The Adventures of Valen Telvanni

Chapter 1: Origins

You should have acted. They're already here. The Elder Scrolls told of their return. Their defeat was merely a delay…'til the time after Oblivion opened. When the sons of Skyrim would spill their own blood. But no one wanted to believe. Believe they even existed. And when the truth finally dawned…it dawns in fire! But there is one they fear…in their tongue, he is Dovahkiin…DRAGONBORN!

"FUS RO DAH!"

Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok! Fen kos nahlot mahfaearaak ahrk ruz! Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot! Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin! Wah dein mahfaeraak ahst vaal! Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon ziindro zahn! Dovahkiin, fah hin, kogaan mu draal!

4th Summer's End, 4E 195. Riften, Skyrim.

46 years ago, this city was huge and bursting with shopkeepers and merchants who came here from all over Skyrim and all over Tamriel to do business. Crime was very low, and the guards kept a tight rein over the populace. The canal was clean and made an excellent spot for anyone who wanted to go fishing.

But now it was neglected and stagnant, just like the city of Riften; which was now a lot smaller as well. Thefts, muggings, briberies, extortion, corruption, lies and deceit are the order of the day here. The Black-Briars own this city. They have the Jarl and the guards in their back pocket, and the Thieves Guild watching their back.

And speaking of the Guild, even they are not the organisation they once were. For the last few years, they've been slowly declining ever since their former leader Gallus was apparently murdered in cold blood by one of their own. How they can even still call themselves a "Guild" when they won't hesitate to butcher their own members like pigs is just…baffling.

Their honour used to rival even that of the Companions, but now they're just lowlifes and ruffians trying to squeeze as much gold as they can from honest, hard-working people. Even the Dark Brotherhood follows a strict set of principles. These thieves are just rabble.

On the roof of the Black Briar manor, there was a Dark Elf named Valen Telvanni, dressed in brown leather armour but on his head, he wore a brown hood instead of a leather helmet. Black would have been more preferable, as it allowed him to blend in with the shadows more easily at night. But unfortunately, brown is the only colour his armour comes in.

Valen was watching the people of Riften as they browsed around the stalls in the market and bartered with the vendors, until a thief snatched a fat coin purse from a woman and immediately ran as fast he could to avoid getting caught by the guards.

The woman cried as loudly as she could; "Stop, thief!" and Valen sprung into action – jumping across the city's rooftops swiftly, and with great agility. The woman cried out to the guards for help and pointed to the fleeing thief, but the guards were too lazy and corrupt to move a muscle. So what if someone is being robbed? It happens all the time here in Riften. The young Mer moved like a cat, while wasting only little time and without touching the ground, from the Black Briar manor to the wall at the front entrance to Mistveil Keep, then leapt on to a wooden arch overlooking the canal near the entrance to the Ratway beneath the city. The thief had almost made it to the sewers. Almost.

But just as he was running halfway down the stairs, Valen pounced on him like a cat on a mouse and he was knocked to the floor. The Dunmer then grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up with his left hand easily and raised his right fist threateningly.

The thief was a male Khajiit; a bit smaller than the Elf and his fur was white with black stripes. "Give me the purse, furball, or I'll bloody your nose!" Valen demanded and the cowardly cat didn't hesitate to squeal. "Fine, take it! Just don't hurt J'kar! Please!" he said, and at these words, he gave the purse to Valen and the Dunmer let him go.

J'kar scattered away into the sewers and Valen took the purse back to its' rightful owner – a Nord woman in her mid-to-late thirties, with a mature figure, in a blue set of fine clothes. "Thank you, young man" she said to Valen when he returned her purse back to him.

Valen smiled politely and replied "It was nothing, my lady. Just helping a woman in need, that's all"

"Oh, stop being so modest! Here…" she took half the gold from her purse and gave it to Valen as a reward for his good deed. "Have half my gold for the great service you have done me"

"My lady, you're very kind, but you don't have to…"

"Nonsense! You deserve a reward. Go on, take it!" she insisted. Valen accepted the gold, just to be polite. "As you wish" he said. Later on that night, the Dunmer stayed at the Bee and Barb, like he has done every night since he left Honorhall. Valen had built himself quite the reputation for being a hometown hero, and the honest folk living in Riften quickly began to take a liking to him. The thief he caught today was neither the first nor the only one, and he certainly wouldn't be the last, either.

