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Chapter 1: Desperate Times
An explosion
shook the cave, flame and rock soaring in all directions where the spell had
struck. Shouts of anger came from deeper within, and an Imperial woman holding
a silver shortsword tore through the smoke created by the blast, running as
fast as she could toward the cave entrance.
"KILL HER!"
One of the voices behind the veil of smoke roared, and two arrows whizzed
through it, barely missing the Imperial. Four people ripped through the smoke
after her. A Bosmer was running rather awkwardly, his longbow almost as tall
as he was and scraping the ground as he ran. Two Dunmers hurried around the
Bosmer. One was wearing a long, purple robe, the other netch leather armor;
both were wielding daggers in their hands. Bringing up the rear was an Orc,
looking like a walking fortress in his full suit of orcish armor and carrying
a silver battle axe.
The Bosmer
paused to take a shot at the Imperial, aiming carefully between the two
Dunmers. He got her dead in his sights when the Orc, unable to see the short
Bosmer because of his helmet's limited field of view, bumped into the Bosmer's
arm. The arrow flew, off target, and pierced the throat of the Dunmer wearing
netch leather. He dropped like a drunk Nord. The Imperial didn't notice,
neither did the Orc or other Dunmer, and if the Bosmer did, he didn't care.
They all continued the chase as if nothing ever happened.
The Imperial
crashed through the door to the cave, and ran off back in the direction of
Fort Moonmoth. If she could just get that far, she'd be safe. She ran up the
side of one of the mountains, knowing it was a more direct route, even if a
bit harder to manage. She had barely started climbing when her pursuers
emerged from the cave after her.
The robed
Dunmer hurled another spell at her, striking the mountainside just below her.
The Imperial screamed, tripped and the sword she had been carrying was thrown
backwards from her grip through the air. The Dunmer threw another spell as the
Imperial got to her feet, this time he aimed higher than her. He was so
focused on her, that he didn't notice her sword was going to hit him until he
saw the glint of metal a split second before it did. It ripped through his
chest, point first, severing his spine before the handguard stopped it's
progress. The Dunmer toppled over, dead before he even fully realized what had
happened.
The Dunmer's
spell struck near the summit of the mountain, dislodging one of the boulders
and causing a small rockslide. The Bosmer and Orc were halfway up the mountain
by this point, and the Orc managed to move to the side before the rocks got to
where he was.
The Bosmer
wasn't so lucky. He saw the rockslide before the Orc did, but somehow got his
leg tangled up in his bow during his hasty retreat. He crashed onto the
ground, twisting his ankle. By the time he had gotten his leg free and tossed
his bow aside, it was too late. The result was similar to what you got after
using a mortar and pestle on hound meat, but it's doubtful that what was made
here could be used in any decent potions.
The Imperial
ran down the other side of the mountain as quickly as she could without
falling, it was a lot steeper on that side. She got to the bottom fairly
quickly, looking up to see if she was still being chased. The Orc had just
appeared atop the mountain and was making his way down. The Imperial rummages
through her pockets, hoping she might have a scroll or something left. All she
found was a lone throwing knife. She grimaced, looking at it. There was no way
she could hurt him with something like this, but she had to try. She looked
up, took a deep breath and hurled it at the Orc with all her strength.
It imbedded
itself in the mountainside, a good twenty feet short of the Orc. She cursed
and turned, running again. The Orc picked up the pace, not about to let her
escape. If he hadn't been in a hurry, or wearing such a restricting helmet, he
might have managed it. However, due once again to his narrow view, he missed
something important. The Imperial's throwing knife. The Orc tripped over it,
yelled something, and came tumbling down the mountainside in a blend of
crashing metal and shouts of profanity. He stopped on a rock at the bottom;
head first, his helmet now considerably smaller after the impact.
The Imperial
hesitated, looking back at the dead Orc. "I did it?" She mumbled to herself.
"He's.... he's dead?" She dropped into a sitting position on the ground. "Talk
about a miracle... I'm not cut out for this..."
