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> Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery
treydog
post May 13 2007, 12:26 AM
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Here is the link to: Treydog's Other Stories


Prologue


“But sir, if you would only give me a little more time, I am certain you would be interested in my proposition.”

“The answer is still ‘No’, Mr. Beauchamp. I have no desire to listen to anything you have to say. You may leave now.”

“If I gave offense by my earlier remarks, I apologize. It is simply that one sometimes hears things…. I know that financial remuneration is not important to you, but I thought that perhaps the spirit of adventure might be enough to entice you.”

“Mr. Beauchamp, I have everything I need right here. My family is here, my home is here, my life is here. I have no interest in the ‘spirit of adventure’. I have found that ‘adventure’ is simply another way of saying ‘a desperate attempt to survive the situation in which one has stupidly placed oneself’. You will leave now. That is not a request.”

I heard the front door open and close with a finality that punctuated those last words. Then another voice spoke up:

“Weren’t you perhaps a bit hard on him, dear?”

The response was a growl:

“You heard what he said as well as I did- ‘…your well-known talent for getting into and out of tight places….’ He called me a thief, is what he did.”

“Well, yes, but after all, you were a thief, you know. And he did come to you directly, not lurking behind some intermediary.”

“Perhaps I used to be a thief, but I hoped I had put all that behind me. And besides, he came to me arrogantly and rudely, just as if he were a bloody Imperial, instead of a fellow Breton."


“ ’A bloody Imperial?’ ” I could envision the raised eyebrow that accompanied that innocent question.

The voices moved away to another part of the house, and I could not make out the muttered words that I was sure were an apology. But that wasn’t important; I had already heard everything I needed to know. I had a name now and a goal. Louis Beauchamp- and Solstheim!

Leaving home is rarely easy, or at least so I have heard. But I felt as if I had to, as if I was slowly smothering. If I was going to do the things I wanted to do, I must get away. There were places I wanted to explore- places he had never been. How typical of him to disparage the idea of adventure- after he had lived the kind of life others only dreamed of! And then to just…stop. As if he could pretend that none of it had ever happened if he did not speak of it. But others spoke of it- oh yes. Louis Beauchamp certainly had that right- one did “hear things”. It was easy enough to tell others that the meat was no good when you had eaten your fill. But I had tasted nothing but the scraps of someone else’s greatness for my whole life and I could stand it no longer. I would leave that very night- but not for Solstheim, at least not yet. It would not do to arrive in that far place as a penniless beggar. Although we were comfortable, and never wanted for the necessities, money was not given to me in any quantity. And though I knew the location of the family treasury well enough, I would not steal. I would not be named a thief, no matter who my father was.

Once the house had quieted, I gathered a small pack of clothing, the few coins that were my own, and a well-worn quarterstaff. How I longed for a bright blade to hang at my side! How could a ready fellow such as I set off on a grand adventure without a trusty sword? But of course I had never been trained in the use of swords, and I recalled the answer when I asked:

“Violence is the result of a mistake. If you avoid mistakes, you can avoid fights. A good walking stick will serve you better. Anything that cannot be dealt with by a sharp rap on the snout is best avoided.”

As if I had never seen the scars that marked his body, never heard the stories that everyone knew by heart, never gazed at the virtual armory hidden throughout the house.
Most of the hidden weapons appeared to be no more than well-used examples of the crafter’s art…. But some of them seemed to… whisper among themselves and to move of their own volition. I know it sounds foolish, the overheated imagining of a child, but I swear it is true. He had never gotten those swords or those scars sitting in front of the fire, reading books. And yet, when he went to the corner club for a solitary drink, and the other men related their exploits, he said nothing. Instead, he simply sat in the shadows with a glass of wine. Even so, if ever a stranger came through and became too loud or boastful, someone would nod toward the quiet figure in the corner and whisper a few words. And then the braggart would fall silent, perhaps even turn a bit pale.

All of these thoughts and more tumbled through my head as I waited in the pre-dawn darkness for the silt-strider to arrive. Perhaps it was foolish to use such a public means of transport, but I wanted distance. And going to Balmora first would help throw off any pursuit. In any event, I doubted that there would be much concern, at least not for several days. When the strider driver saw me waiting, he grinned and said,

“Going on a trip are ye, young sir? I’ll have you in Balmora before you know it. Just sit back and relax.”

He waved away my offered fare with a jovial snort.

“Oh, no charge for you, young sir. Get yourself on up and we’ll be on our way.”

