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]

My nightmare, which I don’t remember, shook me awake in the small hours of the morning. I tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t. Finally, I gave it up as a bad lot and, after dressing, stepped out of the Cornerclub into a Balmora that was already bustling and lively.

“Can I interest you in some fletching equipment?” a tall Breton asked as I approached North Bridge. She and I spoke for some while as she explained to me various ways to make bolts and arrows. When we parted, I was nineteen hundred Drakes poorer, but I was the proud possessor of a couple of boxes of flights, some arrowheads, and a small toolkit that would allow me to make my own bolts or arrows.

Mindful of what Cosades had said yestre; I made my way back over to the main market-square and stood looking at the two Guildhouses. To be honest, even though I have an aptitude for magic, the Guild of Mages has never really appealed to me ~ I find them elitist, snooty, and distant. On the other hand, I’m not much of a fighter either. I really couldn’t decide which guild to join ~ always assuming that either would take me in. Finally, my dislike of Imperial Mages won out and, firm of purpose, I stepped into the Guild of Fighters. When I explained my purpose, I was directed to a tall Nordic lady named Eydis Fire-Eye.

She put me through quite a respectable examination, making scathing comments about some of my abilities and seeming, while not impressed, at least appreciative of some of my other skills. Especially since, as she reprovingly put it, I’d not received the benefit of any formal training. Finally the examination was over and she asked if I was still interested in joining the Guild. Assuming that I had passed whatever criteria were needed for entrance, I said that I was ready. She then read me a set of rules ~ no stealing from fellow members, no attacking fellow members, and the like: common sense stuff really ~ and inducted me into the Guild of Fighters with the rank of Associate.

Eager to prove my worth to the Guild, I asked Fire-Eye if there were any tasks I could undertake. She gave me a particularly cool look, as if to say, “Are there any tasks you can undertake”, and then said, “there’s a Dunmeri female in Balmora by the name of Drarayne Thelas. It seems she’s been having some trouble with cave-rats. She lives on the east side of the Odai, near the river. Get over there and sort out her problem.

“Oh, and if you’re in need of supplies, you can take what you need from the Guildhouse supply chest. It’s not much, and we don’t restock it as often as we’d like, so use it wisely.”

On my way out, I checked the supply chest. It contained a couple of restore endurance potions, a couple of restore health potions, and a couple of scrolls. Although the contents were sparse, it provided the essentials for any fighter. Mindful that the chest probably wouldn’t be resupplied soon, I contented myself with an endurance potion and a health potion. Stuffing these into my backpack, I headed down the alleys to the river and crossed back into Labour Town. It didn’t take me long to find Thelas’ house and, after knocking politely, I entered.

“Got a rat problem,” Drarayne Thelas said after I’d introduced myself. “There’s one trapped in my bedroom and another couple upstairs in my storeroom. I hope the bedratted things haven’t got themselves into my pillows. I like pillows, I bet you like pillows too.” Now that she came to mention it, there did seem to be an inordinate number of pillows in the room ~ stacked on just about every horizontal surface. Unslinging my axe, I walked over to the bedroom door and kicked it open.

The biggest rat I’ve ever seen glared at me from a corner then bared its teeth and scampered towards me. Its obvious intention to bite my ankles was thwarted when my axe clove through its skull ~ sending the nasty thing bouncing off in two separate directions. Drarayne Thelas nodded approvingly, and then gave me the key to her storeroom.

The two rats in the storeroom were slightly smaller cousins of the behemoth downstairs and I soon despatched them to wherever it is that rats go when they become dead rats. I must admit, right here and now, that I was sorely tempted by the chests and crates stacked up in the upstairs storeroom. However, I thought that starting my career as a honourable member of the Guild of Fighters with some petty pilfering was not the right way to go. Putting temptation behind me, I went back downstairs and spoke once more to Drarayne Thelas.

“Thank you Sudhendra Vahl,” she said. “I hate it when those little devils get into my pillows. Now, I agreed a price of two hundred Septims· with the guild, so here you go.”

“Back then Associate?” Eydis Fire-Eye asked as I stepped back into the Guildhall. “Am I to assume you took care of the rat problem, or did you have a problem?” Ignoring her sarcasm, I displayed the money that Drarayne Thelas had paid me. “Well, seems like there might be a fighter under that pretty face, after all,” Eydis said. “Keep the money Associate, you earned it. Now, fancy another little commission?”

When I allowed that I wouldn’t be averse to undertaking another small task for the Guild, Eydis Fire-Eye said, “Good. Now, Sevilo Othan and Daynila Valas are, or rather were, Egg Miners at the Shulk Egg Mine. Seems they’ve gone into business for themselves and are stealing eggs from the mine, as well as killing anyone who gets in their way. Great House Hlaalu has given us a bounty on them ~ I’d like you to go and collect it.”

