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]

So I was surfing around, looking to see where this story might still reside on the web… and I found a Russian(!) site with the entirety, including the long-lost chapter opening quotes. Not going to ask too many questions- I just transcribed those missing bits and moved right along.

@Grits- Yes, our invisible kittens have become visible. Heartbreakingly cute little devils- at least 2 orange tabby and one solid black one. The orange ones are already showing the cattitude for which they are famous…

Because so few characters in Morrowind have an “alarm” code for most anything except pickpocketing or direct attacks, I decided to have fun with it and put it down to the mages having their heads in the clouds… or somewhere more… fundamental. I remember having a grand time writing that scene with Sovor Trandel. Again- it was a matter of giving some life to the game’s decidedly “roulette wheel” persuasion mechanic. And I think I had probably forgotten that specific philosophical musing on “winning without violence” by the time I started Athlain’s story. But it shows that Trey is consistent, at least.

Varro is another of those really great characters that Bethesda wrote into the game. I did very little “enhancement” with him- the dialogue (as is most in this first stab at fan-fic) is 100% in-game. And he is one of the first Imperials Trey actually respects (grudgingly) as well as fears.

@mALX- It has given me great joy to revisit the first serious fiction writing I ever did. And I have you to thank for prompting me to do so (along with ArtemisNoir). And I will make sure the words stay where you can find them whenever you wish. Thank you so much.

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I had made my decision- Balmora had gotten too hot for me. Before leaving, I wanted to make some preparations; I didn't want to be caught out in the wilds missing that one item that would mean the difference between survival and ending up on some scavenger's menu. Returning from the South Wall, I went down to "my" room in the basement of the Mages Guild. That little room had served as my base for a short time and I would miss it. As I sorted through my gear, I reluctantly admitted that I was going to have to travel light. That meant that the books and alchemy apparatus were going to have to be left behind; they were luxury items and I just couldn't afford the additional weight.

On the other hand, maybe there was a way that I wouldn't have to abandon my prized possessions; a way to leave them here and come back as necessary without everyone in Balmora knowing about it. For those who can use Mysticism, there are methods of entering a place besides walking through the front door. First, the guild guides could transport me from one Mages Guild hall to another for a fee, and I planned to use that service. But I wanted something less public and more under my own control. The guild guides used a powerful version of a spell that linked known locations. However, an individual could learn to set a magical beacon called a Mark and then use a second spell called Recall to return to the Mark. You could only have one Mark set at any one time, but you could locate it in whatever convenient, concealed location you wanted. Then, if you needed to come back to that spot from almost anywhere in the Empire, you could. There were stories about some places that blocked mystical travel, but I didn't plan to go near any of those.

Translocation always made me feel as if I had forgotten my stomach somewhere on the other side of the continent, but it beat riding a giant flea. And besides, public transportation like the silt striders was just that, public. It wouldn't be hard at all for an outfit like the Camonna Tong or the Dark Brotherhood (or the Empire) to set watchers at every strider port and dock in Morrowind. The routes and schedules were well known; preparing a welcoming committee would be simple. If I didn't want to walk everywhere, probably having to deal with the local wildlife every few yards, I needed to learn Mark and Recall. I went to Ajira, figuring she was my best friend in Balmora (or anywhere), and asked her.

"Ajira does not believe anyone in the Balmora Mages Guild knows these spells. Ajira suggests that Trey speak to the priests at the Tribunal Temple."

That was good advice, because it reminded my of another travel spell I had heard of, one called Almsivi Intervention. That particular spell was another translocation magic, but one that wasn't tied to a single fixed point. Instead, Almsivi would instantly bring the caster to the nearest Tribunal Temple. That could be useful- if you found yourself in a serious enough situation to need to Almsivi out of it, chances were you would need some healing. The Imperials had a similar spell, called Divine Intervention, that would bring you to the nearest Imperial Cult shrine. The only problem with that was that Imperial Cult shrines tend to be built inside of Imperial forts, which contained large numbers of Imperial soldiers- like Larrius Varro. No, Almsivi was better for me. It was time to pay my respects at the Tribunal Temple of Balmora.

I got a rather chilly reception at the Temple; the dark elves really didn't like anyone they considered as coming from the Empire- which meant anyone who wasn't a dark elf. They weren't overtly hostile, but they looked at me as if I didn't smell very good. But I needed those spells, so I would put up with some rudeness. Finally, I located Feldrelo Sadri, the head of the Balmora temple.

She sneered, "I suppose you want to join the Temple," in a tone that indicated she was equally sure the moons were made of Dreugh wax.

I admit I took a certain perverse pleasure in saying, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I would very much like to join the Temple." After the reception I had gotten, I realized I was going to have to do something or these monks would gouge me outrageously for the spells, assuming they would even teach them to me in the first place. But if I was a member, they had to offer me services. And they might even like me a little better. The old biddy was already turning away from me, sure she was going to hear a refusal; my "yes" stopped her cold. She recovered quickly, though, and started the whole, "we-don't-let-just-anyone-join" routine.

"We value certain skills," she said.

"And those are...?" I asked politely.

"Blunt weapons, conjuration, mysticism..."

My heart sank with each word- I had minimal ability in any of those. But then she said, "And of course, restoration and alchemy to heal the people." Immediately, I asked to be tested, and after a few probing questions, she had to admit I was qualified. In fact, the conversation about alchemy and restoration thawed her considerably toward me. She then explained that, before undertaking Temple duties, I would need to complete something called the "Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces" and gave me a book, The Pilgrim's Path. The book detailed the locations of the shrines and the devotion to be performed at each. That might make a good cover; get a cheap robe to conceal my armor and pretend to be a religious pilgrim. That would allow me to move around and would even excuse odd behavior. Now a Temple member in good standing, I strolled downstairs and learned the transportation spells I had wanted. Even so, I had to swap some of my potions for the spells, as my cash was limited. Back in the Mages Guild, I checked with Ajira once more for any easy tasks she might need done- even if she paid me in potions, I could barter them for something else. Ajira allowed that she was aware of some "secrets," but that she would not let me in on them until I reached Warlock rank. Meanwhile, she indicated that I could ask Ranis, the head of the Balmora guild, for some work.

She paused, and then added, "Ajira does not like Ranis much. Perhaps Trey could speak to Ajira's friend Edwinna Elbert at Ald'ruhn."

So I had my spells, I had a way to get back to my possessions quickly and quietly, I had a cover- all I needed now was a destination. Oh, and I needed to set my Mark spell. For now, I decided that the little bedroom here in the Balmora Mages Guild would be a good place. It took me a few attempts- my Mysticism wasn't exactly first-rate. That taken care of, I raided the Mages Guild supply chest and went over my gear one more time. All of this may seem like excessive preparation, but I was more suited to towns and cities than to a life on the road, despite having grown up at an out-of-the-way inn. Even though I could get along in the wilderness and possessed considerable herb-lore, I wasn't one of those sit-around-the-fire, kill-animals-wear-their-skins types. In my brief experience, beds beat the scrib jerky out of the ground for sleeping. In fact, after a few days of sleeping on the ground, you would resemble scrib jerky- tough, salty, and smelly.

With a heartfelt prayer to whatever gods might be listening, whether Dunmer or Imperial, I asked the guild guide, Masalinie Merian, to send me to Caldera. I hoped that I would find some peace there, as well as a chance to earn some money. Sometimes, half a wish is the best you can get.

Here Ends Chapter 2