Verick in Morrowind Options

[redsrock]

While writing The Connivers, I am also going to be writing this as well. I'm getting back into Morrowind once more, so I want to keep track of a story of what I do in-game, as well as throwing in some personal touches as well. Don't expect the chapters to be too long, and don't be surprised if I don't post a chapter every day.

The inspiration comes from the story, "Trey in Mournhold", written by Treydog. He is a wonderful author, and truly an inspiration to my writing. I've been reading his stories for some time now, but unfortunately have yet to give him the feedback that he deserves.

Chapter One

They shouldn’t have let me out. Despite the good that I’ve done, I’m really not sure if that justifies the evils I’ve accomplished along the way. I’m sure the historians will look back at me as a hero, but I’ll never see that. I am not a Dunmer, and I never wish to be a Dunmer. I dealt with them simply because I thought I had to. Thinking about it now, though, I’m not sure if I still agree with that. It doesn’t matter of course. What’s done is done, some thirty years later, and now I lie in a crypt of my own desire. Departed, but not quite dead…at least not in a physical standpoint. I apologize, though, for now I am rambling, and no one enjoys a rambler. So let me tell you my story and then perhaps you call tell me what I am. The angel or the monster.

********************


The day was still young when I woke up, and I knew this because there was no light shining through my cabin’s barred window, save for the moonlight of course, but to me that didn’t really count. The sun and moons are related, yes, but not quite the same. Resting next to my right on his own dirty bedroll was a Dunmer named Jiub. Over the years he’s gathered his own bit of fame, having driven out some pesky bird-like creature from Vvardenfell. The difference between he and I is that he’s actually been able to enjoy his prominence.

Rather than wake him from his slumber to ask him if he know how close we were to Vvardenfell, I instead grabbed a bucket to my left and checked for water. There was none at all, but I knew there had been before I had gone to bed. This meant Jiub had drunk the rest during the night, but ironically I was not even the least bit angry. I could not stand the Dunmer and their proud, arrogant ways back then and I can’t stand them to this day, but Jiub I was actually able to call my friend. There were others of course, but they’ve either passed on their mortal life and on to whatever else awaits them, or they forgot about me. The latter could probably be switched around as well, these days I couldn’t really tell you.

“It’s gone, my friend,” Jiub said. I jumped out of fright and looked at him, his crimson red eyes staring directly into my own pair of eyes, though mine are a pleasant blue. “Many apologies to you, but last night my cough was worse than usual. I’m surprised it did not stir you. It was rather loud, and violent.”

And another reason why I didn’t mind that he drank the water was that he definitely needed it. He had been sick for I don’t know how long. To this day I can’t fathom how I had not contracted whatever he had, even if it had simply been a lengthy cold. “There’s no need for an apology, Jiub. You need it more than I. Besides, the guards will be bring us a fresh bucket come sunrise.”

Jiub sat up cross-legged style and leaned against the wall of our cramped cabin. He stretched his back and I heard nasty pops, revolting sounds that I’ve never been able to forget. “I’m not so sure about that. Before I finally fell asleep last night I heard the guards outside talking; something about having passed the magical city of Vivec, home to the legendary Warrior-Poet himself. I doubt we’ll be on board this rickety ship much longer.”

“So you think we’ll be released?” I asked hopefully.

“It’s hard to tell. Releases seem to be more random than anything. I’ve been imprisoned for several years now, and I’ve seen other prisoners be released sporadically at random intervals. I’ve got a feeling I won’t be in luck, but perhaps you’ll fare better. I suppose we shall simply have to wait. As a matter of fact, I don’t even think this ship is moving.”

Minutes later, or maybe it was seconds, the door to our dark cabin opened, and a fat guard stood in the door way grasping tightly his silver Imperial-issued longsword in one hand. You would have thought he’d cut me some slack, being an Imperial as well, but that wasn’t how it was. I think he saw me lower than him because I was imprisoned. But if he knew that I knew most of his secrets he wouldn’t have thought that, that’s for sure.

“Stand up, scum!” he yelled my way, paying no attention to Jiub. “You’re getting off the ship now by the orders of his majesty himself! I do hope you realize how much an honor it is for the Emperor to even think your name. Get on deck, now!”

I looked at Jiub and simply nodded, not really knowing what else to do. Everything had happened so fast, it was surreal. I never would have thought they’d let me out so soon, if at all. Honestly, I probably deserved to be hanged myself. Lucky for me I come from a rich family with an even richer history. It’s too bad that richness isn’t alive today.

Jiub nodded back and I left the cabin, heading up a set of stairs to my right, and then out the hatch leading to the deck. Just as I had assumed, it was still nightfall. The hatch closed behind me, and a Redguard in Imperial uniform stood on the deck holding an iron spear and a gentle smile. Thankfully he was much nicer than the other guard. “You’re supposed to get off here, but why I don’t know. Just be lucky you’re even getting off. Not many other prisoners can say they have.”

“Where are we?” I asked him, rubbing the sleepiness out of my eyes.

