The Nevarine's Apprentice
Arrow, Grandmaster of the Morag Tong, Master Thief of the Theives Guild, and Grandmaster of the Great House Hlallu, let out a long sigh equal to his long list of titles...
Quite frankly, he was bored.
Sitting atop the roof of Rethan Manor, Arrow- the Nevarine- wondered just what he could do. 50 years had passed since Dagoth Ur's defeat, yet Arrow hadn't aged at all since his bout
with corprus. Add his near-immortality to the fact that he did not need to eat or sleep, due to the enchantments of the myriad equipments surrounding him, and you have one, very bored, very powerful Bosmer...which is a very..well...dangerous thing for anyone within a good distance.
***
"Oy adventurer! Get the heck up already!"
"Eh, whazzat?" Rinin mumbled sleepily, turning over then simply going back to sleep.
"Every single time...," Shenk mumbled. The Redguard owner of Shenk's Shovel, in Caldera, simply crept over to the adventurer and landed him a hearty punch to the face, bringing an irate and injured adventurer to a rather rapid amount of wakefulness.
"MOON-AND-STAR THAT HURT!!" Rinin roared as Shenk let out a low chuckle. This, at least in Shenk's opinion, always beat a wake-up call.
Shenk merely replied, "You paid for one night, not the whole day afterward. If you want to laze around today as well, then pay up."
"And that makes a punch in the face necessary?" Rinin asked incredulously. The Dark elf was sitting up by now, already dressed in a suit of battered bonemold armor, the cuirass being of the slightly better native Gah-Julan style. Reaching into the corner of the small room, he grabbed his enchanted dai-katana, Defender, and strapped it to his back.
"Well...no," the Redguard admitted. "But it's fun."
"Ah well...I better get going," he mumbled. I have to get to Balmora through the Mages Guild and I still have a visit to Creeper before I go."
*******************************
Arrow hopped down from his perch on the roof of his manor and walked through the door.
Ignoring the two Hlallu members stationed by the door, he walked immediately up to his chambers and, after reaching his wardrobe, began rooting through the various armors and artifacts contained within, throwing them out without regard to their near priceless value. Finally, he found his armor, a set of Snow Wolf leather he had had crafted in Solstheim, and began tugging on the white and black gloves, greaves, and cuirass. After strapping on the pauldrons, he got his boots- these solid black wolf leather- and pulled them on.
"Going on a trip, sir?" came the raspy voice of the male Hlallu member from the arch of the entrance of his room.
"Clearly," he muttered, not even bothering to recall the elf's name, other than the fact that he dealt in books and scrolls. "You carry scrolls, right?" At the Dark Elf's affirming nod, Arrow reached under his bed and pulled out some summoning scrolls and tossed them to the elf. "These will summon Atronarches," he warned. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone."
"But..umm....where are you going?" The confused Dunmer asked.
"I'm taking a walk to Balmora." Walking over to his desk, Arrow began picking up his small, near-legendary arsenal of weapons and began strapping them to his person. The Black Hand Dagger, a dagger of Daedric origin passed down from each Grandmaster of the Morag Tong to his successor, went in the back of his belt side-by-side with a white dagger of more conventional design, which he claimed was the artifact Mehrune's Razor. At one hip went Soulstealer, a Daedric Tanto designed to trap souls, and on his back went Hellfire, a Daedric Wakizashi glimmering with deadly flame enchantments along its length. After that he put on his quiver of of arrows, all of them enchanted arrows of silver, and then the Dragonfire Bow, his enchanted bonemold bow.
"Sir? Is all of that really necessary for a simple walk to a town that is just down the river?" the elf asked, eying all of his gear with near-awe.
Arrow flashed his servant one of his trademark grins, and replied, "I'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it."
*********************************
Rinin stepped off the teleportation platform in the Balmora Mages Guild and looked around, giving a nod of thanks to the Breton woman at the platform. Walking up to the firs story of the building, he stopped and flashed a friendly smile to Ranis Athrys, the guild steward for the Mages Guild in Balmora.
"Hey, Ranis!" Rinin greeted, "Heard any good rumors?"
"I see by your outfit, Rinin, that your affairs have prospered," she replied. "And yes...my sources tell me that the Eight Plates just got a new shipment of flin- I thought you'd like to hear that."
"As always, you know my heart," he laughed. "I'll head right over-want me to get you anything?"
"No, I'm fine. Besides..you'll probably end up trying to out drink some poor sap in sujamma."
"Suit yourself," he said, "But don't blame me when you're stuck here with nothing interesting to do.."
