Balmora

[Arkfeller]

Balmora is a large city located in the West Gash region, though situated closer to The Bitter Coast. A major trading center and home to to mainly Imperials and Dunmer.

[Arkfeller]

Endiroth wandered the streets of Balmora aimlessly, occasionally stopping for a quick chat. He finally stopped and sat down on one of the bridges extending across the small canal, while staring into the distance, where a Silt Strider prepared itself for departure.

{Typing in school. Sitting in front of Orisis and having a heart-to-heart. XD}

[Orisis]

"Oi," it was one of the dunmer townsfolk," You could get in somebody's way if you sit there."

This particular dunmer was tall, standing 1.7m, looking down on Endiroth, with typical elven features. He was armed in a bonemold cuirass & boots, with an iron sword sheathed by his side. Parts of a guards uniform, but not whole. His hair was swept back from his face, and he seemed to look very haughty as he confronted Endiroth.

[[ ]]

[Arkfeller]

Endiroth looks up at the guard. He reaches for his sword, but decides against it and gets up instead. He utters an apology, makes his way to another bridge (all the while looking back cautiously at the guard) and sits down there, staring at the Silt Strider.

{That was playful humour. We're not allowed to talk in class. Hmph.)

[Orisis]

The guard, eyeing Endiroth all the way, gave an exasperated sigh, before striding to his new position. He made no move to draw his sword, seeing Endiroth as some hobo who happened to find his way to Balmora.

"Look," he glared at Endiroth sternly," I have nothing against you, but you really are going to get in somebody's way, y'know. Don't you have anything better to do?"

[Arkfeller]

{Looks like you thought of something, Orisis}

Endiroth gazed up at the guard once again.
"If you insist," he said, "but I might do this again someday."
He headed toward the Silt Strider and paid the fare to Seyda Neen. Looking back once more over Balmora, he stepped into the Silt Strider and closed his eyes.

[hoggyzd]

Sch-ink. Sch-ink. Sch-ink. Sch-ink. Sch-ink.

Raleth lounged in on a wooden chair by his table, whetstone in one hand, dagger in the other, dressed only in a pair of basic looking pants. He looked absentmindedly at the round table, which had been cleared to make room for his weapons that now lay upon it, as he ran the whetstone down the dagger, making sure it was in good condition. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it - as always - but it was always good to be prepared. Preparation was the key. Preparation and a steady hand, they were the keys, preparation, a steady hand and a light footstep, they were the keys.

After a few minutes, he set the dagger down, gazing around his small, one-room house. The half he was in was mainly taken by the table and the two wooden chairs by it, but it also was currently occupied by a wooden cabinet containing food, with the area on top designated for preparing the food. Embers glowed in the small fire in the corner, over which a now empty pot was hoisted. A few shelves ran along another wall, hosting various pottery and bottles of wine.

Turning around, he walked past the screen divider in the middle of the house, to the wooden stand which held his armour at the base of his bed. He reached across his bed to the small shelf in the corner, opening the small chest on it and grabbing a few lockpicks and probes. He took the time to move the book he'd been reading, The Ruins of Kemel-Ze, from the bed to the small shelf.

Backing up again, he reached into a larger chest at the foot of his bed, pulling out a shirt and belt. Swiftly dressing himself, he then turned again to the armour stand, first the greaves, then the boots, cuirass, pauldrons, cuirass, pauldrons, gauntlets. He was almost ready. Sliding the lockpicks and probes into a flat compartment inside the cuirass, he picked his weapons up one by one, fastening them in their positions until only his bow and quiver of arrows remained.

Why would he need it? It's not like he was expecting trouble. A simple job on the shop of one Milie Hastien, fine clothier, uptight Breton. Maybe he could find a new shirt, this one was itchy. The place was unlikely to be guarded at this hour, and even if it was, killing is bad business. Then again... preparation. Preparation is one of the keys. He wasn't intending to shoot anyone, but he knew from experience how much a finely placed arrow between the legs could ward off any coincidental by-passers.

He sat down again in the chair he was in earlier, now ready to go, staring at the bow and quiver before him, silently contemplating as he waited for his friend and accomplice, Llethi Hledas. She'd been his friend since he joined the guild, and they'd done a number of jobs together. They were both young and adventurous, both from cities (Llethi had moved to Balmora from Vivec), and worked well together. Tonight would be a good haul, Raleth reckoned. He only needed Llethi to show up, and then they'd be off.

[tbc]

[hoggyzd]

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Raleth jumped, having very nearly dozed off waiting. He put it down to a long day, what with the trip to Pelegiad and all. Hauling himself off his chair, he walked over to the wooden door, slipping a key out from one of his pockets and unlocking it, before pulling it open as the black-clad figure walked past him, stealing his chair at the table. Dammit. Now he'd get the cold one.

