Memoires of Rales Sarethi, A Morrowind fanfic Options

[Remko]

Dear readers, I posted this in the unnamed forum but since you were so kind to invite me here, I thought I'd "grace" you with my drivel. Without further adue, I present you the adventures of Rales Sarethi.

Part I Homecoming

Chapter 1: Seyda Neen.

Day 1

Over thirty-five years ago, I think I was about nineteen, maybe twenty, I got pulled from my bunk in the cell in Imperial City and was told I was to be deported to Vvardenfell immediately. First by carriage and then by boat.
Gods, even up to this day I resent carriage rides, they’re bumpy, dusty and tiresome, I prefer a horseback ride anyday.

The seajourney is pretty much a blur in my recollection, the gentle relaxing motion of the boat made me drift into a careless and refreshing slumber.
I briefly opened my eyes at times the sea was exceptionally rough and I remember a gentle yet compelling voice speaking to me. Can’t remember the words though, just the sound of the voice that stuck with me.

I woke up when a fellow Dunmer, one donning a huge scar across his face, told me we had arrived and that I needed to get off the boat. He called himself Jiub and asked what my name was. I politely answered my name was Rales. I didn’t bother telling him my last name, after all, he hadn’t told his either.
I never saw the guy again after I disembarked. A shame really, he was kind of like-able.

A grumpy Redguard legionnaire ordered me to report in at the Census and Excise office outside. Like I had a choice. On the boardwalk towards the offices, an Imperial officer asked me several random questions, like my race. Like he couldn’t see for himself. Sjeezzz…. I had to refrain myself from rolling my eyes and possibly insulting or upsetting the guy. Instead, I acted like the good Dunmer they wanted me to be, I played along and answered his questions.

After I had satisfied his curiosity he ordered me to report in at the office for my release form. ‘Release form? I was going to be released?’
I could hardly believe my pointy ears at that time. Let me tell you; looking back on what they had me go through, sometimes I wished they had left me to rot in prison. With a straight face I walked towards the rickety wooden structure that was the consensus and excise office. I couldn’t be showing surprise about my release, what if they had made a mistake and changed their mind?

Quickly I proceeded into the building. An elderly Imperial was sitting behind a desk, going through piles and piles of documents. Pre-occupied as he seemed to be, he hadn’t noticed me yet or maybe he was just ignoring me. Perhaps it had been my body-odour? Figuring that was hardly my fault, they were the ones that had plucked me from my cell, dropped me on a boat and had me report into an office without the chance to clean myself up. I shrugged and softly cleared my throat to get his attention, I didn’t want to startle the old man lest he would die from a heart-attack. Knowing my luck, they’d probably blame me and I’d be back where I started, in jail.

The following conversation with the old git almost felt like a job-interview. Socusius Ergalla, the census and excise officer, asked me all sorts of questions; like my starsign, my skills and whatnot. I didn’t have a clue what they wanted with the info but since it was hardly a secret, I just answered them while the Imperial wrote it all down on some sort of form. After the interview, Socusius told me to take my release form (that’s what the form turned out to be) to Selles Gravius where I’d receive orders. I was almost speechless - almost. ‘Orders? Whatfor?’ I remember exclaiming. He just shrugged. Apparantly he hadn’t a clue either. Well, that made two of us so I went to Gravius, hoping he would tell me more.

Halfway to Selles Gravius I got distracted by a hallway behind a sturdy looking wooden door that led to some sort of a basement where I found a variety of items. Some silverware, some bottles containing local booze, an iron dagger and a bag to put in the items I had “found”.
Ofcourse, only then I realised I still had to see that Gravius guy. He would notice me carrying a bag, suspiciously tingling with all sorts of gear a newly released prisoner shouldn’t have yet. I put the bag next to the table where I had found the dagger, checked my release form was still in my pocket and went to see Selles Gravius.

