Reaching Heaven by Violence
(inspired by Not Provided's "http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1511757-the-wrong-walking-path-roleplay-thread/")
(For OOC and character sign up, see the thread http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1517125-reaching-heaven-by-violence-ooc-sign-up/)

Before posting, please sign up and read the rules in the OOC thread linked above.

17th day of Sun's Dusk, 4E 28

The Tribunal is dissolved. The Nerevarine has mysteriously vanished, followed by Vivec. Baar Dau floating high above Vivec City has crashed down, obliterating the cantons below. For the first time since the first Era, Red Mountain has erupted, and Vvardenfell has become an ashen, magma-covered waste. The rest of Morrowind is left a war-torn tatter of its former glory after the Argonian invasion.

But that was over twenty years ago. The year is 4E 28. Potentate Ocato has been assassinated. The Elder Council has been shattered. Years of savage in-fighting, conspiracy and betrayal have left the Empire in ruins, and though the warlord Titus Mede has taken the throne and is making efforts to stabilize Tamriel, the ruthless Thalmor are quickly seizing control of the West. Never mind the waves of destruction still rippling forth from thirty years of catastrophe; the provinces are at the brink of war.

To the East, in Morrowind, this is a time of respite. The Dunmer population is small in the province, but it is more unified than ever. With House Redoran ruling from the ebony citadels of Blacklight in the West, the relief efforts continue every day. In the South, the slave-masters of House Dres have been ravaged by the Argonian onslaught, but together with the merchant House Sadras they have begun to rebuild their cities, this time without slavery. A future of prosperity and unity awaits Morrowind. Or maybe it is an illusory rejuvenation; just one more power-vacuum with hungry hands vying to pry a piece off for themselves.

House Hlaalu, made the scapegoat for all of Morrowind's suffering, has been unceremoniously stripped of its title as a Great House. Though their whereabouts are unknown, rumors of their plans to usurp the throne of Morrowind have been circulating. House Telvanni has secluded itself from the rest of Morrowind more than ever. They brood in secrecy, and rogue Telvanni mages have been sighted performing dark magicks. The fanatical "New Temple" is desperate to establish a Theocracy over Morrowind, and they are willing to take extreme measures.

Let's not forget the island of Vvardenfell. Although the coasts of the isle are sparsely dotted with temples and outposts, no sane man or mer dares enter the Heart of Vvardenfell, where Red Mountain is still furiously fuming. It is said that the seas boil there, and deranged cultists roam freely. Mutated horrors emanate from the Mountain, and the sounds of discordant bells carry on the ash-riddled winds. Others still report the dull, rhythmic thudding of a massive drum, the dry echo of which can be vaguely heard pulsating across the barren husk of the land.

Unfortunately, you are no sane man or mer. A crazed man named Heinrich Oaken-Hull has called out to all corners of Tamriel; an attempt to gather a crew for an expedition into the heart of the immense darkness in Vvardenfell. His ship, The Serpent's Wake, waits on the Western shores of Morrowind, near Blacklight. You know this could be suicide, but you have your own reasons for heeding the call of Oaken-Hull.

So steel yourself, remembering that there can be no bravery...
Without madness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Resdayn Omothan

Biography:

Resdayn's parents Taren and Orero met in Vvardenfell, Morrowind towards the end of the Third Era. Taren was (and is to this day) a pious monk and a Dissident Priest, and a master of martial arts. It is said that once Taren even bested Khajiiti martial artists at a competition in the Mane's own Torval. He is a studious man, devoted to learning and teaching, but for all his vast knowledge and experience you will never find a more humble soul. His counterpart Orero couldn't be more different. She is a wily warrior with a taste for adventure, a learned smith and a former Retainer of Morrowind's Great House Redoran. She is a stubborn traditionalist who often butts heads with Taren over their religious and political differences. Where Taren practices balance and humility, Orero has a thirst for the chaos of the world, and a desire for the grandiose. It is honor that brought the two together in their youth, and it was a fiery spirit they shared that could make them both forget their vows. In the Fall of 3E 432, the signs of their love began to show in Orero. She was pregnant. Both hailing from long forgotten houses, Orero decided to take Taren's name, and the two were married.

Taren, having already played his part in the Dissident Priests' quest for truth, decided to depart the cloister of Holamayan for a life with Orero, who desperately needed his levelheadedness. The two moved to Ald'Ruhn, where House Redoran gave them a home, and Taren began working as a tutor for young Redoran warriors, teaching them the delicate balance of peace within war. In the Summer Orero gave birth to a baby girl, who the couple named Alia, after Almalexia - the wife of Lord Indoril Nerevar - a figure both parents revered in spite of their conflicting beliefs. Together the family survived the horrors of the Oblivion Crisis and The Red Year, making their eventual escape to Solstheim, then to Blacklight following the tatters of House Redoran. Here the couple found reparation to their hardships in a love enduring as the city and people around them. In 4E 7 Orero was with child once again. Seeing the effects of Morrowind's violent nature on their daughter, and the sickness of the land that now seeped into them, the couple decided that this was no fit environment for their daughter and their child-to-come. The family packed their belongings, and fled to the Skyrim city of Windhelm.

On the 13th of Sun's Dawn 4E 8, Orero gave birth to a son. They named him Resdayn after the province now known as Morrowind - a land Taren and Orero both loved dearly. A land of honor and endurance. The years to come would be filled with hardship and grief as the Dunmer refugees in Windhelm were subjugated to much racial discrimination at the hands of Nord nationalists. Resdayn's family would be forced into the 'Grey" Quarter, a district of Windhelm filled with other struggling Dunmer families. Many here would turn to lives of crime to get by, and few would ever get the chance to receive educations or reputable jobs. The life of violence Taren and Orero were desperate to escape followed them to Skyrim. The Omothan family is as resilient as they come, though, and where there is so much will there will always be a way.

This is where Resdayn's story begins, nearly twenty years after his birth.

Journal:

Father's Gift - 13th day of Sun's Dusk 4E 26

I am a Son of Dawn. Yet it is in the heart of Dusk that I open this journal for the first time since my father gave it to me last year on my birthday. He spent many hours tanning hides to make the leather that it is bound by, and many more etching our "House" sigil into it's cover. In truth, as refugees and outcasts, we have no House but our family. Even so, Father's discipline and steadfast hand, and his love for his family, shows through the craftsmanship of this journal. The sigil shows a young warrior atop a mountain reaching skyward to catch a falling Star. I don't know what it means, but it is today, three months from my day of birth that I honor my father and our makeshift sigil by my entry.

I am Resdayn Omothan, of the House Omothan, fourth of my name. My mother Orero is a blacksmith, and my father Taren is a homeschool teacher for local Dunmer here in Windhelm, Skyrim. My sister Alia is a stablehand. She is eight years my senior. There is no school for our people in Windhelm, so I work the forges with my mother by day. She is teaching me the principles of smithing, and the politics of being a salesman. It is hard work, and Mother often makes me feel weak (inadvertently of course), but I am "becoming a mer," as she tells me, and though I am thin, my body is slowly becoming muscled. We supplement the fires with ashes from the "homeland" to remind us where our family is from, though I have never been "home" myself.

In the evening I train with Father in the art of "Reaching Heaven by Violence," as he calls it. It is the art of fists, and mastery over one's self. At night my family tell me stories of the homeland I am named after, Morrowind (it was once known as Resdayn, as I am now.) The history of Morrowind, the coming of the Chimer and Dwemer, the rise and fall of Lord Nerevar and the Almsivi respectively, the destruction of our people's home. It is fascinating to know that a people can endure such horrors. This is my favorite part of the day, and I can feel my chest swell with pride even now as I write. I wish to return to the place of my ancestors one day, but my parents tell me it is not possible.

The Lady - 5th day of Heart Fire 4E 27

Winter never ends in Windhelm. Nearly twenty years I have been here, and the sun is always setting. A Son of Dawn can easily be rendered hopeless by these conditions. But not this mer. Yesterday I met the most beautiful lady I have ever laid eyes on. She is a lovely little Dunmer, short in stature and petite. She has shimmering red hair cut short, about chin-length, and the sun has kissed her face and shoulders, leaving adorable little speckles on her skin. She has the most enamoring eyes ever possessed by a mer. They are blue like the sea! Imagine that, a Dunmer with blue eyes! I wonder if she is magicka-touched? Her name is Massitha Omavel. I hope that I encounter her again. I am working on a special project at the forge today, with Mother's permission. A rose for Massitha, made of glass! Mother says that the volcanic ash from the homelands has been used for centuries to craft even armor and weaponry out of glass! Mother is making a big sacrifice for me today. Not only is she forgoing work to teach me the workings of glasscrafting, she is letting me use the sacred ash of our homelands (of which we have a limited supply). I am trembling with excitement. Hopefully I can steady my hand as to not ruin the project.

The Break - 7th day of Heart Fire 4E 27

Mother and I have finished the stem of Massitha's Rose this morning. I'm surprised at how laborious it was to craft such a small piece! The material is malleable though, so I am confident that I can work with it. At midday Mother told me to take a break, and sent me home to deliver a bundle of wooden training swords to Father, so he could use them to teach his "class" the way of our Ancestors. When I say "class," I really mean a handful of local Dunmer kids Father has taken under his wing. Their parents pay him what they can, but Father says he does it to instill morality in our youth, and that the money is secondary. A lot of Dunmer have been driven to crime here in Windhelm. Its hard to get a job, so most just take what they can from the wealthy Nords, divvying it up in the alleyways. I've even seen it come to blows or worse. Nordmen throats slit in the night over a satchel of coins. Dunmer strung up by their necks in the town square. Heads of both put on spikes at the city gates in an attempt to keep peace through fear. It never ends. Father's goal is to foster a generation of Dunmer who can live with honor and humility, not necessarily living in peace, but who at least have the capacity for it.

Anyways, when I rounded the corner to my home, bundle in hands, I saw my father sparring in the streets with some students. I froze in fear on the corner as three Nordmen seemed to fabricate from an adjacent alleyway, driving the young students away. They circled my father as hungry wolves, prodding him in interrogation. Nords around these parts don't care much for Father's sermons to the Dunmer youth. They prefer us stupid and weak and afraid. Things escalated, and I watched as the Nordmen descended on my father. Or at least they tried. With a waterfall of fluid motion, I watched as my father caught a Nord fist-in-flight, and with a jerk and a kick, I watched the Nord behind the fist pummel into one of his compatriots. They both fell to the ground in a stupor. My father's open-palm then smashed upward into the third Nord's chin before he could blink, and with a quick crouching-spinning kick, the Nord joined the dogpile. Needless to say, my father sent his assailants running for the hills, tails between legs. I dropped the bundle, which exploded in a mess of wooden training swords on the street, and ran to my father. I hugged him for a long time. A tear escaped my eye. I wanted to speak, but I was choked with emotion. "It's okay son," Father said, "go pick up those swords. Your training is going to be a bit... more lively tonight."