She sighed,
closing her eyes and laying back on the ground to get some rest, thankful to
be alive. That is of course, until she heard the most dreaded sound on
Vvardenfell. She opened her eyes and flinched at the two outlines hovering
overhead. She got back on her feet and bolted down the road, screaming one
thing as she did. "I HATE CLIFF RACERS!"
The Imperial
limped through the northern gate of Balmora, having gotten lost on her run
back, and looking as good as she felt. Her usually shimmering, long red hair
was disheveled and spotted with dirt. Her chitin armor scratched, cracked and
chipped in places. There was a tear from the knee of her pants all the way
down, and she assumed her left shoe was still laying somewhere between the Orc
and here.
Armor ruined,
clothes tattered and torn, every weapon she owned lost or broken. She didn't
know which she wanted to do more, cry, or strangle every cliff racer on the
face of Vvardenfell. Maybe both, but not at the same time. The genocide of
cliff racers was to happy of a thought to cry while it was happening.
She pushed the
upstairs door of the Fighters Guild open and was greeted by a woman that
normally looked very similar to her, at the moment the only resemblance was
their hair color. "Welcome back, Melissa. How did your mission go?" The woman
asked. That was their difference in a nutshell; if Melissa had been in Eydis'
position she would have gasped and asked if she was okay. Eydis however,
seemed to be strictly business. Or extremely thick.
"The Orc is
dead, like you wanted." Melissa said dryly, glaring at Eydis from beneath her
filthy hair.
"Good work
Melissa, for you at least. Now, here's your reward and your next job is-"
Melissa cut
in. "No. I'll take the reward, but not the job. I've had enough excitement for
one day." She said quickly, taking the gold from Eydis and walking downstairs
before she could object. She didn't stop until she arrived at the guild's
barracks, and laid down on the nearest bed, drifting off to sleep still
looking like hell but too exhausted to care.
A clunk and a
curse woke her up. She sat up; rubbing her eyes and looking at the Dunmer
crouched by a bed on the other side of the room. "Sorry Mel, I was trying not
to bother you." He said softly.
Melissa
yawned. "Don't worry about it, Veridor. I should probably get up anyway. If
you're back it's probably morning."
Veridor smiled
at her. "It has only been a week and already you know me too well."
"All I know is
you're nocturnal, at least it seems like it. If I didn't know better, I'd
think you were a vampire." She said, getting up and wiping some of the dirt
off the pillow that had fallen onto it in her sleep.
"The sunlight
doesn't bother me, the heat does. Why do you think I never go to Ald-Ruhn?"
"I can think
of many reasons not to go to Ald-Ruhn." Melissa grumbled, thinking about cliff
racers already. What a pleasant way to start the day. "Really though, that's
odd in itself. Aren't Dunmers supposed to have a natural resistance to heat?"
"Everyone has
quirks. I suppose that's mine." Veridor said with a laugh as he removed his
steel armor.
"I think you'd
be better off moving to Solstheim. At least you don't have to worry about heat
there." She suggested, making the bed she slept in and going to help Veridor,
his right boot seemed to be stuck to his foot.
"I've
considered it, but I'd miss too much around here." He grunted as Melissa
yanked off his stubborn boot.
"What is there
to miss?" She asked, quickly discarding it. It smelled like he hadn't taken
them off in at least a day, and wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.
"The beautiful
Odai River, the fine food at the Eight Plates, your lovely face..."
Melissa
laughed at his last comment. "Tell you what, I'll move up there with you then.
I hear there are no cliff racers up there, so it can't be that bad."
Veridor's eyes
lit up. "You would?"
"Down Vamp, I
was kidding." She laughed again, pushing him onto the bed. She had taken to
calling him Vamp occasionally as a joke, because of his preference to the
night. He didn't seem to mind... he actually seemed to take it as a mark of
affection. He couldn't be more wrong.
"You shouldn't
tease an old man like that." Veridor said in mock seriousness.
"You may be a
dirty old man by Imperial standards, but you're still pretty young for a
Dunmer."
"By Imperial
standards, I'm the walking dead."
"In that case,
I'll let your ugly bonewalker butt rest in peace." She joked, heading over to
the door. "Good morning, Veridor."
