Chapter 2: Where am I?

"You have no idea what you've done Nerevar."

"What I've done? I've saved the Dunmer from your madness. You would kill any that got in your way."

"You're wrong. I only could have saved the Dunmer, united us all under my authority. One god to lead us all to greatness."

"No, just destruction. Morrowind is better off without you." A laugh erupted from the dying person as blood spewed from their mouth.

"And what then? Shall you go off and wander around helping Dunmer in need? For every life you save, hundreds more are suffering. Without me, Morrowind will never be safe from outside forces."

"They will be safe, once they know the truth."

"Truth!? They'll never believe the truth and they will despise you for it. But go then, tell them. No Dunmer will ever trust you again. I hope- hope you die all alone, knowing in your final moments that no one cared in the slightest." The person fell bare on the ground, their soul departed from the body as blood puddle pooled out.

"Goodbye, Almalexia."

Vatryn lifted up from the ground, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. He looked around him to see he was in a small tent, small lights scattered in through the green cloth.

"Wait, I was in Clockwork city. I… no wait, that was a few months ago. I-I was on a ship to… Akavir and…" Looking down, he could see bandages covering where his wound was. He wore nothing but ragged trousers, Trueflame nowhere to be found nor was his backpack for that matter.

"Where am I?" His wound irked as he got up, insides still not have been fully healed. His arm shielded his view from the light as he walked out of the tent. A number of other tents, mats, furs, weapons dotted his view. Trees and other plants surrounded this "camp" and there was a pot mysteriously still stewing in the middle of it all. Glancing side to side, Vatryn could not see a soul around yet the pot indicates whoever healed him is still nearby.

"Stop right there!" Vatryn looked up to find the voice that called out to him. An arrow is drawn, ready to fly loose from its wielder. The figure wore a green tunic opened in a v-shape down the middle, leather pants with steel shins, a squirrel tail on the chest, and a leather cap opened on the sides for the ears. Ears of an elf.

"Mind telling me why you've got an arrow trained on me?" Vatryn asked.

"Quiet," said the elf, "and don't you move." Footsteps rustled around the area and more elves wearing similar garbs emerged. Slowly they walked over to Vatryn, hands ready to unsheathe their swords. One of them walked a bit closer a few feet from Vatryn, he wore more armor than the others and quite a few daggers on his chest. Must be the leader.

"I see that you're awake." the elf spoke, "But it begs the question of who you are? You clearly have ears like us but you have strange skin and some aura about you. You some kind of demon or a monster?"

Vatryn raised his brow and said, "I'm not that strange. What, you've never seen a Dunmer before?"

"Dun-mer?"

"Yeah, you know Dark Elf, mer, elf? Just because my skin is grey doesn't make me any less of an elf than you. Also, I doubt a demon or a monster would be willing to have a chat."

"Then what about your armor and weapons? Such things are clearly demonic."

"Yes because demons just love black and green armor and they would also ask for help with his wounds because it wants to harm you later. I didn't think Bosmer would be this superstitious." All the elf glanced at each other, confused by his words.

"Bosmer? What do you mean?" the elf leader asked.

"Wood Elf then, is that better?"

"You insinuate that because we're elves that we must live forests?"

"No, just your group in particular. I remember bosmer lived in huge cities that they built into giant trees."

"I don't know if you knocked your head too hard but elves have never built cities in trees. Besides, we aren't allowed anywhere near cities."

"Why?"

"Because humans are racists and nothing more than hairless apes."

"Woah now, I get humans can be jerks but so can elves too. Just try talking to the houses of Morrowind."

"M..morrowind? Where's that?" Vatryn let of short breath, confused from the elf's words.

"Um, Morrowind. Home of the Dunmer. On the continent of Tamriel." The elves around Vatryn scratched their heads, lowering their hands.

"I think you're mistaken. We've never heard of such places." the leader responded.

"Then where am I then?" Vatryn asked.

"Temeria. In the forests south of Dorian." Those words tore a hole into his heart and the gravity of the situation increased.

"What!? But...I...no. That's…" Vatryn slumped to the ground, all weapons lowered down from him.