The Rose of Massitha - 23rd day of Heart Fire 4E 27

The Grey Quarter hasn't been pestered by Nordmen for days! I don't know if its a good omen, but my gut tells me it isn't. Regardless, I am happy for the respite, even if it is temporary. Massitha's Rose is almost finished, and not a moment too soon. Her birthday is tomorrow! I've been seeing her a little bit every day, when I can steal away from the forge for a few moments. I am convinced she is descended from Azura herself. This rose MUST be fitting to her beauty. I wont rest until it is.

The Kiss - 24th day of Heart Fire 4E 27

I stayed up all night finishing Massitha's Rose. Mother gave me the day off from the forge to get some rest, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep! When I saw Massitha today I was nervous that my craftsmanship would be too shoddy to impress her, but she was completely enraptured by my creation! I made the rose a dark, swirling blue like her eyes, and when I put it in her hair her ashen cheeks flushed with color. She gave me a kiss on the cheek! I'm going to try to sleep now, or at least stay my thrill-shaken hands.

The Questions - 30th day of Heart Fire 4E 27

At the table this morning as we were eating breakfast, my sister asked me if Massitha and I "did it" yet, much to my parents' chagrin. I don't understand why they were upset. Father said he would explain later.

The Disturbing Answers - 1st day of Frostfall 4E 27

I won't be speaking with Massitha for a while. People are disgusting!

The Silence - 3rd day of Frostfall 4E 27

Winter is coming. Well, Winterhold Winter is coming, which is to say that the world will soon be like the heart of a damned lich. The cold isn't the only thing tensing my body, though. Something foul this way comes. The streets have been too quiet lately. I sense a deep contention festering in the hearts of the city's township. I will be putting this journal away for some time. I have a lot to learn, and trouble carries on a bitter wind.

The Betrayal - 11th day of Morning Star 4E 28

It has been just over three months since I have written in this journal. I have learned more than I thought possible. I have learned things that I never thought could possibly happen. The racial tension between the Nordmen and the Dunmer finally broke shortly after my last journal entry. The streets have been violent. My family and I have had to defend ourselves, almost at every turn. My mother's forge has been subject to night raids. My father and I have been assailed in the streets as blasphemers. We've been beaten by mobs We have even been attacked with lethal intent by those who would call my people a plague or worse. Some even think my father plans to usurp the throne of Windhelm with the Grey Quarter Dunmer at his back.

Things have calmed in slight over the past week as attention is turning to the rumors of some Altmer uprising in the West, but I know its just a matter of time before it gets worse again. My father has stopped tutoring the locals for now. He fears it is too dangerous, and I don't blame him. He and Mother have been arguing a lot lately, which is still surprising to me. I guess Mother is the one person who can actually get a rise out of him. I'd never seen him lose composure before now, and Alia ensures me it is not a common sight. "Even if he is a monk of sorts," she told me, "He is still only a mer. To him he is the Lord of this House." My sister and I have gotten very close in these months of strife. My father has become distracted and distant, and Mother has become cold and hostile. I always knew that the Nordmen might tear us apart, but now I'm afraid we may do them the honor ourselves.

The worst though was last night, which is the purpose for my entry - to remember the most foul of my blood so that I will not become it myself.

My father had left Windhelm with a group of other Dunmer. Their destination was a camp they had set up over the course of the past few weeks to use for "hunting." Of course, they always return with fresh game, but I know they are secretly consorting there, training perhaps, while the Nordmen are distracted by the affairs of the Empire. Anyways, Mother and I worked the forge hard during the day, trying to make up for the goods lost in the raids. While we worked iron and steel, I worked her to let me see Massitha that night (with whom I am on speaking terms again, but that is for a later entry.) "Alia has been seeing boys for years now," I argued, "some of them not even Dunmer!" She had no choice but to reluctantly agree. So after work I scurried home, washed, and spoke with Alia for a bit before we both stole into the night. When I returned home to say goodnight to Mother and retire myself, my eyes were met with a most abhorrent sight; Mother was laying with another man! I screamed out in a mixture of fear, outrage and confusion, but my mother quickly leaped from bed covered by a sheet and squeezed my mouth in her strong hands. Meanwhile the Dunmer she was laying with fled out the bedroom window, naked, into the night.

My mother gripped me sternly, keeping me silenced. "You must never breathe a word of this to your father," she whispered in shaking desperation. I went to bed ashamed and infuriated.

This afternoon when Father returns I will tell him what she has done.

The Husk - 13th day of Morning Star 4E 28

I told Father of Mother's transgression. In only two days, by father has become the shell of a Mer. Complacent. Unresponsive, especially to mother, and spineless when he does speak. Where is my beautiful, proud King? His soul is killed, and mine maimed as mere Witness. I feel I have betrayed my family as much as Mother did. I don't know how to continue. My heart is on fire, and it will not leave my throat.

The day of my birth is in a month, but I wish I never had one at all.

Mother's Gift - 13th day of Sun's Dawn 4E 28

Today I am twenty years old, but I feel like I am two-thousand. Father still seems like half the man he used to be, but I think he is recovering. Mother bared Witness to the consequences her actions had on us all, and I can tell by looking upon her... it has wounded her deeply. A heavy shadow looms about me. I can feel it weighing on my shoulders and lingering in my eye sockets. Mother can tell too. Today she surprised me with a gift; a special project she has been working on for weeks in secrecy. It is a dagger of pure black with a silver hilt. The pommel has a ruby embedded within. She tells me that the blade is forged from the blood of an ancient god, Lorkhan. "All the best blades have a name," she said. Some tears slid from my eyes. I held her. "Moon-tear," I sobbed. She smiled tiredly, "A beautiful name." She looks older every day.

Massitha stopped by the forge to give me a kiss, and show me her new dress. It is a gorgeous, deep red, gilded with golden embroidery in traditional Dunmer designs. The skirt of the dress is long and flowing, the type that billows beautifully in the breeze. She's still wearing the Rose in her hair. She looks like a dream. Tonight is the night Massitha and I have promised ourselves to each other. We will give freely our sanctity to one another, so that we can share it in a life together.

Many others came to the forge and went. There is a lot of activity in town today. Drunken Nordmen wander the streets in broad daylight, reminiscing about battles they probably never fought. Many speak of Ysgramor and his five-hundred Companions, and their exploits. Many brawl and womanize. Many more vomit and trip over their own ideas of themselves - I mean feet. Why in Vehk's name does this damned Feast of the Dead have to fall on my birthday? It's no wonder Nord shares consonance with N'wah.

The Shadow - 30th day of Second Seed 4E 28

It has taken me over two months to stomach my disgust and my anger for existence enough to even pick up my quill and write this entry. I only document this now to remind me of my suffering, and to remember the demons I must confront and never become. On the thirteenth day of Sun's Dawn, day of my birth, my love was cut from my heart. Massitha and I had promised ourselves to each other, and that night was meant to be a consummation of the blossom we had tenderly cultivated in one another. When I was walking the back streets to her home, I saw four Nordmen huddled in an alleyway to my right, a fifth sort of half-squatting behind a sixth figure who was down on hands and knees. The squatting Nord clutched in his right fist a golden-gilded piece of deep Red fabric. He was thrusting and grunting. The others were laughing and drinking. The Sixth was Massitha, and she was on hands and knees, screaming and crying as the gang of filthy Nordmen forced themselves upon her. My heart was no longer on fire... it was erupting.

It was a clear night, full of laughter, music, brawling, feasting and stories. Enough acoustical chaos that no one heard the "shing!" of me hastily drawing Moon-tear from its sheath, or the sound of my frantic footsteps as I barreled blindly towards the Nordmen. If the night wasn't so full of Moons and Stars, then maybe they wouldn't have noticed the blood-Red glint of my blade shining with starry vengeance. But it was, and they did, and after that I don't remember much except shrieking terror and dreams of flesh-ripping ash that tore me to bits.

I awoke covered in semi-stale blood, both mine and the blood of Nordmen. I had felled two of the bastards in my vicious struggle, but when it all went black my blade changed hands, and Moon-tear was used against me. But there was the blood of another mingling here, I could feel it. I found the source, and my Moon-tear too. It was stabbed into Massitha. She was flayed open and crucified to a wall, with my blade in her Heart. Her eyes were frozen open in paralyzing fear. Once stunning blue, they were now stained Red with blood. I laid her down. I held her lifeless body. I shut her eyes.

I don't care to go on, as even now I am trembling with anguish, but for all their strength and anger, the Nordmen couldn't break Massitha's Rose. I carry it always.

The Red Dream - Sixth day of Sun's Dusk 4E 28

Last night I had a Red Dream.

The world was painted Red with ash.

I stood amongst the wreckage

of a Living-God's Broken Hope.

The surrounding sea was seething,

begging me the question:

"What is the beginning of the words,

and how does it end?"

I looked to the Red Center of the land

Where a Smoking Mountain is wounded by a falling star.

I knew that, if only I could catch it,

that Star would hold the answer.

The Star put language in the skies,

and though I could read

the letters it spelled before collision,

when I moved my lips

to speak the words

my voice was drowned with so many others

in the Sea that Scathes even ghosts.

The sound instead was that of a Drum first,

and then Bells that ring in Six different tones,

both pulsating from the Star-Wounded Mountain.

The ash beneath my feet began to dance

to the fatalistic rhythm.

Against my expectations my feet also shook,

and I too Danced,

Uncontrollably,

until I became the Music

and I enveloped the Red countryside.

The Maimed Mountain became my core,

and within it behind walls of smoke

is the Drum that was my Heart,

beating with fervor.

I felt as a bubble,

expanding with so much smog

and shaking with Music

and on the verge of a BURST,

but a Burst I knew would engender a New-Bubble,

One where my people would be weightless.

One where my people could be free.

But at the Heart of the Red Dream, there is a web being spun.

A web wrapped tight around the Drum

by a bloated,

cancer of a Half-Spider

with "tick-tock, tick-tick"ing feet.

His threads constricting,

restricting my Heart from beating that bubble to burst.

Instead, my bubble just keeps filling with smoke

and ash

and disease

and Souls Sickened with pain and hatred

until I become bloated;

a cancer.

A Lover who cannot be heard.

A Lover who cannot be ignored,

because I know the tongues the Spider fears.

The beginning of the words is ALMSIVI...

and the Red Dream never ends.