I took his generosity with bad grace, because I knew that it was not for my own sake that I did not have to pay my passage. I was nobody, nothing- just another who stood in the great man’s shadow. He was the hero of the age- everyone said so. Books and ballads had been written about him. And why not? After all, he was Trey of High Rock, Nerevar Reborn, savior of Vvardenfell. And I was his son.

This post has been edited by Burnt Sierra: Jan 4 2009, 07:10 PM


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The Metal Mallet
post May 13 2007, 12:37 AM
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Oooo, this is going to be a very interesting story simply based off your introduction, Trey. The focus being on Trey's son is going to provide some nice character development, just based off his disdain for living under his father's shadow and the supposed hypocrisy of his father's teachings.

I can't wait to see what (mis)adventures, Trey's son will get into. Welcome back treydog!


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minque
post May 13 2007, 09:12 AM
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Oh-My...YIPPEEEE!!!! treydog is back !! I am sooo happy with that...This will be interesting, I´d say, to follow Trey´s son, to learn how he will deal with the fact of being the son of such an important and famous man as Trey. Ohlala....I´m thrilled...

Apparently he has some kind of family, already and yet he set out for the unknown.

This quote made me ponder though...

QUOTE

“ ’All Imperials?’ ” I could envision the raised eyebrow that accompanied that innocent question.


So is the young breton already familiar with imperials? Or perhaps one imperial in particular? I wonder...

Anyway, finding this story up and running, made my sunday-morning!

Thank you treydog for sharing it with us... smile.gif


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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blockhead
post May 13 2007, 03:56 PM
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QUOTE(minque @ May 13 2007, 04:12 AM) *

This quote made me ponder though...

QUOTE

“ ’All Imperials?’ ” I could envision the raised eyebrow that accompanied that innocent question.


So is the young breton already familiar with imperials? Or perhaps one imperial in particular? I wonder...

Near as I can tell, that is supposed to be Trey saying that to his wife. His son is overhearing that and commenting on it?


Just the other day I was thinking to myself, "naww, Treydog probably won't write a bloodmoon story: Trey is the sort of character who won't just go someplace for the heck of it, he's got to be dragged in by obligations or some such. Nothing in the game pulls you to Solstheim like that."

Then this comes out: how weird is that. biggrin.gif

Having Trey's son go instead of Trey nicely gets around that motivational conundrum!

This should be interesting since his son has got to have entirely different stats and skills. We're guaranteed that this will be "played" much differently than Trey would have done it.


Now .... how to keep Trey from coming in and pulling Son-Of-Trey's chestnuts out of the fire biggrin.gif

"Aww dad, I was just about to toast this aspect of Hircine all by myself and save the day."

"Never you mind, young man! Time to go home now, your mother's been worried sick"

Sorry. had to tongue.gif

--
edit: a realization: from (Morrowind) in-game lore, children of mixed parentage generally take the appearance (and stats?) of their mothers race. Son-Of-Trey (what is his name, anyway?) therefore must look like an Imperial. I wonder if this causes any friction between father & son?

--
further edit:

L. Beauchamp. is a Breton ohmy.gif

This post has been edited by blockhead: May 13 2007, 05:21 PM


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treydog
post May 13 2007, 04:00 PM
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Blockhead- you have things exactly right... on a number of levels. The conversation is Trey and Baria, overheard by their son. Trey himself does not care to go to Solstheim- Ice Bears? No thanks! I wanted to be a little cryptic for the beginning to hopefully draw the reader in.


ETA:
As to Louis being a fellow Breton- urf. You are right. I did not do my usual meticulous study before voicing Trey's prejudice. (bangs head) May have to fix that....

"...arrogantly and rudely, just as if he were a bloody Imperial, instead of a Breton."

Etc., etc.

This post has been edited by treydog: May 13 2007, 08:25 PM


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minque
post May 13 2007, 05:06 PM
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Yes of course! Mama Baria is also Imperial, I understand...now in my opinion Trey has experienced good things from female Imperials...hopefully his son will be openminded, otherwise there´s an Aunt somewhere who would have a thing or two to tell him! tongue.gif

Oh my...I can´t wait for the next part.


Blockie! I know of the rules of offspring from mixed races.....Just you wait and see!


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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jack cloudy
post May 13 2007, 07:47 PM
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Great, the master has returned.

So far, it has already got me captivated. Trey Junior (I hope we are going to get a name soon.) has enormous potential. He is the son of a hero, living in his shadow. He has apparently learned none of Trey's combat or thieving skills. Or at least, not officially. (Who knows what Junior has been doing when mom and dad were out to have tea with the neighbours.)

About his stats, I am willing to hazard a few guesses. He is probably quite proficient at Alchemy, seeing as how that is a hobby of Trey. He's likely a bit like a mage, high Int, Wil and stuff. After that though, I have no idea.