“Seyda Neen, one of the few Imperial-owned ports in the entire Bitter Coast Region. Head on off the ship and speak with the next guard. He’ll take you to the Census offices where they’ll give you your release papers.”

After sixteen months, perhaps even more, I was getting off the boat. The thought was so wonderful, yet I was still having such a difficult time believing it was all true. It was like I was stuck in a dream. I sure wish that dream was still intact. Instead it’s been transformed into the eternal nightmare that is my life. But all of that will come later.

[canis216]

Hmm... I'll be keeping an eye on this. I won't comment much right now, (though I hope to have much to say in the future on this (supposed) darker Nerevarine) but I will note that I like how you've balanced dialogue and his internal thoughts.

[redsrock]

Thank you. That balance you speak of something I've been wanting to master in first person.

[redsrock]

Chapter Two

Standing just below the ladder on a bridge beside the ship was yet another guard, except the difference was that this one was dressed in a slightly different attire. The guards aboard the ship had been dressed in light clothing with little armor to speak of, if any at all. This one, however, was decked out in a full set of black and silver legion armor, with the shiny steel helm adding a finishing touch to the already impressive uniform. “It’s about time you arrived. Unfortunately our records don’t show from where. Where do you come from, Breton?” the guard asked bluntly, looking rather bored.

“I am Verick Syntras, from the Imperial City,” I said slowly, unsure as to how or why the guard had been expecting my arrival. The sentence for my crime had been life in prison. Not on a boat, not in a small Imperial port-town in Morrowind. Prison. To get off of the boat and walk onto the bridge beside it was a symbol of my release. I wasn’t able to realize it at that moment, though.

“Very well. Follow me to the Census office.”

I did what he asked and politely followed him across an old, wooden bridge leading to a building with the markings “Census & Excise Office and Warehouse” on a sign positioned just a few feet above the door leading in. The guard opened the door and motioned for me to enter. Inside, a few torches on the walls were lit, giving the tiny room its only source of light, other than that of the sun peeking in through the open door. But suddenly that sunlight disappeared, for the door shut behind me with great force, startling me so much that I jumped, similar to what I had done on the boat. I was an anxious Breton, though for good reason. As I mentioned before, getting off of the boat had been such a dreamlike experience for me.

“Ah, Verick…believe it or not, I’ve been expecting you,” said a voice seemingly in front of me. It was only once my eyes were fully adjusted that I realized a skinny old Breton man was standing at a desk no more than ten feet away. His wrinkled skin showed his many years of service to the Empire, and his articulate voice showed his wisdom.

“How do you know my name?”

The man chuckled at that and pointed towards some kind of folded parchment lying on the desk beside him. On the other side of the desk was another parchment, which was unfolded. The old man paid the unfolded parchment no attention. “I know this will not make any sense to you, for it still doesn’t make sense to me, but according to this document the Emperor has asked for your immediate release from Imperial confinement. It appears today is your lucky day.”

I had been astonished beyond belief, unable to move, barely able to breathe. The crime that I committed was shameful on so many levels, but yet the Emperor of Cyrodiil himself was asking for my release. “Why?” I asked.

“I have no idea, but that’s none of my concern. My only duties are to hand you your release papers and send you on your way to the Imperial Knight Errant, Captain Sellus Gravius, where he shall take the release orders and give you some coin to fill your empty pockets. I do have to ask a few questions before any of this can happen, I’m afraid. It shouldn’t take too long, so have a seat right there in that chair.”

The man pointed to a chair to my immediate right, and I sat down.

“Now, let’s see…what is your trade, mister Syntras?”

“I...I am…” The question he asked had not been easy, not even in the least. My trade back in the Imperial City before being thrown in jail had many variations. I was a merchant, a thief and a backstabber, among many other things. “I am a traveling merchant.”

“Very good,” he said, scribbling something down upon the unfolded parchment. “And the letter preceding mentioned that you were born under a specific sign. Is that correct, mister Syntras?”

“Yes, the sign of the Tower.”

“Interesting…now, before I complete this process, would you please make sure this information is correct?” He pointed to the parchment on the table, so I walked over to inspect it, looking over every last detail for reasons I still do not know.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Wonderful!” The man shouted joyously, folding the parchment and tying with a red ribbon tie, and then handing it over to me. “Take this to Captain Gravius and he shall complete your release. Have a good day, mister Syntras, and be careful out there. While it has plenty of beauties and perquisites to speak of, Vvardenfell also has its share of repulsiveness and dangers as well.”

“Thank you. However, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Vvardenfell?”

“It appears you’ve been in prison too long, Mister Syntras, and you don’t look a year over twenty-five! The enormous island sub-continent of Vvardenfell is one of six Imperial Provincial Districts, and it has been ever since the Treaty of the Armistice was signed in 2E 896. Now, please run along. I have lots of work to finish because I could not work during last night’s storm. Talk to the guard over there. He can point you in the right direction towards Captain Gravius’s office.”

I took the document and turned around to where the old man was pointing. Standing in front of a closed door was another guard, his arms crossed and his face in a snarl. He obviously didn’t approve of my releasing. And these days, after what’s occurred over the course of my years in Vvardenfell, I don’t blame him.

