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Sudhendra Vahl, the first chapter |
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minque |
Feb 18 2005, 11:36 PM
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Wise Woman

Joined: 11-February 05
From: Where I can watch you!!

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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.
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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)Facebook
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minque |
Feb 18 2005, 11:44 PM
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Wise Woman

Joined: 11-February 05
From: Where I can watch you!!

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When I awoke, I sat up and surveyed my surroundings. Then I examined my wound ~ the rest and the potion had done wonders; there wasn’t even a scar to show where I’d been stabbed. My resting period seemed to have wrought other changes too; my pack seemed lighter than it had the day before and I seemed much more energetic than I had for quite some time. (Indeed, as the day wore on, I realised I was getting fatigued less often).
A thorough search of Ashunammu revealed enough victuals to prepare a relatively acceptable meal but little else of any consequence: a few cheap weapons and a very small sum of golden coins. I took a couple of the weapons to sell on and a bundle of twenty steel-shafted arrows for my own use, but the majority of the stuff was far too bulky for me to be carrying around. Cutting across the hills, I followed a much more direct path back to Caldera.
After allowing a few moments for my stomach to walk from Caldera to Balmora, I stepped off the transportation dais and made my way up from the lower levels of the Mages Guild and over to the Guildhall. Eydis seemed very pleased that I’d dealt with the Telvanni agents and gave me four hundred Drakes as a reward. In addition to that, and more importantly as far as I was concerned, she also promoted me to the rank of Apprentice.
“I have another job for you, Sudhendra,” she said. “This one requires a delicate touch. I need you to acquire a codebook from a lady named Sottilde, who can be found at the South Wall Cornerclub. I don’t care what it takes, but my client must get that book.”
It was pretty obvious that I couldn’t go in, sword swinging. Firstly that would get me in far more trouble than any book was worth. Secondly, if I created a bloodbath in the South Wall Cornerclub, where would I use as a base of operations? I thought of several options as I walked over the bridge and to the club. It occurred to me that I have a fair bit of clink and that bribery often makes a suitable substitute for brute force.
“I really can’t give you the book,” Sottilde said for the third time as I casually placed another fifty Septims on the growing pile.
“I’m sure I’ll be very grateful,” I said softly, adding another hundred to the pile. With a quick, nervous look around, Sottilde made the money vanish and palmed the book to me. Placing it out of sight in my satchel, I took the time to speak to Sottilde, trying to set her at ease. It worked rather better than I expected. It turns out that the South Wall is the base of operations for the Thieves Guild in Balmora! She also intimated that, for a member in good standing, a bounty could be removed if one knew the right people to speak to and had some cash to cover the expenses. That was a titbit that would be very handy ~ I didn’t intend to get into trouble with the authorities, but it always pays to have a back up plan. Accordingly, I spoke to a Khajiiti named Sugar-Lips Hasabi. After a bit of back and forth, it agreed that I was eligible to join the Thieves Guild and gave me the charming sounding rank of Toad.
Let me stress that it wasn’t my intention to do more with my membership in the Ancient Guild of Thieves than to have a backup plan in case I ran into a problem with the authorities. However, you know what they say about the best laid plans of Men and Mer, don’t you?
Eydis was delighted and, for a fraction of a second, I was sure that I saw her smile. It might have been a sudden gas attack though. Nonetheless, she gave me fifty Septims as a payment for recovering the codebook ~ about a quarter of what I’d paid for it. And that phrase “recovering the codebook”? Hadn’t she told me that it was for a client who needed access to the code used by the guild? So, what was all this about recovering it? I assumed that I’d misunderstood the original instructions given to me and left it at that. Eydis wasn’t going to leave it at that, though. She had yet another task for me.
“There is a woman in Suran, name of Helviane Desele. She owes our client two hundred Drakes, and our client wants it recovered as quickly as possible.”
“And you want me to go there and get it?” I interjected. She nodded tightly, so I said that I’d take the commission and headed on out of the Guildhouse. “Desele”? Where had I heard that name before?
Checking my map, I saw that it was a very long walk from here to Suran ~ much further than I’d be willing to walk today. However, according to the map, there was a silt-strider route between Balmora and Suran. I was slightly less than enthusiastic about riding what looked like a giant flea, especially when I found out that I’d actually be riding inside the creature. But it was either walk, or pay twenty-two Drakes and get there a lot quicker. Not really a contest. Right here and now, I’ll say that ~ despite my reservations ~ the journey was delightful. I could see all of the scenery around me as we swayed from side to side in a particularly restful manner. In fact, it was only the fact that the journey was relatively quick that prevented me from going to sleep. All too soon, we arrived in Suran.