“Okay,” I said. “First, where is this mine? And secondly, EGG mines? Is this the part where you send the new recruit off to find some polish for the holes in chainmail, or get a left-handed dagger?”

The Nord gave me a very severe look at that. “The mine is located just southwest of Balmora, on the banks of the River Odai. Head out of town by the ‘strider and follow the river ~ you’ll come to a small rope-bridge. The mine is just there.

“Egg Mines are a vital resource on Vvardenfell,” she continued. “Kwama colonies set up in caves and the Queen lays eggs. The miners collect those eggs ~ which are used to feed a large part of the populace, both here and on the mainland.”

Suitably chastised, I agreed to accept the commission ~ even though I wasn’t looking forward to a run in with a pair of homicidal egg-miners. To even up my chances, I took a regeneration charm from the supply chest. I was still quite amused to watch the charm I already owned merge with the charm I’d just picked up. Looping the silver chain around my neck, I left the Guildhall and headed through the market square and out through the city gates. Following the river, I quickly passed from a relatively rock-strewn area to a grassy embankment running alongside the water. I’d not been walking for long when I spotted an open fire with two figures standing beside it. Gripping my sword, just in case, I approached.

The standees turned out to be a couple of off-duty miners, a Redguard and a Bosmeri. The Yokudan was rather standoffish but, as is usual with Wood Elves, it was difficult to get Findulia to shut up once he’d started. From his disjointed gabbling I gathered that Othan and Valas both know the mine extremely well and that they’re probably going to be found on one of the lower levels. Another titbit I picked up was that, unless I actively disturbed the eggs, the creatures inside the mine were very unlikely to attack me. That was both better and worse news than I’d hoped. Better, in as much as I had no intention of messing with the eggs in the mine. Worse, because I didn’t like that little caveat: very unlikely to attack me. Which meant that there was a small probability that they might. Wonderful.

With a deep sigh, I unsheathed my sword ~ the one I’d taken from Tarhiel ~ and stepped through the rough wooden door into the mine. Two things struck me immediately. The first was the strange yellowish light permeating the mine and the second was the stink. A sulphurous sort of smell, the sort of thing you smell in the privy after some bad food has worked its way through. Trying very hard not to breathe through my nose for fear of permanently destroying my sense of smell, I carefully made my way into the mine. It wasn’t long before I was stepping around some strange, whitish coloured creatures with rather more legs than seemed necessary and a number of orange-coloured worm-like creatures. All of them seemed to be very interested in the strange pulsating sacs that littered the place ~ it was these that were the source of the sickly yellow light.

There were a number of miners working in the upper shafts that, when questioned, either ignored me or pointed me towards something called the Queen’s Chambers in the darker depths of the mine. Fortunately, even down here, that wan yellow light lit the place adequately. I say “fortunately” because I had, of course, neglected to bring a light-source of my own. I resolved that, whatever the future might bring, I would never be that sloppy or unprepared again.

There was a sudden yell of “die fetcher”, and an unkempt figure leapt out and took a swing at me. There was that “fortunately” again: this time it was the fact that a pickaxe doesn’t make a very good close-quarter weapon. And this Dunmer seemed extremely unwilling to use anything else. I feinted a slash at head height and, as he ducked, I brought my blade up and drove it into the flesh beneath his chin. The flash of arcane magic discharging limned the scene, but the charge was wasted: even with my hazy knowledge of combat to the death, it was obvious that nobody could loose that much blood and survive.

Wrenching the blade loose, I turned to meet the second thief who was yelling something about “en wah”. She proved to be dimmer than her compatriot ~ attacking someone with your bare fists when that someone is armed with a sword isn’t conductive to a long and healthy life. I don’t care how clumsy the sword-wielder is, and I was plenty clumsy, let me tell you.

Panting heavily, I stepped back from the cooling corpses and the cooling puddle that had been my last meal. Yeah, sure they’d attacked me, as they’d attacked other people who’d interfered with their presumably lucrative business. And, if I hadn’t defended myself, I’d be the one laying there in a pool of sticky blood. There had been a good deal more killing in the last few days than I’d seen in my twenty-six years ~ and I had been the cause of quite a sizeable proportion of it. And that thought wasn’t exactly a cheery one. Even the cheers and applause of the miners, as I made my way out of the mine into the blessedly fresh air, failed to raise me from my funk. I’d resolved to start a new life here on Vvardenfell ~ ‘Sudhendra Vahl, the Bloody Reaper’ wasn’t quite the life I’d had in mind.

So it was with a heavy heart and a furrowed brow that I reported back to Eydis Fire-Eye. Even the hundred Septims bounty and the gift of a couple of bottles of a powerful restorative potion failed to cheer me much. So I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be told that my next task was to locate and “dispose of” four Telvanni agents who were spying on the mining operation at the Caldera mines.