“Lexerus, show mister Syntras to the Captain’s office, will you?” The old man asked, and then left the building through the door I had entered.

Lexerus sighed softly, just loud enough where I could hear him, and opened the door. But rather than lead the way, he simply said, “Enter through here and then take your first right, where you’ll find yourself in the dining room. In front of you will be another door, and that is the Captain’s office. Touch nothing in the dining room or I’ll throw you back onto the ship where you belong.”

Rather than give a smartalic reply back, I continued on my way and sure enough, the room to the first right was the dining room. Plates and utensils had been set up as if a meal was about to start, but other than a basket full of bread there was no food to be found. On shelf beside the table were racks of wine and other eating dishes and glasses. The bread smelled as if it had been recently baked, but I didn’t dare touch it. Despite the reminder of hunger that was rumbling through my stomach, I knew the guard in the other room had been serious about his threat, and by no means did I want to find myself back on the boat.

I knocked on the door in front of me, and seconds later it opened with a quick swing of its metallic hinges. A tall Imperial in a magnificently-crafted armor stood in the doorway, bearing an agitated by curious expression. The old man didn’t have to tell me who the captain was, for I would have easily figured it out myself. The Imperial in front of me was wearing a uniform drastically different from any regular guard. Its material looked to be much finer, and rather than the normal dull black and silver color, the Captain’s armor was a beautiful red and with several shades of golden-yellow that seemed to glisten from the flames of his office’s torches and candles.

“Can I help you?” He asked impatiently.

“Yes, I am Verick Syntras. I was told to see you for my release?”

“Oh, it’s you,” he replied nonchalantly. “Come inside and have a seat. Before I release you there’s something we need to discuss. I wasn’t told what it’s about exactly, other than that it’s apparently awfully important. Please, sit down.”

The Captain sat down in a lavish chair behind his large, messy desk, and I did the same with a wooden chair- of much lesser quality- in front. I handed him the document and he quickly scanned it, nodding and mumbling here and there. “Good, everything seems to be in order,” he said, pulling a small leather sack from behind his desk, a sack no bigger than his hand in width. “Here are twenty-five septims for your release feed; and now for the important part.” He reached yet again behind his desk and this time pulled out sealed parcel. “This here…this package is to be immediately delivered to an Imperial man by the name of Caius Cosades, who lives in the city of Balmora. It is northwest of here, nestled over the northern section of the Odai River. I suggest using the local Silt Strider for transportation. There will be a fee of course, but nothing that’ll empty the sack I just gave you. I know not who this Caius Cosades is, so once you arrive in Balmora ask around for his whereabouts. The South Wall Cornerclub in Balmora would be a great place to start I think. I hear they know a little bit on just about everything.”

I thanked the Captain for the gold, though somewhat awkwardly because I was confused about the package, so confused that I was unable to ask questions. But right before I was about to walk out the door behind me and out into the city, the Captain stopped me. “Oh, and one other thing, Breton. You are not to attempt to open the package. I don’t know why, but I was told to tell you that. There’s likely some kind of magical trap if you do manage to open it. That is all. Good day to you.”

[redsrock]

Chapter Three

It didn’t take me long to realize the town of Seyda Neen was very small, especially so when compared to the cities I had traveled through in Cyrodiil. Though the streets were probably considered crowded by the locals, the fact that I had a clear view of ten yards ever which way told me it was not. Unlike the cities I had been accustomed to in Cyrodiil, Seyda Neen had a plentiful amount of Dunmer, the blue-skinned Dark Elves. Most of them watched me with anger filled in their eyes. It was obvious they didn’t like strangers. Or maybe they were mistaking me with an Imperial. Other than the Dunmer there were other races present as well. Being an Imperial port town, there was a fairly large number of Imperials, most of them guards or agents working for the Empire. Other than that, there wasn’t much else to speak of. The small town, like most of the other cities in Vvardenfell I would later learn, was comprised mainly of Dunmer.

I must have been standing at the door of the Census building for a long time, because a guard walked up and told me to move along. So I scurried from my spot, wondering what to do next. I spotted a bench close by to my right, and I walked over to it and sat down. The package, though not heavy by any means, was weighing on me mentally. I was a free man, yet I didn’t know what I wanted to do with that freedom. I had the package to deliver, but I didn’t want to do it. To me, it mattered not whether I had the Emperor to thank for my release, I wasn’t about to become the Empire’s puppet. But at the same time, I had the strangest feeling I would be…stirred back on the right path if I did not immediately take the pack to the Imperial man in Balmora. For some reason I had a strong feeling I’d be followed until the package was delivered. So, I figured I would deliver the package and be on my merry way. It’s too bad nothing ever ends up as easy as it begins.

As I walked though the street I noted the buildings to my sides. There weren’t many, and only had a sort of sign beside it reading “Arrille’s Tradehouse & Tavern.” Feeling the rumble in my stomach once more, I decided to get a bite to eat before heading out of town. I walked through the door and entered a small room, with a table on the left with various items on display, mostly weapons and apparel. Straight ahead about five yards away was a long, wooden counter, and standing behind that desk as a High elf, or more specifically an Altmer. They say the “High” in High Elf refers to the fact that their intelligence with magic is higher than any other race. I don’t agree with that, I think it refers to their height. The Altmer are easily the tallest race I’ve ever laid eyes upon.