The elf leader frowned, puzzled at this "dark elf". His words caused him great sadness as he hung his head. A few glances he gave his group, confused just like him, and approached the elf.

"Are you...um...okay?" Vatryn shook his head back, followed by a long sigh.

"No, I'm not alright. First, my expedition went sideways and now I'm in a forest where bosmer who aren't really bosmer are telling me that I'm not in Tamriel nor Akavir I assume?" The leader gave no response. "Great, just great. What else you want to tell me? Daedra roam the land, cows fly over moons, or maybe that dwarves are still around?"

"Last I checked, dwarves are alive and well." the elf leader responded. Vatryn could not dignify the response as he hung down.

"I assume you're not from the Continent then?"

"Brilliant deduction. Bravo. What gave it away? My dashing looks."

"You can do without the sarcasm. You're not impressing anyone here."

"Sorry, I'm just... frustrated." he said as he stood up, "You know I always found its best to talk out your problems. Is there a place we could sit so that I might explain?" The elf leader gestured to a log for both. The entire group of elves huddled close to the two, curious about the weird elf.

"Quite a group you have here," Vatryn began, "living free with nature, away from the troubles of modern life. Tried it myself but always did appreciate the baths and warm meals city life offers. Anyway, introductions first. My name is Vatryn Brios."

"I am Simid. Commander of this unit."

"A pleasure to meet you, Simid. I thank you for healing my wounds. Now then, how do I best explain my situation? Um, so obviously I'm not from around here nor any other place you might suggest. Is there another landmass, like a continent?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Are you from out west perhaps? Nobody knows if there is another continent in that direction."

"No, because if I were, then this would be Akavir. I guess you could say I'm from another world. I know that sounds crazy but it's true. You don't know that I'm a dunmer, you don't know about bosmer and you tell me of a place that I know for certain does not exist where I am from. It's obvious that I've landed in a new world."

"You're right, it does sound crazy. If a human said it. But you, a grey elf with unfamiliar items and a strange aura about you. I heard stories about the Aen Elle, our cousins that live in another world. Perhaps you're something like them, elves that will one day come as our salvation, to help us turn the tide against humanity and free us from oppression."

Vatryn raised his brow. "You really don't like humans, do you?"

"Why would I like a hairless ape that rapes, murders, and steals from us? Do humans not do the same from your world?"

"Sure but so do many elves. In fact, where I am from, Morrowind is a country full of Dunmer that practice slavery. The only province that still does in fact."

"Hmph, well count yourself lucky you've never experienced the horrors the dh'oine can inflict." Steam boiled out from the pot in camp, the entire group lining up quickly for the food.

"Seems it's time to eat," Vatryn said. His stomach growled and birds flew scared by the sound. Everyone looked perplexed at the dunmer before he smiled at the group. "So what are we having?"

"Squirrel." One of the elves said and Vatryn's nose wrinkled at the meal.

"Really? No deer or any other game?"

"None in this area. And there haven't been any human caravans to pass through."

"Why would it matter for caravans to pass through?" Vatryn mumbled, gnawing on the charred squirrel on a stick.

"To survive." one proclaimed, "Humans won't allow us to buy anything and they've done terrible things to us. So we take what we have to to survive."

"So you decide to become bandits then?" The mood around him tensed as he felt every eye fell on him. Simid approached him slowly, perking his head.

"Bandits are just simple minded people that kill for coin. We are the Scoia'tael. We fight for non-humans and wage war against human tyranny. We fight so we can survive so that one day we will finally be free and take back what was once stolen from us."

"That's a nice speech you got. Real original. Still doesn't change the fact you are bandits and I very much despise bandits. But since you helped me, I owe you a debt of gratitude. So I'll let it slide this time."

"How very thoughtful of you. But you're not from this world, so why is it any of your business?" Vatryn smashed the pot over crashing into the ground. Simid took a step back as the entire unit drew their weapons, bows drawn and swords pointed.

