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]

After breaking my fast at the ‘Eight Plates’, I walked down to the Mages Guildhall and used the Guide service to get to Ald’ruhn. There I purchased a Translocation spell keyed to Sadrith Mora where, upon casting, I quickly found myself in. Shaking off the inevitable effects of the spell, I cast the cantrip that allows me to walk upon water and, running as quickly as I dared, I skimmed across Zafirabel bay.

As the spell started to dissolve, I made landfall on a small islet somewhere in the bay. As I clambered over the quite steep hill in the centre, I espied a ship cast up on the rocks at the western side of the island. Climbing aboard wasn’t a problem since the rocks that had sunk the vessel protruded over the handrail. I had a moment’s panic as I dropped from the rock ~ envisioning myself plunging through rotten wood to a watery death below. To my immense relief, the wood held, although it did creak somewhat alarmingly. The captain’s cabin yielded nothing; neither did the two holds hold anything of any great value. I did, however, discover a jar of truffles, which I kept: these are a rare and expensive luxury and I was sure I could find someone willing to purchase them from me.

Once more casting the water-walking spell, I ran across the bay ~ recasting the spell at need as it started to dissolve and drinking deeply of my dwindling stock of Replenish Magicka potions. In this way, I quickly crossed the bay and made landfall on the main body of the island. Checking my location on the map, I turned north and clambered over some very desolate hills before descending into the verdant lushness of the Grazelands. Striking out in a northeasterly direction, it wasn’t long before I could make out the bulk of a massive building rising from the hillocks ahead of me.

I circled Falensarano carefully: I had been advised that bandits often used these long abandoned fastnesses as a base of operations. A building that massive could hold a good many bandits, and I wasn’t keen on giving them a target upon which to practise their banditry. Fortunately, the Dissapla Mine was only a few minutes walk away from the stronghold and I slipped into the cool, dark interior with a sense of relief. The glittering green light lit my way and told me that I was in a Glass mine. Taking my directions from the miners, I descended deep into the mine to a chamber where I found Novor Drethan.

“Nix-Hounds,” the tall, well-dressed Dunmer said. Then, by way of an explanation, he added, “there are three, or possibly four, Nix-Hounds that have gotten into the mine. Unfortunately, I can’t spare the guards to deal with them and one of the miners has gone missing. I need you to find Teres Arothan and guide him to safety.”

Nix-hounds. I thought to myself as I unslung my axe and got a good grip on the haft, hardly a major problem. Walking softly, but without being too stealthy, I made my way up the short incline and into another set of tunnels. As I moved past a large pool of molten rock, there came an eerie howling noise from up ahead. Oh yeah, Nix-Hounds all right: I’d recognise that noise anywhere. And there, just up ahead, was one of them.

With a loud yell, I rushed out at the Nix-Hound, axe at the ready. What’s that expression about fools rushing in? I’d neglected to consider that the chamber might have a second entrance and, as my axe thudded into the startled creature, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Even as I hauled the axe loose, I was struck by a clawed paw from another of the Nix-Hounds that had rushed into the chamber.

Fortunately, the stupid creatures were so eager to get at me that they were getting in each other’s way. Raising my hand, I softly spoke the words of power for a cantrip of fire, slapping the already wounded Nix-Hound with my hand as I completed the incantation. As flames wreathed the designated creature, I spun and swung ~ a vicious upward slashing motion that neatly parted the head of one Nix-Hound from the rest of it. Without even hesitating, I looped the axe up and over, burying it forcefully into the skull of the third hound.

“igneus manus “ I yelled, releasing the axe-shaft and grasping the last hound around the head. Fire bloomed between my hands, and I stepped back sharply to avoid the spell’s backwash. As the Nix-Hound collapsed into a twitching heap, I turned back and carefully worked my axe from the skull I’d buried it in: not much caring for the gruesome cracking noises as I withdrew it.

“Teres Arothan!” I yelled, “Can you hear me?”

“Here,” came muffled cry from deeper in the cavern. Despite the echoes, I was pretty certain it had come from up ahead ~ the tunnels that the Nix-Hounds had come from. Following it up a short incline, I came to another chamber. There was a rock-shelf at the end of the chamber, with crude wooden stairs leading up to it. Much more importantly, there was the faint glimmer of light up there. Clambering up the stairs, I found a Dunmer cowering in a small alcove; just about as far back as he could get.

“Teres Arothan?” I asked. Receiving a nod of confirmation, I told him, “I’m here to lead you to safety.”

“No, no, no,” he gasped fearfully. “Not coming out while those Nix-Hounds are out there.”

“It’s quite alright,” I said, extending a hand, “they’re all dead.” He took my word for that and clambered out of the hole. Keeping him close beside me, I led him back the way I’d come until we reached the chamber where Novor Drethan waited.

“Well done,” Drethan said as kindly hands led the still trembling Arothan away. “I can’t give you too much by way of a reward, but these might prove valuable to you.” He wasn’t kidding, I reflected as I walked out of the mine into the soft sunlight. Four shards of raw Glass was a valuable reward. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hands and chanted “Ex hic absum, ut Sadrith Mora”.

(Okay, so technically I could have used the spell whilst I was still down the Dissapla Mine. Some people have an unreasonable fear of boats; some have a phobia about Nix-Hounds. I happen to have a problem with teleportation spells. Basically, I don’t trust them not to screw up on me ~ I’ve heard far too many stories about translocation spells backfiring for me to ever be particularly comfortable using them. As for using relocation spells while I’m underground? Yeah, you can just forget that idea.)

Hrundi was pleased to see me, or gave that impression anyway. Personally, I think he was more pleased that I’d completed the assignment. Whichever it was, he gave me two hundred and fifty Septims, and then asked if I’d be interested in a bounty. When I indicated that I might be, he gave me details.

“Well lassie,” he said, “there’s this bandit by the name of Rels Tenim who’s been making a wee bit of a nuisance of himself up around Vos. Word has it the Mage-Lord up there is pretty fashed by the whole deal an’ wants this Tenim’s head on a pike. To that end, he’s issued a bounty on the chappie. We were lucky enough to get first bite at it ~ now I’m giving it tae you.”

“There’s another thing you’ll be wanting to take care of,” Hrundi said when I’d agreed to take over the bounty. “There’s a lassie by the name of Berwen in Tel Mora. Says she got some sort of monster in her shop. Since you’ll be up that way, have a look. It’s probably nonsense, but there’s a hefty bounty she’s giving out for anyone who deals with it.”

I agreed that I’d look into the situation in Tel Mora on my way to Vos, tomorrow. It was far too late to be travelling today. Fortunately, Hrundi agreed and allowed me to use one of the beds in the Guildhouse overnight.