Gravius wasn’t much of a talker and looked like a formidable warrior. In fact; it made me wonder what in Sheogorath’s name he was doing here in this lousy office. When I asked him while handing him the form he almost bit off my head saying it was none of my busines and unpatiently snatched the release form from my hands. He glimpsed me over for a while with one eyebrow raised and ordered me to wait for a moment while he looked up some documents I was going to need. A few moments later he handed me a letter, some gold I quickly pocketed and a mysterious package for a certain Caius Cosades in Balmora, who-ever that may be. I figured I’d find out soon enough and didn’t ask any more questions.

Having been through that, - what I still consider a bureaucratical ordeal - as I went to retrieve my bag, I suddenly remembered there was a rainbarrel outside I hadn’t looked into. I had little gold and a dagger but no water, no food, no nothing so anything I could find would be useful and most of all; for free.
Turned out it only contained a ring with some engraving. Unfortunately I couldn’t make out what it was saying so I put it in my pocket, again wandered through the offices with an air like nothing was out of the ordinary, fetched the bag and made my way into Seyda Neen.
I was my own man again. I was free to go where I wanted.

***

My first steps outside were, well, quite frankly, disappointing. You’d expect a town with the main docks into Vvardenfell would be a big, prospering town. Suffice to say it wasn’t.
As a matter of fact, it was just the opposite. Most of the houses were run-down, shabby shacks, trading was limited to one tradinghouse and a swamp surrounded it so flies swarmed the town.
I won’t even mention the smell.

Still, I was in Morrowind, I could finally look up relatives I knew to still live here. My mother had told me plenty of stories of her and her cousin Athyn playing together. I couldn’t remember which town though, but from what I’ve been taught, the Sarethi family is well-known and shouldn’t be too hard to track down.

My sense of pride prevented me running off to find them right away, I could hardly arrive wearing nothing but the raggedy clothes, looking like a bum. I wanted to make a name for myself first. I wanted them to be proud to hail back a long-lost relative
For now, my pride would have to wait, I had more pressing matters, like finding somewhere to stay the night.

While looking around and - metaphorically speaking - sniffing up the atmosphere a Woodelf came upto me grinning child-like. The chap introduced himself as Fargoth and extended his hand which I grabbed. From moment one I knew I was going to like this friendly little fellow. Turned out he had been bullied and his family heirloom, a ring, had been taken from him. He told me it was magical and allowed the wearer to heal himself.

‘Would it have engraving, like this?’ I remember asking him while pulling the ring I had found in the barrel outside the office from my pocket and held it in front of his nose. Fargoth frantically shook his head and told me that was the one.
I was happy to give it back to him. Trinkets are easier to find than good friends and the gods know I could use some friends being a stranger in a strange land.
Singing happily he wandered off but not before he told me he was going to tell his friend Arrille a kind Darkelf had returned his ring to him and how happy he was to have it back.
I simply smiled.

My rumbling stomach made me aware that I needed to find something to eat as well. After some asking around I soon found out Arrille’s establishment was the only tradehouse around. If I wanted to survive any trip outside of town, I needed some sort of protection, I needed armour and a weapon and some supplies so I headed off to Arrille’s.

Politely the High Elf, Arille, greeted me and was quick to realize I must have been the stranger that had given Fargoth his ring back. He confirmed what I suspected, Fargoth was slightly retarded, he had the mind of a child and was almost chronically happy.

I removed the items from the bag I wanted to sell and displayed them on the counter in front of Arrille. We came to an agreement, he would gladly take all the items from my hands and I would buy the chitin cuirass, pauldrons and gauntlets, some food, a couple of useful spells and some scrolls. Even with those purchases I had more gold in my pocket than when I had entered the tradehouse. I had kept the dagger.
Then it hit me, I still didn’t have a real weapon, the iron dagger I had kept was hardly any more use than as a butterknife.
In the excitement I had forgotten to buy a real weapon. I double backed into Arrille’s and bought a chitin bow and some arrows.
Now I was set to face whatever was coming to me in the wild, or at least, that’s what I thought at that time.