"Well hello to you too!" he said in a mock-exasperated tone, a grin on his face. He was never unhappy to see Llethi. She smiled back. Her black hair, tied back, becoming indistinguishable as it met with her neck, from at which point down her body was concealed by a black skin-tight suit. More flexibility than Raleth's armour, but less protection, should it come to that. He knew she only carried one weapon, a knife. Compared to her, Relath was a moving weapons rack.

"Oh shut it, you whiny s'wit. Ready yet?" She smiled back, voice as pretty as her face. He chuckled, getting up and grabbing two sacks from the corner. "Apart from jewelry, the loot's going to take up lots of space. Might need these." He threw one at her and she deftly caught it, folding it up to hold in one hand while he stuffed his inside his cuirass. "Route?" she asked.

"I've watched the guard patrols, and I think I've got them down. If we head up to the north bridge and cross there, there'll be no-one around. Then we head up the stair straight in front, but turn right before we get to the guard towers. There we can blend in with whatever drunk punters are outside the Eight Plates. Head north again, take the steps to the left of the temple, and we're there. Then we've just got to hope there's no patrols around, and we're in."

"Well, someone's been short of things to do recently. Seriously, get out more, Raleth." Oh, it was so good to feel appreciated, and he laughed. "Oh, one more note. If we do get in a spot of bother once we've got the good, we can easily get up into the mountains from behind the Morag Tong guild, and just before the Temple. We can bury the goods and find somewhere to rest until it's clear, then sneak back in via the north gate - or the river, if you don't mind getting a little wet" he grinned. "Well, unless Mr. Meticulate hadn't noticed" she responded, standing up and stretching, "there's already a downpour outside, so we're going to be fairly damp anyways. Oh, and we better move on before you send me to sleep with your incessant talking."

He held the door open for her, and they stepped outside. It was the middle of the night, and the light from the twin moons was mostly obscured by the heavy rain. Perfect. The streets were empty as they made their way to the North bridge, and a quick scan told Raleth he'd been right about the patrols. They hurried across, and carried on up the steps, stopping to rest outside the Eight Plates as a guard walked past, eying them.

"Come on" Raleth whispered, grabbing Llethi's hand and pulling her onward toward the stairs by the temple. They hurried up them, pausing at the top to watch a guard wander off into the distance. Then they were at Nalcarya's, and then they were there. Milie Hastien's.

[tbc]

[hoggyzd]

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Llethi stood behind him on watch as Raleth crouched by the door, fiddling with the lockpick, feeling for the tumblers which held the lock secure. The lock was quite a complex one, and the d**n rain, once helpful, was now hindering his efforts. He paused a second, raising his hand to wipe his hair out of his eyes. "Come one, Raleth, it's cold" Llethi muttered, rubbing her hands together.

The lock clicked and sprung open, and Raleth smiled. Grabbing hold of Llethi's arm, he quietly opened the door, pulling her inside. They were both soaked. Ah well, time to get to work now, he thought, as he looked around at his myriad prizes. He motioned for Llethi to start taking the items from downstairs, and she pulled her sack out, quietly thrusting whatever came to hand into it.

Raleth, meanwhile, walked to the back of the shops, where the stairs were. Items of... personal value, which usually meant significant monetary value, would be kept near to the occupants of the building. This was the most tasking part of the job, and the most enjoyable for Raleth. He turned his head as he took the first step, smiling at Llethi. She smiled back.

He made his way upstairs, peering round as he did so. Fairly boring loot - pottery, sowing equipment. There were some fine fabrics he took. He spied a book on a lectern at the end of the bed on which the trader lay. Stealthily heading over, he looked at it: The Book Of Dawn and Dusk. He flicked over a page, scanning it quickly. He'd read it before, but it was always interesting to flick through.

It is better to suffer a wrong than to do one.

As quiet as he could, he headed to the other end of the bed, pressing himself against the wall and trying not to breathe. The amount of people who kept a small pouch of gold under their pillow, or a small chest beneath the bed... no, this was a pillow job. He noticed the slight bulge next to the head of the Breton tailor. He gently lifted the pillow, sliding a smooth hand underneath and feeling for the pouch...

A gentle thump from downstairs, and he jumped. Ohcrapohcrapohcra... she wasn't moving. He hadn't woken the woman... must be a deep sleeper. He was lucky. Llethi wasn't usually careless enough to make a sound they. He knew that from past jobs. Something was wrong. His eyes widened as he looked down at the unconscious woman. Her head had rolled towards him slightly when he jumped... eyes open. Dead, cold eyes staring straight ahead.

