Sudhendra Vahl, the first chapter Options

[minque]

This is the first chapter of the amazing story by OverrideB1, which has been posted in the ES-forums

So you want to know a little more about me, where I come from, how I got to be where I am? That seems a reasonable request and we should have plenty of time for me to tell my tale.
I go by the name of Sudhendra Vahl. That’s not my real name of course, but you’ll soon understand why. I’ll start at the beginning ~ I was raised in a small village about fifty miles west of Rihad, and I was born in the year 401 of the Third Era. What’s that?
Well, that is uncommonly kind of you to say so, although your flattery will gain you nothing. I come from a long-lived species and certain events (which I will relate) have conspired to provide me with a much longer life than is normal ~ even for one of my kind. Now, let me tell you my tale…

The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl :Prologue
I never knew my parents: my mother died giving birth to me and my father, from what I can discover, was an itinerant adventurer passing through on his way to somewhere adventurous from somewhere less adventurous. My mother, Gods rest her soul, caught his eye and there was a brief dalliance. Nine months later, along I came ~ a very short time after that, my mother departed this vale of tears. I have little, or no, recollection of what happened after that ~ although I have expended considerable resources over the years finding out.

Shortly after my mother’s death, I was taken in by the Stendarr temple and, from there, sent to foster parents to be raised. My foster-parents were Stendarrites, although the milk of his mercy ran thinly in their veins. I was just a source of income from the Temple for them and, when that ran out shortly after my tenth birthday, I became cheap labour for them around the farm. Well, I say cheap ~ unpaid would be a much better description. True, I had food and a bed: the food left over after they’d finished eating and a pile of straw atop the storage shed. It was a brief and unhappy childhood; not helped by the fact I was the only Dark Elf in the village.

I grew up being handy with my fists and feet and wasn’t above using my teeth if push came to shove. And when half-a-dozen jeering children, all of whom are better fed and stronger than you, surround you; shove comes surprisingly quickly. I quickly garnered a reputation as a surly and aggressive child among the villagers. Not that I had much of a problem with that: my foster-parents did, however and I was regularly beaten for “starting another fight”. Any attempt to explain that I’d been set upon by six or seven older, stronger children was conveniently ignored.

However, just so you don’t think that it was completely bad, I did have a wonderful forest near the house and, when my foster-parents were away at temple, I could wander through them to my hearts content. It was about this time that I developed quite the interest in the properties of various flora. I soon found a root, common in the woods, the juice of which alleviated the sting of my frequent bruises. I never made much of the interest other than secretly trading useful bits of root and flower to passing traders in exchange for coin or, more frequently, a tattered old book. I took great care not to be seen with the books as I struggled to learn my letters ~ I knew that they’d end up on the fire and I’d end up being punished again if I was caught.

It was probably around my twelfth year that my Talent appeared. I began to notice strange auras around certain things and the feeling that I almost knew what they were for. As the days passed, I began to notice more of these quicksilver flashes and occasionally, when a Noble or Knight rode through the village, a strange tugging sensation if they passed close to me. Obviously not something I could discuss with my foster-parents, I chose to discuss it with a wandering peddler I’d dealt with before. In exchange for some plants and one of my miserly horded golden Drakes, he explained that I was born under the sign of the Apprentice and that what I was seeing was a manifestation of that astrological sign’s influence on my life.

Over the next three years, my friend the peddler would come visit. In return for my identifying magical items, he taught me a couple of useful cantrips. A fire-touch spell, a spell that allowed me to walk on water, and (my personal favourite) a spirit I could summon that would act as a guardian. In secret, I began marking the fifteenth of Sun’s Height as my birthday.

I said that it was a short and bitter childhood, and the truth of that became apparent shortly after my fifteenth “birthday”. My foster-mother was away visiting her mother ~ a woman I’d never met, but who was reputed to be insanely rich and insanely eccentric. One night, deep in his cups, my foster-father came up into the loft of the storage shed and attempted to… well, I probably don’t need to draw you a diagram, do I? Needless to say, he got a fist in the face that broke his nose and a shovel across that back of the head that turned out his lights for a while. Gathering my few tattered clothes and the meagre stash of Drakes I’d accumulated, I took a sack-full of provender from the larder, the best horse from the yard and, bidding a farewell to my hidden books, I set off in the general direction of away.

