Sevria's Travels: The City Of Man

• Posted by MarkusMasterThief May 28, 2015 - 973 views

  

  The relentless rain from the previous night had subsided, and was soon replaced by a blinding flurry of snow. Her fur armor insulated her body somewhat, but Sevria was still bitterly cold. In fact she could even say with certainty that this part of Skyrim was the coldest she'd ever felt...which hold was she in now? Just ahead, right down the road she was walking on, there could be seen the vaguest shape of what appeared to be a sign post. Sevria hastily approached the post in the hopes that it could tell her where she was. And though it did not name the hold, it did point her in the direction of the nearest city: a proud settlement called Windhelm.

  Sevria wasted no time in seeking out this city; she needed someplace to warm her bones, where she didn't have to worry about her personal safety; that run-in with Arabella had shaken her deeper than she thought. At length she finally found the great city, and was awestruck by its size; the walls seemed to tower over her young frame, displaying the might and integrity of human ingenuity. The mighty stone bridge to the city was long and wide, and seemed to pronounce man's pride even louder than the walls. Even the great door to the city stood proudly before her as she approached, dwarfing even the mighty Nord guards that stood at either side of it. Sevria's curiosity was staggering; she absolutely had to see the rest of this place! Pushing the gate open, she beheld at last the crown jewel of human civilization...

  Everything around her was built and sustained by man's mighty craftsmanship, and it showed. The inn standing in front of her looked less like a place of rest, and more like a strong fortress; the walls of the city were just as tall as the ones protecting it, and though the architecture crumbled in many places, it still held firmly together like the legacy of those who created it. Sevria stood in awe of Windhelm's majesty, grinning like a child and unable to put her feelings to words. This truly was the pinnacle of white man's architectural creations! In fact so amazed was she that she was no longer bothered by the cold; how could she be, when beholding such an astounding place?

  "New to Windhelm?" A guard spoke to her, "What brings you here? We don't get a whole lot of elf visitors."

  "I came to Skyrim from Valenwood some time ago. I've made it my quest to explore this land of yours... I'm amazed by what your kind has made!"

  "Aye, it's really something, isn't it? Used to be the capital of Skyrim itself."

  "I don't understand why it isn't anymore; is there some place better?"

  "Better?" The guard scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Everyone keeps talking about how Solitude is so much better than Windhelm... damn milk-drinkers is what I say about them! This city is a monument to our race, and our homeland. But Solitude? That's just a pale imitation."

  Sevria was put off a bit by the guard's sudden tone. "Um... yes, I'm sure it is."

  "You don't look very sure to me."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You're not doubting our integrity, are you, elf?"

  "I don't understand, why do you--"

  A finely-dressed man cut into the conversation. "What's all this, then?"

  "Captain Lonely-Gale?" The guard said, his tone suddenly shifting to a more neutral one.

  "Don't you have a patrol to get to? Leave this girl alone."

  "But she's a... oh, fine... but the guards will be keeping an eye on her."

  The guard walked off, and the Captain spoke to Sevria. "My apologies. Our city doesn't have the best history with the elves... most guards have gotten a bit paranoid as of late, what with the White-Gold Concordat and all."

  "I've heard of what happened, and the war it's caused... how do I tell your people that the Thalmor are my enemies as well?"

  "There's no getting through to them, I'm afraid. These are trying times. I'm sorry."

  Sevria looked down. "I see..."

  "You look cold. C'mon, I know of a place where you can warm up."

  Captain Lonely-Gale guided Sevria down to the lower reaches of Windhelm, into the Gray Quarter where the majesty and grandeur of the city deteriorated into the most paltry of slums and neglected alleys. While the upper levels of the city were clean and proud, the structures of the Gray Quarter were broken and poorly maintained; while much of the higher levels of Windhelm were built of solid stone, much of the Gray Quarter was built of rotting old wood; in the higher levels there was prosperity and pride, but here... here there was illness and decay.

  "What is this place?"