I nibbled on a Kwama egg on a loaf of bread and adressed some inhabitants. Some locals mentioned Ergalla Socucius was looking for a missing tax collector, Processus Vitellius.
I wasn’t really feeling like heading back into the Census and Excise office, I had just left the damn thing, I decided to do some looking around myself. How hard would it be to find an Imperial tax collector?

Since it is always a good idea getting at least an idea where someone missing could hang out, I asked around for him. Ofcourse, blabbermouth Fargoth had heard rumours the Dunmer in the watchtower, Thavere Vedrano, was the only being able to stomach him. Apparantly, the guy was somewhat obnoxious. It was a start so I headed off to the lighthouse when in the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something shiny – a weapon perhaps? – in a hollow stump. It cost me a pair of wet feet and trousers getting the item from the stump but it was well worth it. The enchanted axe would get me quite some gold, I never cared for axes, they are too heavy and too encumbring, so I intended on selling it but it would have to wait until I solved this mystery.

[Acadian]

Yes, the light, conversational and informal style of Rales! How wonderful! I'm pleased that you are starting anew here and hope you will take your time that we may savor Rales and his adventures.

[Fiach]

ah a story in good old Morrowind ^^

I'm going to have to keep an eye on Rales he seems like an intresting character

[Zalphon]

I love the description. Excellent work, Ral--Remko.

[Remko]

@Fiach: glad you like it!
@Zalphon, so this is where you buggered off to? Good to see you again m8!

Don't want to spam but I guess I can post another part.


Thavere was really pleasant to talk with. She had a quick understanding and told me Processus had confided in her telling the other day he had an argument with one of the locals; Foryn Gilnith. The guards had been able to interfere between the two in time or it might have ended up really ugly.
According to her they had argued about Foryn claiming Processus increased the taxes so he could skim some of it into his pockets without his superiors noticing. Obviously Processus Vitellius had denied the outrageous claims. I wisely kept my mouth shut about how I thought about such an “outrageous claim”. I had lived most of my, sofar, short life between Imperials and as such knew money was usually a big drive for them. Of course, there was the chance of him being different. Yeah right. And maybe minotaurs would fly.

I continued asking her if it was likely he had made other enemies or maybe he had just moved on into the next town. She smartly commented that in his line of work it was impossible to avoid making enemies so that was very likely. He wouldn’t have moved on to another place, she was sure he would’ve mentioned it.
I politely thanked her for her time and for the drink and continued my search outside.

If it had been a local and, judging by the name, a Dunmer he almost got into a fight with, it wasn’t unlikely for Processus to have run into an “accident” that would’ve got him killed – Dunmer are reknowned for being short-tempered, especially if it concerns an “Outlander” - so I started looking around the area if I could come up with his body or at least some sort of trace of where he had vanished to.

As I was wandering around in the area of Seyda Neen, I picked countless samples of the local flora. Never thinking about the consequences I dropped all the ingredients in the bag I was hauling around. When I was a child I’ve always found it very exciting seeing my mother brew mysteriously and curiously smelling concoctions so naturally I had to dabble with alchemy as well. Not that I had any experience with that before but I’ll get back on that later.

The gathering of plants almost made me lose track of what I initially set out to do – find the missing tax officer. After trotting around for hours through swamps I still hadn’t managed to turn up any trace of him and was starting to doubt I ever would when I heard a scream that nearly turned my blood to icicles. Certainly, this meant some menacing predator had sniffed me out and would make dinner out of me. I drew my bow, prepared an arrow – I was going to protect my precious hide with whatever means - and frantically started looking around for cover or for whatever had made the sound, when suddenly the scream ended with a resounding thud several passes behind me.