"Because it is my business," Vatryn stated, "Doesn't matter if I'm not from here or not. You don't kill people just for their stuff, it's that simple. I don't care if you're human, elf, or whatever other sentient species you are. And I could care less about your reason's. Revenge, the greater good, survival, I've heard them all. But I am not someone who believes it's all just good and evil, so here is what's going to happen. Since you've shown me some hospitality and care for me, I will show you a better way to survive."

"And what if we don't you to show?" Simid asked.

"Then I'll have to kill you."

"You really think threatening us is a good option?"

"I'm not threatening, I'm simply stating what will happen. And I've faced much worse enemies than a group of bandits. So what's it going to be?" The two narrowed each down, ready for the other to make a move. Vatryn could see through that Simid's hand shook intently, fast enough for no one else to notice.

"Fine then," he relented as he raised to the others to stand down, "I'll give you a chance. Since you knocked down our pot, perhaps tell us how we are going to feed ourselves without having to take from the dh'oine."

"Buy some." he shrugged, only for Simid to become wide-eyed.

"That's your plan!? Maybe we should also bend over and let them…"

"You didn't let me finish. I mean we persuade them but first I need something. Where did you put my stuff?"

A quick glance to the left pointed him to his backpack and gear, loosely placed out on a log. Grabbing his items, he ran quickly into the tent and laid out everything that was accounted for.

"Let's see. None of my potions are missing, soul gems intact, coin purses unopened. Here it is"

He grabbed the bag with the enthusiasm of a puppy yet like all puppies drooped down as he saw his armor.

"Damn," lifting his glass armor up, "that Tsaesci put a nasty hole through it. I doubt any smith could repair it either. Let me think, I remember that smith at the Ghostgate told me in a tight bind, I could use steel to patch in parts though it would be a weak spot. Maybe I could paint it black over. But until I find a smith, I'll just have to make sure no one hits it."

A shirt, shoes, trousers, greaves, boots, gauntlets, pauldrons, chainmail, and a cuirass took time for the Dunmer to dress into. His stomach slightly winced a bit as he bent over perpendicularly, climbing out of the question for a while. Coming in with a finishing touch, a chitin leather belt across the chest for throwing knives and ebony daggers and a pouch to carry valuables and potions. Lastly, Trueflame, the curved sword flowed with fire on the blade and it warmed his face.

"A shame I lost Hopesfire. Would have been great to test it out here." He sheathed the sword and proceeded out the tent. Most of the Scoia'tael had moved on, taking watch over the camp, some sleeping, and rest readying weapons and even reading books.

"About time you were ready," Simid called as he approached, "So, care to elaborate on this plan of yours?"

"Mhm, with this." Vatryn pulled out a coin purse, tossing it in his hands. "In my travels, I managed to amass myself with quite a fortune but most of that came from the Empire's currency. So in the last few months, I spent time searching for anything that would be valuable regardless of my location. Gems, gold, pearls, and an occasional artifact are just some of the things I'd find. This purse here is full of pearls, enough for a family to live in a decent home for a few years."

"Bribery then." Vatryn shook his head back.

"No this is just an extra incentive. It would be best I show you though. Is there any roads nearby?"

"There's one near Dorian but guards would attack us on site. A better place would be on the road a bit northeast. It'll take us about a day to reach it."

"Northeast it is then. Oh, and we'll need to wear some cloaks too. Don't want anyone attacking us on sight."

The sun fell on their backs, trickling through the trees as Vatryn and Simid walked. The rustle of leaves and bark crunched beneath their feet, the smell of earth tickled Vatryn's nose as he let out a sneeze.

"You're quite uncomfortable with the forest. A pampered life behind city walls." Simid observed.

"Hey, just because I'm an elf doesn't mean we automatically like forests. Besides where I'm from, we don't have forests like these, just grasslands with the occasional tree. But still, even Bosmer live in cities, like giant trees that they've carved as their cities and I even heard they move around."

"So you have different types of elves? Not just one people." Simid asked.