  "The Nords call it the Gray Quarter because of the dark elves that've made it their home. Grey-skins, they call 'em."

  "Isn't that--"

  "Rude? Yes... but the elves living here would take these insults any day so long as they could live in a better place."

  "Why are they living here, and not with the Nords?"

  "After the explosion of Red Mountain in Morrowind, the dark elves needed a home. Windhelm was the closest place they could reach, but the Nords were reluctant to welcome them into their city. So a compromise was reached... but it left the dark elves struggling to survive. But at least they have homes in the walls; down at the docks, there are Argonian refugees who aren't even allowed to enter the city."

  "Why did you bring me here, Captain?"

  "The New Gnisis Cornerclub. It's not much, I know, but it'll keep you comfortable. And the elves running it will be far more tolerable than the Nords above."

  The two entered the Cornerclub and Sevria took a seat. As she warmed up at the table, she reflected upon her naive opinion of man; even after all that she had witnessed and endured, she still had seen humankind as great artisans and warriors, yet they would do such terrible things to those that looked different from them? Why? What crimes had she and the other immigrants committed against mankind? What justification did the Nords have for this behavior? Time passed, and Sevria enjoyed light conversation with the refugees in the Cornerclub... when they heard a voice outside in the alley.

  "You like living in this filthy slum, dark elves? Maybe you should go back to Morrowind, where you belong!"

  "Oh great... not him again." The barkeep Ambarys Rendar groaned.

  "Who is that?" Sevria wondered aloud.

  "That'd be Rolff Stone-Fist, brother of the Jarl's right-hand man, Galmar Stone-Fist. And it sounds to me like he's drunk again."

  "Does he do this often?"

  "What, you mean go around the Gray Quarter at night and pester us for daring to live in poverty? Yup. Third time this week, in fact."

  "Of all the..." Sevria was dumbfounded. "Doesn't anyone stop him?"

  "You can try asking the guards. Doubt it'll help, though."

  Sevria left the club and took a glance at Rolff; he was a man of average height, with a dirty mustache and common clothes that looked as if they hadn't been washed in years. In fact, judging by the smell, they most likely hadn't. In his hand was a bottle of mead, which he continued to drink from as he kept ranting and raving the Gray Quarter. Sevria had never seen such a repulsive person in all her life! Feeling frustrated she approached a passing guard to try and put an end to this travesty.

  "That man Stone-Fist is going mad!" She protested, "You have to stop him!"

  "Why? He's not hurting anybody." The guard shrugged. "Leave him be."

  "Do you hear what he is saying? He's degrading the refugees! And you're just going to let him do it?!"

  "He's not breaking the law. Until someone gets killed down there or something, it's not my problem."

  "Ugh!" Furiously Sevria turned her back to the guard and approached Rolff directly. If the guards weren't going to shut him up, she would do it herself! "Hey!" She called out at him.

  Rolff turned around to face her and scoffed. "Oh... great. Now we're lettin' red-skins into the city too? Go back to your precious forests, you--"

  "I've never seen such a miserable person as you! These people have done nothing wrong, yet you treat them like this?!"

  "They're parasites. They're living in our city, under our protection, but what do they do for us? Nothing! I know the High King invited them here, but he didn't ask me or anyone else first. Maybe he should have."

  "Maybe they'd be more willing to help if they felt welcomed by your people!"

  "Yeah, well maybe we don't welcome them!" Rolff growled, pushing Sevria back and taking another swig of mead out of spite -- only for Sevria to smack the bottle from his hand and send it smashing to the ground. The resident dark elves gathered around the two of them, watching.

  "You're the useless one, getting drunk like this!" Sevria shot back, "What do you do for your city?!"

  "Simple: I'm gonna be the one that drives out this gray-skin filth! And I ain't too fond of you types either! Don't think I can take you, little tree-hugger? Don't think I can knock you back to where you came from?"

