As per Poll results, here is the tale of Sharah the Wolf's time in the Thieves Guild. This is a single questline progression—just the Thieves Guild stuff—in a sort of one-shot format. Actually, this was originally just back-up material for my 'Wolf of Cyrodiil' story. I got the idea to turn it into a story in its own right and the voters agreed that they wanted to see it. So, here you are! I hope you like it.
"I'm going to buy a house in the city."
Gladion looked up. "Why, when you have bed and board right here?"
Sharah looked over the table at him. "Because I'm tired of bunking around people for whom cleanliness is a matter of personal preference." There was a loud belch from down the table, followed by an explosion of laughter. Sharah jabbed a finger at them. "See what I mean? I'm not cut out for this long term. I need a place of my own. For privacy if nothing else."
The Arena Bloodworks was located beneath the Arena, and hosted their combatants and all necessary living functions. There were barracks style sleeping conditions, one each for the Blue and Yellow teams, and a communal cafeteria that might as well have been segregated. Sharah sat across at a table, conversing with her two training partners on the Blue team: Gladion, a Dunmer who preferred bow work and hand-to-hand, and Breni, a Breton who's large warhammer was likely an over-compensation for his short stature.
Breni let out a belch of his own, answering the one from down the table, and Sharah covered her face with her hand. "Why did I even sign up with you people?"
Gladion replied, "Same reason we all did: glory, easy money and the thrill of life and death. So where are you thinking about buying a place?"
"I already looked into it at the Office of Commerce. There's really only one available. It's a little house out on the Waterfront."
Gladion blanched and had to spit out a mouthful of beer. "You can't move out there."
"Why not?"
"Because you're a girl," Breni interjected.
Sharah sat back. "Of course I'm a girl. But what does that have to do with anything?"
Gladion shot his companion a look, then said, "I think what Breni means is that the folks down on the Waterfront are not…pleasant. There are thieves and pickpockets and pirates down there. And they won't hesitate to take advantage of you."
Sharah defended herself. "I've been on my own for over a year now. On the road, too. I think I can handle myself just fine. You have been watching me in the Arena, right?" She wasn't just some teenager off the farm. Well…immediately off the farm. If she could handle bandits and Yellow team combatants, she could handle a few thieves.
"No one's doubting you can fight. But you're…um…" Gladion actually blushed as he tried to find the words.
Breni gulped the rest of his beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I'll take it from here."
Gladion sighed gratefully. "Thanks."
The Breton pointed at Sharah and said, "You can't go to the Waterfront because you're a girl."
Gladion blanched again. "Breni—"
"Shut up. You asked for this." Then Breni turned back to Sharah. "And you look like a girl. And not just any girl, but a girly girl. I mean, look at you. With your cheeks and your little pouty lips. You're this pretty little thing, you've got no street smarts. Anyone on the Waterfront is gonna look at you and think 'easy mark'. That's what they call them down there, you know. Marks. And you've got it written all over you. This little farm-girl, fresh to the big city and way out of her league. You just got that look to you."
Gladion had his head buried in his arms, trying unsuccessfully to pretend he wasn't even there. But far from dissuading her, Sharah was only more determined to prove herself. That sort of stubbornness had been happening more often. When Sharah had first asked to join the Arena, the Blademaster had just about laughed her out of the Bloodworks. But her pride had made an appearance and Sharah hadn't budged. A few matches in the Arena and she had earned her place properly, proving that whatever she may look like, she could handle herself when it counted. And now it was time to prove that again.
"Well, I don't care. I've got the coin, I'm tired of living with the constant smell of sweat, and I'm going to buy that house."
Following his little tough-truth routine, Breni had gone back to his mug and now let loose an even bigger belch than before. The sound was so deep and wet that Sharah almost gagged while plenty of others just burst out laughing.
"You're disgusting. Really, you are."