A Bosmer had fallen from the sky, trying to revive him proved pointless – blood was dripping from his nostrils and ears – I understood the poor bugger had died on impact.
Using the axe as a shovel I dug him a grave, took some of his gear, he wouldn’t be needing it anymore anyway, and rather unceremonally – what did you expect? I didn’t even know the guy – dropped him in the hole and closed it. At least predators and other vile creatures wouldn’t get to him.

It seemed miracles come in pairs. Not only acquired I a really nice robe, the bloodstains would wash away soon enough, a useful enchanted sword and some convenient and some not so convenient scrolls – thanks to the fallen Bosmer Tarhiel. I learned from the journal I found on him that was his name, as well as that he had been experimenting with what he called scrolls of Icarian Flight – I also found the body of the missing tax officer nearby.
He hadn’t been dead that long yet, the body wasn’t really stiff yet and most of his fingers were still attached. Some had been gnawed off by, well I didn’t really know and I didn’t really wanted to stay to find out either.

What I did find out was that he had most definitely been killed. He had been stabbed in the back several times and, I assume to make sure he was really dead, his throat was slit as well. The body had been dragged to this spot, the distinct lack of blood was evidence he hadn’t died where he laid. The trail led towards Seyda Neen, it would appear a local had indeed murdered Vitellius.

Searching the body led nowhere. No evidence, nothing. I followed the only thing I could do; the trail and find out where it ended. Dissapointingly, the trail ended not far from where I had found the victim’s body. I had no other choice, I was going to have to talk to every single inhabitant and find out what they know. Disappointed, I headed back into town to clean myself up.

This post has been edited by Remko: Mar 19 2010, 12:22 PM

[Zalphon]

I feel like I'm there right with Rales.

[haute ecole rider]

Welcome, Remko! I'm happy to see you here as well!

Though I have read Memories before, it is enjoyable to read it again from the beginning. His good nature truly shines from the first chapter, as well as his sensible practicality. It's a combination I find very appealing!

[mALX]

Yeah !!! Rales and Zerina !!!!!!

[SubRosa]

Yay for Rales! Almost everyone is over here now, it seems.

[Destri Melarg]

The best thing about revisiting all these stories from the beginning is the chance to reintroduce ourselves to some of our favorite characters. Rales stands out in that respect. haute hit the nail right on the head when she spoke of the combination of good nature and practicality. Add a kind of unrefined likability to the mix and it is easy to understand why he is such a popular character.

[Winter Wolf]

I am very excited about the chance to walk the wilderness of Morrowind with Rales. Yippee!!
It is awesome that you are bringing this over here in its entirety.

I have only played the first one-third of Morrowind myself. Reading your story brought back a rush of memories. Cool!!

The conversational style you use works very well and suits the character perfectly.
I was very pleased to see him steal everything he could at the census office. My character did the same!!

his throat was slid as well.

Should that be - slit as well?

[Remko]

Arille’s trading house was not just a place to buy and sell, for some gold he also rented out rooms. I had dinner at Arille’s and rented a room for the night.
As it was still quite early I spend the remainder of the evening exploring some more of the area around Seyda Neen. I remember being horrified when a rock I momentarily sat on to catch my breath grew a pair of vicious pincers, legs and a head.
The foul creature pinched my left thigh, I cut off its legs and pincers. Fair deal I’d say.

The meat I scraped out of its shell - the dagger came in handy, I was glad I had kept it - was brown and felt slimey to the touch.
Still, if I was to survive in the wild I figured I’d best stop being too picky and decided to taste it. I’m glad I did, it tasted wonderful! It would be no problem for me to live on crabmeat for several days. I was in the area anyway so I practised my bow- and sword skills on any crab I encountered with extreme prejudice and stocked up on crabmeat.

Day 2

The next morning I had breakfast and set out to do what I had started the previous day; find the tax collector’s murderer. I had a lead but thought it wise to investigate some more before blaming anyone. I wanted to make sure I was going to confront the correct person.
Everyone said the same thing; all the locals pointed towards Foryn Gilnith. Some had even witnessed the quarrel between Foryn and Processus. There was no one else I could ask, I had asked every single inhabitant, except one. Foryn himself.
I gathered all my courage and headed to Foryn’s shack and knocked. I didn’t get an answer so he was either asleep or out.

