Voyage of the Prowler
Ian S. McClure
“Would you people hurry it up? I’d prefer to reach Vulkhel Guard before earning the title of ‘dro’!” Quartermaster Oblan shouted as the sailors of the Prowler walked aboard. He grumbled, sipping at his moon-sugar rum, and turned his head to me. “Sorry about the delays, Ardolan. We’ll be off as soon as they board, according to Captain Jimila.”
I smiled. “Are Sergeant Firion and her squad coming? I know Gathwen had business to settle on Khenarthi’s Roost.”
The Khajiit nodded. “Aye, that they are. The Captain has made them honorary crew members after they helped us out at the Shoals.”
I then nodded and turned to gaze at the sailors coming aboard from my vantage point on the deck. Most of them were of the Dominion races - Altmer, Bosmer and Khajiit - though I did spot a few others, including Bretons and Argonians. Eventually, a familiar face appeared in the crowd.
“Elereth!” I shouted, waving. I had been unsure if she was coming, for a day after the battle with the Maormer, Commander Karinith had taken her away, presumably to have her properly rejoin the Dominion’s armed forces despite her requests to stay with me. I had thought she was to remain on Khenarthi’s Roost, perhaps at the garrison at Eagle’s Strand, yet here she was.
Elereth got onto the deck, holding the railing for support amidst the rocking of the ship. “Hey, Ardolan.” she said with a grin. “Glad I could make it. Razum-dar convinced the Commander to let me stay with you. So, I guess I’m headed for Auridon! Speaking of Raz, is he here? I want to thank him.”
I shook my head, frowning slightly. “No, he’s not. I thought he’d be coming, but he told me yesterday that he’ll be on the island for a while longer, like Gathwen. Wouldn’t tell me why.”
I returned my gaze to the sailors, the last of whom were boarding the Prowler. Oblan took another sip, then grinned.
“Finally! I’ll tell Captain Jimila we’re set, then. It should take… a week, perhaps, for us to reach Auridon, if everything goes well. We have enough supplies for a week and half, just in case.” Having said that, he went to tell the Captain of our preparedness, leaving me with Elereth.
“Are you excited, Ardolan?” she asked. “This is only my second voyage on a ship, the first one being when I got to the Roost. Hopefully there’ll be no hurricane this time…” She sighed then, suddenly looking a bit sad.
“Everything all right, Elereth?” I asked, concerned.
She nodded, her gaze distant. “Yeah. Just, ah, remembering the old man – my father, that is. He’d be proud of me, I think, with how I handled this Maormer business. He was pretty strict at times, but it’s because of him I joined the Dominion marines at all. He was so loyal to Valenwood, to the Bosmer people – it made him happy when I joined him. He was a Jaqspur, actually; I guess that’s why I’m so good at archery.”
“Jaqspur?” I asked, not being familiar with the term.
“Long distance archers. They’re great bowmen, even among other Bosmer,” Elereth explained, returning to reality. “If you think I’m good at archery, you have to see a Jaqspur in action. Father was amazingly good with his bow…” Here, Elereth looked at me. “What about your parents? You’ve never mentioned them.”
Now it was my turn to lose myself in memories. I remembered my noble upbringing, sheltered from the dangers of the world in the presence of the Altmeri societal elite, attending parties and taking classes with my siblings. I found it all fantastically boring – my true calling was the sword, as I’ve mentioned previously. Eventually, I said, “Well, you were somewhat right when you said I’m a noble – I’m the son of Kinlord Ralodoren Larethbinder, the ruler of Shimmerene. But I haven’t spoken to him, or to Mother, in years. After I left politics to become a warrior - a decision they found highly naive and ill-planned - we fell out of touch.”
Elereth’s eyes widened. “That was – what – ten years ago? You haven't spoken to your family in ten years? Not even when you… hen you lost your soul?”
I remained silent. It had only struck me, at that moment, that my family knew nothing at all of my life after I left them, nor I of theirs. I didn’t write during Varen’s rebellion for Cyrodiil; I didn’t write after escaping Coldharbour; I didn’t write after the battle for Mistral. I felt guilty, ashamed – my kin did not deserve to be in the dark like that.
Finally, I said simply, “No. I have not. But I will.”
Before Elereth could respond, we were interrupted. From her position at the helm of the ship, Captain Jimila shouted, “Anchors away! All hands, prepare to set sail!”
And as she said that, the massive iron anchor was raised, and the Prowler began to float away from the docks of Mistral, carried by the tides towards the Abecean Sea and the Summerset Isles.
Elereth’s golden eyes lit up with joy. “Alright!” she exclaimed. “We’re off to Auridon!”
The first two days of the journey were uneventful – the novelty of life at sea soon grew mundane. I ate, I slept, and I stared at the vast expanse of water and sky. The only interesting thing was that I befriended Suhr and Virkvild, the two sailors I had rescued at the Shoals. They were pleasant company. Suhr, the Khajiit, was smart, and a rather good painter in his spare time, though he was known to be a bit cowardly amongst the crew. Virkvild, the Nord, was an excellent player of cards, and though he lacked Suhr’s knowledge of many things, he was wise in his own way, and a fantastic warrior to boot.