"Morning,
Mel." He replied, watching with a smile as she walked out of the room. He laid
down after she left, and went to sleep.
"It's always
so cold!" Melissa complained. She hoisted herself out of the Odai River,
shivering but clean at last. She always came to this part of the Odai River
when she needed to clean up; it was secluded but a fairly long walk. It had to
be close to noon by now, but it was worth it. She pulled her clothes on and
began the walk back to Balmora.
The Fighters'
Guild, the Mages' Guild, the Thieves' Guild, and even the Temple. Melissa had
joined them all in order to find her calling in life. However, she didn't seem
to excel in any of the fields those places required. The Fighters' Guild was
far too dangerous and needed strength she just didn't have, the Mages' Guild
was okay until she started taking jobs for Ranis, she was put off the Thieves'
Guild since she couldn't pick a lock to save her life, and the prospect of
visiting the seven graces for the Temple made her want to faint. The only good
thing that came out of them was that she made a friend in each one.
However,
friends would do her little good at the moment. The gold she got from her last
job was good, but it wouldn't last forever. It probably wouldn't last a week.
She had entered Balmora and was wandering mindlessly through town while
pondering all this. Her feet took her to her favorite place to kill time,
along with a few gold. The Dunmer behind the counter smiled politely and
greeted her, Melissa gave her a slight nod in return as a greeting, her mind
still mostly elsewhere.
"Rath."
Melissa said as she walked by the Hlaalu guard leaning against the wall.
"Uh?" The
guard mumbled, a bit startled. He had been asleep on his feet. Again. Working
here was terminally boring for him. At least with his face obscured by the
helmet he still appeared threatening to anyone that walked in, even if he was
unconscious at the time. "Oh, hello Melissa." Rath said, his voice a bit
rough.
Melissa stared
vacantly at the bookshelf in front of her, not even trying to read the
different book titles. "Oh, Rath. You have no idea how lucky you are." She
sighed.
Rath didn't
have time to ask why, the door to the bookshop swung open and a
harassed-looking Altmer walked in. "Honestly, some of the people in this town.
I hate guards." The Altmer complained, ignoring Rath.
"What is
wrong, Morinaton?" The shopkeeper asked.
"Plenty,
Dorisa. I'm supposed to be in Caldera this evening for dinner with my wife,
but I have a dozen potions to finish, something to deliver to you, and for
some reason a guard jumped me, thinking I had stolen ebony from the Caldera
mine! Can you believe it?! I'm an alchemist, not a thief! Idiotic guard
fetchers!" Rath coughed, and Morinaton jumped. "Oh, yes... sorry, Rath. I
suppose some are all right, but that damn Felen..."
"Felen the
fetcher? Say no more. That guy just goes looking for trouble." Rath said
calmly.
"I understand
you being upset, but you said you had something for me?" Dorisa asked.
"Ah, yes."
Morinaton muttered, removing a rolled paper from his pocket and handing it to
Dorisa. "There, you have it, so I can get back to work on those potions. If
I'm late again, my wife will kill me." He said, dashing out the door.
"He hasn't
changed." Melissa mumbled to herself, still facing the bookshelf with a blank
expression.
Rath leaned
over slightly as Dorisa read the paper in her hand. He spoke in a whisper.
"You still working with the Thieves' Guild?"
"I gave that
up a couple weeks ago. I'm giving up the Fighters' Guild today, it's too much
for me. I need to find something regular, fairly safe, and decent paying. No
chance of that around here though." Melissa said in a depressed tone.
"How
horrible." Dorisa said suddenly.
"What's the
matter, Miss Darvel?" Rath inquired.
"It's Ryan."
"The young
Imperial you had running errands?"
"Yes... he's
dead. Cliff racers got him when he was visiting a friend of his in Ald-Ruhn.
Poor Ryan." Dorisa sighed.
A few moments
of silence followed, but Rath broke it. "Miss Darvel, I know this may sound a
bit heartless, but maybe Melissa here could take his place?"
"What?" The
two women said in unison. They stared at each other in an uncomfortable
silence, each sizing up the other. The request of a job of someone that just
died had, nothing could have been more awkward in Melissa's opinion... way to
go Rath.
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