Alia's Gift - 15th day of Sun's Dusk 4E 28

-Morning-

I have seen over twenty years come and go in Windhelm. That is twenty years too much for me. It is true, I have known happiness here, and I have grown strong with uncut hair that falls over my shoulders. It is true, my family has known recovery here, and even now they are rejuvenating from the sufferings of this harsh world. Things are looking up for them... but this is not our home. As for me, well I'm looking up, with the sun in my eyes and my shadow behind me in the Heart of Dusk. There is a sickness in my soul, I can feel it writhing and inflamed. It will not stop haunting me until I go to the homeland and catch the "Star the Wounds the Mountain." I have been working the forges hours after Mother heads home each day. For eight long months this has been my life, selling blades. I finally got enough money for passage to Vvardenfell, Morrowind, albeit on the back of an "expedition ship" called “The Serpent’s Wake.” Supposedly the Wake used to dock in Cyrodiil, but it was displaced during the Oblivion Crisis. Now The Serpent’s Wake roams the seas, hosting expeditions for coin. A bizarre tale to be sure, and also an opportunity I cannot pass up, lest I should succumb to madness in its stead.

The Wake is bound to be filled with all manners of adventurers. Some might even have the stones to walk with me into the Heart of Chaos itself. Only time will tell. I will arrive in two days' time. I leave tonight. I cannot bare to face my family. They will not know I'm gone until it’s too late. They will not know my cause until it is fulfilled. Maybe then our House can have a true Home, and we can be the Hosts of Lords.

-Afternoon-

I spent my morning (and the rest of my money) gathering materials to make keepsakes for my family.

To my Sister, a silken dress of silver and black, so she may shine with the beauty of Moon and Star.

To my Father, an ashen pendant baring the engraved sigil of His House, so he may always know who he is, and never forget where he came from.

To my Mother, a Rose of deep purple glass, so she may feel the cherish of her family, and blossom into eternity.

I will spend the rest of my day refining these gifts, delivering them, and spending my last day for the foreseeable future with my beloved family.

-Evening-

Dinner was so delicious tonight I started crying at the table, concerning everyone. I ensured them it was just the spices of the food, and went to my room after clearing my plate. Now I sit alone, the sounds of sleep slowly surrounding me. The ringing in my soul-sickened ears will not cease. My distinguished, mid-back-length hair sits in a large bun atop my head. It's time to cut my mane and hit the road.

-Night-

I sneaked out of my own house like a burglar in the night. I feel like a s'wit, like the lowest of the low, but I know I must go, so I go to the gates. I am filled with self-hatred as I slip through a crack in the city wall that only someone of my slim stature could snake through. A crack overlooked... no, overshadowed by decades of the city's internal struggles; a struggle I now shared as I slinked into the night air - much fresher on the other side of Winterhold's barricades. An ocean of self-loathing washed over my senses so thick as I traversed the Bridge to Freedom, that I scarcely heard my sister galloping up behind me on the back of a horse. "By Azura!" I shouted, unaware of my own volume, "Oh Alia, it's you. What the hell is your problem? And what are you doing here?!" "Oh little brother," she replied smugly, "do you think I didn't know what you were up to?" In spite of her snide attitude, I could see the sheen of Alia's tears in the moonlight. She hopped down off her horse and threw her thin - yet strong - arms around my neck. I held her too, and we wept and laughed for a time. "If you're going," Alia sniffled, "then I brought you a horse. I stole it from the stables, but I've got a cover story so take it. And take this." She held out in front of her a satchel and what looked to be a long, semi-curved sword wrapped in a battered leather pseudo-sheath. "What's this then?" I interrogated. "The bag just has some herbs and other medicinals-" I cut her off with a quick, "No, that blade there in your left hand!" She handed it over and I unwrapped the leather from the blade. It looked to be a steel sword, but again, it was curved in a curious manner. Alia could read my confusion. "They don't make blades like that in this province," she began, now congested from sobbing, "for the past two years, give or take, I have been sneaking to Ma's forge at night to salvage steel from blades and armor, smelting it down, and pounding out this blade for you. It's made after Lord Nerevar's http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/elder-scrolls-fanon/images/6/66/Trueflame.png/revision/latest?cb=20140704145245."

I felt the biggest smile in twenty years crack over my face, and I held my sister, spinning her towards the Stars. "It is the finest gift I have ever gotten, Alia," I proclaimed, genuinely ecstatic. "I'll call it Heartburn, er-" we both burst into hysterical laughter before my eyes lit up and I fell silent. "What is it, brother?"

"I know what I'll really call it."

"Tell me Resdayn!"

"Red Dream."

I thanked Alia for the horse, and we said our goodbyes. Now, as a Son of Dawn I am riding into the Heart of Dusk. I will ride to Dunmeth Pass, where I will be taken from Skyrim. First by horseback, then by boat.

To the East.

To Morrowind.

As for this journal, I will toss it into the sea when I get Home. My hair is cut to my chin. My name is known only by the long since dead. Now I shall be known to Tamriel as Resdayn Omothan, of House Resdayn, first of my name. May the tides carry my words to every corner of this land.

~The Lover that cannot be heard.

The Lover that cannot be ignored.

17th of Sun's Dusk 4E 28

Resdayn Omothan

Blacklight Harbour

The Serpent's Wake was nothing grand to behold. She was a battered old crone, which was easy for me to understand, considering she had been through the heart of the Oblivion Crisis thirty years earlier. It was miraculous that she was still in one piece to be frank. As I galloped nearer on the back of my horse (who was a beautiful http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://i461.photobucket.com/albums/qq334/shortqtpie20/Horse/blueroan.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.chronofhorse.com/forum/archive/index.php/t-305278.html&h=432&w=576&tbnid=g8pe_bk88OaV7M:&zoom=1&docid=B4F3zDJ-0xKQIM&ei=N1FIVezEEIafgwTinYHQBw&tbm=isch&ved=0CDIQMygCMAI mare I decided to name Nimeria) swaths of people could be seen carrying cargo from wagons onto the ship. Crates full of Matze and Greef, sacks of salt rice, barrels of fish and other salted meats and no doubt various other things sailors delight in. I only saw a few adventurers like me though, two, maybe three people with blades.

The great walls of https://2ch.hk/tes/src/414609/14281219773420.jpg jutted from the earth to the South like massive ebony claws. I had only heard tales of the city's grandeur held behind those vicious talons, but (with much regret) I had to pass Blacklight by. What little gold I had left I had to reserve for the voyage ahead of me, and I didn't want to miss my ship. To the East, even now, you could see the fumes spitting furiously forth from the mouth of http://i.ytimg.com/vi/YE25pbavzMs/maxresdefault.jpg. The oceanic air did what it could to snuff out the scent of smoke and ash carried from Vvardenfell. The sight put a shiver in my spine.

When I reached the ship proper I hopped off Nimiria and dusted off my buttocks. A few workers turned their heads in acknowledgement of my presence, but my appearance wasn't enough to warrant a greeting. I was a common sight. This crew had likely seen many adventurers come and go, and armed with simple weapons and working-class clothes, I was nothing special. I lead Nimiria by the bridle to the stern of the ship, where a wooden loading ramp was set-up. She complained a bit at the sight of water. She had never been across a sea before.

"Who's the captain of this tub?!" I shouted through cupped hands. Before long a beast of a Nord with crazed eyes shoved through a crowd of sailors and glared at me wickedly.

"That would be me boy," the man growled, "I'm Heinrich Oaken-Hull, and this 'tub' is The Serpent's Wake. She's been to hell and back, and more than once, so stay your tongue before I bite it out." Oaken-Hull was nearly seven feet tall, with a wild mess of auburn hair on top of his massive head, and he was practically made of scars. "Apologies," I cleared my throat, "I'm Resdayn Omothan. I'm here to join your expedition. This is my horse Nimiria, is there somewhere she can-" "NO!" Oaken-Hull interrupted, "you can come, but the horse stays behind." There was a moment of silence before Oaken-Hull resumed, "Do you have the gold?" "Yeah," I replied reluctantly before tossing him my last bag of coin.

I took the saddle and bridle off Nimiria. "You're free now, you can go wherever you want." I kissed her on the nose and thanked her for her services, and with a pat on her rump she was off. Oaken-Hull showed me around the dank, dilapidated vessel that was The Serpent's Wake. I asked him what held the ship together. He told me "Oblivion itself, boy." When we got to the crew's quarter's Oaken-Hull piped up again. "This is where you sleep!" he shouted. "I know," I half-snickered before stuffing my things into a bunk, "where is everyone?" "You're the first, boy," Oaken-Hull replied half-heartedly, "but they'll come, oh THEY'LL COME ALRIGHT!" He stormed off to the top-deck leaving small plumes of dust in his wake. I blinked, eyes wide with surprise, before I followed him topside to watch for newcomers.

The water was calm, and it lapped against the side of the boat gently. The sky was grey. I felt a droplet of rain land on my cheek. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered. I haven't felt this anxious since...

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Steel yourself Resdayn. In my mind, the expedition couldn't start soon enough. Even so, all I could do was wait...

"Half a month. It took us half a month, to get from Stormhold to the gates of Blacklight. Within that time? I had killed a man, been given his money off his freshly killed body, and the caravan I have been travelling with? They were attacked twice more along the path. Luckily for me, I haven't had the need to use my bow since then...they were smaller groups, much more manageable for the guards to deal with. ...I'm not sure how they do it, how they can keep sane and not shaken after killing. I guess...it's like what my father told me. You have to defend the ones you care for. And in that moment? It was me, and a few others coming along for the ride- some tradesmen who had lost business in Black Marsh. I didn't know of them, they were small village people. They knew of my father though, and so I tried my best to represent him well, be kind, and get kindness in return- another thing my mother and father had taught me in my younger years. But I digress. It's time to get up and get going."

Teeka set his journal down, back in his pack and jumped up from his sitting position on the end of the cart being led on by two Clydesdale's. He jumped off of that moving, temporary home of his, and planted his own two feet below him, going for a run around the cart to meet back up with the driver.

"Rasha!! 'Ey Rasha!" He yelled, waving a hand at the pale blue lizard driving that terribly wobbly cart of his. -I say wobbly, on account of one of the wheels being slightly off kilter. Teeka hated that terribly.-

"Teeka!! I told your parents I'd take you RIGHT to the ship, why not stay on the back, my boy?" The young lizard just shook his head and bowed. "No no that's fine, I'll just walk with the cart, I want to come into this new city on my own two feet...And besides!" He said, while smacking his tail up high against the side of that *chug, chug, k'thunkin'* wagon. "I doubt this thing could take my weight added to it, ever again! I mean really, it felt like It was going to break at any moment!" They both laughed at that while waiting for their turn to enter the city. "Heeeey now! Don't be insulting my old girl here! She's been good to me!" Teeka just smiled, but in his thoughts, 'Yah, old and decrepit, in my opinion.' But he wouldn't say that, wouldn't want to come off as rude.

Finally, it was their turn in the queue. Teeka had by now put on his dark brown cloak and covered up his horns, he knew Saxhleel were...at the least, 'humored' once they left Argonia, but that was as far as he knew on the matter; though, he didn't want to risk any turmoil around him. So, just in case: the cloak. Always be cautious and aware. Teeka and the others walked up to the smaller building connected to the front gate, where a Dunmer resided, with two fellow guards beside him.