And yeah, it would be amusing if Trey suddenly showed up. On the other hand, I think the story would go much better if Junior manages to elude his father long enough to make his own fame and glory.

Hmm, I can already see Junior having to lie low because he'd heard rumours of a stranger asking around for 'whatever Junior looks like'.


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blockhead
post May 14 2007, 01:20 PM
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QUOTE(minque @ May 13 2007, 12:06 PM) *

Yes of course! Mama Baria is also Imperial, I understand...now in my opinion Trey has experienced good things from female Imperials...hopefully his son will be openminded, otherwise there´s an Aunt somewhere who would have a thing or two to tell him! tongue.gif

Aunt? ohmy.gif



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minque
post May 14 2007, 07:04 PM
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QUOTE(blockhead @ May 14 2007, 02:20 PM) *

QUOTE(minque @ May 13 2007, 12:06 PM) *

Yes of course! Mama Baria is also Imperial, I understand...now in my opinion Trey has experienced good things from female Imperials...hopefully his son will be openminded, otherwise there´s an Aunt somewhere who would have a thing or two to tell him! tongue.gif

Aunt? ohmy.gif

Yeah..now I think I might have confused you! An Aunt in swedish is not necessarily related to you, it is a lady just any odd lady at all.....

So....no hints! We do not know if two certain women are related do we? evillol.gif


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Burnt Sierra
post May 14 2007, 10:15 PM
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blink.gif blink.gif blink.gif

I did not expect to see this. I logged on in my usual mode; looking to see what I've missed when out of nowhere....


I think Christmas has come early! santaclaus.gif
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treydog
post May 17 2007, 01:37 AM
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Chapter 1


As always, Balmora was a welcome relief after the dusty heat of Ald’ruhn and Bal Isra. Even though the Blight was over 20 years in the past, the reclamation of Vvardenfell progressed slowly, measured in inches rather than acres. As I listened to the cheerful sound of the Odai River running through the town, I recalled the few occasions I had asked why we did not live in Balmora. The answer had depended on Father’s mood: when he was in the midst of one of his black depressions, he simply scowled and spat out one word- “Hlaalu”- as if it was the vilest curse he knew. If he was feeling more talkative, his answer was almost as obscure. He would wave a hand at the walls of Indarys Manor and say, “My honor built this house, my honor and my blood. I earned this place, and here I will stay.” Whenever he spoke that way, Mother would simply shake her head and say, “Redoran” with a smile. And though we lived amongst the arid ridges and gray ravines of ash and stone, she continued to paint the green trees and blue waters of her home in Cyrodiil. And she made no complaint about the ash and the wind, just tended her garden with that same mysterious smile. When I plaintively asked her how she could live in such a place, she again answered with a single word- “love”. It made no sense to me and I wondered if everyone who had lived through the Blight was infected with some form of madness.

My unsatisfactory thoughts carried me to the Eight Plates, where I had a light meal of scrib and kwama eggs. I had been thankfully left alone, although I had felt the eyes of the other patrons upon me throughout the meal. The illusion of anonymity was completely shattered when I reached for my purse to pay and the proprietress glared at me with an offended sniff. She placed her hands on her hips and drew herself up.

“As if I would take a penny from Trey’s son. Why I recall the time he sang for his supper in this very room, before he became famous and all! Didn’t have such a bad voice, though it cracked a bit on some of the notes, he was that young.”

She smiled then, gazing at a memory only she could see. And the meal sat in my belly like a greasy lump of ash. I felt my face flush and my teeth grind at the sound of those never-sufficiently-to-be-damned syllables- “Trey’s son,” spoken as if they were a single word. As if that was my name and all of my name. As if I had no existence independent of him, as if my sole function was to remind people of his greatness. How I longed to scream at her: “I have a name! I am Athlain! I have a name!” But I did nothing, simply sat and endured her addled maundering about a man I did not know. At last, she left me to take care of her other customers and I was able to slip away.

I found a quiet corner of the wall and wrote a brief note which I sealed and addressed to:

Louis Beauchamp
Ald Skar Inn
Ald’ruhn

The contents were simple and (I hoped) enough to keep the fretful Breton from engaging anyone else for the moment. The note said:

“Do nothing until you hear from me. Plans in support of your enterprise are under way. The sign by which you will know me is ‘airship.’