“Is there something I can help you with?” The Altmer asked, a smile spread across his dull yellow-skinned face; a nice change from all of the angry stares I had received from the Dunmer outside. The Altmer had long, jet-black hair, and was dressed in expensive clothing I was used to seeing Imperial nobles wearing.

Looking around, I saw no food and I saw no drink. Needless to say, I was very confused, and wasn’t even sure I was in the right place to begin with. “Umm…do you sell food and drink?” I asked tentatively.

“Why yes, we do. Just head on up the stairs to your left and see Elone behind the counter. She’ll fix you up something good.”

“Oh, so this Elone owns the upper part?”

The Altmer laughed, as if I was supposed to have already known the answer. “No, I own the entire place, but I pay Elone to be my bartender.”

“Ah, I see. Well…what do you serve around here?”

“Lots of stuff, depending on what’s good and what’s not. Sometimes we get more fish from The Inner Sea, so we serve a lot of that at discounted prices. And sometimes the Kagouti and Alit are extra plentiful in the hills to the southeast, so we sell their meat at discounted prices. It simply varies. As for drink, you can find most of your usual alcoholic beverages, though I don’t sell any of that Imperial rubbish. The import taxes are too high and the stuff tastes watered down compared to what I already have. I can say that since you are not Imperial, for you’re a Breton. I like Bretons, you know. Unfortunately a lot of my people don’t share the same opinion, and that’s a shame. Bretons and Altmer are so much alike. But I digress. Is there anything else?”

“I hate to keep bothering you, but do you have any recommendations? I’ve just arrived in Morrowind you see, and I’m afraid I don’t really know the ins and outs of dining on this island.”

“Not a problem! You’re not a bother! Morndas mornings are so much of a bore anyway. Hmm…I would have to vouch for cooked Kagouti actually, but make sure you have yours sprinkled with herbs and spices. Elone does a tremendous job keeping up with our garden. For your drink, you can never go wrong with Flin. Cheap on a man’s pockets, but sweet on his tongue.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll have that. Have a nice day,” I replied, starting towards the stairs beside the counter.

“You two, friend! Come again if you need to buy supplies for the wilderness.”

Upstairs the room was fairly empty, except for a Dunmer couple sitting by a window in the upper right corner of the pub. They had been laughing with one another, but once they saw me enter their expressions changed to a snarl, just like the Dark Elves outside. It’s funny too, because even to this day I don’t downright hate them. I’ll admit I don’t care for them and their ways too much; but at the same time, my disliking towards them will never be as great as their passionate loathing towards foreigners.

“Hey there, stranger. Care for a bite to eat and somethin’ to wash it down?”

Ahead of me, behind the counter in the top left corner of the room, a Redguard woman was cleaning some wooden drinking-cups with a dirty cloth. She had a smile on her face and a scar over her right eye, perhaps received after breaking up a bar fight. The Redguard males had always been known for their sheer bravery in battle, so I assumed the females were quite the daring individuals as well.

“Umm, yes. How much is it for cooked Kagouti with herbs and a bottle of…Flin?”

“Well, I don’t have any herbs to spare for meat right now. I have to preserve what vegetables I have left for a stew I’m making tonight for dinner. I do have Kagouti though, along with Flin. A slab of meat and a glass of Flin will cost you…fifteen septims.”

“Okay, I’ll take that.”

“Alright, I’ll put the Kagouti in the stove. If you just seat yourself I’ll have a glass of Flin over to you in a few minutes, so you can drink it while you wait for the meat.”

“That’s alright. I’d rather have it for my meal.”

The Redguard laughed. “No, no, no. The glass while you wait is on me. I do that for everyone.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

She nodded and turned around to her stove, and I walked away to find a seat. Naturally I found a spot farthest away from the angry-looking Dunmer, with my back turned towards them as well. The rickety wooden chair wasn’t very comfortable, but who was I to complain? I had just gotten off of the most uncomfortable place I’ve ever been, that being the torn up bedroll of the prisoner ship. Anything was more comfortable than that.

Not too long after I had sat down, maybe twelve minutes at the most, the Redguard lady bought me my food. “Here you go. Watch it though, it’s a little hot. I promise I didn’t burn it. Be sure to tell me how you like, will you?”

“Yes, I sure will. Thanks.”

I ate the food…no, I gobbled down the food…and then stood up from the table. Arrille’s recommendation had been a smart one. The Kagouti had been extremely tender, and the Flin truly was better than anything I had ever drunk in Cyrodiil. Before leaving I told the Redguard how great the meal was, and then started downstairs. I would have given her a tip for such an excellent brunch, but I only had ten gold coins left, and I didn’t know much a trip to Balmora would cost me. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know how I’d be getting to Balmora in the first place. Captain Gravius had mentioned something about a…Silt Strider, but that meant nothing to me, for I had never been outside of Cyrodiil prior to being thrown onto the prison ship.