Still, it was not until the third day that anything interesting happened. Well, I say interesting – it was actually rather distressing. Late that day, when the sun began to set, Virkvild found me as I ate with Elereth.
“Hey,” he said, “Mastengwe’s looking for you.”
“Mastengwe?” I asked, recalling the name. Jimila said it was she who discovered the Maormer’s plans at the Shoals, though I had not met her in person. “What does she want?”
Virkvild sighed. “I’ll let her explain it herself. Come on.”
With a glance at Elereth, who shrugged, I followed the Nord to Mastengwe’s room. There were two other people there – Suhr, looking quite afraid of something, and a slender, well-dressed Altmer woman – clearly Mastengwe herself. There was a long, narrow box on her bed, whose contents I did not know at the moment.
Mastengwe looked up, smiling. “Ah! Ardolan, no? Glad you could make it. Close the door, would you, Virkvild?”
“What is this about?” I asked as Virkvild did as requested.
Mastengwe rubbed her hands together. “Well! As you may or may not know, I am an ardent scholar of many things. Recently, I came across a most curious staff with unusual properties. What research I have been able to do points to it being a near-mythical artifact!” I quirked a brow, highly doubtful, as she continued: “This staff has the power to polymorph creatures. It transforms them! Now, there’s only one staff known to Tamriel that can do that.”
Here, she opened the box, revealing a staff, whose tip was molded into faces of various expressions. “I present to you, the Wabbajack, artifact of Sheogorath!”
I was silent for a long bit, shocked into muteness. Finally, I gathered my thoughts and managed to ask: “Are you out of your mind? You brought a Daedric artifact onto the ship? Does the Captain know?”
“She doesn’t need to know. It’s perfectly harmless unless you shoot someone with it,” Mastengwe said cheerily. “Still, what I’m going to do with it may be a tad dangerous; that's why you’re here. I’m going to examine the staff, see how the underlying magicka works in such a unique fashion. The divination spell will examine the Wabbajack’s properties, but I don’t know how the staff will respond. You’re here in case something goes wrong – you can restrain me if necessary.”
I considered my options, but in the end, the possibility of a recently-driven-insane mage running amok on the Prowler with a Daedric artifact was a situation best avoided. I rolled my eyes.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Against my better judgement,” I grumbled.
“Great!” Mastengwe cried, overjoyed. “Alright, Suhr, Virkvild, Ardolan. If this goes wrong, know that I did this for the benefit of magical studies, and I have no regrets.”
With that, she closed her eyes and began humming. The staff emitted a glow, a strange purple light, gradually brightening.
“It’s working!” Suhr cried, equal parts terrified and impressed.
And then the staff exploded.
I came to groggily, surprised to find myself slumped against the wall. Clearly, the staff’s sudden outburst of energy had thrown me there, and I had lost consciousness. Three people were there with me – a worried Elereth, a furious Jimila, and an unfamiliar female Argonian.
“Hey!” Elereth said, looking at me closely. “Ardolan’s come to.”
“Thanks the Stars,” the Argonian said, rushing over. “Ardolan, try not to move. Or talk. Or do anything, actually. I need to see the extent of the effects.”
Alarmed, I stared at those present. “Effects!?” I near-shouted. I blinked, then coughed. My voice was much higher than it usually was. “What in Oblivion do you mean by ‘effects’?” I demanded, ignoring that for now.
The Argonian sighed shakily, staring pleadingly at Elereth. My Bosmer companion hesitated, then said, “Erm. When Mastengwe cast her spell on the staff, it released a bunch of magical energy. She says it wasn’t destroyed – just ‘relocated’, whatever in Oblivion that means. Unfortunately, it… uh…” She swallowed, visibly nervous. “Well, all that energy had to go somewhere. It got absorbed by you all.”
I stared, aghast. “Elereth. What happened?” I said, nervous myself.
She looked away. “Suhr’s a talking mudcrab; Virkvild is a statue. Mastengwe – she’s this Argonian here.” Elereth pointed at said Argonian, who rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed.
“And what about me? Elereth, what happened to me?” I said, resisting the urge to look down and see for myself.
There was a silence – a horribly awkward thing, which stretched on for far longer than it should have. Finally, Elereth coughed. “Well. You still seem to be you. Just… a different you, I guess. You’re, er...” She looked at the Argonian – Mastengwe, it seemed – who bit her lower lip.
“You’re a woman, Ardolan,” she said, also not looking at me.
I blinked, then finally looked down, being greeted by the sight of a female body. “Damn it,” I swore, and promptly passed out from shock.
“You’re certain you can fix this?” I asked Mastengwe some hours later as she and Elereth attempted to calm me down.
To say the situation was odd would be an understatement; I never, in my wildest dreams, thought I’d possess a woman’s body. It feels wrong on many levels. Though, all things considered, my predicament could be far, far worse. I’m still a normal person, even an Altmer to boot. When I look at Suhr or Virkvild, I can’t help but be relieved I’m still humanoid, still able to move on my own. And, strange as it may sound, I am at least an attractive woman.
Stars, that sounds so weird.
