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]

In an upstairs bedroom, on a shelf, was a small, locked chest. The lock wasn't very good. I know, because I tested the lock with my handy lock pick, and it popped right open. And inside the unlocked chest on the shelf in the bedroom were three diamonds. It really wouldn't be safe to leave such nice stones in such an insecure place, so I took them for safekeeping. Feeling that I had done my civic duty, I got out of there. Slowly. If you run, someone will chase you just to find out why you're running. And as I hit the street, I got the feeling, the high from walking on the edge, testing the limits. That was the thing I loved about being a thief. When I was in the midst of successful job, I got a thrill that I never got when I was in a fight. In fights, I was just scared and mad and trying to stay alive. Stealing, though, was winning without resorting to violence. Sugar-Lips was going to have her diamond, and there were two more just for me. When I got back to the South Wall, I got a bit of a letdown; Sugar-Lips' "friend" hadn't paid yet, so all I got was a Potion of Invisibility. I could have gotten one of those from the Mage Guild or even made it myself. I still needed cash, so I decided to try for a different job, preferably one that paid in coin.

Sugar-Lips was happy to oblige- she wanted the key to the upper section of Nerano Manor. Meanwhile, she promoted me from Toad to Wet Ear, yet another less than flattering name. As to the key, there were known to be two; one was carried by Ondres Nerano himself, the other by his servant, Sovor Trandel. Trying to get the key from Nerano didn't seem like a winning idea, so I asked about Sovor Trandel. The report was that Trandel could usually be found hanging out in the basement of the Council Club, drinking with his buddies. I had heard something about the Council Club, but couldn't remember what. I had a feeling that it was probably important. That was another time I should have listened to the voice inside of my head.

I didn't really trust my powers of persuasion alone to get the Nerano Manor key from Sovor Trandel, nor did I think I was skilled enough to pick his pocket. And I absolutely wasn't going to bat my eyelashes at him. That left one other option- money. As I went back to the Mage Guild to sell my new diamonds to Ajira, I remembered that the Khajiit alchemist had mentioned something called Telvanni Bug Musk that could improve almost anyone's attitude toward the wearer. Unfortunately, she didn't have any and there were no known Telvanni in Balmora. Ajira thought Nalcarya might stock the substance, but she wasn't sure. Nalcarya, from whom I had just stolen three diamonds? I enjoyed the thrill of larceny, but not that much. Showing up for a second visit right after something valuable had disappeared was not my idea of the blueprint for a long, successful career. No, I was just going to have to try to manage with good, old-fashioned bribery. I had accumulated a little over 500 drakes from my various enterprises and hoped it would be enough. Trandel was a servant, but he was a servant in a manor house. Offer too little and he would be insulted; offer too much and I would be wasting precious funds. I hoped Sugar-Lips would pay enough to cover my expenses plus a little extra- preferably in cash instead of potions.

So, pockets jingling with bribe money, I headed off to the Council Club. There was something about the place that I was supposed to know, but I just couldn't lay a hand to it. As a thief, everything you hear has significance. You may not recognize the significance when you hear it, but you file it away until enough other pieces become available. It is of particular importance to remember the names of people, places, and organizations- and how they relate to one another. The trouble is, you don't want to write it all down- a notebook filled with that kind of information is guaranteed to get you shortened by a head, regardless of who finds it on you. Meanwhile, I had a servant to bribe.

I breezed into the Council Club and was rather rudely greeted by the fellow at the door, who was working at repairing weapons. "Odd place to set up a smithy," I thought, but ignored him and went downstairs. To put it mildly, the customers and staff of the Council Club were not pleased to see me. As I entered from the stairs, all conversation stopped and hands reached for sword and dagger hilts. Even the bartender reached down below the bar, where I was willing to bet he had a loaded crossbow. And I was further willing to bet he wasn't planning to shoot any of his frequent customers. I decided to play it dumb- always a natural choice for me, since it required minimal acting- and so sauntered up to a well-dressed Dunmer.

"Buy you a drink?" I asked in a slightly slurred voice that implied I had already had a few.

He didn't appear to like me very much, but he was willing to drink if I was willing to buy, so we got along.

"Nice outfit," I offered, "You must be one of the wealthy merch-, merk-, mer-, hic-, traders here in town." He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "N'Wah" under his breath. Aloud he said, "No, you lout, I have the honor of being the head servant of Ondres Nerano."

"Head servant, huh? So you like wash his hair and stuff?"

"S'wit! I am the chief servant for his manor house! I keep everything running smoothly. He has entrusted me with a key to the manor so that I can perform my duties even in his absence!"

"A key? I bet a key to a place like that is really a work of art in itself. Wouldn't mind having a look around one of those fancy houses sometime. Say, your glass is empty there, Chief. Lemme get that for you."

And so it went for 30 tedious minutes. Trandel couldn't stand me, but he was so full of his own importance that he enjoyed having a captive audience that was too stupid to even recognize his insults. Finally judging that he had enough in him to be suggestible, but not so much that he would be snoring on the table, I took out two 50-drake pieces and began idly playing with them.