"Yes," Vatryn answered, "we have three. Altmer, Bosmer, and Dunmer. Or as the humans say, High Elf, Wood Elf, and Dark Elf. I told you a bit about the last two but don't expect a detailed history from me. But it boils down to this, Altmer live in pretty towns on a tropical island, Bosmer live in giant forests that would make these look pathetic, and Dunmer live in an ashen wasteland. You can guess from there."

No response came back and soon nightfall befell. A quick snack of toads and insects and the two continued along well into the morning. Simid lead ahead to a small hill covered in shrubs, overlooking a dirt road with nicks and pots along. A commotion was heard to the right and crouching down, they could see a small wagon. Its occupant shouting out obscenities to the wagon, its wheels stuck deep down in the mud and the horses trying to break away with no luck.

"Our lucky day, a lone man stuck with no one else around." An arm from Vatryn blocked his view and the Dunmer could only scowl.

"I told you," he whispered, "I'm showing you a different way."

"Which is?"

"Let's help him."

"That's it. Help him. Why should we? He probably won't let us buy from him and he'll run away from two elves coming out of nowhere."

"Put these masks on," Vatryn said as he held out two wooden ones.

"What…"

"Shh, just go along with it and follow my lead," he said, covering his head in a hood.

The two circled out from the forest, avoiding the man's view. As they approached, Vatryn held out his arms.

"Excuse me, good sir. I see that you are in a bind?" The man looked up at the two cloaked figures, eyes widened as he stumbled back and holding up his arms.

"W-who are you? What do you want?"

"Be calm, good sir. My companion and I seek you no harm. We are travelers just leaving from Dorian."

"Then why are your faces covered?"

"Oh, well we are both horribly disfigured. Yes, a tragic accident with fire a few years ago and unfortunately left us horribly scarred. People would look in disgust or flee in terror from us and we would constantly drink in shame. The masks solve both." The man raised a brow at Vatryn, calmed but still unsure.

"Please, allow us to help. We can get your wagon out."

"Well, I…"

"Good," Vatryn interrupted, "Simid, get some wood real quick. Preferably flat and sturdy."

Mud splashed under him as he stood behind the wagon, grabbing it firmly. The man stood back from him as Simid brushed through with two pieces of bark.

"Alright, good sir, I'll lift up the wagon while Simid here puts in on those logs. Then you'll use your horses to get out."

"By yourself? Don't you need another hand?"

"It's fine. I can lift it. You just move when I tell you." The man bit his lower lip as the two strangers readied themselves. The larger one gave back a nodding approval to the man, motivating him to the front.

"Alright, ready Simid?" A second of silence to Vatryn confirmed to lift away.

"Ok, I, 2, 3!"

Vatryn clenched his hands, pulling up the wagon. Simid was quick to place the wood as the mud sunk Vatryn deeper in. Slowly, he planted the wagon down, the logs slightly cracked under the weight.

"Ok, you can move now!" Banging on the side for reins to come down, horses neighing as the wagon rolled back onto the road.

"Wow," the man said as he stopped the wagon, "you really could lift it. You have my thanks… I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"Vatryn. And this is Simid. It was a pleasure to help. What's a man like you doing out here anyway?" The man jumped down to meet eye to eye.

"My name is Gedrand. I'm a trader from my village, actually, I was on my to Dorian. Scared that I might have had to abandon my wagon for help, Scoia'tael or bandits have looted it. But you two gentleman helped me out. Is there a way I can repay you?"

"Actually you can. You see, I might have exaggerated a bit about our faces." Gedrand was confused at his words but his heart pounded as the two men took off the masks and hood. Their ears trembled fear into his eyes as he stumbled back away from them.

"W-what are you? Some Scoia'tael monster." Unsheathing a dagger, he threw flimsy at them only for it to bounce off Vatryn's arms.

"Now hold on. We don't want to hurt you. Just a moment ago we helped you free your wagon."

"And what the hell are you? Some kind of super elf?" Simid exchanged looks with Vatryn, receiving a shrug back.

"Let's just say I'm not from around here. Look, we're not here to kill you but to ask you for assistance. You see, we realized the errors of our way, the Scoia'tael do not do anything but divide us. However, since leaving we've had naught to survive on, the forest has no supplies or any ample game. Dorian has what we need but they'd never allow people like us inside. You can pay us back by buying the items for us."