"What brings you to Blacklight, lizards?" Said the dark elf, his face a bit...well, he looked at them as if they were a bit dirty. Teeka let the others go first, they were here on trade, and so allowed in without as much as a 'good day to you'. Once it was his turn, he took his papers up, and tried to speak as kindly as he could to the Dunmer.

"Good day sir, I'm here to get voyage on a expedition ship?" He offered him the letter with Oaken-Hull's advertisemant on it, but it was if the man didn't even see it.

"What ship?"

"What?" -That clearly wasn't the right thing to say.- The elf slapped his hands on the desk and sighed with such an exasperated look about him, that Teeka thought he might actually sick the guards on him!

"Are you deaf, lizard?! I said!" He paused, probably to be more dramatic and to prove his point...I'd say be dramatic, since he even went as far as to lean forward and yell.

"WHAT. SHIP?!" Teeka could feel his tail starting to sneak itself around his left ankle, trying to wrap around it for a small form of comfort. He was NOTICEABLY taller than this dunmer, and probably stronger too!! But...he was still new to this land. New to these people.

"Oh! Uhm, my apologies, it's the...uhm...SERPENT'S WAKE!" He said, with a gust of vibrato, even worrying himself at his loud announcement. "Sorry. The Serpent's Wake, captained by Oaken-Hull." Teeka would have said more, but he was quickly pushed off to the side, barely having enough time to grab that letter before being tussled to his left, away from the city gates; those ebony jaws looking less welcoming every second.

"Turn around and head North! You can't miss the pier!" Said the dark elf, and from what he mumbled under his breath, he seemed to have already formed an opinion of Teeka and his kind. 'I thought he was in the city...to the North? I don't..hmm.' He wasn't sure where to go, but he thought he might know who to ask. "Rasha! Where's the pier? It's not here!" The young lizard yelled, his tail trailing behind him as he ran back to the cart to quiz the Saxhleel friend. "Oh! My apologies, my boy! I thought your father meant the Blacklight piers, no no- here." Rasha rode the horses over to the left of the outskirts of the gate, so he might give that young man some much needed directions.

"So, see that tree over there? Well from that tree, you turn a bit to the east, and keep heading north..." Teeka listened with every intent he had, trying his best to picture where he was going. And as reassurance, "Don't worry boy! You can't miss it! It's a large pier, not some dinky little place." He patted the youngling on the back, got back on his wagon and rushed back into the flow of the crowd.

True enough to his word, Rasha was right that is was a large pier, and noticeable. Even on top of that hill he had just crested over. And also true enough, it WAS easy enough to spot, truly not even that far from the city gates. This was just another sign, on a list Teeka was making, of how inexperienced he was here. He knew Argonia well enough, probably even better than most- knowing his father's job and all. But this? This was new, and odd...exciting, yes! But troublesome as well, he was worried about the unknown, but not fearful of it. Once his foot hit plank, he felt a bit safer, and a bit wiser for the small experience.

It didn't take too long to find the ship, just ask a few people around. -I say a few, because some actually wouldn't even talk to the poor argonian...but that's to be expected. Slow to trust.- And once he DID find it, it wasn't that much of a sight to behold. Big ship, big enough for a full crew. Aged...that much was clear. It was getting stocked up for its voyage, just a few barrels and crates left to hike into its belly below. He walked up to a man with a rather large crate, at least looking large for his size. Teeka could probably handle it well enough with one hand...maybe.

"Sir! This is the Serpent's Wake, correct?" The man turned around, he being an Imperial, and he looked the young lizard up and down with an air of confusion. "Yes? And what do you care?" Teeka smiled, and bowed his head. "I got a letter from its captain, Oaken-Hull? About taking voyagers to Vvardenfell? And I wanted to see if he'd let me join him, if there was enough room."

"There's MORE than enough room, lad! But are you worth my time?!" Teeka's tail twitched, and his head turned to look at the man behind him at the stern of the ship, eyeing the crates as they went on. '...Woah.' This man was tall. Taller than his father! And from the looks of it, he could probably beat him in a fight...and that was saying something. Lots of hair too...all over that man, almost as much as his scars. 'Strong willed, Teeka. Keep a stiff tail and a tough scale.' Teeka walked up to Oaken-Hull and offered his hand to the man, who after a few looks, finally took it to shake. "Names Teeka-Lei. And I hope I wouldn't be wasting your time." He said with a small smile and a chuckle. Oaken-Hull tugged at a couple fingers, once again eyeing the younger and shorter lizard. "We'll see about that. Now! You wish to join in the voyage? There is a fee you know." He took out the gold he had gotten from his murder, and some from what his family had given him- enough to pay his way. "It's all here, hoping I've counted right." The captain huffed with a rather noticeable sneer. "I'll be the judge of that, lizard. Now come on!" Teeka paid no mind to the racist nomenclature. He would probably have to get used to it from now on.

He was quickly shown the ship, or at least...the parts that he'd be around. The main deck, the sleeping quarters, the Forecastle Deck, and the Poop Deck. ...which Teeka tried not to laugh, but he couldn't hold back a snicker. Which got him a good swing at his abdomen, knocked his laugh right out of him. "You laugh at my ship another time, and I skin you for boots!" While coughing, he bowed his head, waving a hand in the air. "So-*COUGH* Sorry captain! Yes captain!" Oaken-Hull nodded. "Good, now do as you please, but DON'T get in my men's way! They have to work for a living, unlike you slugs." ?'...Right, that one was a bit unkind of him...sodding lunatic.' Teeka did as he was asked though, standing himself up by the Helm of the ship, his clawed fingers digging slightly into the wood to hold true to it, as it rocked ever so gently on the waters below.

First thing he took notice of, was the water. That VAST ocean all round about him! It was a GLORIOUS sight to behold! Then, as his eyes went from the water to the ship, that's when he noticed the men walking about. Some were tying up some ropes and supplies, others were taking even more down below, and even others- like a certain dunmer on the main deck, watching the goings on like he himself was doing. 'Hmm..he must be here for the adventure as well.' Teeka wouldn't go and speak with him though, not just yet. He wasn't going to speak with anyone until they gave the OK before hand...a safety precaution, at least for now.

Until then, he minded his own business, humming a small little tune he remembered from the city of Thorn, when he was there with his family on business. And while he hummed, his tail took a good couple swings back and forth, just testing the air and his comfort of the situation.

"I guess this is one way to start out. Rough waters ahead, but all the more reason to keep going."

Larry Wall - Blacklight

Nerves, nerves, nerves - [censored] nerves! He took a swig from one of his many water pouches and shook it around, chewing his gum in disapproval for it had been full when he had left. In that way it represented him; full of hope, dreams and aspirations that were very literally thrown into the gutter as soon as he stepped into the ashen paste that is the mud soaked landscape of Morrowind. "Well, what did I expect?" Larry remarked, sighing deeply and stepping off from his coach.
"Everything alright sir?" Called out the rider who was finding himself atop the wagon and untying his belongings, however bleak they were - Larry was certain he would take his time.
"Yes, yes, brilliant thankyou. Take your time with that Bjorn, there's no rush here."
"Are you sure I can't take you to the docks?"
"I'm not even sure if that's where the boat is."

"But that's where the pubs are, two out of one is better than none."

"I'm amazed at how well you've known me in such a short space of time."
"Two days is a lifetime with someone in this industry I'm afraid sir. It's been a pleasure though."

Larry smiled and stared at the man as he worked. He liked Bjorn, he reminded him of the sailors or the miners that came through the city with their tales. He had a kind face but working hands that would very quickly remind you of how fragile bone could be. "Will you stay in the city Bjorn?"
"No sir, not for me Morrowind. I think I'll head back to Skyrim, see my wife and children for a while."

"Then let me pay you double so you can stay twice as long."

"Sir i couldn't..."
"Please Bjorn," started Larry as he began to pluck out the gold coins from his purse, Bjorns eyes traced every one, "call me Larry."

"That's very kind of you sir." Stated Bjorn, accepting the gift with a genuine smile and a warm handshake.

"Besides, if I am to die on this trip - I would rather my money didn't go to my slayer."

"Wise words sir, almost words to live by I would say." Bjorn smirked and Larry laughed before struggling to place on his backpack. He took a step back and waved to the man, he was about to say goodbye to the only man he knew and potentially his only friend in the world. It was a dull situation and as he took a firm swig against his water pouch, he promised it would only get better.

With one foot forward and the other behind, he headed swiftly and directly to the docks where he was sure the ship would be in waiting. Or perhaps a drink that would keep him warm and toasty until he was sufficiently drunk enough to believe his ship had arrived.

Larry Wall - Blackwater

Oh dear... Larry found himself in a very familiar situation, clinging to the floor for dear life. Oh good lord it hurts. He thought of his head as the rest of his body hadn't woken up yet - Or if it had was rebelling in a silent pout, too proud to even believe that once again, it had found itself in a pool of it's own working. A knock came to the door. "Larry! Larry open up!"

Larry didn't open up, he didn't even look up, but that didn't stop the giant of a Dunmer barging his way in. "Hah! Larry you old fool look at you! Oh you weren't kidding when you said you'd be in trouble this morning, eh?" Larry opened an eye and then regretted it. He thought about speaking but was fairly sure he was still face down in his own vomit. "Larry? You alive?" Larry groaned in acknowledgement. This apparent stranger was owed at least that.

The dark skinned elf sat down on his bed and tucked into an apple, the sound of his crunching splintered into Larry's mind like an arrow and caused him to shudder. "Who are you?" Larry asked, finally gathering up both the strength and the mental capacity to sit up. His eyes still weren't open but he was beginning to remember his surroundings and eventually, his night.
"You... You don't remember me?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse my memory, it's vanished along with my dignity."
"Haha! Yes ofcourse, well - You were very drunk."

"Still am."

"It's the only way to live."

"Or an easy way to die."

"Bah, two sides of the most expensive coin some will say."

"Well, they haven't heard of hangovers."

"We should get you washed."

"Why? I'm quite comfortable on this floor thankyou."

"Well, you've got a lovely boat trip to make today I believe."

"Oh."

"Did you forget?"

"I had tried to."

"Well you paid me quite handsomely to remind you."

"Think of me as reminded."

"Well, let's get you washed."

"Are you going to get me naked?"

"Hlaalu no! I'm simply going to run you a bath and get a maid to bring some food and clean your floor. Damn it man, I'm no mamma to you."

"Okay, okay - Apologies."

"Right, you go back to sleep and I'll get you sorted."

it seemed like eternity when his Dunmer friend arrived back and carried him into the bathroom. There Larry washed and remembered what it was like to be a human and actually regain some semblance of his senses. He took a few swigs of flin to cloud his mind from the oncoming headache and within an hour or two he was washed, shaven and dressed ready to go. "Well, I guess I owe you my thanks."

