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]

I made my way upstairs to the Mages Guildhall ~ where I purchased a levitation spell ~ before using the Guild-Guide service to send me on my way to Ald’ruhn. I’d been impressed by the effects of the Rising Force potion I’d used in Shallit, and could see how levitating could come in very, very useful. I was aware, however, that I wouldn’t always have a potion to hand: hence the spell. I’d also found that the Void-Walk spells were much less stressful than the Guild-Guide service. That’s why I tracked down Delas Mrania and purchased the necessary incantation to deliver me to Ald’ruhn whenever I needed to be there.

There was a trader, one of those that you often find wandering around the Empire, outside and I asked him for directions to the Dunirai Mines. It turned out to be quite a trek from Ald’ruhn, far further than Hrundi had intimated. The journey east past Fort Buckmoth and down into the Foyada Mamaea was uneventful, as was the crossing of the vast jumbled plain of ash and rock. It struck me, for the first time, as I crossed that wasteland that something fairly cataclysmic had happened here in the past. If there had been a volcanic explosion, then it must have been absolutely massive to cause this sort of desolation. Still, philosophising aside, it took me quite a while to make my way to the area indicated on the map. Fortunately, apart from the occasional run in with the local fauna ~ much of which seemed intent on making me their next meal ~ I found the Dunirai caverns with no problem.

The delivery was simple, and I soon found myself back outside the caverns with a substantially lighter pack. I suppose I could have Void-Walked back to Ald’ruhn or Sadrith Mora but the day was pleasant and I wasn’t really in any rush. So I set off in the general direction of Balmora at no particularly great speed. I’d been travelling for a couple of hours when I came across something quite unusual. There, on a large rock, was a chalked arrow pointing northwards. Intrigued, I headed off in that direction.

There were several more of these chalked arrows ~ some on rocks and some on the floor. Then they suddenly petered out. I headed off in the direction indicated by the last arrow and soon found myself in a narrow canyon that split into several smaller defiles. More by luck than judgement, I turned a corner and came face to face with a young Dunmer.

“Erm, you’re not one of those Ashlander types are you?” he asked nervously. Smiling, I shook my head ~ amused that he’d mistake me for one of the natives. “Then perhaps I could ask you to help me? You see, I was exploring and, and… well, I got lost, and my chalk broke, and I think I’ve been going ‘round in circles for the last hour or two. If you can guide me back to Balmora, I’m sure my uncle will be most appreciative.”

The lodestone wouldn’t work in the canyons ~ I guess there must have been some more nearby. I do, however, have a fairly good memory for directions and I was able to lead the young man ~ Mannabu Dren ~ back the way I’d come and out into the wastelands. Checking our location and my map, I saw we weren’t that far from a place called Caldera. As we travelled towards the town, we chatted. It turns out that Mannabu Dren fancies himself as a bit of an explorer and had set out to look for the source of the River Odai. He was a pleasant enough companion, although a little on the chatty side for me. So, it was something of a relief when I spotted the thatched roofs of the guard-towers of Caldera.

It had been my intention to lead him from Caldera to Balmora since the road is well travelled, well signposted, and relatively safe. However, when I saw the “all-seeing-eye” emblem of the Mages Guild outside an unassuming building, I had a change of plan. Leading him inside, I paid for the two of us to be transported ~ via Guild Guide ~ to Balmora.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” a Mage in a heavily embroidered robe said as Mannabu Dren stepped out of the small room where the Guide operates in Balmora. “Off exploring again, I have no doubt. Well, you’d better get yourself off to the Eight Plates and see if they’ll prepare a meal for you.”

As the young man headed off, the Mage turned to me and said, “My name is Marayen Dren, and I thank you for rescuing my idiot nephew. Every time he comes here from the mainland, he gets this urge to explore. And every time he goes off to explore, he gets himself lost. Last time we had half the House Guards out scouring the Foyada Mamaea for him. Two and a half days later, he comes in by silt-strider from Gnisis. How he got himself all up there is beyond me.

“Anyway, I am truly grateful that you rescued him. My sister would never let me hear the end of it if something happened to him. Here, I will teach you a spell as a reward. I have three potent spells I know: I can teach you the spell ‘Blink’, a quick and dirty invisibility spell; ‘Fastfall’, which is short duration levitation spell you can cast on a target; or I can teach you “Boiling Blood’, which is a very powerful fire-based touch spell.

“An excellent choice,” he said when I asked him to teach me ‘Boiling Blood’. “It’s terribly crude but effective. It’s saved my life more than once.” We sat and Marayen Dren showed me how to weave the necessary construct for the spell. Once we had finished, I thanked him again and made my way to the house I’d taken over. It was a little early, so I made a few notes and packed away the ingredients I’d not managed to sell yet before settling down in bed for a good night’s sleep. Does the phrase 'the lull before the storm' ring bells? It certainly should have with me.