Arrival at the Roost
Ian S. McClure
The nature of reality in our fair land of Tamriel is cruel and oftentimes short. One can only hope that Aetherius is more tranquil, for to be mortal and alive is to be in constant danger of wars, of assassins, of banditry, of the very land itself, and last but most certainly not the least, the Daedra. It was to the latter that I fell prey, tragically for I was sacrificed to the dread Molag Bal, Daedric Lord of Enslavement and Brutality. In short, I have no soul. And no soul means no Aetherius, no blessed rest.
I presume I should introduce myself to the reader of this journal- for if anyone other than I possess it, than I no longer walk on the soil of Tamriel. Whether that means salvation in the afterlife, or damnation in the pits of Coldharbour, I cannot say. My name is Ardolan Larethbinder, fourth and youngest son of Kinlord Ralodoren Larethbinder, who rules over Shimmerene, the city of lights, in the Summerset Isles. Naturally, this makes me an Altmer- or High Elf to most. Unlike my brothers and sister, I had no interest in the throne. I knew my calling to be the art of combat, the deadly dance of swords and shields and armor. It was this why I left for mainland Tamriel at the age of sixteen, to join the rightful cause of Varen Aquilarios, who fought to end the legalization of Daedra worship. Despite the odds, our small force eventually emerged victorious, with Varen being crowned Emperor.
Yet, it was not to be. For Varen was soon gone, vanishing under circumstances most mysterious, while Clivia Tharn was named Empress Regent. This led to chaos, for she and her father Abnur were but puppets of the evil King of Worms, Mannimarco, who worships Molag Bal. I attempted to flee Cyrodiil, but I was trapped, captured, and executed. Yes, I was dead- dead as anyone can be. But my newfound lack of soul means I can never truly die- I can resurrect with a filled Soul Gem. But it is a sad mockery of the life I once lived, and I vowed to recover my soul.
When I escaped Coldharbour, I awoke on a ship, curiously enough. An Altmeri ship at that, if the eagle motifs were any indication. A comforting thought- not only are the Altmer renowned for their ships, but it also meant that surely there were others of my kind nearby. Moreover, this ship, while not top of the line, was certainly impressive even from the inside. I saw nearby my armor, which was plate armor wrought by the smiths of Chorrol in the style of my people, and my blade, which was a gift from my mother. My current attire was far more humble- a simple green tunic, brown breeches and rough shoes. I actually liked the simplicity- it is better to blend in than to stick out like a sore thumb.
Still, it is best to be prepared for any situation. I packed my armor and shield in my pack, easily carrying the weight thanks to a lifetime of wearing and fighting in it. My sword, meanwhile, went on my hip. Despite the fact that I prefer full armor when engaging in combat, I am reasonably capable fighting unarmored as well. I exited the room I was in rather unsteadily, for I was unused to the rocking of the ship. I am quite proud I did not fall over, in actuality. I managed to get up to the deck without incident.
I looked at the docks at which the ship was moored. I recognized immediately as being of the Summerset Isles, but where specifically I could not say. “Ha! I was worried you'd never wake up!”. I turned on a dime, sighting a portly Breton man- clearly the captain of the ship, surprisingly. “My name's Tremouille. You slept all the way from Khenarthi's Roost. Right through the hurricane!”. I blinked, for I had no recollection of a hurricane.
Evidently, Tremouille noticed my confusion. He explained, “A Khajiit named Razum-dar fished you out of the ocean. Paid me a small fortune to bring you here… We barely made it out of Khenarthi's Roost before the hurricane hit!”.
“Clearly I owe this Khajiit my life.” I thought. “I should really thank him in person.”. Aloud, I asked, “Where is this Razum-dar now?”.
According to the captain, he was at an old fort called Eagle's Strand on the island of Khenarthi's Roost, named after the Khajiiti goddess of the sky (who many believe to be a variant of the Imperial goddess Kynareth). He refused to return, but he did inform me of another Khajiit, a shady character named Sugar-Claws. I went to her, despite my disdain for criminals (which Sugar-Claws clearly was), and she did indeed offer to take me to the island. Of course, her small boat was nothing like Tremouille's- indeed, I thought we'd capsize at any moment, such was the rocking. But we have arrived safely at the fort.
I do believe that will suffice for now. I will write in this again when something important happens.
-Ardolan Larethbinder
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