I figured that everyone would think I’d headed towards Rihad so that was the last direction I wanted. North lay Taneth and, beyond that, the wilds of Hammerfell. East lay the border with Cyrodiil, as it would if I headed south. Cyrodiil it was then and, angling roughly southeast, I rode off into the night. A few days later, hungry and dusty, I crossed into Sutch. There it became obvious that the supply of coin I had wouldn’t last too long and so, with some reluctance, I sold my steed and blended into the crowds.
Over the course of the next ten years I drifted from town to town, never staying in one spot for long, making a passable living identifying useful plants or identifying ensorcelled items. Naturally, I picked up a few useful skills along the way: my years of chopping wood proved to be handy as I found I could wield a pretty mean axe and I taught myself the rudiments of fighting with a long-blade. I won’t say I led a blameless existence, but I was no more of a thief, cutpurse, or mugger than anyone else of my station. Truth be told, I tried to avoid stealing things except when needs must: often I was the only Dark Elf in the town and knew that suspicion would fall on me pretty quickly.

So I drifted along, wandering from town to town with nary a care in the world. However, it was in one town that I happened to overhear a couple of Legion types asking about a Dark Elf named “Mishkin” who was wanted for assault and theft in Hammerfell. Heart pounding, I ran back to my hideout, collected my sparse belongings and got out of town pretty damn’ sharply, I can tell you. In a panic, I made the cardinal mistake – isolating myself with no options. I hit Anvil running, and booked myself passage on the first ship to very far away from here. It virtually emptied my purse, but I got passage on a vessel sailing to a port near Rimmen. I knew nothing about the place except that it was in Elsweyr and it was very far away from Hammerfell. Sounded perfect.

The journey took a couple of months, and I was more than happy to step off the boat in the bustling port and blend once more into the crowds. Of course, I’d forgotten how quickly bad news could spread, how persistent the Empire is in punishing wrongdoers, and the spitefulness of my foster-parents. I’d travelled under the name of “Vahl” and used the first name “Sudhendra” if I had to ~ it was a name I’d read in a book at sometime and it struck me as being a pretty name, certainly better than Mishkin. There I was, in a foreign place, with no money and a false identity. That’s when I made cardinal mistake number two.

My only excuse is that I was exhausted. I’d been running around trying to gather up some much needed coin and had pushed myself over the limit. I purchased a little bread and meat and sat in a pretty little park to eat my meal. Next thing I know, I’m being shaken awake by a burly guard who was being watched with some amusement by his three equally burly compatriots.

“You can’t sleep here,” he said. “What’s your name?”

I told you I was tired, I automatically answered “Mishkin Dark-Skin”.

“Says here you’re Sudhendra Vahl and, wait, did you say Mishkin Dark-Skin?”

The four of them fell on me like a landslide, hitting me with their short wooden clubs before dragging me, battered and bruised, to the local lockup. Where I spend a very uncomfortable night before being hauled before the local Imperial magistrate. The charges were ridiculous, to say the least: “Assault on a village Elder”, “Theft of three hundred Drakes”, “Theft of a prize stallion”, “Assuming a false Identity”, “Vagrancy”. Oh, and my personal favourite, “Resisting arrest”.

I might just have talked my way out of the first five charges but that resisting arrest one? That one was the clinching offence: the whole trial took under thirty minutes, I wasn’t given a single chance to refute the charges or make a defence and found myself sentenced to ten years in the Imperial prison at Alabaster.

I’d been in prison for a year when things took a turn for the very strange. During my sentence, I’d been a good girl; following orders, staying out of trouble, that sort of thing. Unlikely though it was, there was a very remote chance I might get a reprieve if I showed that I was a model citizen. So, I bowed and scraped, cleaned out the latrines, washed, cooked, and did all the usual stuff they make you do in jail. In addition, I kept in shape as best as I could. Then, one night, the door to my cell slammed open and I was grabbed and dragged out into the courtyard. A cloaked and hooded figure looked at me from the dark recess of his hood and muttered something to the commandant. Next thing I knew I was being hustled into a coach and driven out of the prison. We stopped but once, and I was made to stand there while my original abductors drove off in the coach and another, plainer coach was brought in. The hooded figure turned to me and said something that sounded like “Somnus” and a sudden blackness descended.

[minque]

Feeling rather achy, and shaking off the residue of a disquieting nightmare that I couldn’t quite recall, I left the tomb and gathered a few sticks together to light a fire. Warming myself, I took out one of my three remaining loaves of bread and a few strips of salted fish. After washing off the salt in the pool, I carefully threaded the fish onto some green twigs and propped them up over the fire until they were brown and sizzling. Having sated my hunger, I packed up my pack and, getting my bearings, headed off down the road towards Balmora.

