I do not own Morrowind at all. I do however own Larka and any other characters that I may create. However, there are some aspects of the world that you may see changed, those are my changes. I will do my best to keep to the original world though. Hope you like my story. The first chapter is short. Please review and I will readily except comments on how to make it better. But don't be too harsh please.
ATTENTION: If you haven't already read this story then you have nothing to worry about. However, with much needed comments and criticism from reviewers (thank you) I've changed a few things around. They aren't major plot changes or anything, just things to make the general story better. So, read on and once again comments are most welcome.
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Larka WinterStar stayed very still. Her only movement the soft flutter of her chest as she breathed. She was currently up in a tall tree along the Bitter Coast region. She was a female Dunmer, her solemn and alert eyes the deepest amber. Her skin was a stormy blue and her hair was silvery. It flowed down to her waist but now it was up in a knot at the nap of her neck. At the present however, there was no way to tell either of these features, for it was nighttime and no moon nor stars shown. And even if they did it would be nearly impossible. For Larka was clothed entirely in midnight black, black fitted shirt and pants, black boots and cape with a hood. Her hood was up and a veil was drawn across her face so only her eyes could be seen, her slender form blending with the shadows to make her nearly invisible in the night. She was up in a tree; one leg hooked over a branch and the other was bracing itself on the trunk. She was suspended out almost parallel to the ground, her arms free to hold her Daedric longbow and silver arrows.
It was nearing wintertime in the West Side of the island and a crisp breeze blew stirring the remaining leaves of her tree. Somewhere Larka could hear a Cliff Racer call but she didn't let that shake her concentration. A highly skilled NightBlade, Larka was in the employment of the Twin Lamps at present. A group of slave traders was supposed to be hiding out in one of the caves and it was reported that they were making a delivery that night.
Now, most Dunmer are not at all objected to slavery, in fact that has been the way of their people for hundreds of years. But although she was a Dunmer, Larka had not been born on the island. She was born in the city of Mournhold and shortly after her birth her father had left for Vardenfell leaving her grief stricken Mother and Larka alone.
Seeing her mother deteriorate with a combination of alcohol and sadness had hardened her heart and made Larka determined to never fall in love for the pain it could cause. Her mother incapacitated, Larka had had to provide for the both of them, and they lived poorly for many years in an upstairs loft above a tavern. It was an unfortunate place to be for Larka's mother, will alcohol so readily available and not the best place for a teenager at all. But it had also been the residence of a skilled assassin and thief, who took a liking to Larka, who shared his attributes of defiance and stubbornness. He taught Larka well, and in their own way the two became like father and daughter. However, his trade made many enemies, and one night when he was out on a job another assassin's arrow had found its mark.
When Larka heard she had fiercely tracked down the assassin, just a low- level independent worker. Rage had filled her already wounded heart, and Larka had found the assassin and mercilessly killed him and left his body out in the streets for all to see. She had then returned to her home, where her mother lay passed out once more from the aftereffects of her addiction. Larka had gazed at her Mother for a long time and then she realized that where she was she had no future. She had to leave and quickly. Larka was a person who picked an idea and ran with it. She had gathered together her own savings, a mere 500 gold, and after taking out just enough for a spot on a ship to her homeland, she went to the owner of the tavern. He was a fat, balding Nord who had grown quite fond of Larka. So when she asked him to take the gold and watch over her mother he agreed. Larka had quickly gone up to her old friend's room and after saying a prayer to his departed soul she took his daedric longbow off the wall and a daedric tanto that was mounted next to it. Throwing a traveling cape on she had walked out of the tavern and off to the docks, where a ship would take her to the land of her ancestors.