But I've gotten distracted - back to the events of the voyage. Mastengwe sighed, tapping her newly-scaled fingers together. “Fairly certain. I need to wait to reach Vulkhel Guard, though. The Mages Guild there has the resources I need to contain the Wabbajack’s magic – I simply can’t work on this while we’re at sea.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great. Now I’ll have sailors ogling me until we get there. Truly, women have my sympathy.” I shuddered slightly at the thought of seamen staring at me, then looked down with a huff. “Doesn’t help that I’m so… generously proportioned. Why couldn’t that staff at least make me flat-chested?”
Elereth suddenly hummed. “Speaking of. You’re going to need to change clothes. Or at least wear the proper undergarments. Don’t want your new ‘assets’ bouncing around, do we?” she said.
I felt my cheeks suddenly redden as I looked down. My current outfit – a green tunic and breeches made in the Altmeri style – was now ill-fitted for me. And yet, I knew damn well I did not want to wear womens’ clothing. I fought with the concept, trying to find some workaround, before resigning myself to the fact.
“Very well. No skirts, though.”
The next day was no better. News of Mastengwe’s accident had spread through the ship like wildfire, and everyone knew of our fates. Though the bulk of odd questions went to Suhr, in his form of a mudcrab that could somehow still speak, I received my fair share of inquiries, ranging from merely awkward to quite inappropriate. Though, mercifully, the Captain found me an outfit I was mostly comfortable with, there was no hiding my ample chest or behind, and I knew that pretty much every sailor on the ship stared at some point.
That night, I ate with Elereth again, sharing a sugary meal of Khajiiti cuisine. We ate in silence, but once we finished, Elereth said, “So. You’ve been to Auridon before, right? What’s it like?”
I thought back, recalling the times I had visited. “It’s quite a nice place,” I said. “The beaches, the glades, the cities. It’s very serene, tranquil. And yet, the Altmer there are more grounded, perhaps, than most. They’ve had to deal with assailants to the Isles since my kind has lived there. But overall, quite a nice place to visit.”
Elereth nodded. “Sounds very different from Valenwood. I mean, the Green is beautiful, too. But it’s different. Less orderly, less controlled. You’d be mad to try and tame the forest, even without the Green Pact fanatics about.”
I looked curiously at her. “You don’t practice the Green Pact? I thought all Bosmer did.”
Elereth laughed. “What? No, of course I do. But I don’t pretend to force others into it, as well. The Green Pact is for Bosmer alone, our sacred pact with Y’ffre. Outsiders shouldn’t be forced to comply as well, if you ask me.”
“Forgive me for asking, Elereth, but do you consider yourself to be very spiritual? We’ve never talked about our beliefs,” I said.
Elereth thought about it for a little while. “Well. I’m certainly not the most devout of Bosmer, but I’ve followed the Green Pact all my life,” she finally said. “I’ve never used plant material, even if it doesn’t come from the Green. My bow, for instance, is made of bone and sinew, not wood and string. And I made sure my armor was made to follow the Pact as well, when I joined the Dominion marines.” She grinned suddenly. “Though I admit, I only follow it because I don’t want to end up in the Ooze – the place where the condemned who don’t follow Y’ffre’s rules go. I’ve always been terrified I’ll spend my afterlife trapped there…”
“I imagine,” I said. “This Ooze must be a terrible place.”
Elereth responded, “Well, it’s not so much the Ooze itself that’s terrible. It’s the fact that Y’ffre has erased your part in his story, the fact that you’ll only be remembered as a Bosmer who failed her duty to the Green. There are, supposedly, Bosmer blessed by Y’ffre who can free souls from the Ooze, but nobody’s ever met one.”
“You’re afraid to die,” I said softly, the realization striking me.
She sighed, looking away. “In the end? I am. I’m not like you – all brave, charging into battle without fear. It probably helps that you have no soul.”
Here, I interrupted her. “Elereth, a warrior without some fear does not live long. Fear, in fact, can be a good thing; it keeps you cautious, keeps you from doing stupid, reckless things. But you can’t let it stop you from doing what you think is right.”
Elereth smiled, ever so slightly. “That’s awful wise of you… I'll keep that in mind.”
I nodded. “Good. And, know this, Elereth – I will do all in my power to make sure you survive, no matter what misfortune befalls us.” Here, I looked down with a huff. “Even if, in my current form, I doubt I can fight very well.”
Elereth chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ardolan. Mastengwe will fix things as soon as we reach Vulkhel Guard. I doubt she wants to stay as an Argonian.” She leaned back in her chair, grinning. “You want my advice? Treat your transformation as a learning experience like any other. I know if I had my gender switched, or my race changed, I’d be eager to see life from those new eyes while it lasted… Besides, you’re not a statue or a talking crab. That has to count for something.”
I fell silent, considering Elereth’s words. In the end, I simply said, “It’s getting late, Elereth. We should get some rest. I’ll think about what you said.”
And indeed I will. There are only about three, maybe four days left before we reach Auridon. Stars know what will happen until then, but I’m confident I can deal with whatever happens. I’ll write again once we reach Vulkhel Guard. Until then…
-Ardolan Larethbinder
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Well done, sir. Well done!