When he entered the premises, wearing his hood down this time, one of the patrons saw him and called out happily "Hey, everyone! It's Valen!" and most, if not all, raised their mugs and cheered loudly for him.

Valen smiled in gratitude for their warm reception. "Thank you, thank you" he said, as he walked over to the bar. "Hey, Valen! Catch any robbers today?" one patron asked. "You betcha" said the Dark Elf. A gorgeous young woman with long black hair and a slender figure – another Dark Elf about the same age as Valen – said to him flirtatiously "Hey, handsome" and Valen gave her a playful wink, pointed at her and replied "Hey, apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?"

The girl giggled and blushed – which Valen thought was cute. "That was real smooth" she thought. She wasn't the only female who found Valen attractive. He was a very handsome young man, with short brown hair, soul-piercing red eyes, a robust physique, a thick, bushy brown beard on his chin and he was fairly tall for a Dunmer as well. Usually when he walked down the street, his impressive appearance was enough to turn the head of almost any woman walking by.

Before he even sat down at the bar, the innkeeper; an Argonian woman named Keerava, poured him a mug of strong mead and called to him "Hey, Valen! This one's on the house"

Valen parked his bum on a stool and said "Thanks, Keerava" and he downed it. The beverage was strong, but Valen could hold his booze, and that was just his first. The mead Valen usually drank was nothing fancy. Black-Briar Mead was quite popular in Riften, but he never touched the stuff because he hated the Black-Briars. Any mead except that, even just plain mead, was enough for the Mer.

"So, anything interesting happen today?" Keerava asked him. "Not really, no. I caught another robber today, but that's nothing new"

"Who was it?"

"A male Khajiit named J'kar. A real weasel, that one. He stole a woman's bloated coin purse and almost got to the Ratway before I could reach him" Valen then added "Almost being the operative word. I got him just before he could make it to the Ratway's front entrance. He was fast, but not fast enough. I threatened to bloody his nose; to which he squealed without hesitation and agreed to hand it over as long as I wouldn't hurt him. Then, as soon as I had the purse, I let him go and gave it back to the woman who…misplaced it, and she gave me half her gold as a reward"

"She sounds like a very generous woman" Keerava commented. "You want another round?"

"I don't suppose it's not on the house this time?" Valen asked, though he didn't really require an answer. Keerava shook her head. "Sorry, my friend"

"No need to apologise" said the Dunmer. "You need the money. Especially in these troubled times." He put a handful of septims on the counter, Keerava counted it and put the gold pieces in her back pocket. She then poured Valen another round, and he gulped the cold beverage down.

…

Later on that night, Valen finished his drink and paid Keerava the rent for his room, then retired to bed for the night. When he closed his eyes, he began to dream of something specific. In this dream, he was not himself, but someone else.

Tel Mora, Vvardenfell, Morrowind 3E 6:

On a dark and quiet night, a pale yet beautiful Dunmer woman with long black hair knocked on the door of the Tel Mora tower; which was, by Telvanni tradition, a giant mushroom raised from the ground. A gaunt Dark Elf boy about 20 years younger than the woman at the door, but looked roughly the same age – almost as pale as she was, with a distorted, deformed body answered it. He looked tired and stressed out about something. The rings around his eyes were a clear indicator of that. She looked into his eyes and by doing so; she could almost feel his pain.

"Greetings, sera" she said. "I am Lilith Telvanni"

The boy noted she had the same last name as him, as he looked at her curiously and asked her in hushed tones "Are you a…"

"Shh!" Lilith shushed him. "Don't say the V-word. Not here. But yes, that is exactly what I am"

"Can I see your fangs? Just to be sure?"

"Of course" she showed him her fangs, and they looked real enough to the boy for him to step aside, hold the door open and say "Come on in. Quickly, now".

She entered the tower, and the boy closed the door behind him. He turned to Lilith and said matter-of-factly "My parents are out right now, but they'll be back soon, so we don't have much time. Can we please just get this over with?"

"As you wish" Lilith replied. "Hold still" she then approached and embraced him in her arms, and while she held him firmly, she bit him on the neck and then everything went black.