"You owe me nothing."

"What's your name?"

"Tavur."

"Well Tavur, thankyou nonetheless."

"You're welcome Larry, I wish you luck."
"Any idea where I'm going?"

"North. You can't miss the pier they say."

"How far North?"

"North enough you'll probably need a horse, in your sorry state anyway."

"Where can I find a horse?"

"South."

"Typical."

"It's cheap though so don't worry too much."

"Well, I'll see you around."

"Stay safe Larry - I look forward to reading your notes when you're back."

Slowly and without much enthusiasm, Larry trudged onwards, drawing his hood over his eyes to shade him from the morning sun. It wasn't soon before he found himself a horse and was sooner still that he found himself gazing upon the disappointing and somewhat depressing sight that was to be means of travel. He stayed on his horse for a bit and watched as sailors and other such men went to and fro, passing goods from the pier to the hull. A breeze picked up and for a moment he thought of home, sitting under the orchards of the nearby gardens as he read poetry before heading towards the local tavern where music played and people danced. It was beginning to dawn on him very quickly that adventures were far more interesting being told around a table of ale rather than a smelly horse with a hangover. He trotted over and nodded to the sailors that looked up, not many did and those that spared the time didn't think much of it.

"Excuse me! Who's the captain here?! I'm looking for a... For a, oh blast I'm looking for," realising his error he quickly began to rummage into his bag for a letter, "Ahah! Yes, Oaken-Hull, that's who I'm looking for! Anyone know where I can find him?!"

Galendor released the string to his bow, the knocked arrow flew right from the tree he was perched up in straight to the strange animal's head, or what he assumed to be the head, causing it to fall dead.

He dropped down from the old swamp tree onto the firm ground of Morrowind, running towards his kill he slid and knelt down next to it, inspecting the animal with a copy of his book given to him by King Dynar. Bestiary of Morrowind, it was labelled. This specific beast happened to be something called a nix hound, and Galendor had not a clue of what to do when it came to skinning it or using its meat. He gave the dead beast a puzzled look before standing up and heading back north, toward Blacklight. Judging the distance he had traveled from Valenwood, across Cyrodiil, and through Skyrim, he was close to Blacklight and already in Morrowind. Well, that was for sure, he was certainly in Morrowind.

I do hope the trek north is not too much longer, I could not bear hunting animals for game anymore. It had been nearly a year that the young Ayleid traveled, first by carriage, and then by foot. To the East, through Cyrodiil. Many stops taken between traveling, many things to be done, but he was ready for the long journey across the lands to end, and a new one to begin. That was for certain.

"It will not be long until your arrival, Galendor!" The elf perked his head up at the voice, looking around the area, eyes narrowed until he pinpointed the Dunmer speaking to him from the thick of brush. Earlier in his travels as he entered Morrowind Galendor hired a guide whom could move with him to make it through the lands without getting lost, as it had turned out, there was one Dunmer who claimed to know the land well, and well he did.

"Ah, yes Girhal there you are! I thought I may have lost you," A smile came across the Ayleid's face, of course he hadn't lost his companion, Girhal, but he did go missing at times. Trekking far ahead of Galendor to get a good view of the land and know if the small party should avoid anything. "Are we close then? I grow weary of travel."

"Oh, growing tired of me already my Ayleid friend? It's only been a week. I think I should be the one to grow tired of you!" The two elves laughed together and began to walk forward, north. "To answer your question, yes, we are quite close. Unfortunately for you, that means I will be gone within' a day it seems. I'm sorry my friend, but I do have a life away from guiding you."

"Why of course Girhal, I certainly understand, I appreciate everything you've done for me for such a low cost, even." The Dark Elf had only required a payment of ten septims of all things to be away from his family for possibly an indefinite amount of time, the generosity was half because Girhal was simply charitable and half because an Ayleid had not shown them self to anyone in hundreds of years, who would pass up the opportunity to spend a week with one? "Anyways, just one day left, hm? That makes this entire venture exactly a week I suppose. Well, this entire thing for me took a year."

The Dark elf simply nodded, saying nothing as they moved on, only to break the silence further down the path to Blacklight. "Galendor, I had a question for you."

"Shoot."

"How many of you are left?"

The question confused Galendor slightly, he perked an eyebrow and looked over at Girhal. "What do you mean?"

"How many Ayleids?"

"Not many."

The two later on found a spot about twelve hours from Blacklight and settled down there, in the morning when Galendor would awaken Girhal would be gone without a word, and a coin purse left behind with 100 septims in it. He was too generous, truly.

Galendor set out immediately towards Blacklight, not stopping once to eat, or to hunt he made his way straight down the path. Reaching there in about twelve horus, to be greeted with the odd looking city and it's wall. Along it a line of House Redoran guards and two in front of the gate, which the elf now having his hood on over his head to conceal his identity, approached.

"Excuse me, sirs. I was wondering where the ship the Serpent's Wake might be found."

Both Redoran guards just looked at each other for a moment and one of them shrugged, with an annoyed tone to his voice pointing away from the city with a heavy Dunmer accent. "There's a pier just around the city, Outlander, you can probably find it there. Now stop wasting my time."

With that Galendor just nodded and headed towards said direction. After a bit of walking he indeed did find the larger pier. Looking over it for just a few seconds, he made out some figures that stood out.

A Dunmer actually on the ship, some distance away was seemingly thinking to himself and gazing at the water lapping against the hull of it.

An Argonian at the helm of the ship observing everyone around it.

Finally, the only other character that stuck out from all of the average workers was some half drunk sounding, confused looking Imperial on a horse calling out for an Oaken-Hull.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I decided it wasn't a good idea to tally and pushed on wards past some sailors walking by, drunk as always by the looks of it. Looking up at the Imperial calling out to a Captain, I merely shrugged and headed straight towards the boat. Only to be stopped by a large Nord male. Large was an understatement, actually. Seemed like he went through Oblivion and came back through a portal filled with Dremora.

The man looked down at me and growled, a scowl on his face. It seemed I wasn't the first here, and it seemed the first ones here had insulted him in some way. "Are you trying to stow-away on my boat without paying you little elf?"

"Ah.. I assume you're -" The man interrupted me immediately, seemed like a habit. "YES! I am the Captain of this fine vessel elf, and you better show her respect or I'll bite you!" I had to think of something else to stay the laughter that may have ensued from listening to the crazed man speak, and just as I thought he had nothing else to say, he continued. "Now, little elf, tell me your name and give me the required gold for the ship, or leave!"

I chuckled, it was received with a glare that an advlt would give a child after doing something naughty. "Ah... I am Galendo-" Once again, interrupted. "Wait! Gay-len! Remove your hood when you speak to me or begone!" Right, he really did make a habit of interrupting me, or being insane. One of the other.

I pulled my hood down none-the-less to reveal my features, as I had expected me the Captain looked surprised, then annoyed, then indifferent. He was truly touched by Sheogorath. "Galendor, Captain. My name is Galendor." Right after I quickly reached to my belt and shoved a bag of gold at him, heading straight onto the ship, not waiting for a response from the crazed Nord. Feeling for my Elven short sword and bow, everything was in check and I was on the ship headed towards the right path to restoring my race.

I still couldn't take my eyes of both the Argonian and Dunmer on the ship currently however, something about them seemed important to say the least.

Elliot Blakley

Dark clouds covered the skies over Blacklight as Elliot sauntered through the city gates heading towards The Serpent’s Wake. Why does Morrowind always look so depressing? Dunmer’s really need to cheer up and crack a smile. He started to wonder through the town in the middle of the path as the locals watched him with uneasy eyes. A middle aged woman was walking towards him going about her business. Might as well just find out where the port is. “Excuse me sweetheart will you be able to point me in the direction of the port, please?”

She looked at him with an angry face. “Are you an idiot?” Elliot was taken back by that response. “Oh, you’ve probably never been here before.” She stared at him for a second and then pointed behind her. “It’s that way. The whole city is based around the port you can see it from nearly everywhere in the city.”

“Thank you ever so much.” He gave her an over the top bow, when he came back up he winked at her. To that she just grunted and continued on her way. Elliot turned around laughing to himself as he watched the Dunmer walk away. He began walking down the road where he came to an opening which overlooked all of the city. Quite impressive, don’t know why Dunmers like making houses out of animal shells though… well leathers made from a dead animal... I don’t know why I’m moaning. He shrugged his shoulders and started to walk down the stairs.

Minutes later he arrived at the port to see quite a lot of ships dotted about the place. Well this is going to take a while. There was a lot of activity happening, sailors going about their business, loading and unloading the ships. “I'll be the judge of that, lizard. Now come on!” Elliot overheard a massive Nord yelling at a young Argonian. He turned around to see an old ship with the words ‘The Serpents Wake’ on the side. Well this looks like it’s my stop, what an awful ship. If we make it to Vvardenfell in one piece I’ll be very surprised. He waited a few minutes before getting on, Elliot had never really been a fan of ships, and any time he went on one it would usually make him throw up. After a while of staring at the ship, he started to walk up the plank letting out a huge sigh. When he reached the top of the ship, the Nord who seemed to be the captain was not there. He took the pack of his back and dumped it on the floor. Looking around he noticed a Dunmer who looked deep in thought, Elliot made eye contact with him and gave a little nod. “What do you want on my ship?” A deep voice came from the side of him.

“Well obviously I’m here to travel to Vvardenfell.” He shook his head at what he thought was a stupid question. “What other reason would I have to come on this awful boat.” He turned around to face the man who asked him the question. The man was stood a foot away from him and Elliot was staring right at his massive chest, which was showing a lot of skin and was covered in hair and dirt. Slowly, Elliot started to look up towards the Nords face and that wasn’t anything nicer to look at. “Gods you’re even bigger up close.” Elliot let out a little laugh to try and make light of the situation.

“Yes. I am.” The Nord replied looking like a rabid dog.

“Well allow me to introduce myself.” I am Elliot Blakely and I seek passage on your ship to Vvardenfell.” He stuck out his hand and the Nord shook it in response, squeezing it a little.

“Got the money?”

“Yes.” There was a small pouch on his waist, which he grabbed and dropped it in the Nord’s hands, only then did the Nord let go of his other hand.

“This way laddy.” The monster of a man turned around suddenly and headed back down below ship. Elliot picked up his belongings and followed him.

Larry Wall - Loading pier of the Serpents Wake

Larry wouldn't have classed himself as angry, it was a sort of emotion where he wouldn't mind strangling those that stepped infront of him and were answered but he would certainly feel bad. It was a grating sensation where the more he watched their movements, their jokes and their little introductions with the different parts of the ship while he quietly waited his turn sat atop a horse being polite. He rubbed his eyes beginning to feel the drowsiness kick in. He took another swig and began to feel the comforting numbness that made flin his favourite beverage.