Foryn didn’t have many friends, when I inquired on his likely where-abouts no-one knew.
There was the option of breaking into his shack and look for evidence. I was sure the local guards wouldn’t approve. Unless, they didn’t know or see. I needed to slip into the shack while the guards weren’t looking and I was certain the owner wasn’t home.
Then, I had an idea. I needed a distraction.

‘How would you like to earn some gold?’ I asked Fargoth. He scratched his head and said he would be glad to help a friend.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I need you to raise hell just after dark.’ His face told me he hadn’t a clue what I meant with that. Suppressing a sigh I explained it as I would to a child.
‘Look, just start shouting and make the guards come your way. I don’t know, maybe act as like you were just robbed.’
A sparkle of understanding appeared in his mischievous eyes and a smug grin curled his lips.
‘Don’t worry, even the guards in Vivec will hear me,’ he assured me.
‘That will do just fine.’

That night, Seyda Neen was in an uproar. True to his word, Fargoth started his act just after dark. The guards were quick to respond and all converged to the panic point, giving me the opportune moment to slip into Foryn’s shack. And if he turned out to be home, I would act drunk and had accidently stumbled into the wrong house.
It was a bit thin; if Foryn knew I didn’t even have a house, he would see through it right away. I just hoped luck was on my side and that he hadn’t returned yet and entered the shack.

Lady luck was on my side, Foryn wasn’t at home. Quickly, not wasting any time, I rummaged through his cupboard, the crates, through anything that could hide evidence.
All I found in a corner underneath some clothes was a dagger with traces of blood on it and a bloody rag.
‘Why go through the problem of wiping the blade clean and then leave the rag next to the blade?’ I surmised. ‘Doesn’t make sense.’ It almost looked like he was being framed. And then there was the possibility Foryn was just really sloppy, dumb or both.

Truth is; I just didn’t know what to think anymore. On one hand, he was the likely suspect. There had been witnesses to Foryn and Processus nearly getting in a fist-fight. On the other hand; there was the conveniently placed evidence in his shack. Too conveniently.

I made sure everything was like I found it, except the evidence, I took that with me.
Then, Foryn entered. He wasn’t happy to see me in his shack and told me to get out.
I did as I planned, I acted drunk and mumbled the lousy excuse I had thought of before but then realized the predicament I had gotten myself into.
‘What if it was his dagger?’ I thought. If it was, he would soon miss it and know right away it had been me who had taken it. All in all, I felt I had made a mess out of it the whole situation.

I left the shack and thought what I should do next. Should I confront Foryn with the evidence, risking accusing an innocent man?
I decided to come clean with Foryn, I went back into his shack and explained the situation.

He didn’t even deny the accusations. Instead; he bragged about how he had stabbed that thieving Imperial son of a Mudcrab. When I asked him what he meant with that he said the same Thavere had told me; he believed Processus had raised the taxes so he could take some for himself. I shook my head and said that wasn’t a reason to kill him.
‘So you’re on their side? Then you’re my enemy,’ he roared. Before I could even defend myself, he attacked me. With his bare fists. I tried to convince him to give himself up, there was no need to get killed over it, he just got angrier and angrier. I had no choice but to defend myself and cut him down. It was either him or me. What was he thinking? Attacking someone armoured and armed with a sword? I guess my previous assessment was right; Foryn was stupid and sloppy.

Anyway; after the short, really, really short, “fight” I found plenty evidence on his body.
I found a ring Thavere had described as being Processus’, a taxrecord and tow hundred Drakes. Combined with the dagger and the bloody rag, there could be no doubt; Foryn had killed Processus and had made it look like he was plainly robbed.