"Versus getting trapped in a barroom brawl with you, my good spellsword?" she retorted, " I think not."
"Your words wound me, for I give you my word as a scholar and a gentleman-"
"Of which," she interjected, "You are neither."
"-that I will not start-"
"Oh, of course not..you'll trick the poor sap next to you to start it."
Rinin stood there for a moment, looked at his friend and superior, then muttered, "By the Nine....you know me too well."And with that he walked out and headed toward the Eight Plates.
**********************************
Moments after Rinin's departure, Hur, an Argonian, burst through the door.
"Ranis!" she said breathlessly, "I saw Arrow! He's walking into town right now!"
"Any idea where he's headed?" Ranins questioned.
"I think he mentioned the Eight Plates," she answered, holding her tail and catching her breath.
"Oh no.." Ranis whispered. The idea of Arrow, one of the craziest Bosmer she had ever met, being in the same room with Rinin, who was a natural troublemaker, was a scary thought. The fact that they were going to be in a bar, with alcohol, was even worse.
She hoped the owner had the septims to pay for the damages.
***
Arrow walked into a scene of utter chaos.
The Eight Plates was a battle royale, with various patrons pounding each other with fists, bottles, chairs, and whatever else came to hand. The publican, happy for a diversion, called out to the patrons, "Hey! Break it up! The Nevarine's in here!"
After a few seconds the fighting ground to a halt. However, just as the owner sighed in releif, a particular Dark Elf in bonemold armor used the distraction to turn around and slam one of the patrons with a punch that would've felled a guar. Unfortunately, the patron was a Dark Elf, so instead of simply falling down he was sent sliding headfirst along a table, at which point he was blessedly rendered unconscious. Carefully navigating around the fighting, Arrow made his way to the publican, Dulnea Ralaal, who was huddled underneath one of the kegs against the wall.
"Hello, milady," Arrow said with a mockingly cheeful tone to his voice, "how are you this fine day?"
"Arrow," she pleaded, "can't you break this up before the guards get here? Please?"
"Hmm...I will if you do me a favor," he said, then quickly added as the publican's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Nothing major. Just a few drinks on the house for me and...." Searching through the groups of combatants, he pointed at the Dunmer who had started the fight again after he had walked in. "That guy- he's got good form."
"Him?!?" Dulnea spluttered, "Rinin's the one who started all this in the first place! He started a fight with that rouge over there and got everyone dragged into it!" During her last sentence, she looked in the direction of another armored Dunmer, this one weraing one of the bonemold helms that obscured his face.
"Eh..Oh well," Arrow replied, "Enjoy breaking up this little fight."
"Fine, you cheeky little fetcher," she all but snarled, "But it better be cleaned up quick!"
Arrow dipped her a quick bow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your wish is my command, milady." And with that he turned around, leapt a good six feet through the air, and caught two of the combatants with simultaneous flying punches to their faces.
***
Rinin was in a bit of trouble, for the Eight Plates was unusually packed tonight. After gut-punching his most recent opponent and throwing him to the floor, he turned and found himself face-to-face with a leather clad Bosmer. Seeing that he wasn't going to throw a punch at him, Rinin decided to see if he knew where the dang Nevarine was that the publican was yelling about.
"Excuse me, friend, but do you know where the Nevarine is?" he asked, trying not to spook the fellow.
"You're looking right at him, Dunmer," the elf said in a surprisingly deep voice. Deep for a Bosmer at least....which made it about normal pitch.
At this, Rinin began looking around, but the only person in front of him was the Wood Elf.
"I beg to differ," Rinin began, "But I don't see him."
The elf frowned, then spoke slowly, as if to a child. "I. Am. The. Nevarine."
Rinin burst out laughing, long, hearty guffaws that seemed to kindle a bit of annoyance in the Bosmer's face.
"How," Rinin began after he was finished, "could the Nevarine, the slayer of Dagoth Ur, the Chosen of Azura, the uncrowned king of Morrowind, be so short?"
Rinin suddenly found himself wondering how the ground had become a wall.
***
"So let me get this straight," Rinin began. After he had managed to get back to his feet, Arrow had all but dragged him over to the bar, at which point the publican handed them both a flask of Cyroldillic brandy. Looking at Arrow, he began. "Alright...so you're the Nevarine." At Arrow's affirming nod he continued. "You don't age, you don't need to eat or sleep, and there's not much left to interest you."