"Like I'd ever do that. I'll end up leading Scoia'tael straight into the town, you'd kill and pillage everyone and burn it to ash. Leave me!" Simid growled toward the merchant before an arm held him back from going forward. Gedrand's breathing heaved faster as the Dunmer knelt down.

"Think about it, good man. Why would we help you? I could have easily killed you and taken everything from you. And attacking a town that I'm sure is full of guards. There are better ways to kill yourself. Of course, if that isn't enough, then I can pay. How's 15 pearls sound?"

The coin purse landed on Gadrend's lap, its contents jingled as it made contact. A peek inside amazed him at the amount of the pristine pearls, perfectly rounded as it glistened so bright, the silver lilies paled in disgrace. Looking up and down from the elves and purse, his mind raced through the possibilities for what felt like an eternity.

"I…" Gedrand stumbled up, "how do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't. I find that it's best to trust each other's self-interest. And our self-interest is to not die while yours is to make money. You'll buy us provisions, get rich from those pearls, and meet us near the forest, preferably out of sight from the town. Deal?" Gedrand slacked his face, furrowing a brow at the audacity of this elf. Yet something about him felt calm; a smoky voice that soothed the nerves like a hot bath on his skin. This, this one was different.

"They're back." Scoia'tael gathered around the wagon, smell of venison, leather-filled their nostrils and large furs and clothes were filled to the brim in the back.

"Simid, how'd it go? That elf finally realize you how this world works?" asked one of the guerrillas.

"No, he…"

"He helped some human." Vatryn emerged from the back, "Because turns out, if you're nice to people, they'll be nice back. It also doesn't hurt to incentivize, a favor for a favor."

"I'll admit you surprised me Vatryn. Perhaps not all dh'oine aren't so unreasonable. But still, you were lucky, very lucky. For every one person like that merchant, there's a thousand that won't ever accept us. You can't expect us to be nice to every single human."

"I don't expect you to." Vatryn closed the distance with him, a few inches separated them. "But I expect you to at least make the effort and to move forward with those who reciprocate. Too many times I've seen just an endless cycle of hate that consumes your very morality, your soul. And if you want to stop it, you've got to take initiative and turn the other cheek."

"You make it sound so simple."

"That's because it is. It's our feelings that get in the way. Which is why you're going to stop with your raids." Simid wide-eyed at his statement.

"We can't. It's not possible for us, not at the moment. But you did show us that perhaps we shouldn't attack every caravan, just the ones that carry weapons."

"Ugh." The sound vibrated the air as Vatryn went back to the tent, slinging his backpack on with the cloak.

"What are you doing?" SImid asked.

"Leaving. I paid my debt to you and I'm not about to get involved with you. I'll try and find a way back to my world if there is. Good day." A slight bow caught Simid off guard as the elf turned away.

"Wait," The voice turned back Vatryn's head, "I might know of someone who could help you."

"Who?"

"His name is Iorveth, a Scoia'tael commander that operates near the Temerian-Aedirin border. He has a lot of contacts and perhaps he could point you to someone that might help you. Go northeast of here until you reach a fortress called Hagge. Then go east from there and tell the Scoia'tael there that Simid sent you."

"Thanks." As he walked off, his voice bellowed out for the whole camp.

"Oh and one more thing. I find out you're still raiding, I won't treat you such kindness the next time." His final declaration as he melded through the trees.

Pulling up his hood, a sigh of relief came about his body like as if a boulder was lifted. Quite surprising they took his bluff, he was almost sure they'd stuff him with arrows as soon as he knocked over their pot. The way they talked about suffering and how that merchant was rife in fear at the sight of him, the races here really did not like each other. Sure back home men and mer didn't exactly see eye to eye but never did we hate so much we'd commit genocide of each other. Well, okay Falmer but not all at the time and never the entire species.

Looking up at the trees, one thought entered into Vatryn's head.

"What the fuck kind of world did I end up in?"

Thoughts?