"Sure would like to see inside one of those places," I said wistfully. "Must be as good as the Imperial Palace at Cyrodiil."

His eyes following the coins around the table, Trandel licked his lips and said, "It would be the end of my job if I brought an outlander into Master Nerano's home." With a casual flick, I slid the 100 drakes across the table, and pulled out another pair of 50s, which I rolled across my knuckles.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to disturb Master Nerano. I wouldn't take a peek unless he was on one of those trips out of town. And I wouldn't expect you to give me a tour, Chief; I'd just let myself in and back out. Zip, zip. Nobody the wiser."

The servant mopped his brow and said, "I couldn't possibly let you wander about unsupervised..."

The second 100 followed the first and I laid another 100 drakes in front of me. "Look, Chief. Fun is fun, but I don't need anybody jogging my elbow." With that, I stood up and made as if to pick up the last 100 drakes.

"Wait!" Trandel put his hand down over the coins. "It isn't like Nerano pays me enough anyway. Look, here's the key. Just don't tell anyone where you got it."

So, 300 drakes lighter and one key heavier, I left the Council Club and started to head over to see Sugar-Lips. But before turning to the bridge, I stopped. I had a key to Nerano Manor in my pocket. Nerano Manor, which was just a couple of streets over. It would be kind of interesting to see how the other half lived. A quick look wouldn't hurt. And even though I was willing to work for the Guild, I was still an independent at heart. Walking like I belonged there, I made straight for Nerano Manor. I walked in the middle of the street, greeted everyone I passed, was even pleasant to the guards. You can skulk in the shadows if you like, and sometimes there are good reasons for doing so. Of course, if anyone sees you, it will be obvious that you aren't just playing hide'n'seek with the grandchildren. When you are approaching a target, it is best to be so conspicuous that no one thinks you have anything to hide. "Trey? Oh, yes, he was here. We must have talked about my vegetable garden for 15 minutes. Nice boy, very polite. Seemed to know a lot about fertilizer. Don't know why young people today go for all that black clothing, though."

The key worked like a charm and I had the upper floors of Nerano Manor to myself. I moved further up, on the assumption that the wealthier one is, the higher up he lives. I found a large, locked chest on the floor and a smaller chest, locked AND trapped, on a shelf. My probe disarmed the trap and I cast Tower Key to fox the lock. Inside was 50 drakes- a partial repayment of my bribe money to Trandel. I picked the less-complex lock on the larger chest, which must have served as a liquor cabinet. Like the true connoisseur thief I was, I left the cheap stuff and took two bottles of vintage Cyrodiilic brandy. Small, saleable, and expensive- three of my favorite words. Deciding not to press my luck, I left the way I had come, thoughtfully relocking the door.

Back at the South Wall, Sugar-Lips gave me 500 septims for the key. This was more like it; I was finally starting to see a profit. Feeling good about my prospects, I stepped out into the Balmora to spend some of my earnings. All that gold was burning a hole in my pocket, so I decided to invest in some new alchemy apparatus and ingredients. I knew Nalcarya's shop had some really high-quality equipment, but I thought it might be better to try Ajira first. She had every reason to like me and give me the best prices possible. Maybe I could even trade the brandy. As it turned out, Ajira had a very fine Masters mortar & pestle that I couldn't afford. However, she also had a Journeyman-quality retort and alembic. The calcinator was of the lowest quality, and I decided I could do without it. The retort would enhance the potency and duration of all positive effects and the alembic would reduce the negative effects of my potions. I purchased both, along with a few ingredients, and unloaded the brandy. Then, just to complete the set, I went to see if Nalcarya had a journeyman-level mortar & pestle. She did and she gouged me on the price, so I didn't feel so bad about the diamonds. Along with a variety of other things, I needed to work on my haggling skills. The sad fact is, when you become accustomed to "shopping" when the store-keeper isn't around, your negotiating skills get rusty. Anyway, I headed back to the Mage Guild for a session of potion-making. I took my original mortar & pestle to store alongside the saber. Some things you just don't throw away.

You may recall that I said alchemy helps to concentrate my thoughts. As I ground and measured and mixed and heated, I allowed my mind to wander back to various conversations from earlier in the day and finally remembered why a thief needs to keep a running scorecard in his head of who's who. At some point, Meldor had been talking about the turf war between the Thieves Guild and the Camonna Tong and how it was hurting business- driving up prices and reducing profits. And then he had said, "The Camonna Tong is a bad bunch. In Balmora, they all hang out in that corner club near the strider port, the Council Club. Watch yourself if you go in there." Oh, absolutely. I would watch myself. I would watch myself act like a drunk with gold spilling from his pockets, watch myself waltz right into the base of operations of the criminal competition, watch myself hang a big sign around my neck that said, "Please kill me." Oh, blessed Kynareth, save me from myself.

You ever have one of those days where you wake up to an assassination attempt, spit in the eye of the local criminal organization, and then spend most of your getaway money on toys? And you get a feeling that says, "This day could not possibly get any worse." Track that feeling down and strangle it. It can always get worse.