XXX
Two thousand gold. It was the largest amount of money Sharah had spent in her life. And it was certainly more gold than Sharah ever thought she'd have. Then again, when Sharah was planning out her adventures in her youth, those plans hadn't included the Arena, or so many profitable Ayleid ruins, or a wealthy Altmer sponsor with a taste for some ancient statuary Sharah had come across.
None the less, Sharah was only too happy to hand over the coin and accept the key to her new house and the deed of ownership. Sharah did make a point to bargain the woman over the counter into including some furnishings, which came to her in the form of a voucher for the Three Brothers Goods and Trade shop in the Market District.
All business concluded, Sharah departed and walked from the Market District to the Arboretum District, which was a garden park of sorts maintained within the Imperial City walls. Sharah walked the paths, trying to keep as calm and collected as she possibly could. Then, when she was certain no one was around to see her, she set off giggling and dancing and bouncing on the spot like a madwoman.
She owned a house. She owned a house! She owned a HOUSE! A real house of her own. All hers! Sharah whipped out the deed of ownership, read it hungrily, then clutched it to her chest. The key received a glorious scrutiny before Sharah kissed the little scrap of metal. She was absolutely drunk off the giddiness, spinning on the spot until she almost toppled. Her very own house! She had to see it. Before she went to turn in the voucher. She had to see it right now!
Sharah carefully folded the deed and tucked it and the key into her Arena Raiment. Then set off for the Waterfront. Sharah had to consciously keep herself from skipping along the way. In truth, Sharah hadn't had time to explore the entire Imperial City. It was just so big. She'd been to the Waterfront Docks a few times. But her house was apparently on the other side of the stone line of buildings, on the southwestern point of the shoreline.
Sharah walked down the tunnel out to the Waterfront. Then across the stone causeway that separated the port into halves and around the Lighthouse that jutted up at its center. The inner side of the Waterfront crescent functioned as the dock for all ships coming up the Niben, while the solid wall of buildings served as the warehouses that stored the goods and managed the water trade. But it was the outer side of the crescent that Sharah was headed for.
She passed through one of the stone archways that permitted passage from one side of the crescent to the other. In truth, she'd only been on this side once, and it had been the east end. So when Sharah came through the arch—she stopped and felt a bit of uncertainty overshadow her excitement. Maybe Gladion had had a point.
The Waterfront that most people referred to with such distaste…well, it seemed to be true to its reputation. There was a whole cluster of dirty, broken-down shacks all across the western half of the crescent, all hidden from view of the mainland by the high wall of stone Waterfront buildings. Sharah wondered if they had been built like that intentionally, or if this shanty-town had been put here specifically to be out of view.
Remembering all the talk, Sharah made a point to draw herself up and look confident. She didn't want to go walking in here like a…'mark'? Was that the word Gladion had used? Sharah adjusted her hips, being reassured by Chillrend's weight and walked into the true Waterfront.
The shacks were placed in fairly close quarters with dirt pathways stamped down between them, often barely wide enough for one person to pass. Even the main walkway through the town was narrow. The buildings were weathered and stained. Most were covered in patch jobs. There was trash in the streets, any people around were in shabby clothing and…Oh, Gods! What had she just stepped in? No. No, she was not going to think about it. And certainly not going to touch it. She'd just ignore it for right now and give her boot a good scrubbing later.
Halfway through the Waterfront shantytown, Sharah realized she had no idea which one was supposed to be hers. She was just about to pull out her deed when she overheard a situation occurring on the other side of the shacks to her right.
"Come on, baby. Me and the boys ain't gonna wait forever."
Sharah paused and took a step backward to look through the shacks. Four—the closest appropriate term would be 'pirates', had a Bosmer womer backed against the high stone wall of the crescent, all of them with that vulgar, unpleasant look on their faces.
"Please, I'm not looking for any trouble."
"We ain't trouble, are we boys?"
The womer tried to leave, but one of ingrates grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Her shirt tore and she hit her head roughly on the wall as he closed in for something entirely unwanted.