As I followed the road, I walked past a turning to a town ~ identified on the signpost as Pelagiad. Built in the Imperial-style, it seemed tranquilly agrarian: the ideal place to visit and explore. However, I wanted to get myself set up on the island and, the sooner I delivered this packet of documents to Balmora, the sooner I could make a start on doing that. Shrugging my shoulders to settle my pack, I turned my face away from the town and headed on down the road. Before I’d gone much further, I saw a large stone building set into the hillside. The silver and blue pennants fluttering from the top of the walls immediately identified it as a temple to Kynareth. That made sense, really ~ a temple devoted to the Lady of The Air near an Imperial settlement.

Just down the road a little way was a cave, the markings identified it as Ulumusa. Pushing open the door, and gripping my axe tightly, I ventured inside. It was a small cave, home to a large Nordic warrior and his female companion. The woman was fairly easy to beat ~ my first axe-blow cracked her ribs and she went down fairly easily after that. The Nord, however, was a totally different proposition. Armed with a massive warhammer, which he swung with a great deal of dexterity, he was able to keep me far enough away from him that my axe was, effectively, useless. Shame then, that I had a backup plan. As he recovered from a swing, I dropped my axe, extended my hands and intoned, “Exuro meus Hostilis". He screamed as the fireball wrapped itself around him, staggering off towards the front of the cavern before collapsing in a smoking heap.

I found nothing of any great value in Ulumusa, with the exception of a silver bowl. Inscribed around the rim was the following: To Armond Beluelle, from the East Empire Company, for courage and daring in the protection of the Company's couriers, with our thanks. It was obviously an heirloom, and I packed it into my pack in the hopes that ~ one day ~ I’d be able to track down this Armond Beluelle.

As I stepped back out into the brilliant sunshine, I resolved that ~ under no circumstances ~ would I wander into a cave until after I’d been to Balmora. So far I’d been pretty damn’ lucky but that big Nord had come uncomfortable close to cracking open my skull and I would, thank you very much, like to see my next birthday (and a fair few more after that). So then, no more caverns for a while thank you very much. With that resolution firmly in mind, I set off along the road.

It was much later in the day, around the Twelfth Hour, when I arrived there. After passing an Imperial garrison, I walked down a valley until I came to an obelisk. Upon it, written in Daedric characters, was the name “Balmora”. I crossed two little bridges that spanned a fairly energetic river and, giving the silt-strider a very wide berth, I entered the town. The architecture was strange but not unlovely: squat and curved buildings built of some greyish-green stone. A high wall, built of the same stone, encircled the city; although I did notice that there was no fee to enter the city, nor any form of city gate.

Shops lined the broad, open square that I found myself in ~ along with a couple of Guild Halls. I could see the Shield and Sword of the Fighter’s Guild and the All-Seeing Eye of the Mages. Four other shops, flying banners I didn’t recognise, also lined the square. One showed a strange animal bearing a pack and, on a whim, I entered. The shop was run by a Cathay-Raht by the name of Ra’Virr. It welcomed me cheerfully enough, and urged me to look at its collection of Daedric weapons.

When I looked, they proved to be standard weapons with a summoning enchantment. Ra’Virr didn’t seem put out when I mentioned this, instead urging me to consider purchasing a tent. That seemed a far more useful deal and, after bartering a good deal of my stuff with the Khajiit, I left his shop with a tent and four Septims from my bartered goods, along with directions to the South Wall Cornerclub. One thing he said worried me.

“Ra’Virr hears that many people have seen an Orcish knight clad in strange armour near Hlormaren. Ra’Virr hears that this dark knight has killed many travellers.” Strangely clad knights that go around killing unwary travellers are generally bad news ~ they have a tendency to belong to unsavoury cults.

I crossed the river into Labour Town, the name given to the poorer district on the eastern side of the River Odai, and made my way back to the Cornerclub. Upstairs, a florid faced Man seemed extremely agitated when I asked where I could find Caius Cosades, but he calmed down when I told him I had a package to be delivered. “Cosades rents a bed-and-basket· here in Labour Town. If you go back downstairs and out of the door, turn right and head up the stairs. Head left down the street and you’ll find Caius Cosades’ place right at the end, past the public forge.”

Thanking Bacola Closcius, I then enquired about renting a room in the Cornerclub. After a bit of discussion, I agreed to take a small room on the first floor at a cost of forty-five Drakes for the next five nights. Taking the key, I ventured into the room. It was small but well lit, with a bed, table, and a small chest at the end of the bed. I quickly discovered that the room key also opened the chest. Unpacking a number of the items I’d gathered, I put them into the chest, locked it, locked my room and set out to speak to Caius Cosades. After all, all I had to do was deliver the package and then I was free to pursue my own career and make a life for myself here on Vvardenfell. Do you ever wonder if the Gods get a big laugh out of our certainty about what the future holds?