The lump was not below the pillow. It was on the pillow, a small knife in the side of Milie's neck. Small enough that it would not be seen at first, would not leak blood. He backpedaled frantically. "Llethi, we need to get out... now! There's a murder!" He rushed down the stairs - straight into a club to the face.

He heard his nose crack and cackling as he collapsed swearing against a wall. He couldn't make out how many there were, his head was spinning. It was all he could do not to collapse in a heap. He was sure he could hear sobbing as well, but it seemed so... distant. Guards would not be this cruel, they got to the point. They didn't torture criminals unless it was necessary. Nor did they commit murder.

Eventually the spinning subsided, and he hauled himself to his feet, blood dripping on the front of his armour. Looking around the room, he saw two new figures, both older Dunmer. One stood by the door, carrying a club. He'd retreated after the hit, probably wasn't too keen on a proper fight. The second stood behind the counter, holding Llethi infront of him, on hand over her mouth, the other clutching a knife at her throat. He was clearly in charge, and had an evil grin.

"So, thief, back with us, eh?" leered the Dunmer in charge. Raleth started towards him, but he pushed the knife slightly into Llethi's neck, causing a trickle of blood. "Not one step, fetcher, or your lackey'll scream loud enough to bring every guard in Vvardenfell running. And believe me, you don't want that." Raleth stopped, trying hard to think of something smart, something witty to say that would defuse the situation. His mind failed him.

"Lost for words, eh, thief? Let me help you. We don't like Outlanders - that explains the poor s'wit above you. And we don't like those who think the whole Outlander situation's a good one - that explains you and your Thieves' Guild friend here. And if you both get locked up for the rest fo your pathetic lives for murder, well, that's three of you worthless fetchers gone in one go, ain't it? And justice has been done, so everyone's happy. Except you lot, but right now, I couldn't care less, and neither could half of Morrowind."

"And believe me, kid, when I say locked up for life - I mean it. We got us a lot of influence in Balmora. When the guards come bursting in, we'll get away free, whatever. You'll be dead or in prison. Take your pick, kid." Llethi squirmed slightly, and the knife drew more blood. Raleth knew what he had to do.

"I'm... I'm so sorry Llethi..."

As he ran clumsily up the stairs, he heard the cackles, and then the screaming began. By the time he reached the door to the roof and had forced it open, he could already hear the commotion outside, the bark of guards brought by the screams. He paused to look down as he ran onto the roof, seeing a number of guards and bewildered citizens staring at him.

"THERE HE IS! GET HIM!"

[tbc]

[Arkfeller]

The Silt Strider operator was bewildered when Endiroth remained in his seat.
"Sir, I thought you wanted to go to Balmora? This is Balmora..."
Endiroth glanced over at the town. He thought he saw a Dark Elf being chased onto the rooftops by a guard. Lightly he jumped out of the Strider, but was held back by the operator.
"Hey, you think you should wade into the middle of a war?" he asked.
Endiroth grinned widely and strode off, leaving in his wake a resolute Dunmer.

Note from Ranger: Silt Striders don't actually go to Caldera. You have to go to the Mages Guild to get teleportation to Caldera.

{Ah, yes, I forgot about that. Man, not playing Morrowind for too long is bad for you. Thanks, Ranger.}

[hoggyzd]

There was a moment of silence before all hell broke loose.

Raleth eyed the guard, and the guard eyed him. Their reverie was soon broken by the sound of an arrow in flight, and Raleth instinctively ducked as it flew a metre wide to his left. He suspected he had been saved only by the wind and rain and dark, but now was not the time to press his luck on the issue. He ran along what little rooftop there was, and leapt.

Landing on the roof of the alchemists, he rolled clumsily, grunting as an arrow dug into his thigh. The netch leather greaves he wore took most of the impact, but he could still feel it digging into him. Back onto his feet, he ran along the rooftop and slid off the edge, just as the group of guards on the floor worked out where he was going and began to follow him.

Sprinting down a flight of stairs, Raleth hugged the guard tower, making sure the archer, he presumed was on the roof, would have a hard time spotting him. His blood was pumping (thankfully not out of his leg, that was just a dribble), and as he came to the waterfront, he stopped in the mouth of the alleyway, checking around the corners. Two guards were stood on his left a little way down the street, and whilst the road was empty on his right, he saw a patrolling guard about to cross the bridge to his right. He could hear the guards behind him approaching, as well.

He didn't have much of a choice, to be fair. His way left or right along the waterfront would lead to capture and prison. That, he could not handle. Backwards, likewise, was a very stupid idea, no matter how much he wanted to sink a knife into the throats of two particular Dunmer. He shook his head at the absurdity of his situation, and ran forward as the first of the group of guards ran around the corner, into the same alleyway he was just leaving.