Sharah felt the growl in her throat as she marched through the building toward them. "Hey! Get your hands off her!"
The men looked up, only a little surprised, and those vulgar looks returned quickly. "Well, lookie here. Another plaything."
'Plaything'? Sharah's face flushed, and not from embarrassment. Some words just lit her temper and her voice dropped low. "Why don't you come over here, and we'll see who's the plaything."
The pirates took this as an invitation and two of them came toward her, one of them reaching for the buckle of their belt. Sharah went at the closest with her fingers first. And straight for the eyes. A couple bandit encounters had cured her of any scruples when it came to self-defense. She left bloody scratches down his face, then landed a solid knee strike to his groin. The second one grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her torso while the first bent double cradling his scrotum. Sharah slammed a heel down on his foot, then kicked off and smashed her skull into his face. He let go and backed off with a yell, holding his nose. Sharah unhooked Chillrend, scabbard and all, before she went at the other two. The one by the Bosmer took the flat of Sharah's blade to his face before he could react, his buddy having gone to his companions' aid when she'd finished with her first onslaught.
Sharah placed herself between them and the Bosmer woman, hand on her hilt, now growling outright for no more reason than that they set her blood boiling. "Maybe I should have warned you. I tend to break my toys." She pulled Chillrend from the leather sheath. "Now get out of here before I decide to bleed you properly."
The quartet of pirates, a pair of them bloodied, looked between each other. Clearly they weren't so sure their 'fun' was worth getting further hurt by this rabid little woman. Once one of them started to take steps back toward the street, the other ones followed suit. Sharah stayed in her stance until they'd move out of view.
Then she turned to the mer woman behind her. "Are you alright?"
The woman looked a little dazed, from either the fight or her hit to the wall. "Yes…thank you." Sharah could have sworn the womer sounded surprised that someone had come to her rescue.
Sharah's eyes caught the line of crimson that ran down from beneath the mer's hair. "You're hurt."
The mer reached up and brushed at the trail of blood. She stared at her red fingertips. "Oh…"
Sharah reached for her belt, "Here, let me…" She snatched a square of cloth she called a kerchief and one of the healing potions from her satchel, dampened the cloth and pressed it to the woman's head. The Bosmer was still a little out of it, so she didn't immediately brush off the help.
Sharah had whipped away the blood and cleaned the wound before the womer stood off the wall. "Thank you. I'm fine. I am…"
Sharah wasn't too convinced but didn't press. But when the womer looked around uncertainly, she did ask, "Can I walk you home?"
The Bosmer looked like her first instinct was to refuse. But then she glanced in the direction the pirates had gone and gave the barest nod of her head. Sharah followed the womer's lead as they walked through the shacks. At least the womer still seemed to know where she was going, although the encounter with those pirates still left her shaken.
The shack they ultimately came to was like the others, if a little larger. The womer needed a moment to get the door open and when she stepped inside Sharah heard something clatter and someone exclaim, "Adanrel, what happened?"
The woman tried to pull her torn sleeve back into place. "I…thought I'd walk home alone. I ran into…some people."
Two more Bosmer women appeared and pulled her further inside, leaving Sharah standing at the open door.
The blonde one urged her onto a humble stool. "We warned you about that. Especially when the Marie Elena is in port." She looked over at the brunette. "We have to talk to Armand. This happens every time they're in the city. He has to do something."
The brunette harrumphed. "Like last time? He knows what they're like. The only way to change anything around here is from inside the—" She noticed Sharah in the doorway. "What are you doing here? Get out! You're not welcome."
The Bosmer Sharah had escorted home, Adanrel, said quickly, "No. She…she helped me. She made them stop. She fought them off."
The brunette looked at her friend in disbelief. "Her?" Then back at Sharah suspiciously. "So what are you doing here?" She looked Sharah up and down, doubtless recognizing the Arena raiment and remaining utterly unimpressed.