"Naturally," replied the smirking Bosmer. "I managed to kill Dagoth Ur, with a bit of help from some artifacts, of course." At that he held up his right hand, clad in Wraithguard, the Dwemer gauntlet which allowed him to use Keening and Sunder. "Not only that, but I went toe-to-toe with Almalexia, one of the Tribunal, and came out on top. A bit of a shame, that. She wasn't bad looking, if ya' get my meaning."
"Umm....sure....whatever you say," was just about all Rinin could manage to come up with. "So, why did you floor, then proceed to buy me a drink?"
Arrow looked at him for a moment, then spoke. "You're good with your hands. And from that monster you call a sword that's strapped to your back, they aren't even your best weapon."
"Defender? There's nothing monstrous about it!", he exclaimed.
The Wood Elf snorted, almost blowing his brandy all over the Dunmer. "Here," he said, unsheathing Hellfire. "Take a look at this."
The first thing that Rinin noticed as the blade came out of its sheath was that the blade was jet black and had a red, magical pattern slowly making its way along the blade. As it came into his hands, he nearly gasped- the blade was even heavier than Defender!
At Rinin's look, the elf explained. "It's Daedric, Dunmer. Here's a basic rundown of what a Daedric weapon is. They are extremely heavy, durable, and powerful weapons most often wielded by Dremora. They are jet black, with a little red in them, and are made of an unknown material. Each one is worth a small fortune, and can contain some pretty powerful enchantments."
"Right," Rinin absentmindedly agreed, running it over in his hands. "Whatever you say."
"As I was saying, before you felt the desire to defend your weapon," Arrow sighed, "Your fists are not what you are best with. There are not many fighters around these days, at least not those of your class, and Morrowind will need all of them, I feel."
"What about you?"
"Boy," Arrow smirked, "I am in a class all by my own. I have fought battles the people have forgotten of that would kill a lesser man...well, elf."
"Look on the bright side- at least your fame does not match your stature."
"I don't have to take this," Arrow laughed, "My stature is quite handy to have, you know. Anyway, I shall take my small stature and go to a bed which, luckily, I will actually fit inside."
At that, the Nevarine gave a mischevious wink, and added, "Just because I don't have to sleep doesn't mean I don't enjoy lazing away half the day in bed."
***
When Arrow sensed something was wrong, the ranger was out of the bed and with a dagger in either hand faster than most could even draw their weapons. Once he saw his visitor, however, he let a groan and sheathed his blades.
"What do you want now, Azura? The first time you talked to me I had to go and kill Dagoth Ur and his brood of ash vampires. The second time, I ended up in the Clockwork City, dodging a freaking gigantic, spinning wheel thing that was there for NO reasonable reason whatsoever, just so I could fight an insane goddess because you were too lazy to kill the nut case your own dang self. What do you want now?"
The Dunmer goddess who, strangely enough, was in his room, was nothing short of beautiful. Slim and statuesque, with flowing robes of a deep blue, with glowing red eyes and dark skin signature to the Dunmer, she was as close as opposite to her servant as one could come. Arrow, with his pale skin, short, with blond hair and tawny eyes, rugged, battle worn, and armed to the teeth, was a far cry from the tall goddess. And, it seemed, she was smiling.
"Arrow," she began in her powerful, multi -toned voice, "I have no great quest for you, for I merely ask a favor from you, my champion."
"No quest?" he asked warily, "No angry goddesses, demons, undead armies, deadly spinning wheels, or spontaneous combustion of me or any friends, acquaintances, or their pet guar?"
"....No," she answered, once again smiling.
"Then what?"
"Merely this. You made an observation that Morrowind needs all the champions it can find. That is true. I wish you to teach this Rinin, and show him what it means to take on the mantle of a hero. I wish for you to take him as your apprentice."
"Apprentice? You've got to be kidding me- he's a troublemaker! He started a tavern brawl!" Arrow stopped dead in his tracks, hearing the eerie, multi-toned laughter of the goddess.
"Arrow," she began, still laughing, "who are you, Master Thief, to call someone a troublemaker? You are a Bosmer, who learned mischeif with your first steps. That is why you were in prison in Valenwood to begin with!"
Arrow stared at the goddess for a moment, suddenly given a reminder of the goddess' knowledge of him, his past, and the word's. Then, he joined her in laughter, great, bellowing laughs rocking his small frame.
***
Sleeping in his bed in the Eight Plates, Rinin shivered and shifted a bit, sitting on his bed as he stopped honing his sword blade. After a moment, he continued sliding the whetstone along the blade, becoming lost in the rasp of stone on steel, completely unaware of the the direction his destiny had just taken. Be it for better or worse, though, not even Azura could've answered that.
End Of Chapter 1