Ergalla wasn’t happy with the news but was relieved the mystery had been solved and rewarded me with five hundred drakes. I was dumbstruck. Five hundred drakes, that was more gold I had ever seen in one place and now, I was carrying it. I felt really good about myself and decided to spend some. I headed to Arrille’s, had a king’s meal, bought some more supplies and a mortar and pestle he had for sale. Finally I could do something with the samples I had gathered the previous day. The problem was, I hadn’t a clue where to start. I needed a place where I could practise undisturbed. Then it hit me; I could use Foryn’s shack. At least for a while.

I cleared out all of Foryn’s stuff and dug another grave. It all reminded on his foolish actions and mine resulting in having to end his life. It didn’t really help to wipe the guilty feeling but at least I had some space to store my own goods I had acquired. For a while, I just laid in the hammock contemplating what I should do next but mostly doing nothing at all.
Few hours later I got off my lazy butt and tried out my newest acquisition, the mortar and pestle.
I dug up all the samples, which were all clogged together, seperated the most identifiable from the mess and started grinding them into a pulp. Did I say identifiable? What I meant was: the ingredients that weren’t completely un-identifiable. Not that I had idea what those were anymore but that hardly spoiled the fun.
After some mashing and grinding I did what I saw my mother do all those years ago, I added water to the brown, goowy substance, poured it into an empty bottle and drank it.

edit: a crab is hardly a honoured user

This post has been edited by Remko: Mar 19 2010, 12:35 PM

[mALX]

This is where I first started loving Rales story !!

[Olen]

Ah you've discovered the joy's of chorrol's rude word filter chaging words to random other ones.

I like this piece, your style is very fresh and readable and the character quite likeable. It moves well and has lots of personality. Saying that I would like to see a little more characterisation, it's there in his actions but I don't feel like I really know him. Though maybe that's me being impatient seeing as you are doing a good job of it through his actions (which is difficult).

Nice piece.

[Remko]

Thank you for the comments. Nice to see my work's being appreciated. Having said that, here's another.
@Olen:I'd like to think Rales' character will show through more and more as the story progresses.
The rude word filter had me change a part I wasn't happy with at all. The word I used wasn't just a word but a common proverb that now lacks punch..... ah well.


The moment the awful tasting, lumpy liquid passed my throat, I knew it had been a huge mistake. Besides tasting awful it affected me beyond anything I ever thought possible. I felt weak in my knees, felt hot and cold at the same time and wanted to retch up what I had in my stomach. I stumbled outside, emptied my stomach in the swamp, managed to haul my sorry backside back inside and curled up for days only reaching out to have a drink of water. That was the only thing I managed to keep inside.

The good thing about the debacle was that I had some time to think about how stupid I had been. Apparently, there was more to alchemy than just throwing some random ingredient together and mashing it to a pulp. If I didn’t want to kill myself with whatever next poison I’d contrive, I was going to need help.



Day 4

Two days later, I emerged the shack a wiser and very pale-looking Dunmer. The poison I had willingly drank had left me drained and weakened. Fargoth commented I didn’t look too well.
I snapped at him that I bloody well knew and that he should leave me alone. In hindsight I really felt bad biting the poor fellow’s head off and promised myself I’d make it up with him when I felt like myself again.
Arrille was worried too. I explained him what happened. He had the courtesy not to laugh at me although his lips were twitching. I could tell he was holding it back and would probably break out in laughter as soon as I’d leave. I couldn’t care less, I was starving yet still feeling quite miserable. I bought some light food and a large pitcher with crystal-clear water and went upstairs to have a quiet breakfast.

A chance to make it up with Fargoth came faster than I thought. A huge Nord who introduced himself as Hrisskar wanted me to persuade Fargoth into revealing his secret hiding spot. He promised me I could keep a third of whatever turned up.
I told him I’d consider it. Between you and me; that was a blatant lie, the dumb Nord fell for it however.
I never told Fargoth about the scheme, in my opinion the simpleton didn’t need to know people were out to steal his gold.
Someone once told me: what one doesn’t know doesn’t hurt one. That was certainly the case here.