  He was inviting violence now. Sevria was quietly intimidated by his intensity, but she couldn't back down. Not while the dark elves who'd gathered here were watching with hope in their eyes. Not to mention, she already had an advantage here; she was sober, he was not. The fight wouldn't be a fair one. "You can't win this, white man, you're drunk. Go home, leave them in peace, and sleep this off."

  "You first!"

  Rolff threw the first punch and knocked Sevria to the ground. He attempted to kick her before she could rise, but his leg missed its mark and Sevria jumped back to her feet. She delivered three punches to his head: two jabs to stun him, and a leaping blow to stagger him. The dark elves cheered in Sevria's favor, as Rolff tried in vain to land many other blows... but Sevria was simply too quick to be punched. Then, in a surprise move, Rolff grabbed her and threw her into the door of the Atheron residence, sending her off her feet and briefly stunning her.

  "Here's what I think of your grey-skins!" Rolff bellowed, throwing another blow to Sevria's head.

  But the effects of Rolff's drunken state betrayed him; his fist was not as quick and precise as it would have been otherwise, and Sevria caught it right before it reached her face. Mightily she threw him back into the opposite wall and stood up, waiting for him to make another move.

  "You fought well, white man, now go." She tried one more time to approach this reasonably. "You don't have to keep fighting."

  But Rolff wouldn't have it. No way in Oblivion was he going to let himself get beaten by a filthy elf... and a woman at that! He'd never hear the end of it! He'd be the laughing stock of the city! No, he had to take her down... one way, or another. Discreetly he pulled a dagger from his jacket, turned around and suddenly charged at Sevria, declaring his feelings about her kind in as loud a voice as he could muster.

  "Your kind has NO place here, ELF!"

  And then, before Rolff even knew what had happened, the fight was over... and he had been bested. Sevria saw the knife as it flew toward her heart, and without even thinking she instinctively ducked underneath the blade and plunged two knives of her own into Rolff's vulnerable body. Her superior speed and reflexes had saved her life, and claimed Rolff's; he spat blood on her face as a last act of scorn toward her kind, before falling dead to the ground. Sevria was left stunned by the sudden turn of events.

  "I... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to--"

  "Sure you didn't." The voice of the guard from earlier spoke sarcastically behind her. "You stuck those knives into him by accident."

  Sevria turned around. "He tried to kill me! I was acting in self defense!"

  "Like I'm going to believe some snotty elf!" The guard drew his blade and pointed it at Sevria. "You've murdered the brother of Ulfric's right-hand man -- a crime punishable by death! Now come along to the dungeon, nice and easy..."

  "I... I..."

  More guards started closing in. What had she done wrong? She was telling them the truth! She DID act in self defense! Why wouldn't the guards listen to her? Wasn't it their job to uphold the law? In a panicked state, Sevria knocked the blade from the guard's hand and made a dash for the rooftops; she had no choice but to escape this city. Hurriedly she leaped across the tall and proud structures of Windhelm, running as fast as she could toward the gate.

  "Archers!" The commander of the guard shouted from the street level, "Shoot to kill!"

  Instantly the sky was blackened by a flurry of arrows, each narrowly missing their speedy target. With blinding haste Sevria finally burst through the city gates, only to be blocked by two more guards with warhammers. They swept their weapons under her legs in an attempt to cripple her, but the nimble Bosmer leaped over the weapons and tumbled back to her feet on the ground, getting closer and closer to the wilderness beyond -- only to find herself cut off by five other guards.

  "Don't let her escape! She's murdered Rolff Stone-Fist!" The commander called out.

  Sevria looked every which way, but both the entrance and exit were blocked off by the guardsmen. The situation looked hopeless, and she still could not understand what she'd done to deserve this. Finally, as a last effort to escape the guards, Sevria daringly leaped clean off the bridge and into the great river below. The guards shot arrows from the bridge, but at length the commander of the guard ordered them to cease fire; for there was no sign of Sevria to be found, and it was highly unlikely that anyone could have survived the fall in the first place. The guards returned to their posts, as a barely-conscious Sevria drifted down the river on a rotted old log, trying again and again to understand what went wrong...