First there was an elf and Larry didn't like him very much. He was clad in black and wasn't really very indistinguishable aside from his odd height and the fine ornate weapons that hung around him. Larry had watched from atop his weary steed as the man approached and had even remarked on the bright blue eyes as they looked at each other. It was a moment where Larry felt like smiling and going, 'Hail friend! I hope this day finds you well and that we are travelling together!' but all thoughts of hospitality and friendship were quickly abandoned as the short and stubby elf made off to the boat and quickly began to converse with the Nord Larry was looking for. He scowled and for a moment thought about moving but instead found himself enjoying the captain belittle the elf. He raised a water pouch in a toast and took another swig.

He rubbed his eyes again, his skin was beginning to feel soft and rubbery and Larry knew it wouldn't be long before he would be back asleep. He would have to move, getting on that boat meant getting into a bed and that meant he could potentially sleep off his hangover. He felt the familiar touch of crystals in his trenchcoat pocket and began to understand why he felt so bad. It's been a while since I've touched this stuff... he mused and was about to scatter the half dozen tiny crystals into the grass when he saw another adventurer walk right past him. Ofcourse this time, there wasn't so much hate, how was the Breton to know? But Larry still felt frustrated; he was hungover, tired and beginning to realise he'd probably spent far too much money on moon sugar already. The Breton handled the nord better but was still subject to his rudeness, something Larry was sure he too would have to endure.

He stirred his horse from it's coma and lazily listed it towards the ship. His mind raced as to how he would introduce himself, would he charm the man? Insult him or fain innocence? "Hey! You! Oaken-Hull!" He called out as loudly as he could. "I'm coming aboard mate and before you ask - Yes I have your bloody money!" He jumped off the horse and to his surprise managed to stay standing. Fuelled by his first few words he took another swig of his water, "Fine ship too, bet she's been on more voyages than you have women." Some of the men laughed, some of them cringed. Larry should've taken the hint as he watched a particularly angry Nord advance towards him.

The man was built like a fortress. Larry hadn't seen many but he expected that if he was to come upon one they would forever pale in comparison to Oaken-Hull. Larry chucked on his rucksack and threw a pouch of previously counted coins at the man which he caught deftly. "A word, boy." Curled the Nord as he sized up against the dwarfed Imperial. "You dare talk about my ship, or about me, or about my crew infact - If you dare talk in my presence again I wont just cut you into pieces. I'll do it very, very slowly." Half frozen from shock and fear Larry poured a large amount of flin down his throat and swallowed awkwardly meaning that flin spilt out of his lips and onto his trenchcoat. Oaken-Hull laughed raucously and was joined by sailors that had witnessed the incident. "Come! Let me show you around whelp." A firm hand thumped itself against his back and Larry quickly realised he'd just handed himself to a bully.

"A bed would be preferable."

"Then we'll do the rooms last."

I had never before seen a place that expressed its authority so blatantly. The dark fingers of Blacklight grasped for the sky, scratching at the bottom of the billowy grey clouds.

"Nearly there," came the abrasively chipper voice of the coachman as he led the horses over every stone and pothole.

I winced as we bounced closer to our destination; the pain of sitting for so long in the rough wooden coach had begun to pinch at the last of my nerves.

"Excited for yer adventuring, miss?" he asked, all politeness and smiles.

Bewildered by his attitude, more than his question, I replied, "Not the word. Resigned...would be a more accurate choice."

"Ah well," he continued, "we are ruled by fates and are the playthings of gods. What other emotion is ever more appropriate than resignation?"

"Hmm," I agreed.

Acquiescing to my unspoken request for silence, he was quiet for the remainder of the journey, though the smile never left his lips.

A short while later, after passing round the stony hand, we arrived at Blacklight Port. I paid my driver for his time and thanked him for a safe trip. Relenting to his cheerfulness, I smiled brightly at him before turning to search for the Serpent's Wake.

The Port was a congested mass of ships and crates and men, and I did my best to navigate through them all.

"The Serpent's Wake?" I shouted to a group of men unloading heavy barrels from a laden wagon.

"Now, what would ye want with a ship like that?" one of the men asked, a bemused expression on his face.

Meeting his eyes, I declared, "Everything."

He crossed his large, hairy arms and leaned his face closer to mine; I could smell mead and meat on his breath.

"What'll ye give me to deliver ye straight to her?" he questioned, brow leering.

"Your tongue," I winked.

Roars of laughter erupted from his mouth and a slap of appreciation on my back nearly toppled me to the ground.

"Imperial face; Nordic heart! Come lass, I take ye to the ship."

Hoardes of people washed around the large man and I found protection and calm in his wake. He deftly maneuvered around any and all that would have been in my way and we quickly made it to the relic of a ship.

It was with genuine appreciation that I thanked him for his help.

"When ye come back, ye look for me. I'd like to hear of yer journey."

"Who do I ask for?" I questioned.

"Oh, lass. Bjarlson! All here know me."

"Thank you, Bjarlson. I will," I promised. "My name is...", I began.

"LASS!" he shouted. "Yer name is Lass!" And with that, he merged into the crowds and was gone.

Somewhat stunned, it took me a moment to realize someone aboard the Serpent's Wake was calling for my attention.

"You there! Boy!" I finally heard.

"Me?" I asked, not believing that I was being confused for a boy.

"Of course you! I don't see any other long-haired, fleshy boys standing about!"

Dumbfounded by his inability to see my gender clearly, I yelled back, "I'm not a boy!"

"Fine, fine. Girly-man," he sighed impatiently, waving his hand as though swatting away a fly. "Are you boarding my ship or just blocking the gangway to be obnoxious?"

I looked around quickly to see the faces of many exasperated and heavy-laden sailors staring back at me.

"Oh," was all I could manage as I rushed up the plank and out of their way. A line of sturdy Nords filed past me lugging boxes and barrels and sacks of supplies. Straining my neck, I looked into the face of the man who'd hollered at me, and asked, "Are you Heinrich Oaken-Hull?"

"SPEAK UP, BOY! NO ONE WILL EVER HEAR YOU WITH THAT MOUSY LADIES VOICE!"

I laughed. Hard. This dear, crazy mountain of a man was quickly becoming one of my favorite people. "ARE YOU HEINRICH OAKEN-HULL?" I shouted up at his chin.

My yell had startled a few of the men aboard into staring, but I was indifferent to their shock.

"HA HA!" the Mountain laughed. "That's better. Of course I'm Heinrich! What do you want of me?"

"I'm here to join the expedition to Vvardenfell. Are you still accepting recruits?"

He breathed in and out deeply and cracked his knuckles in my face.

"Is your heart made of steel?" he asked finally.

"I haven't even got one," I answered, flinching at the reminder.

He stared me down with furrowed brows before speaking. "Then you'll do well," he declared finally.

I sighed with relief at what seemed to be the end of his lunatics tirade and turned to explore the deck of the ship.

"GOLD, BOY! GOLD!" Oaken-Hull shouted at my back.

Ah, right. Cutting the coin pouch from my belt, I tossed it into his massive hand.

"Welcome, welcome, laddie," he smirked before turning to yell at some other poor soul.

I had made it. Soon we were to set off to restore the balance of fate. Checking my surroundings, I decided to climb to the bow of the ship to find somewhere soft to sit and stretch my travel-worn body.

17th day of Sun's Dusk, 4E 28

Redayn Omothan

The Serpent's Wake

Many came to The Serpent's Wake seeking glory and riches, and many more it seemed left, driven off by Heinrich Oaken-Hull's madness. I saw others turn away before even reaching the ship proper. Maybe the old tub didn't live up to their expectations, or maybe it was the specter of Red Mountain glaring down from the East that gave them cold feet. I expect many decided they didn't want to die after all, and went home to the warmth of their fireplaces and families. Only those with everything to gain, or at least nothing to lose, remained. I watched them gather with the clouds, imagining them as vultures circling the corpse of Oaken-Hull's sanity. I couldn't help but snicker under my breath as each one was invited into the lunacy of The Serpent's Wake. One of them, a Breton I think, nodded to me in recognition. All I could do was stare, my gaze frozen on Oaken-Hull practically manifesting behind him.

I couldn't stop laughing! It was as if Oaken-Hull's insanity was slowly seeping into me. Or maybe a day spent waiting in the smog-choked air had me a little loopy. Delirious. My vision turned hazy for a moment...

The ship was vacant. The docks were vacant. A thick fog blanketed the world. The ghoulish hands of Blacklight became literal; covered in rotting flesh. The sound of a dull thud rippled through the still-water ocean. A drum? A heartbeat? A putrid scent emanated from the sea. Snow was falling, no... not snow. Ash. The Shadow of a man was cutting his way through the haze, headed straight for me...

I snapped back to reality as Oaken-Hull shook me. It was dark out, and raining heavily. Thankfully we were not yet at sea, lest I be cast overboard. Night time? What happened? How long was I out like that?

"Stop day-dreaming, puny child! You need to pay up if you plan to sail with me!" I blinked slowly, my eyelids weighed down with confusion and disbelief. Is this for real?

"I gave you your gold already captain. I'm Resdayn Omothan?"

Oaken-Hull gave out a long-winded, slightly sardonic "Oooooh," that I thought he might follow up with "well excuse me then." Instead he just looked me over, giving me a smile as twisted as the mind that procured it. "We need to fatten you up, Resdayn OmoTHIN." I hoped he never made another joke. It was horrid. "Ehehe.. okay," I appeased awkwardly, "what's going on here captain?"

"What's going on?! Dinner is going on you fool! Come along now..."

Oaken-Hull dragged me down below deck, to the "mead hall" as he was so insistent on calling it, where my to-be companions were already sitting. "Look who I found standing in the rain like a turkey! He'd of drowned if it weren't for me." Hysterical laughter broke out, mostly from the handful of Oaken-Hull's obvious veterans, by which I mean they had been around long enough to understand the Nord's "condition." It was easy to tell the seasoned sailors apart from the newcomers, who might have been nervously chuckling, or just nervous. I wanted to say hello, but like a dream where you know you must run and still you can't, my lips didn't move.

"Shove over baby-face!" I watched as Oaken-Hull grabbed one of his crew-members, a fellow Nord, and tossed him halfway across the room. Everyone laughed. Oaken-Hull laughed (which instilled a slight amount of terror in my heart) before turning his mad eyes on me. "Sit," he said sternly, pointing to the now toppled chair he had just thrown his compatriot from. With raised-brow, I set the chair up right, scanned the room with suspicious eyes, and finally took my seat, letting out a big sigh as I did so.

Oaken-Hull helped the other Nord up and clutched his shoulders, and for a moment they watched each other's eyes intensely. It was a look I had seen before; a look shared between those who have ventured through hell together. Others around the room had a similar look that hung over their visage like a grim veil. I wondered what my eyes held. I wondered what they would hold if I returned from this expedition alive.