The shouting and clamour soon attracted the attention of the guards to his left, who turned, giving chase also. However, they were too far away, and despite a last minute leap at him, they fell short, and Raleth leaped forward, into the cold grey waters of the Odai river.

The cold hit him instantly, but fear gave him strength and he started swimming with the current, making as much speed as he could in the icy water. He could hear the cries of the guards, but they seemed far away now. He passed under the footbridge, and looking up between strokes, could see the walls rising either side of the river, marking the boundaries of the town.

He had not long gone past the footbridge when the second arrow thudded into his upper back. In his haste to escape, he'd forgotten about the guard on the bridge. The wound was deeper than the last, and pain wracked his body as he splashed about in shock and agony. Eventually giving in to the cold and pain, his unconscious body drifted out of the town, carried by the current.

[tbc]

[Arkfeller]

Endiroth's keen hearing picked up a loud splash that resounded through the alleyways. Alarmed, he dashed over to the canal just in time to see the body of a Dark Elf drifting away in the current. He whispered a small prayer and set off in the direction of the Mages Guild.

"Welcome, Bosmer," were the words that greeted Endiroth when he stepped inside the Guild door. He took in the rug, the nearby chest, the various magical gimmicks on a small table.
"Is there a particular service you are after?" asked the Dunmer mage, who was eying him suspiciously.
"I was wondering if I could get transportation to Caldera from here. Don't you mages have some kind of teleportation system around Vvardenfel?" Endiroth inquired.
"Right this way sir," rasped the mage.
He was led through corridors lined with potions, mortar and pestles, and several other things Endiroth hadn't seen before. The other mages remained happily oblivious of the Wood Elf's presence. Finally they stopped in a small room that was, thankfully, empty. Before Endiroth realised where they were exactly, the mage had cast the spell on him.

[Arkfeller]

{Another double post. *sighs*}

The mage had teleported him to Balmora.
Endiroth barged through the door, knocked over a stammering Breton and ignored the stares of the various bewildered and angered mages. Outside, he attracted only more stares, and the guard who had accosted him before shouted after him.
'Get out of this town, you filthy bit of scum!'
Endiroth made the rudest hand gesture he could think of in the guard's direction.

He followed the river down, heading for the Shulk Egg Mine. He could hear a dog's bark in the distance. Great. Endiroth now had townspeople willing to hunt him down. He ran faster.

It was nightfall when the Bosmer decided to stop. He threw himself onto the shore and lowered his head to drink.
Rustle.
Alarmed, Endiroth lept up and squinted at his surroundings. There were some reeds nearby, a stone pillar behind him, complete with bushes. Deciding nothing of it, he lowered his head to the water again.
There was a deafening roar behind him, and he felt something furry and heavy leap onto him. Collapsing under the weight, Endiroth reached for his sword, but to no avail. He screamed as the wolf's fangs sank into his leg. Then... darkness.

{Timeskip 8 hours or so.}

'Bosmer, you alright?'
There was an Imperial standing over Endiroth.
'Bosmer. Bosmer! Here, drink this.'
The elf's vision was still blurred, but he could make out a hand holding a bottle over his face. He grabbed it and splashed the wine onto his face.
'Where am I?' Endiroth asked.
'Just outside Shulk. You're lucky you're alive - your leg looks terrible.'
Tentative and frightened, Endiroth looked down at his leg. There were several chunks of flesh missing, and it was bleeding profusely. The Imperial was sprinkling some river water onto the wound - Endiroth could feel the pain numbing.
'Who are you?'
The Imperial looked up and held out his hand.
'I'm Linnus. Did a runner from the Legion, now I'm camping out here.'
'Oh.' Endiroth did not expect to meet an escaped Legion Guard during his travels.
'You get some sleep already, it's late.'

{Timeskip...}

The next morning, Linnus shook him awake to an already blazing sun.
'How long have I..." Endiroth started.
Linnus laughed out loud to the clear blue sky, as if he was laughing with the gods. It rang across the water.
'A day and a few hours. I had to carry you around to get supplies - I couldn't leave you here by yourself.' he said, indicating at least a dozen different streaks of blood and gashes across his bare back, arms and face. Endiroth looked down in shame. He had to be hauled around by an Imperial just to keep both of them alive. Linnus noticed and clapped him on the back reassuringly.
'It's nothing, don't worry. So where to next?'
Endiroth had to think about it for a moment.
'Seyda Neen.'
Linnus shook his head a few times. 'Are you crazy?'
The Bosmer replied firmly, 'No, I'm fine. Let's get to Seyda Neen now, I know a good place to camp there."
The Imperial took a deep breath and said, 'I'm all for it...'