Lovaas se Yol - Prologue

• Posted by SpookyBorn2021 June 13, 2016 - 2,002 views

  "Sadras Indiri, first born daughter of Vlorri Indiri, you have been found guilty of arson, unapproved conjuration, use of magic to disturb public order and several related offences. For a period of three months, you will be placed in the low security section of the Bulwark Jail. After your sentence has finished, you may either work as part of the Redoran Guard, or may leave free of charge to the mainland. If you have any questions, please ask now.”

  A young Dunmer woman from the small crowd stood up with a sheepish grin, mischief flittering behind her near pink eyes. Her head was nearly completely bare of hair, but for the thin strip of dark red hair running down the middle.

  “Ergh, nope, no questions here your honourable honour, none at all. Prison, then either standing in the wind and ash for hours on end or trudging through snow after a week long boat ride. Great options, thank you Councillor sir.”

  With a sigh the Councillor called in two heavily armoured Dunmer, garbed in the traditional bonemold armour of the Redoran Guard before turning to them and saying, “Lyarii, Selnavi, please escort the young Indiri here to her cell please. She is to be treated as any other prisoner of course, and, well, just try and ignore most of what she says.”

  With a sharp salute the guards began leading the smaller woman towards the prison, ignoring her quips and comments, which may or may not have involved a few choice words about the relationship between their mother and a wild boar. Once again releasing a sigh, Councillor LlerilMorvayn rose and began pacing the room before letting out a strained whisper.

  “Adril my friend, where did I go wrong with her? Vlorri tasked me with raising her after his death, and yet she feels the need to act out constantly. Is that my wrong-doing, or just her father’s nature at work? Ah it doesn’t really matter I suppose; either way I fear she’ll be gone from Raven Rock by the end of the year – I just can’t see her staying to join the Guard.”

  “Councillor, you really shouldn’t worry about her so. Both of us know there was nothing that you could’ve done, being so busy with the lack of ebony. This wasn’t the first time her powers escaped her control, and luckily this time nobody was hurt. Vlorri would understand the situation,” Adril replied, attempting to soothe the Councillor.

  At this, both men turned away, and began working on solutions to the mess that the young Indiri caused.

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  “Come on ya milk-drinkers, is a small Orcish lass too much for yer to handle? I’ll fight ya, two, three at a time, just fifty septims a fight, win and ya can have yer money back” came a shout from within the inn.

  I entered the Candlehearth Inn to the scene of a massive bar fight, and in the centre of it all stood a relatively small Orcish woman, about as tall as an Imperial and nowhere near the usual massive size of her race. In the spree of Nordic fighters, she stood firm, flinging chairs and swinging punches at anyone who approached her. Already four had found their place, face down in a pool of blood and what I can only assume was mead

  Now this was proper entertainment; these savage Nords being flung this way and that in their, well, rather primitive inn just really brought a smile to my face. Ah, and then another of the idiots went charging straight at her, fists ready in what I suppose passed as a boxer’s stance, but… ah nope, two punches straight to the face and he was down..

  “This the best ya can do weaklings? It was twelve on one and yer already down to just seven, come at me a bit stronger,ya milk-drinkers!” Another bellow from the Orcish woman echoed through the inn.

  Stepping over the unconscious bodies of the locals and more than a few spilled mugs of mead, I approached the bar looking for a drink. twenty septims later and I had myself a moderate alto wine to enjoy this fight with. The Orcish woman was in fine form; a kick to a table had one Nord stumbling over it, right into her fist while a bottle of wine was flung directly at a second. That was one more down, and another temporarily blinded. Her fist leaped up from her side, smashing a flying chair away while the other came forth with a chair of her own, smashing it into the man who’d just been doused with wine. All the while, shouts, grunts and short screams of pain could be heard.

  As I took another small sip of my wine, one of the uglier locals stepped towards me.

  “Hey yoos Elf face, whatchu think yor doing in ore citee, problee one of them Elf spies coming here to, to do spying!” he shouted drunkenly, and with that, he swung his fist at me, or at least in my general direction.

  A quick push from the bar led to him smacking his fist into the hardwood that made up most of the inn instead of my face.A spinning step after that got me a metre  away from the drunken local, and a launched leg left one more Nord lying in a pool of his own blood. All of this, naturally, was done with a grace and elegance that these savage Nords had probably never seen.

  The Orcish  woman had long finished her fight, leaving a small collection of bodies, a large pool of blood and more broken chairs lying around than I have ever seen in my life, and at one hundred and thirty-two years of age, that isn’t something you can say very often. As she approached the barmaid, I could see a large pouch of coin being exchanged – the winnings for the fight, I assumed. Ah it didn’t matter; she was the exact kind of person that I needed to hire.

  “Excuse me miss, I couldn’t help but notice your fight – well, obviously– but I’d like to talk to you about a business opportunity, for the next year at the very least. I can promise that I’m willing to pay handsomely; one thousand septims each month plus any expenses for weapons and armour will be paid for if you’re willing to join me.”

  A grunted “sure” is all I got, but for now that’ll have to do. Off to adventure, the Orcish Brawler and the Altmeri Thief.

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  Wind roared and snow poured forth from all directions. The steps leading up the mountain were always perilous this time, or at least that is what I'd been told. All I knew was that this cold could not be good for me –it was never this cold at home.

  Higher and higher I climbed, bow held ready to vanquish any enemy that crossed my path, my dear friend Jairi armed with staff and dagger, ready to back me up if we came across anything too powerful.

  “Ara-Sul, my friend. This cold must be horrible for you. Do you know how close we are to the top?” Jairi asked, her voice barely audible in the howling winds of the mountain.

  “We have but a mere one thousand more steps,Jairi.We will be there within the next two hours, but perhaps we should stop just ahead for the night. There, a small outcrop should provide some protection from the wind.”

  Pushing through what felt like tonnes of snow, we managed to get close to the barrier.It would give us a small amount of protection, at least.It was completely bare of snow, untouched by any wildlife and was seemingly a perfect haven for adventurers. Perhaps that was the purpose originally; well, whatever the case, we began setting up camp.

  As she was attempting to make the fire, Jairi turned to me with a question on her lips before turning back towards the pile of wood we’d brought up with us, trying to create a spark with her limited skills in magic. “Ara-Sul, my friend. What do you expect when we reach the top of the mountain? How do you expect the Greybeards shall react?”

  “I believe they shall welcome the Dragonborn with open arms, Jairi, worry not.” My own voice sounded strained in my reply, for no matter what I said, the worry I felt for how I would be received by the Greybeards had plagued my every waking moment. An Argonian Dragonborn? How strange, never recorded before, and yet after we slew that dragon, memories drifted into me. I remembered the feeling of flight, of freedom far above the rest of the joor, free.

  With fire finally roaring, we drifted off to sleep for the last day before I would meet the Greybeards in their home of High Hrothgar. The last day before I faced my destiny.