Dinner was served by Oaken-Hull himself. For at least thirty minutes we watched as he scurried from kitchen to "mead-hall" with platters of meat and cheese and bread. He brought out bowls of ash yams sliced and cooked with a bit of oil and salt. Pitchers full of mead and ale were used to fill every glass. It was soul food, to be sure. Of course there was nothing green, but I didn't care. None of us cared. It was a long journey to Blacklight, and you could tell by our sunken faces we were famished. I was eager to stuff myself to the cheeks, but there was Oaken-Hull, panting at the head of the table with a mug raised over his head in toast. He had finally finished feverishly setting the table. My heart sank as his lips started flapping.

"Tonight we feast on the flesh of our enemies! Or was it our comrades..."

[ten minutes later]

"You got that greenhorns? Now... MINGLE!!"

Oaken-Hull's "speech" went on for longer than I care to remember, and in fact, memory fails me as to what it was he actually said that night. The words "tonight we feast on the flesh of our enemies" still echo through my mind, though.

It was chicken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening Oaken-Hull lead myself and the other newcomers (mugs in hand, mind you) to the top-deck, where slanted canvas had been tied from the mast to cover a brazier that was lit with a small bonfire. For the first time since I met the crazy bastard, and probably for the last time that I can recall, Oaken-Hull kept his mouth shut. He just took a seat around the fire, silently staring, letting the flames lick his wild eyes. I used the opportunity to introduce myself.

"I'm Resdayn Omothan, of the House Resdayn, first of my name. I won't ask what brings you to Morrowind, and likewise I wont bore you with my story. I'll just say that I'm glad to see I'm not the only one with the stones," I paused to glance at Oaken-Hull, then the others, "and the insanity to delve into the Heart of Fire. May Azura watch over you all." With that, I raised my mug of ale to my lips and tipped it back.

I could scarcely believe it. Our first and final day in the Blacklight port was nearing its end. In the morning we would set sail into the collective nightmare of the Dunmer nation.

And the rain kept hammering down.

Elissandre, Blacklight’s piers

Elisandre felt a bit nervous. She had always found Blacklight’s foreboding architecture a bit unsettling, but her recent actions hadn’t improved her mood. She didn’t like to make herself noticeable, but what she had in mind required it. Which meant she had made no effort to hide her face or fairly noticeable hair color while inquiring about the Morrowind expedition. She could only hope that whoever was looking for her wouldn’t find her trail before she was safely aboard the Serpent’s Wake. Safely might not be the best word. From what I’ve heard the ship’s a wreck , captain Oaken Hull is barking mad and his crew a sorry bunch of pirates in all but name. Bah, staying here to wait for an assassin’s dagger isn’t exactly safe either... and I’m more used than I would ever have thought possible to hang around lowlifes...

Soon she was at the port, and it took only single question to have the ship’s location, along with a suggestion to trade Sheoggorath’s worship for something better. Though judging from the pointed look from a wealthy looking captain or merchant, he wouldn’t mind a Four Corners worshiper getting lost at sea.

A quick visual survey of the ship confirmed some of her information : the Serpent’s Wake did indeed look it went to Oblivion and back, without much effort to fix the sequels. Coming close she could see a similitude with some of the ships of ill repute she had traveled on – even they had been only river ships. The ship looked fairly bad as a whole, but everything her limited experience told her was important appeared sound and well cared for. And it probably keeps both pirates and tax collectors away, as this ship promises plenty of troubles for miserable profits.

But the ship offered a blatant display of the captain’s oddity. A bonfire built on the upper deck, under a tarp to keep the rain away. In a brazier as Oaken Hull didn’t seem that thoroughly kissed by Sheoggorath, but a very unusual sight on a ship, were fire was seldom welcome.... At least it’s still moored, not rolling and pitching at sea; which would make it a disaster waiting to happen.

She made her aboard, quickly getting sent to captain Oaken-Hull – a nord who seemed to take of his province’s mountains, both in altitude and apparent toughness. And of course holding a mug of what smelled like mead. At least that’s normal, at least for a nord...

She quickly introduced herself, keeping a few pace away to be able to look at his face without craning her neck too much ‘Greetings captain Oaken Hull. I’m Elissandre and came to join your expedition."

The man looked her over for a few seconds before answering, seemingly unsure of what to make of the mismatch of her soft face and practical garb and gear. "And what kind of coins do you plan to pay your way on my ship, lass ? Smiles and serving mead won’t float you farther than the port’s water."

With a pang of anger she picked her purse and tossed it at his feet, landing with a hefty clinking sound, her voice hardening as she quickly decided politeness and common sense wouldn’t do for earning a berth. "Good proper gold coins. And patching up whatever wounds you’re sure to earn by lunacy or a big mouth. Oh and if you’re scared of magical healing, I can do it the good old cut-cauterize-and-sew style or brew a healing draught stong and vile enough to make even a big, tough and brainless nord think twice before trying to get a scar to brag about."

Oaken-Hull looked at her with a hint of surprise, a bit like a cat who just got his nose bitten by a mouse, before giving a booming and amused answer "Sounds like you’ve got a bit of guts and gold. Get your gear stowed and go celebrate your hiring with a mug."


She took him to his word ans quickly went underdeck to store her few possession before returning to enjoy the warmth and light. She sat down and shamelessly used the bonfire to warm her hydromel mug and add a few spices picked from her alchemical supplies. As one of the passengers introduced himself as Redayn Omothan, she took the opportunity to follow suit. "Oh I think we can also watch over each other. The Daedra Lords’s help is known to be fickle. But speaking of helping, well, that’s sort of what brings me here. I’m Elissandre, alchemist and healer – both magical and mundane. And having mostly walked my way from Highrock to Blacklight unharmed, I don’t requires too much watching over when things will get hairy."

Larry Wall - Serpents Wake Dorm

Larry was beginning to despise Morrowind but not for the usual reasons, for example; he didn't despise Morrowind for the blatent racism, the smell nor the bad food. No he despised Morrowind because so far, he'd always been woken up by some Dunmer banging against his door calling his name. Ofcourse, in good fashion, none of them waited for him to answer and barged in anyway. "Oi, Imperial, it's dinner."

Normally Larry would've jumped at the chance for dinner but his stomach was still heaving from the night before and his sleep, as lovely as it was - Hadn't helped. "I'm fine, thankyou." He replied, turning onto his back and placing an arm over his eyes to shade himself from the light of his dorm.

"There's mead."

"You drive a hard bargain sir, but ultimately - You have a sale." Larry joked with a wide smile, "Music to my ears." Larry slowly sat up and ran his tongue around his mouth, cringing slightly at the bitter taste of spirit. Perhaps he would eat - If only to mask the smell for he was sure there wasn't a clear source of water on this tub. With the Dunmer gone Larry opened the pouch actually containing water and took a large gulp while fixing his hair and then proceeded to head towards wherever it was he was going.

He wondered about whether or not he should go back and get his pack of Flin although perhaps it would set a bad first impression for his fellow adventurers. Either way, his hands itched terribly and he was fairly certain it would all be fine as soon as he got his first pint in. Maybe tonight I wont drink? Maybe tonight I'll stick to the fruit juice, or - Whatever else people drink. This idea was instantly thrown aside when Larry quite curiously found himself the owner of a large mug of ale and a cut of ham.

It was quite bemusing and it all happened very fast. It began as soon as he entered the dining area for he was quite practically pushed into a chair by a nordic lackey, given a drink and then served dinner by Oaken-Hull. Ofcourse, it didn't take long before Larry's hands had stopped itching and he found himself quite drunk again. He turned to the person next to him, not too sure who they were or what they were doing there but insisted that they aught to know what Larry thought about the situation. "He... He really is quite mad you know, yes, almost - Well yes quite mad. Good stuff this, eh?" He slurred, lifting his plate of hams and tilting it in their direction because he was fairly sure he was the only one that was tasting their brilliance. "You know." Larry burped and quickly apologised, "I was a bit hesitant, coming here, first adventurer and all but pfft, this is easy!" He chuckled and finished his beer and insisted upon another, "can't wait till we get out on the road, nope - Born for this I am." He waved his mug in the air and spilt a little on his coat.

He shoved his hand into his pocket to grab a handkerchief but instead stumbled upon his remaining moon sugar. The crystals were crisp against his soft and numbed skin as he rubbed them between his fingers in thought. He hadn't played with moon sugar in a while, hadn't touched anything but fine wine and bad beer. But what could the harm be? Surely what would be the problem with a little top up, he was fairly drunk now and some moon sugar would only sober him up? "Excuse me, I need to, well." He left the table swiftly and headed to his dorm where he proceeded to crush up the crystals and without much grandeur or second thought, felt the familiar tingle that always comes with the admission of moon sugar.

The first thing Larry noticed was the feeling in his hands, his hearing and the sudden twitch in foot. It was all clearer and much more defined and exaggerated. He felt a semblance of sobriety come upon him as he headed back to the party and sat down again only to realise that no one was there and everyone had been lead upstairs. Larry laughed and with new found energy grabbed his mug and leapt up onto the top deck after a small and fairly pretty woman had just finished introducting herself, he took a gulp of his ale and spoke up, "I'm Larry and I'm an alcoholic, I heard you had a fine ship and finer booze - Haven't been disappointed yet." he winked, ran a hand through his hair and felt pretty good about things. By the nine Tavur, where did you get this stuff?

To say that Teeka was relaxed...would be a sorrowful downplay of his emotions. He had already figured out the 'regulars' on this ship, and was drowning them out into the background- only on occasion noticing what they were doing when they left their assigned path in his mind. Maybe they took a step the wrong way to the left or right, or they switched jobs because there wasn't any more stock for them to put away below deck- and so he focused on them and built them a new path in his head. He calculated, he figured, and he numbed them back out, moving onto the next. Until finally, he had a network of each person in his mind, and where they would logically walk next. This was done within just a few seconds, and he was pretty sure everyone did it. People have a way of blending into the background when they have a set path or rhythm to their walk, their movements, even down to the way they breath. Only when a newcomer would enter- usually loudly, mind you- would his mental world get a glitch in it, and he'd have to swipe it clean, look around- making sure everyone he had already assigned was in their places, and then factor in this newcomer.

First, was the human. ...Imperial? Not sure, but male- and certainly a human. He had ridden on a horse, and was..yelling a bit. More of a nuisance than anything else at the moment, to be brutally honest. He didn't leave his horse though, so that wasn't as much of an intrusion as Teeka thought it would be. He quickly moved on from him and found the captain, oddly enough- he was Teeka's neutral. His control group. Oaken-Hull was the one moving ALL around the ship, and so the Saxhleel used him as that "reset" for him. Just something to look at, I guess you could say.