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the squalid hole I met the elderly Imperial Caius Cosades in. Bare-chested, he stood in a room that was little larger than the one I’d rented at the Cornerclub; except that there were empty bottles and discarded clothes strewn about the floor and the bed was a ruin ~ looking as though the sleeper had been afflicted with violent nightmares. Over everything was a sickly sweet smell that permeated the room. As I stared at the chaotic environment, the elderly Imperial snapped, “You lost? Or is there something I can do for you?”

I looked into the bleary, red-rimmed eyes of the Imperial, asking, “Are you Caius Cosades?”

“I am, what of it young lady?” as he spoke, I saw something that caused me to revise my opinion of the man. Bleary and red-rimmed as his blue eyes were, there was a spark in them that spoke of a fierce intelligence. I got the feeling that there was very little this Man missed and I felt as though I’d just stepped into a room where, unaccountably, there was a very dangerous animal.

“I have this package for you,” I replied, extending the wax-paper wrapped documents.“ Taking them from me, he looked at the (thankfully) unbroken seal, and asked me to wait while he read them through. Turning his back on me, he tore open the package and started to read while I stood there in uncomfortable silence. Finally, making a soft sound in his throat, he turned to look at me.

“You are Sudhendra Vahl,” he said after studying me for a while. I kept quiet, simply nodding my head ~ I know a rhetorical question when I hear one. “Very well,” he continued, “by order of the Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh, I hereby induct you into the Blades with the rank of Novice.”

I was stunned, the Blades are not even supposed to be real ~ a myth told in dark alleys where sedition was planned by paranoid minds. But, unless the old man was joking with me, they were all too real and I had managed to get myself entangled in their shadowy web. Somehow, I got the feeling that, whatever else he was, Caius Cosades was not big on practical jokes. What followed next was the most bewildering hour I’ve ever experienced: in that short time Caius Cosades gave me a list of other Blade operatives I could contact if the need arose, briefed me on the political and religious situation here in Morrowind Province, told me about the factions and guilds I could expect to encounter here on Vvardenfell, and generally scared the heck out of me with a tale of strange goings-on on the island. Finally, he gave me a deeply appraising look and said, “Here are two hundred Drakes, if I were you, I’d go out and get a bit of seasoning so I won’t have to worry too much when I send you out on missions.”

That stung, more than a little. True, I’d never been the adventurous sort and I was relatively unskilled in magic, and unarmed combat, and the finer points of using an axe (or any other weapon for that matter), and I had very little by way of backwoods survival skills, and… seems as though the Man had a point. Didn’t make his comment any less hurtful though. His advice was to “join a Guild or two, or do some freelance work”, and then come back and see him when I felt ready to take orders from him.

“What if I’m never ready to serve the Emperor?” I thought as, my head reeling from the sudden load of new information I’d acquired I stepped outside. Still in something of a daze, I wandered down a nearby flight of stairs and found myself outside the Bank of Vvardenfell. On a sudden whim, I stepped inside and, with a very sheepish air, opened up a bank account for myself with five hundred Septims ~ a sizeable chunk of my current money but the very minimum they’d consider for opening an account.

The day, already very strange, took a sudden left-turn into downright weird. As I left the bank clutching my statement, a tall, cloaked Dunmer rushed up to me. “Salvor knows you, yes he does,” he gasped excitedly, grabbing my sleeve. “Salvor knows you seek the clothing that belonged… to them!”

“Them who?” I asked, trying to shake off his grip. I have an instinctive distrust of any being other than a Khajiit that speaks of themselves in the third person ~ their stairs frequently fail to reach the top floor.

“THEM,” he exclaimed, as though that explained anything. “The Alliance, the Silent Ten,” he continued, “You seek their clothing. Yes, yes, Salvor knows you have the right to claim the Dunmeri clothing. Seek it, seek it and you’ll find your destiny at the Dren Plantation and Venim Manor.”

“Excuse me,” a voice said as a heavily armour hand descended onto Salvor’s shoulder, “but is this man bothering you Lady?” I’ve never been so happy to see a guard, even one clad in such strange armour, in my life.

Before either of us could do anything, Salvor had broken free of the guard’s hold on him and scampered away towards a short alleyway. Stopping at the mouth of the alley, the Dunmer turned and yelled at us, “Salvor knows tall people. Be warned, Salvor knows some very tall people indeed.” With that incomprehensible warning, he scooted off down the alley with the guard in hot pursuit.

I spent the rest of the day, such as it was, engaged in disposing of some of the items I’d gathered so far in my travels. As the sun set, three hundred and sixty-four Drakes richer than when I’d started, I returned to the South Wall Cornerclub and collapsed, exhausted, into bed.