Outside, it looked as if it were about to rain, so I wanted to head towards Balmora as soon as possible. I was just about to ask a guard what exactly a Silt Strider was, but then something caught my eye that made me stop. Looming over the buildings at the opposite end of the town was a gigantic tan-ish brown creature that greatly resembled something of a flea. It had to have been at least ten stories high, with slender long legs and a fat body. It was somewhat difficult to tell where its head was, but I could tell just barely because of its two front claws that were roughly half the length of its legs.

That has to be a Silt Strider… I thought to myself. I was completely taken back in awe at the creature. Such an alien species was nowhere to be found in Cyrodiil. After seeing this beast, I had truly begun to feel how far away I was from my home in the Imperial City.

Beside the creature was a large hill, and on top of that hill was a wooden platform with a Dunmer standing on it. So I walked up the hill to ask the Dunmer whether or not the creature was a Silt Strider, and also whether or not he’d take me to Balmora.

“Excuse me, but is this a Silt Strider?”

The Dunmer laughed in my face, but it wasn’t a ‘making fun of me’ kind of laugh, but rather an innocent one. In fact, the Dark Elf never did give me any glares like the others had. “By your question I can see you’ve never been to Morrowind before,” he said a raspy voice. “Yes, this is a Silt Strider. I use it to transport people like you to the cities of Vivec, Balmora and Caldera.”

“Well, I’d like to go to Balmora. How much is it?”

“It’ll cost you ten septims. And I can’t take any less I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine. Here you are.”

I handed him the septims and he just looked at me.

“Well,” he said, “Aren’t you going to get on?”

“I..I really don’t know how.”

“Ah, my apologies, outlander! You see that open space on the Strider’s back? Just walk on up into it. It doesn’t hurt the beast, I promise you.”

Still unsure of what I was doing, I tentatively walked onto the Silt Strider’s back, and to my surprise it didn’t even make a hint of a stir. I sighed a sigh of relief and the Dunmer laughed once more. “Don’t worry, you outlanders act just the same in the beginning. But you’ll get used to it, I can assure you that. Traveling by Silt Strider is the most common way here in Morrowind. Now, take a seat if you will and I’ll get us going.”

The eerily cheerful Dunmer hopped aboard as well, patted the creature on a certain place where two antenna-like outgrowths were positioned, and the creature slowly started to move. Suddenly I was regretting the decision to eat, because I felt like throwing it all up. And that is exactly what I did.

The Dunmer looked back at me and yelled frantically, though politely, “Head over the side, please! I washed him off just yesterday!”

[redsrock]

Okay, I'm going to warn you right now. This chapter is going to suck. BUT...it gets the story to where it needs to be.

Chapter Four


About an hour later, after traveling up a beautiful river the Dunmer called the Odai River, we arrived in Balmora. It was nothing like any other city I had ever seen before. Dunmers were everywhere, along with other races as well. Unfortunately I did not see many Bretons or Imperials, or even Redguards for that matter. It was mainly the Dark Elves, and then Altmers and Bosmers, the cannibalistic Wood Elves.

When I asked the Redguard why there weren’t as many Imperials in Balmora as there had been in Seyda Neen, he answered, “Because Balmora is the seat of Great House Hlaalu, the House of Power and Prosperity. Out of the three Great Houses in Vvardenfell, Hlaalu is the most Imperial-friendly. Redoran and Telvanni make up the other two Houses. Balmora is seen as one of the most thriving cities in Vvardenfell, save for the cities of Vivec and Ebonheart of course. Despite this pro-Imperial outlook, it is still the district seat, and most Imperials don’t feel comfortable around so many Dunmer. And actually…this includes most foreigners for that matter. It’s rather unfortunate, but my kind is rather…ignorant I would say. The House may claim they are for Imperial control, but the people of the said House do not.”

“I see. So there is no Imperial Fort here?”

“Not, not actually in the city, but there is one just a few miles southeast of here. Do you remember the mountain range we rode by on the right?”

“Yes?”

“In the mountains, well…just on the edge I suppose… is Fort Moonmoth. It is the lone Imperial fort in this entire region. The next closest is in Ald-Ruhn, and unfortunately it’s not very safe in that area. Not after…well, I don’t want to ramble. It’s high time I get back to Balmora. That short little storm halfway here slowed us down a bit.”

“That’s fine, I understand. And I wish I could give you more than what I did, but I’m all out of drakes.”

“Don’t worry about it, friend. But in all seriousness, be careful. Not many other Dunmer will be as nice as I am, especially those in the Balmora Council Club, that building at the end of these stairs. It’s a local hangout for the Camonna Tong, an extremist group of Dunmer solely dedicated to the destruction of all foreigners. They hate Imperials the most, so thankfully that’s not you. Just watch yourself.”