The next few days I ventured out farther than before, further exploring the bittercoast region and decided to have a look at the cave slighty north of town, past the stiltstrider port. The locals had told me it was a smuggler’s cave and someone should put at an end to the illegal practises there. After having been the bane of all the mudcrabs in the area I figured I had enough practice to face more serious competition. Feeling exceptionally brave that day I entered the cave, Addamasartus.
I should’ve brought a torch…

‘Die N’wah!’ That was hardly a friendly greeting if I ever heard one. I readied my sword and prepared for the worst.
A single Dunmer woman attacked me. She didn’t close in, the cowardly wench was shooting arrows at me. Before I knew what going on an arrow lodged itself into my upperleg. I broke off the arrow’s shaft., causing me to howl in pain and moved in as quick as I could with my sore leg.
I think my opponent hadn’t thought I was going to be so determined because as soon as I closed the gap she hardly defended herself and I struck her down with relative ease. Luckily she had a potion on her, conveniently labeled as a healing potion, as well as a some lock-picks, a probe and some arrows.
I wasn’t sure what else I would encounter so I kept the potion for later.

The cave contained two more smugglers, I managed to sneak up on the first and ended his smuggling career with a single arrow in his throat. Ofcourse, that spoiled the surprise for his comrade. Soon, spells were singing by at an alarming rate, barely missing me.
I returned the favour by shooting some arrows in his general direction. I was in luck, I could hear him yelping when one my arrows struck goal and for a few brief moments the spells ceased allowing me to close the gap on him and finish him off with having to take only one shockblast to the chest. It took me a while to shrug off the spasm-inducing spell but the loot I found in the cave had been worth the spasms and the arrow to the leg.

A shockspell to the chest wasn’t the biggest shock I had to face that day.
Underneath a boardwalk I found the door the key I found on the spellcaster’s body fitted to. What I saw there almost made me gag. Three very skinny Khajiiti resided in a far too small pen were, obviously, forced to live in their own filth. The moment I limped into the slave-pen all of them shied away and held their arms above their head to shield themselves. I could see why. All had fresh crusts of blood in their dirty fur, indicating they had been severely mistreated. It almost brought a tear to my eyes.
I had known slavery still existed in Morrowind but this was inhumane.
Unlocking the slavebracers from the, now most grateful and not so scared anymore, cats I solemnly vowed to free any slave I’d encounter. I didn’t care one bit slavery wasn’t illegal, this had to stop.

On the way back to Seyda Neen, I downed the healing potion. I couldn’t stand the burning pain the arrow-head, still lodged in my leg, caused anymore. The greenish concoction was bitter to the taste but it tasted a lot better than the vile liquid I had brewed. Better yet; the pain dissipated and miraculously the arrow-head, with a short piece of shaft still attached, popped out. A small scar was the only indication of the arrow that had been there. I sighed in relieve

This post has been edited by Remko: Mar 22 2010, 12:13 PM

[Winter Wolf]

I like the style of Rales. He commits manslaughter then spends the next two days living in the shack. So much for fleeing the scene!!

Looks like he also needs a shovel. With the amount of bodies he is leaving around Seyda Neen there will not be many left soon.

spells were singing by at an alarming rate

I smiled at that.

A fun and very enjoyable read.

[haute ecole rider]

Wonderful to re-read this again.

The bit about the alchemy was just as funny this time around as it was the first time I read it! He he!

[Zalphon]

Amazing work, Sare--Rale--Remko! I got it right!

[mALX]

I am so glad you are bringing Rales here, and I can't wait till you catch it up !!!!!! I am dying to hear about Zerina at the Tourney (or will you cover that? ARGH !!!)

[Destri Melarg]

All praise must be due to Azura because whether it's drinking poison or rushing into the midst of a smuggler's den, it is a wonder that Rales survives his leap before you look attitude.