This, ALL of this. Wasn't to come off weird, truly. EVERYONE does this, on a daily basis, Teeka though- he just took notice of it..and took a little bit of pleasure in it.

Then came the next intrusion. Elf. ...just..er...yah, elf. Teeka couldn't tell them apart very well, he'd seen a couple in his time back home, and they were- ...'Wait, did I meet wood elves or were they High elves...Kaoc! I can't remember.' No matter though, he'd learn eventually...or maybe not at all. That all depended on his interactions with this man. Man? ...Man. This one, took the time to walk up the plank and actually talk to his 'Control group'. And just as he had watched with his own encounter, Oaken-hull was insanity incarnate. He'd jump and wail and thrash...kind of like a fish out of water. 'Hmm...maybe he's sick of being docked for so long...he needs to feel that sea along his face again.' Teeka had read stories, how captains, if given too much time at sea, will grow addicted to it. Or at least some would; others just got sick of it.

Following that elf, er..maybe he had already been there before? Again, people in the background tend to just fade out of Teeka's sight. Or... at least people that seem like they are where they are supposed to be. Anyways, here comes Elf number 2. ...right. This one had shorter hair than the other- that would be an easy tell between the two. This male- no women so far...hmm. Again, this male, followed suit of the first, and came up onto the ship. Teeka took that moment to check his surroundings again, making sure everyone was sorted in their same paths still. ...a sailor with a brown vest had stopped working on the ratlines and was now walking along the deck, cleaning the railing- the argonian took that into consideration and put him back into the background. After that was sorted, he leaned himself over the railing he himself was standing at- and actually decided to sit himself down upon it, getting a bit more comfortable, allowing his clawed feet to dangle over the edge. Watching people made him relaxed, and knowing where everyone was- only increased that comfort. His eyes went back to the elf, who had by now payed the captain, and was getting acquainted with his surroundings. And in truth, he was probably doing was Teeka was doing- but at a much lesser extent.

'Hmm..this has been the first time I've seen a woman since I left home.' These were Teeka's thoughts, when that seemingly final intruder entered into the scene below him. He watched as Oaken-Hull's interest seamed peaked at this moment- probably because he had time, the sailors were done loading everything in by now.

"HA!" Teeka very swiftly opened his mouth and bit down on his first two fingers, Oaken-Hull just called that woman a MAN!! He called her a BOY!! Hahahaha!! Teeka bit harder, he had to stop laughing. His mind told him to focus, to try and not miss anything that the two shared between each other; ...but...it only grew worse! At one point, when he heard the words 'Girly-Man' he almost fell off of the railing, his claws held him true, though. Teeka was glad when she finally payed the behemoth of a lunatic; if not for her sake, than for his own sanity...this man HAD to be rubbing off on him. Just watching him meander and prance along his ship and around his men, made Teeka actually a little bit...envious of him. To be so free like that- even around strangers, it looked thrilling. He hoped that maybe one day, he'd be able to be as free as that man. Hopefully not to that extent- Hist allowing.

Now...seemingly. It was all done and finished. Everyone who had intruded on his little 'scene' before him, was now in their set spots- and faded into the complete picture. Teeka would on occasion pay attention to a specific character- sometimes the dunmer, sometimes the elves- but he'd always go back to Oaken-Hull. That control, that base.

Then came the time, for food, and later- a rest. The food was good, or..well yes, it was pleasant. Chicken, some ham- er..what tasted like ham. And some refreshing mead. Teeka had actually never had this mead before- which wasn't surprising. He was discovering something new almost every hour. While he ate, and while he drank- maybe a bit more than he should have, his left hand was placed along his left horn, stroking it lightly with his finger tips. He did this, when he was calm and comfortable, and in truth? Even though he did feel anxious? He actually was very relaxed with where he was. He was pretty sure his family would be proud of him.

At one moment during the evening- after his very...'extravagant speech.' --truly all the big nut ball did that was notable was 'Tonight, we feast on the flesh of our enemies!' and then he grabbed a GIANT chicken leg and thrusted it into the air like you would brandish a sword. Teeka was actually impressed by the size of the leg, it was almost as large as his forearm. -- Anyways, Oaken-hull slammed his fist against the table, a hearty laugh leaving his face- which was an almost raspberry red- and there was a trail of food shooting from that gaping orifice. "CHICKEN!!" ...'What.' Teeka didn't have a moment to even wonder why their captain screamed chicken, by the time a peace of meat was being slapped across his face.

"YOU! Scaly!" He blinked.

"Wait, Scaly?" Oaken-Hull nodded, a smile wide across his face.

"Hey! Why don't chickens like people?!" Teeka of course, didn't know what was going on, so..

"I don't know. Why?"

"Cause we eat them! AHAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" ... 'Wow.' The lizard tried to look around the room at the sailors and acquaintances he had just met, looking for any kind of assistance at what he should do in that moment. He chose to chuckle, a flabbergasted smile stretching across his face before he bent back down to stuff his face with the meat that had just been thrown at him. ..more ham.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time had passed, and some small mingling was shared during the dinner, nothing too much- a few more outbursts from their crazed captain were of course shared, but again- it was all in all, a feast. Not so much a 'meet and greet'. And after the food and drink had been spent, Oaken took it upon himself to lead everyone up above, to a changed deck; which to Teeka's pleasant surprise, wasn't all together bad looking. To him? It reminded him of the markets at Argonia, during those hot and humid summers? They'd tie fabric up above at an angle, so the sun couldn't bleed through below, but just enough opening that the breeze could- if there was one that day. That, was a comfort. And it reminded him a bit of home. He was actually beginning to like this captain. He was insane, that was clear. But he still seemed to keep everyone happy.

Teeka listened as a few people gave their introductions. The dunmer being named Resdayn- who looked more dead in this light of the fire than in the daylight. Then a sudden intruder- a new comer that caused more of a close proximity ruckus than Teeka was prepared for- this female was named Elissandre. And last, before it was his turn- since they were sitting in a rather tight-knit circle- was Larry, the man who had wandered off during dinner, and seemed a bit...off kilter- to put it mildly.

Well..he was up next, and there wasn't any kind of formality that had to be followed, so he just tilted his head up, rubbed at one of his horns- and gave a gentle smile. "Hello there, my name is Teeka-Lei, and um...well. I'm from Black Marsh, just..." He shrugged. "Going on an adventure I guess." He wasn't sure what to say in these types of situations, it was too informal. To his embarrassment, a bit of water- that had collected on the thick fabric above him, suddenly had to give way- and splashed on his back, making him jump and shiver in the same moment. "Gaaaah! Cold, Kaoc!" He shouted out- his hand coming up to pat at his back and try to wipe off what liquid he could. 'Of all the times...whatever. I guess that will have to be my introduction for now.'

"Mmmhmm, stoooop," I mumbled as someone shook me awake. "Please let me sleep."

"You can sleep later. Oaken-Hull said I was to bring 'the boy' down for dinner," came an unfamiliar voice. My eyes shot open and took a moment to focus on the speakers face.

"The boy...what?" I asked, still dazed.

"You. 'The boy'."

"Oh, right," I thought. "The Serpent's Wake: Oaken-Hull: I am 'the boy'."

I rose unsteadily to my feet; my sore back and legs trembling at the effort. The young sailor's strong hand reached out and steadied me. "You're not...really...?"

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "A boy?"

"Eh...we...I was..." was all he could manage.

Exasperated, I replied with, "Of course I'm not." And then I laughed, rubbing my forehead. "Oaken-Hull really is a wonder."

"Aye, 'boy'," he teased. "That he is. But more importantly, he's also impatient!" Grabbing my pack from the ground, he led me down to the crew cabins and assigned me a bunk. He then led me up a deck, or two, into a large open chamber which he told me to refer to as the 'Mead-Hall'.

"Sit wherever you'll fit," he shouted over the near-deafening chorus of voices.

Choosing a few square inches of bench, I squeezed between a battle-worn Nord and another who, by comparison, seemed new to the world of Tamriel. Oaken-Hull himself was to be our server and after throwing one of his crew across the room to make space for a waif-of-a-dunmer, he proudly presented a wide array of meaty dishes. And barrels upon barrels of ale....

A mug was shoved into my hand and filled to overflowing with the amber liquid. I lifted the cup to drink, but stopped when Oaken-Hull began to speak.

"Tonight we feast on the flesh of our enemies! Or was it our comrades..."

The horror in my face must have been apparent, because the scar of a man to my left leaned to whisper in my ear. "Never made enemies with a chicken, boy?" His laugh was warm and hearty, but not enough to overpower the voice of the captain, whose speech continued for some time.

Minutes later, near the middle of his declarations, our new Captain chose to favor us in a singularly unexpected way. For no discernible reason, and with no prior warning, Oaken-Hull broke into his own musical rendition of, "A Rude Song", followed immediately by another sung piece; "The Lusty Argonian Maid". Tears flowed freely from his eyes, mingling with the droplets of spittle already present in his lush beard. I couldn't tell if he was moved more by the words or the off-key tune, but was slightly disturbed at the prospect of it being either. Embarrassed at some of the more colorful lyrics in his chosen tunes, I tried my best to distract my thoughts until he had finished his speaking.

Eventually we were invited to dine. The food was rich and filling and despite the amount that had been piled onto the table, every plate and dish was quickly cleaned. After the meal, those who had signed on for the expedition were invited to join the Captain on deck for introductions and drinks.

I climbed the wooden stairs and emerged into the cool night. In apparent defiance of science or, it seemed, logic, a large brazier sat heavily in the middle of the deck, a dancing fire in its belly. A tarpaulin had been erected over it to protect the flames from the rain. There were already four others, in addition to the captain, who were circled around the warmth of the fire. I joined them, just as they were introducing themselves.

The first to speak was the same man who'd taken the place of the sailor Oaken-Hull had unseated during dinner. He introduced himself as Resdayn Omothan. His first name seemed to stir something in my memory, but I wasn't able to pinpoint it before the next spoke her name.

"Ellisandre, alchemist and healer." I smiled discreetly; I was glad to have someone of her ilk aboard.

The third of the group had arrived only moments before me, nearly leaping as he walked. "I'm Larry, and I'm an alcoholic!" he announced flatly before running his fingers through his hair.

The last, an Argonian, introduced himself nervously as Teeka-Lei. He shifted his weight, in what seemed an attempt to calm his nerves, but fate wanted to play. A frigid cascade of pooled water poured from the side of the tarpaulin and down Teeka's back. He jumped; I smirked.

The phrase, 'Band of misfits' came to mind before I stepped into the firelight.

"Boy!" Oaken-Hull shouted. "Welcome!"

Sighing in resignation more than annoyance, I caved to Oaken-Hull's manic charm and smiled again. "My name is Kaivel Bainax," I declared, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "I'm here to answer the call."

"And I am no boy," I added after a moment.