“Where can I find Helviane Desele?” I asked the Drover, and got a strange look in reply. Still, he did give me directions: down from the port and it’s the first building on the right. The buildings in Suran were of the same construction and material as those in Balmora, so I guessed that whatever rules went there also went here.
I stopped outside the building, slightly worried by the red-paper lantern hanging over the doorway and the sign swinging in the breeze ~ Desele’s House of Earthly Delights. It was about then that the Drake dropped, that drunken sot in Seyda Neen had said something about Desele’s House of Earthly Delights in Suran, and how I should visit it if I was ever there. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to get accustomed to the gloom; unfortunately my nose and ears didn’t get that luxury. Three musicians were playing a thin, discordant tune (they certainly weren’t worthy of the sobriquet ‘Bard’): I recognised the drum that was beating out the erratic rhythm but the other two instruments were totally alien. And a sharp, sickly smell filled the atmosphere, vying with the smell of beer, brandy, and other less identifiable liquors. It was the same scent that had permeated the small room owned by Caius Cosades. Across the back wall were three raised platforms ~ in front of which stood half-a-dozen inebriated and wildly cheering Men. The reason for their cheers and catcalls was the three naked women ~ a Nord, a Redguard, and a Breton ~ that were swaying energetically to the ‘tune’ played by the musicians.
My next surprise was the two women behind the bar ~ or, more accurately, the woman and female Khajiiti behind the bar. Both were topless and seemed totally unconcerned by the ogling looks they were getting from their patrons. As I stood there, confused, one of the dancers stepped off her stage and sauntered into the crowd. Within seconds, she’d taken the arm of a large Nord and was leading him, still stark naked, up the stairs at the back of the room. I’m pretty certain a sum of money changed hands. Meanwhile, a thin Imperial female stepped out of an alcove and took the Redguard’s place and started dancing. I’m not naïve, and I knew exactly what was going on here but I was still shocked and confused that such a place would be so open about what it did.
And that wasn’t my last surprise in this place either. That came when I addressed the Breton behind the bar ~ who I’d guessed was Helviane Desele ~ about the debt.
“What debt would that be Dunmer?” she fairly spat. As I tried to explain, she overrode me, saying, “that’s just peachy that is. The Camorra Tong can’t get their protection money out of me, so they send in their stooges the Fighter’s Guild to do it for them. You want the “debt” paid? Pay it yourself.”
Well, that put a bit of a crimp in my plans, Desele wouldn’t pay the money, and in fact she point blank refused to even discuss it with me any more. I couldn’t go wading in with sword and spell: that would only bring down the wrath of the local guards. Assuming, that is, I survived the wrath of the bar’s patrons. If what she said was true, then I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to pay protection money. Catching the eye of the Khajiit, I ordered myself a tisane and found a quiet corner to sit and think. After fighting off the advances of a few amorous, and very drunken, patrons, I spotted my chance when the Redguard came back down the stairs and stepped into the alcove.
“Might I ask you a few questions?” I said, sitting in a vacant chair near the alcove. Once I’d convinced her that I wasn’t going to moralise, she agreed to speak with me. It turned out to be a very interesting conversation. Rumī told me that the Camorra Tong is the local equivalent of the Thieves Guild and that there is a great deal of animosity between the two. So much so, in fact, that most of the island’s inhabitants are waiting for the inevitable war between them. Rumī also told me that it was fairly common knowledge that the Guild of Fighters is being paid by the Camorra Tong to strong-arm people who won’t deal with them. She also intimated that there were rumours that there might be a deeper involvement between the Fighters Guild and the Camorra Tong ~ although she was unwilling to tell me what they were.
I also gathered a few other interesting things to ponder on as I made my way back to Balmora. Rumī had told me of a strange Orcish knight near a place called ‘The Shrine of Kummu’. He’d attacked some travellers, and I wondered if this was the same knight that was supposed to be roaming the Bitter Coast, or another one. If it was another one, it meant that there were probably quite a few more than just two. Something else she told me was that there was an Orcish knight to the south of Suran. Only this one had been there for quite a lot longer than the red-armoured knight near the shrine. She described him as a ‘madman’ ~ which didn’t fill me with much confidence.
I returned to the South Wall and went to my room, where I sat on the bed for quite a long time. I wasn’t happy about the connection between the Camorra Tong and the Fighter’s Guild ~ this was just the sort of thing that got people trapped into choosing one side or another. And that sort of grief I really didn’t need. I also regretted my hasty decision to enter into partnership with the Guild of Thieves. Again, if they were getting set for a battle against the local thieves, they’d expect me to step in on their behalf. More grief I didn’t need. Pleasant though my life was becoming as I settled down in Balmora, I could see that there was trouble ahead ~ the sort of trouble that got people dead, or very powerful and important people well pissed off at you. The time might be fast approaching when relocation could be in order. I resolved to think about that later
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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)Facebook
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minque Sudhendra Vahl, the first chapter Feb 18 2005, 11:36 PM minque Chapter One: A Stranger in a strange place
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