a player. No one seemed to want to buy the blasted thing, and somehow, I just couldn't throw it away. Maybe I would learn to play it, if I ever got time off from dodging the Empire. But that raised another issue- I needed a place to keep the things I wasn't going to sell, but didn't want to carry all over the wilderness. Renting a bed every night was a good way to go broke. Some guilds offered accommodations for members, so I began looking for the unsleeping eye symbol of the Mages Guild. It pleased my perversity to consider resting under the protection of that sign.

Besides accommodations, the Mages Guild could offer me access to alchemical equipment, better prices on ingredients, and even spell training. Although I had been forced by circumstances to become primarily a thief, magic could provide a valuable edge. I had considered and discarded the notion of joining the Fighters Guild- they tended to offer "Go kill so-an-so" missions- exactly the kind I did not want. The Fighters weren't always picky about where the money or the contract came from; if someone said a certain person "needed killing" and gave them enough gold, they didn't ask any questions.

So I located the Mages Guild and entered, anxious to make a good impression. The first person I met was Ranis Athrys, an expensively-dressed Dunmer who was the Guild Steward. When I asked about membership, she raised one eyebrow and looked over my armor and swords. I felt like checking my boots for guar dung. Finally, she questioned me about the various schools of magic and I was able to discuss alchemy and restoration to her satisfaction. At last, I had accomplished the goal that had carried me to Cyrodiil; I was an Associate of the Mages Guild. Eagerly, I asked her what duties I could perform, envisioning dangerous and exhilarating magical research in some ruined stronghold. Those visions were quickly dispelled when she told me that I was not advanced enough in my studies to be of any use to her; I should instead see Ajira for direction in my tasks.

Into the basement I went, and saw a scene that filled me with happiness. There were worktables and a lecture room and mages everywhere, talking, mixing mysterious ingredients, reading books and scrolls. It was wonderful. Finally, I located Ajira, a harassed-looking Khajiit working behind an apothecary table. I liked her immediately, but then I've always had a soft spot for the cat-people of Elsweyr; perhaps they remind me of the barn cats from the stable where I slept. When I inquired about duties, she explained that she was studying to become a Journeyman and needed four kinds of mushrooms that could be found on the Bitter Coast. Could I go and collect the mushrooms? I knew that one; it was the old "run the legs off the Apprentice" routine. Like sending me out to get a "left-handed hay fork." The game was designed to test my resolve, but also to get a good laugh at my expense. Instead of rushing out the door, I casually reached into my pack and pulled out several varieties of mushroom.

"Will these do?" I asked, innocently.

She was so pleased she gave me some Restore Health potions, which I was glad to get. Since that had gone so well, I asked for another job. It seemed that Ajira had a bet with Galbedir, another student, as to which of them would achieve Journeyman rank first. Ajira had crafted a fake soul gem that she wanted me to slip into Galbedir's desk while she was away. Khajiit are naturally sneaky; that may be another reason I like them. It took a few minutes to stash the fake amongst the real gems in the desk. Then I wandered back downstairs to report my success. I didn't mind being asked to participate in a practical joke- it made me feel like I belonged. Besides, you can always expect some competitiveness among apprentices. Still hoping to get something more, I don't know, magical, to do, I asked Ajira for another job. Now she needed flowers. "Go to the Lake Amaya region." Right. And get attacked by beasties and highwaymen and gods knew what else. I went back into my pack and produced some more of the samples I had collected. Again, Ajira expressed her appreciation by giving me some inexpensive potions- Restore Magicka, this time.

All that was fine, and it was nice to be making friends in the Mage Guild, but I wasn't making any money or learning any magic. I decided to go see Ranis, and stepped out into the main work area. As I did, for the first time, I noticed an alcove with beds, a table, and a large wardrobe. Upon asking, I was told that the room was for the use of anyone in good standing with the guild. Excellent. My sleeping and storage problems were solved. When I tried to open the wardrobe, it was locked, so I asked about a key. "Oh, we lost the key ages ago. No one uses that wardrobe anymore." You have to love mages- they are smart as a whip and dumb as a brick at the same time. Probably anyone in that room could have cast a simple Unlock spell, but they didn't think of it! Rather than waste a spell myself, I used my picks and thus, my books had a new home out of the rain.

I also put the iron saber I had bought shortly after landing into the wardrobe- I suppose I could have sold it, but it had given good service. Also, it was the first sword I had ever owned. After lightening my load, I asked Ranis about my status. She still didn't want to offer me any work, but did advance me two ranks in the guild- from Associate to Apprentice, and from Apprentice to Journeyman. At that rate, I would be the head of the guild before the week was out. Which would be great- if I wanted to be head of the guild.

What I wasn't doing was improving my skills or making money. I needed to get outfitted so that I could seek a paying job. Therefore, I decided it was time to look around town for a better bow, anything but chitin. I finally found a battered long bow at the Razor Hole. It looked as if the previous owner had had the same experience with bows as I did, and used it to bludgeon his last opponent. Whatever the reason for its condition, Thorek let me have it for a fraction of the usual price. I figured I could repair it and maybe learn more about bows while I did. With the preparations done, I decided to get a good night's rest at the Mage Guild and spend tomorrow looking for a way to make some money. Or to at least look for some trouble.

What I didn't know was that you don't always have to look for trouble; often enough, trouble finds you.