A Friend”

I dropped the note, along with a half-septim, at the bar of the South Wall Club. They would see that the message traveled with the silt-strider back to the Redoran village while I went a different way. Up until now, I had been using the striders myself, as much for the speed of travel as the comfort. But now I would go on foot. The idea would be that, for all anyone knew, I came to Balmora and dropped off the face of Nirn. There were a number of trails out of town, and I doubted that anyone would remember one more cloaked figure disappearing during the darkness of early evening. It would have been pleasant to sleep in a bed, but I was used to camping, and did not want anyone else refusing my money while they told me how wonderful my father was. The trail I took followed the Odai River and took me all the way to the coast. Once there, I turned south and east, toward the sleepy fishing village of Seyda Neen.

This post has been edited by treydog: May 17 2007, 02:56 PM


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The Metal Mallet
post May 17 2007, 03:15 AM
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I guess it's not in Trey's character to truly tell him all that he's done as it appears Athlain only seems to hear Trey's exploits from others. I guess Trey wanted his son to live an easy life, one that didn't have the troubles that he had experienced. Of course, this is all speculation, but the way you write does that and I enjoy speculating on things.

I don't think Athlain is going to escape the Nerevarine stories in Seyda Neen though. As most of us should know, Trey has certainly spent some time there as well.

Continue when you can trey!


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"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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treydog
post May 18 2007, 12:29 AM
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Interlude 1


From a broadsheet posted throughout the Vvardenfell District, late in the 3E.

Dagoth Ur may be dead, but there is still work to be done. If you are a young individual in reasonably good health and with a clean record, the Imperial Legion would like to speak with you! We offer good pay, plenty of food, free equipment, and the best training available anywhere in the Empire.

People looking for a quiet life need not apply! We are engaged in the vigorous suppression of bandits, smugglers, and cultists all over the island. You will work hard, but you can proudly call yourself a member of an elite fighting force. The Emperor and all true citizens of the Empire will appreciate your dedication and commitment. And of course everyone knows how the ladies feel about a man in uniform!

For additional information, speak to any Legion officer. Preferment and rapid advancement are available to those of Imperial heritage.

DO NOT WAIT! SIGN UP TODAY AND START THE LAST JOB YOU WILL EVER NEED!



Text of a private notice circulated to tradehouses, cornerclubs, and taverns of Vvardenfell:

Reward! Seeking information on the whereabouts of Athlain, former resident of Bal Isra. He is not to be harmed or hindered, but a generous reward will be paid for reliable information on his whereabouts. Athlain is 19 years old, with Imperial features. He is tall and slender, with brown hair and blue eyes. He has no scars or other distinguishing marks. He may seek training in the use of armor and weapons. He is an accomplished alchemist, a persuasive speaker, and writes a fair hand. Please report any sightings or additional information to Indarys Manor or to the Ald Skar Inn at Ald’ruhn. To repeat- allow him to go his way without hindrance. Payment guaranteed for reliable information!


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Lord Revan
post May 18 2007, 12:52 AM
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It's not difficult to sympathize for Athlain when you have parents who hover over you like the clouds in the sky.

Well done, Treydog, keep on the grand works! bigsmile.gif
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The Metal Mallet
post May 18 2007, 12:57 AM
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Ooo, an interlude eh? This is new from you. Glad to see you try new things. I also admit the hint of racism/favourtism to Imperials in the job poster was a nice touch. That amused me and it fits sooo well.

Excellent work, trey.


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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blockhead
post May 18 2007, 11:16 AM
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So after two days of a stupid power outage, I come back and see this! ooooooo! biggrin.gif Yay!

Swami predicts ... Trooper[1] Athlain volunteering for duty in Fort Frostmoth? Or ... no ... using his allowance money to finance L.B.'s airship?

I guess I'll just have to wait.

--
[1] that would *so* piss off pop Trey wink.gif


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jack cloudy
post May 18 2007, 01:46 PM
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Really? I'd say that [2] would piss of pop as well. I don't think he trusts Dwemer machines, especially when built and maintained by someone who is not an expert.

And I loved the notices. It adds atmosphere.


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Black Hand
post May 20 2007, 05:40 AM
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Dang! Can't believe I missed all this in the time I was somewhat gone! Very inspiring Trey! Though somehow,...I knew this was coming.

Also, in case I forget, An early happy birthday! Yes I remember yours, it's mine too!!
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minque
post May 20 2007, 08:48 PM
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Oh Athlain, dear boy! I know it must be very hard and annoying to be your "father's son" but by all means be a good boy now and follow your destiny....I'm sure pop will approve..oh yes he will or someone might just talk him into it right?

Wonderful story dear treydog!


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Wolfie
post May 20 2007, 09:34 PM
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Awesome! I come wandering into the Fan Fiction section to browse for a good read, and I find this!


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