I watched for several minutes as he rode away, one of the few Dunmer I’ve actually become friendly with over the years. It was likely sometime around noon when he was fully out of sight, and the air was thick with humidity. I turned around and looked into the city, everything looking strange me. Despite my Breton heritage, I had grown up in the Imperial City all my life, without traveling to any of the other cities in Cyrodiil, unless for business reasons of course. I don’t know why, but that’s just the way it was. And because of this, I had only been around an Imperial culture, and I knew no other way of life. So to see Balmora for the first time was certainly a sight to behold. I think the most awe-inspiring were the buildings and homes themselves. Though the material was made likely from some normal type of stone, the way they were carved was simply amazing to me. So much detail put into almost every angle, not to mention the

Though the streets were filled with all kinds of people, I was not afraid. Shy, perhaps, but not quite afraid. I don’t know, but I felt a feeling of importance hanging over my head. Here in Balmora I was supposed to meet Caius Cosades, by the will of the Emperor himself. And because of that, I just knew there had to be someone watching my back. For if I was important enough for the Emperor himself to call for my release from imprisonment, there was no way he’d let me walk so alone is such a large flock of strangers, many of them likely wanting to slit my throat. Somehow I just knew I was being followed, likely by an Imperial agent under contract by the Emperor.

As I made my way down the stairs I looked at the Council Club. A banner, hung slightly above the entrance into the building, was flapping in the wind, bearing some kind of Dunmeri symbol that I did not recognize. The structure itself rumbled with ferocity, but only because of those situated on its roof. Three male Dunmer stood atop the edifice, staring down upon me as I descended the stairs leading into the congested streets of the city. I tried to pay no attention to them, but it was hard. I could almost feel heat of their glares upon my body, their ruby-eyes gazing at me with such hatred. At that time I had not been totally aware of why they were so angry with outlanders, but in due time that would change.




I had walked for nearly thirty minutes before realizing I had not a clue what I was doing. I thought I was walking through the city looking for this Caius Cosades, but in reality I was too much in awe by Balmora and its wondrous atmosphere. I’ve met plenty of Dunmer back in the Imperial City, but to see their homeland was so much different than I could have ever imagined. The building, the way the Dunmer dressed and acted around one another, the plant-life, and the creatures…it was all exotic to me. I felt as if I were walking through a dream. But alas, I had a duty to accomplish, whether I wanted to do it or not. However, that was easier said than done. I had no clue where to go, or who to ask for directions. Looking around through the crowd, I spotted a Dunmer in shining gold armor, with symbols and Dunmeri language painted onto the armor. I’ll admit, I was greatly intimidated by him, but after scanning the area I noticed there were many more like him, and I assumed he was some kind of city guard.

“Excuse me,” I said shyly, my voice wavering from the intimidation. “Are you a guard of this city?”

“Yes, outlander. I am a guard of the Great House Hlaalu. What do you need?” He answered, his raspy Dunmeri voice splitting through the air.

“I’m looking for the South Wall Cornerclub. Could you point me in the right direction, please?”

He looked at me for a few seconds and then pointed across a stone bridge over the Odai River. “Cross the bridge and walk past that house there. Once you’re past the house, take your first right and you’re there. There’s a large flag beside the door, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”

“Thank you,” I said, and then left, happy to have finally figured out where to go through this maze of a city.

After passing the bridge I walked straight past the house and then took a right, and sure enough a flag beside the door was flapping in the fierce winds, this one much larger than the Council Club banner. Two Khajiit males were whispering about something to the side of the house, and both of them quickly dispersed once they realized someone besides themselves was present. I watched them leave with curiosity, and then walked through the entrance of the South Wall Cornerclub.

[redsrock]

Chapter Five


The second I walked through the door my nostrils were filled with the sweetest of smells, and my ears were filled with the most wondrous of sounds. A low rumble was ripping though the air, bouncing off of the walls and coming from sounded to me like some sort of drum, though the rhythm was…deeper than what I had been accustomed to hearing in Cyrodiil. The beating from the drum was more pronounced and fierce, fast beats that never seemed to break tempo. The sound was mesmerizing enough, but the smells of the food and drink were just as pleasant. I knew not what I smelled since I was in a foreign land, but whatever it was it was certainly appetizing to say the least.

In front of me was a relatively long hallway, with two closed doors on each side. A lone Khajiit was leaning against the first door on the right, and he was eyeing me curiously. His hands fumbled at his sides nervously, and as I tried to walk past him he stopped me by placing his furry arm on my shoulder.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, balling my hands into fists and assuming the Khajiit was attempting to mug me. Too bad for him he wasn’t aware that my pockets were empty.

“No, no, no!” he quickly said, his hands having retreated back to show his intent. “S’raasi no mean to hurt Breton. S’raasi only wants to sell Breton pretty amulet.” He took a silver amulet from the lining of his jacket and showed it to me. It was truly a gorgeous piece of jewelry, its smooth material shining in the light of the torches against the walls. But I had a hunch it was stolen. If Khajiit in Morrowind were anything like they were in Cyrodiil, especially in the Imperial City, I could almost guarantee it was stolen.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” I replied, starting to walk away. But before I could get away he pulled me back.

“Breton doesn’t realize what this is!” S’raasi shouted. “The gem in this amulet is very rare, found only in the islands of Sheogorad! It is worth more than a thousand drakes, but S’raasi will sell it to Breton for a mere five hundred!”