Sharah tried not to let the look bother her. "I just wanted to help. And make sure she got home alright."
"Well, now she is. So why are you still here? I'm guessing you want some kind of reward for being such a hero?"
"No," Sharah said. "I'm not looking for anything like that. I just saw she was in trouble and wanted to help."
"Why?" the brunette demanded.
"Because she needed it. What other reason did I need?"
The brunette narrowed her eyes, clearly unwilling to believe Sharah hadn't done it for some selfish reason. "People don't just do things for people they don't know without wanting something."
Sharah shrugged. "Well, I do. I'm sorry that doesn't work for you." Since she was clearly not going to be welcomed in, Sharah turned to head down the street. She still needed to find which house was hers. Oh, wait. Sharah turned back to the doorway the brunette was in the process of closing. "Actually, there is something."
The brunette Bosmer got a smug look on her face, like she'd known this was what would happen. Sharah pulled out her deed of ownership. "Would you direct me to this address? I don't really know my way around here."
The cross womer glared at the document, then looked up, now seeming surprised as well as suspicious. "You bought a place down here?"
"Yes. What of it?" This mer was starting to rub her the wrong way.
"Nothing." Great, now she was back to looking smug, "It's down the path, that way. The building on the corner."
Sharah took back the document and gave a little bow of appreciation. The door had snapped closed before she'd even turned all the way to the street. The brusque treatment was a little uncalled for, in her opinion. She had just wanted to help. It honestly hadn't been about any reward or recognition. Was she really expected to just walk away when she saw something like that happening? Sharah breathed deeply as she continued down the path, letting the whole incident just slide off her. If they didn't want to concern themselves with her, she wouldn't make them.
She followed the dirt path through the shanty-town until she reached the far end. And there it was: the house on the corner. It stood off on its own, a wider divide between it and the shack to its right and a larger dirt path separating it from the building before it. There was a tree off behind, a small overhanging porch in front. And it did look a little small for a house. But it was hers.
She took the key tucked into her raiment and set it to the lock. The door clicked open and Sharah went in. It was…not impressive. Just one room, about twenty feet by twelve. But it was hers, so that didn't matter. It was just enough for one person, and that was exactly what she wanted. It didn't smell like sweat and alcohol and blood, it didn't echo with outbursts of testosterone and excessively loud bodily functions.
It was small, quiet, and with a few additions it would be quite homey. Sharah checked the roof, the walls and the floors, and found no evidence of little crawling things and no holes. There was a thin layer of dust, but the hearth was solid, the single table was only a little wobbly, and the bed was clean. She'd have to remove the boards on the windows…although, maybe she'd wait a few days before deciding on that. The boarded windows might be more than precautionary.
Sharah stood in the center of the room and turned to take in the whole place. She turned once…twice…pretty soon she was just spinning. Spinning and grinning like a giddy little fool. She was standing in her house. Her house! She wouldn't be here often, fully expecting to continue her wanderings and work with her Fighters Guild. But when she was here, she'd call it home.
XXX
She didn't waste a moment. That very evening, Sharah transferred all of her possessions from her trunk in the Arena Bloodworks out to her little shack. That night, she slept in her own house and loved it. She was still giddy over owning her own house and was eager to be at the Three Brothers Goods and Trade the moment they opened. Which meant she woke up before dawn.
Sharah gathered herself together and left the house, locking the door carefully behind her. When she turned around, she spotted a Redguard man going to enter the building next door. He looked over and met her eyes. It was an oddly intense look, sizing her up and making some judgment. But before Sharah could get uncomfortable, he bowed his head a little toward her. The gesture felt more…important than an average greeting. Like she'd passed some kind of test. Sharah returned the motion carefully. It seemed to satisfy him and he entered his home. Well…she'd just met her neighbor…sort of.
