» Tue Nov 20, 2012 1:15 pm In essence, you give a name and some backstory to what I'm assuming is a pretty major Dunmer NPC.
So I figure, this being the lore forum, we could post our entries here for CHIMster cred. Just be sure you actually submit your entry first. I don't want to be partially responsible in a plagiarism debacle. I've been down that alley before, and, well...let's just say there's a reason I'm not in academia anymore.
Anywhos:
His name is Sarryn Sonamh.
He was born 3 Season of Ash 2747 in the year of Vehk (approximately 2E 527 of the Cyro-Nordic calender), in the city of Blacklight, Morrowind. Orphaned at a young age - his father to a honorable duel, his mother to the Khahaten flu - he raised by his Grandserjo, Sothlur Sonamh, an old soldier-[censored]-corner-club owner who claimed to have been present at Ald Malak (and sometimes, depending on how much he's had to drink, actually put his knife to the Reman himself).
Sarryn spent much of his waking adolescence stocking sujamma pots and wiping up sick at the Guar's Rump,Sothlur's club. Though House Redoran by blood and bloody indoctrination, he was bookish and inquisitive by nature, which naturally made him a poor fit among his belligerent, zealous House compatriots. Nevertheless he proved to be a brave boy, who knew the value of doing one's work (rather than relying on slaves) and was dutiful to his friends. On his deathbed, his Grandserjo admits that despite the boy's weak sword-arm, he is proud to have such a fine young Mer carry his clan-name. "I see it, plain as The Three: You'll to go very far. Farther than any Sonamh before," Sothlur predicted "just remember where you came from, lad." and to that end swore his ghost exclusively to Sarryn's protection.
At age 16, he sold off his inheritance, the old Guar's Rump club, and used the coin to buy passage to Sadrith Mora, Telvanni country.
An ambitious and intuitive novice mage, he easily earned an apprenticeship to Master Neloth, and while he demonstrated himself to be an excellent pupil of theory, he deeply disapproved of House practices. But he was quiet and patiently assisted his master in his quest to develop a personal teleportation spell. Before that time, magickal travel was tethered to stationary, often sacred loci (as in shrine interventions or propylon jumps) and thus hardly convenient for the profane, iconoclastic Telvanni. For 23 years he labored thanklessly under Neloth, painstakingly attuning soul-gems, cleaning the test chambers of ankle-deep viscera, and fetching new slaves from the market. The problem was that there was no reliable method of making the transportant associate with the arrival destination. After the departure cast, they'd either arrive back at their original location or be flung randomly into a third locus, very often in pieces.
But those were slaves, barely even human and certainly not Mer.. But when Neloth abducted Avyna Indarys, the daughter of the Redoran Archmaster, intending to vivisect her as injury to her father, he had finally crossed the line. Sarryn objected to such a contemptuous destruction of Merrish life, but was roundly ignored .He went so far as to challenge Neloth to a magickal duel for her freedom, but the scoundrel underhandedly paralyzed him while pretending to consider the offer. Neloth's retainers subdued Sarryn and threw him into a cell wrought with silencing glyphs to prevent casting.
Wretchedly alone and doomed to die at dawn, he knelt down and, for the first time in his life, sincerely prayed to Mercy-Mystery-Mastery.
The bonecharm about his neck began to stir with a life of its own. He heard a voice in his ear "You'll go far..." then there was great racket, a struggle outside his cell. Alarmed, he opened his eyes to be greeted by the sight of the spectral Sothlur floating in the open door-frame of his cell, over the blue-faced corpse of the Bosmer turnkey. He rubbed his eyes and the ghost is gone, but the way was clear. Wielding destructive magicks as fluid as a Khajiit goutfang master, he fought his way to Avyna's cell in the far tower.
But the remaining guards and Neloth himself were close on his heels, and so without choice he collapsed the access-chute. Hope seamed lost. True, they were safe, for the time being but they could not leave. The chute was the only way. There were no windows and the tower walls were warded against all destructive magicks. They could try ALMSIVI intervention, Avyna offered, but the tower was warded against that as well - Dunmer slaves being a pious lot and all. Even if they didn't starve, Neloth would clear out the blockage before long.
Yet then he recalled what happened his cell. The ancestor ghost of Sothlur. His words. His last words. You'll to go very far. Farther than any Sonamh before, just remember where you came from, lad.
Serryn finally understood. Spatial Association could not be forced. It required something impact, meaningful to the transportant. Something fond, to recall. Then taking hold of Avyna, and weathering her objections, he started to recall it: The Guar's Rump. That miserable old dive; Home.
They arrived in the club's tap-room to an astonished audience of drunks. A few even clapped and threw coins.
Life for Sarryn swiftly improved. For saving his daughter, Archmaster Indarys awarded him with a fine apartment in the Under-Skar, House Father status, and a generous pension. Furthermore, word of his recent magickal discovery had reached the Mage's Guild in Cyrodiil. Archmagister Galerion was so impressed that he sent Sarryn an invitation to join him in the Imperial City, promising to double whatever the Redoran gave him in addition to his own personal laboratory space with a lifetime of Imperial research grants.
He set out immediately. First by boat, then by carriage.