“No it’s not,” I shot back forcefully. “That amulet is silver, and worth a good amount of gold, but it’s nothing rare. You’re trying to scam me, and you’d best leave before I decide to turn your smelly boat in to the city guards.” The Khajiit looked me in the eye for a few seconds. I could his hands shaking anxiously, almost abnormally. “And the way you’re shaking, I’d say you’re high on something. Moon sugar, perhaps? I know you Khajiit drink Skooma like it’s water, and there’s no doubt in my mind that you smoke the blue powder as well; which is illegal of course.”

He tilted his head sideways, as if trying to figure out whether or not I’d turn him in. Because the question wasn’t whether he had the drug and alcohol on him, it was more a matter of how much. I couldn’t smell anything on him, but I just knew he was hiding some somewhere in his overlarge jacket. He started walked towards me slowly, when a voice rang out from down the hall.

“S’raasi! How many times have I told you not to pester people?”

I turned around and saw another Khajiit, this one female. She was standing at the end of the hallway wearing some kind of white shell-like armor, her hands on her slender hips and her face scrunched up in a scowl.

Before I knew what was happening I heard S’raasi move behind me. I turned to see him run out the door with such tremendous speed. For a moment I simply stood there on the dirty-blue carpet, wondering what in Oblivion had just happened. Did this new Khajiit hold some kind of leadership? Then I felt the other Khajiit’s presence behind me, so I turned back around to find her standing before me.

“This one apologizes for S’raasi’s behavior, Breton. Sugar-Lips Habasi is my name. Welcome to the South Wall Cornerclub! You are a Breton, yet you are rather short for one of your kind, and you are not wearing the normal set of mage robes that so many Bretons wear. Why is that?”

“Well…let’s just say I’m not your normal Breton.”

“Very well. If there’s anything Habasi can help you with, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

She did a sort of awkward bow and smiled, her razor-sharp teeth glistening in the light just as S’raasi’s amulet had done. “Yes, well…there is something. I’m looking for an Imperial man by the name of Caius Cosades. Can you tell me his whereabouts?”

“Hmm….Habasi has heard of this name before, but she does not know much about this particular land-invader. This Caius lives just to the southwest of here, Habasi does know that. In fact, his house is the last on the left in the upper row of houses. Just take the stairs outside of the Cornerclub and take a left. The Imperial’s house will be straight ahead at the end of the street. Of course, Habasi grows old and her memory sometimes fades. I apologize if that ends up being the case. But Habasi does assure you, the house in the in the last row somewhere.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the help.”

I started to leave, but, similar to what S’raasi had done, Sugar-Lips Habasi grabbed my arm. “Habasi is sorry once more, but I’ll have to ask for a few gold coins. Information is not free after all.”

Suddenly a tight knot formed in my stomach, for I wasn’t expecting anything like this to happen. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any gold. I’m broke.”

“This one does not believe in such a phrase, for if that were true, how have you traveled to Balmora? Habasi has never seen you before, and if you walked here your clothes should be drenched in sweat, since it is the heart of Sun’s Height.”

“You want to check my pocket? I’m not lying.”

She smiled again, this time more reticently. “Sorry, but Habasi does not mingle with those not of her ethnic line. I will have to trust you this once. But remember what this one has said. Information is not free in these parts.”

I didn’t say anything, but instead nodded and then left as quickly as possible.




********************

Outside the two Khajiit were still gone, along with S’raasi as well, thankfully enough. I’ll admit I that had a bad feeling all three of them would be waiting outside to cut me into a hundred pieces, for in Cyrodiil the Khajiit beasts could always be found in groups. It would take me a while to get used to Morrowind’s differences.

I followed Habasi’s exact orders and ascended a set of stairs to the right of the Cornerclub. Then I took an immediate left and walked all the way down the street and came upon a lone building adjacent to the normal row of other houses. There were no signs as to whether this was the right place, for the exterior of the house was quite bare of anything. So I knocked on the door several times, and a few seconds later it opened. A man stood in front of me. At first glance I thought he was rather old, but then I realized it was just his balding and gray hair on the sides. He was likely not even in his sixties yet. Of course, fifties aren’t exactly considered young either.

“Yes, can I help you?” the man asked, his eyes looking me up and down with the most obvious stare of annoyance.

“Yes…are you Caius Cosades?”

“What if I am?”

“My name is Verick Syntras. I have a package to deliver, apparently from the Emperor.”

At the mention of Emperor, his look of annoyance quickly turned to one of curiosity and surprise. “The Emperor, you say?”

“Yes, sir. I was just released from prison in order to deliver this package to you. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the truth.”

And now his look changed yet again, this time to disbelief. “Empty your pockets and show me you are not an assassin,” he said, his hand now resting on the scabbard of an iron dagger at his side. “Do it now.”

Before he could slice me up I turned my pockets inside out and then raised my arms in the air to show that I was not carrying a weapon. Finally he motioned for me to follow him inside, and I did just that. I walked into the house, and to my surprise, Caius locked the door behind us. “Hand me the package,” he ordered.