She was at Three Brothers Goods and Trade as soon as they unlocked their doors. The voucher got her a set of drawers and some shelves. She bought a couple stools, a chest, a cabinet, and a few little living things like dishware and a broom. All of which effectively depleted what remained of her gold. But it was worth it to furnish the place she would settle down in. The final step was arranging to have it all delivered later on.
By this time, she'd gotten an initial feel for the sorts of people that the Waterfront housed. And they seemed well-aware of her. By the time the movers showed up, Sharah was pretty sure she had something of an audience. They were being very discrete, but there were definitely people watching her. She felt like a child again, with all the other kids gathering to check out the new arrival.
Instinct told her not to show weakness. That she needed to look confident and at ease, not at all threatened by all the scrutiny. Like she absolutely belonged there. It kept her steady when the movers showed up, shuffling her things down the street in the cart. One of them had clearly not been to the Waterfront before. She was perfectly willing to let them drop her things on the front porch and let them scurry off the way they'd come.
That left Sharah the focus for all of those curious eyes. So, Sharah chose to make an impression. Acting as though no one were watching her, Sharah openly lifted and moved each item, preassembled or not, into her house. Her Arena raiment left her arms exposed, and she willingly flexed them for all to see. The display was plain: she was here, she was staying and she was not to be taken lightly.
Sharah was turning her attention toward her drawers when one of the onlookers actually approached her. "Hello."
Sharah turned to him companionably. "Hello."
He was Redguard, rather skinny and dressed in fishing waders, and had particularly long and slender fingers. "You're the one who helped Adanrel yesterday, right?"
"You know about that?"
The man grinned. "Word travels fast down here. I'm Jair." He extended his hand.
"Sharah," she replied, taking it and gripping hard. First impressions were important. "Would you give me just a moment, please?" Sharah reached down, got her hands under either side of her bulky chest, lifted the entire hunk of woodwork onto her shoulder and carried it inside.
Jair looked after her without moving. "You need some help?" he asked.
"No, but thank you. It's not so much the weight as the reach." She set the chest down and dusted off her hands, pleased when he had to blink a couple times. 'Stronger than I look, aren't I.'
"So, uh…you're an Arena combatant."
She nodded. "For now. I make my living in the Fighters Guild. Well, between the odd adventures." He blinked a couple more times. Sharah didn't know if she was pleased or a little disappointed. Certainly after all a year of training and experience she had to look a little like a fighter. "What about you?" she diverted. "What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a dip," he replied. Sharah cocked her head quizzically. "A pickpocket," Jair clarified.
Now it was Sharah's turn to blink a bit stupidly. He just…announced that without the slightest hesitation? They'd only just met and he just… 'I'm a pickpocket'. It took all her self-control not to reach to check her coinpurse, not that there was much left in it after her purchases, but still. Jair grinned, having seen something of a tell as to what was going through her head. "Relax. You're safe from me. You look like you might take offense. Too risky. Besides, after what you did to those pirates, I'd rather buy you a drink."
Sharah chuckled with him, but it was uneasy. She guessed it made sense. The Waterfront was full of very poor people. Certainly it was more likely that some of them would be criminals. It just felt weird standing here talking to a thief.
Jair watched her think. "You gonna turn me in?"
Sharah shook her head slowly. "Why? A person has to eat." And she killed things for a living, who was she to judge?
Jair actually grinned. "I like you. Since you look like you're getting cozy down here, let me give you a few words of advice."
"Sure," Sharah said.
"First, don't make waves around here. Although, I think that's pointless advice after yesterday. But at least you made the right kind of waves. But the second, don't stick your nose into anything down here. The Waterfront's got its own way of doing things."
Sharah replied, "Good things to know. Thank you. And I'm not trying to insert myself anywhere. I'm just looking for somewhere to call home."
"Well," Jair smiled and extended his hands as though presenting the place to her, "Welcome to the Waterfront."
Alright, I hope you like this. Leave your thoughts and opinions in the comments below.