I handed the package to him and then stepped to the side of the room in the corner. Caius walked over and sat down at a table beside his bed. It was a one-room house with not much living space to speak of. There was a desk, two bookshelves, a bed, some barrels in the corner next to me, and then a small round table with three chairs just beside the barrels. The only source of light came from a single torch on the wall above the head of his bed, along with two short blue-wax candles on the round table. I smelled something burning in the room, and that’s when a noticed a smoking-pipe on his desk. The smell was wasn’t as unpleasant as I had smelled so many times in the offices of the Imperial City. Rather, it had almost a sweet smell to it, no doubt because of the exotic herbs and spices Morrowind held.

Caius opened the package and took out a folded parchment. He unfolded the document and began reading it, his eyes scanning up and down, taking peeks at me every few seconds. After he was done reading, some five or so minutes later, he put the parchment back in the package, and then stuffed it under his bed with a slow flick of his muscular wrist.

“Verick…Syntras, you say your name is?” He asked me. While the tone of curiosity had not completely vanished, he was also more cheerful than before. Not by much, but some was better than none.

“Yes, sir, I did.”

Sir had been a title I learned at a very young age. Sir was how I addressed those above me during my years in the offices of the Imperial City, and that has stuck with me ever since. I even addressed the guards of the prison that way, much to their bewilderment.

“You have not attempted to break the lock of the package and then read the parchment, have you?”

“No, of course not. I have no lock picks in my possession.”

“Good. I am going to have to ask you to come back to me in a couple of hours. There…there is something we need to discuss, but I need some time to…prepare. “

I was drastically confused as to why I was still being asked to follow orders. And while I had a hint of questioning that I was more important than some mere messenger boy, now it was more of a fact. Something was up and I wanted some answers. Also, I had to be sure not to cop too much of an attitude. This was the Empire I was dealing with, and this Caius was likely an agent himself. It would definitely not be a smart move on my part to anger him in any way.

“I want to know what is going on. I was released from prison and told to give you a package, for whatever reasons I am still greatly unaware of. And now you say give you a couple of hours because there is something we need to talk about? Please tell me what is going on. I may not be the most intelligent person in the world, but I am not an idiot.”

Caius smiled at this, and stood up from his desk, his knees cracking under the pressure. “Verick, it is obvious that you were not released from prison simply to deliver me a package. If you actually thought that I’d have to call you an idiot to your face. You do have a great amount of importance, though, and that is why I ask for your presence at a later time. Unfortunately that’s all I can say, for not at least.”

“And what if I decide to leave Balmora?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“I’m afraid that would be a horrible decision, Verick,” he said, chuckling even. “If you are indeed not an idiot, you should realize the Emperor has sent at least one agent to follow you…likely more. I don’t know this for sure, though, I am just taking an educated guess. I highly doubt the Emperor would send you here without staying aware of your whereabouts.”

“Yes…I thought so,” I said, admitting defeat. For the time being, it appeared I had no choice but to cooperate. “Fine. I’ll be back in…a couple of hours?”

“Make it a few I’d say. It may take me a while to do what I need to do. Here are fifty drakes. Do with them what you like, just don’t get into any trouble.”

I took a small pouch of gold from him, and then nodded and left the house, heading back towards the Cornerclub in order to get a bite to eat and something to drink. But before I could even think about anything, three figures stood in front of me, roughly twenty yards away. S’raasi stood in front of me, along with the other two Khajiit I had seen earlier as well.

“Habasi is not here to save the Breton now,” S’raasi taunted. I looked around and realized the street was bare of anyone else besides the four of us, much to my dismay. “I think it’s time we teach the Breton a lesson in manners. Perhaps we start with his tongue?”

The three of them took out iron daggers and began walking slowly towards me, sly grins spread across their faces and gripping their daggers with much aggression. I had been backed into a corner with nowhere to go, and unfortunately for me there was no use in running. Khajiit were fast beasts. Of course, like I mentioned to Habasi earlier, I am not your normal Breton.

[canis216]

This fellow seems to have a way of stumbling into trouble. And what, I wonder, is so special about Verick? Special enough to get out of this jam unarmed?

Edit:

"I’ll admit I that had a bad feeling all three of them would be waiting outside to cut me into a hundred pieces" - nice bit of foreshadowing

Occasionally troubled by odd/incongruous word choices, like Caius' "slow flick" of the wrist. It seems like 'flick' implies a quick motion, no?

This update does a lot towards establishing Verick's views towards others. He seems somewhat in thrall to the strange culture of Vvardenfell, but we also see the prejudices he carries over from Cyrodiil, which informed his blunt (and rather haughty, I thought) approach to his first encounter with S'raasi. Verick seems to be drawn with some nuance, even if his own approach (so far) seems a bit unsubtle.

I suppose a few more encounters with knife-wielding khajiits will teach him the value of subtlety.

This post has been edited by canis216: Dec 29 2008, 04:31 AM

[redsrock]

Don't know, we'll have to see.

Also, thanks to my renewed interest in Teir, chapters will come slower than usual. Sorry.