Dang
"Teen Titans"... Now that Slade is gone there is no obsession!
I'll be bored with soft-core anime-esque programming!
Also, it gave me the idea of trying out a new angle with my writing. How does a first person narrative from Isa's point of view for this chapter sound? Tell me if it sounds bueno... Did I say I'd clear up those loose ends "next chapter"? I meant the next chapter that wasn't a giant soliloquy...
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While I grew up in the jungles of the mainland I have always been savvy when it came to other cultures. I would never scurry while muttering something about "Pellani" under my breath, unlike my predecessors. Even as a mere child in my fifties I would hide amongst the shadows and observe villages near the tribes' current location. I was amazed at the Neolithic settlements of the humans and widely-accepted Elven races, and I would wonder why my tribe was spending so much of its life blind from things like intellect and science, philosophy and religion, things that can truly enlighten a sentient being.
As we moved to new lands I learned several languages and fighting techniques, and I prided myself in those. I never thought much of it, being a naïve youth in an uncivilized tribe of barely surviving anthropoids. It wasn't until I came of age that I realized my true potential. My bloodline had gained some status with the tribes' evolution, so what my father and his wives said was practically law.
I was arranged to be wed to an elderly mer of the leaders' bloodline. He wasn't quite on his deathbed just yet, and he wanted a young wife to give him a son. I took a look at every other woman he had taken on and I literally ran. As far as biology went they were poor specimens, and after their failures with having children they had been doomed to a submissive lifestyle, waiting on that ungrateful plebian hand and foot and being the object of the tribes' scorn.
I was literate, well versed in the bone machetes of our finest warriors and Hell-bent on making something of myself. I would not waste my life bearing children and then outliving my use.
Some time before we had constructed crude rafts and traveled southward to the Somerset Isles. We shared partial residence with the Maormer of the area, and the Altmer were rude at best. I had wandered into one of their cities and took a look around. Ayleids are natural-born alchemists, so after collecting nearby ingredients and gemstones I sold them to the most dim-witted merchants I could find to make the best profit.
I purchased a set of simple black clothing, took some classes in destruction and left town certain of my next move. Later, as the leader was arranging a search party for me, I appeared. Before my family, the chieftains and every other member of the tribe I pulled on the clothes I had bought and renounced my ancestry and heritage in Aldmeris.
I used my remaining gold to teleport and ferry to the island of Vvardenfell, where my blooming trade as a thief could begin. I arrived in the port of Seyda Neen and quickly took the silt-strider to the metropolitan city of Balmora, where a Guild of Thieves was stationed. The various jungles did my sneaking abilities some good, and with practice in lock picking I quickly rose through the ranks. Gentleman Jim Stacy and I were close associates once I had shamed the other guildhalls skill-wise. I was sent on elaborate, exotic jobs and I also aided him in coordinating new members and other jobs.
Eventually, he was ready to retire and return to Hammerfell, which meant leaving the guild in my hands. He left me with the gloves of the Bal Molagmer and offered to leave me his Daedric short sword as well. I politely declined, having up until that point been faithful to the weapons of my people. The machete made up of razor sharp bones of wild animals and set on a wooden handle with beads and straps, that was to be my weapon. Somehow, I couldn't stand the thought of leaving a part of my old life behind.
I had gained fame, omnipresence and success as the guild master. But, there was still a part of my soul that felt empty; neglected... I had had the epiphany that perhaps remembering my roots was to blame, so the obvious thing I did was rid myself of my weapon. It wouldn't have done justice to sell it, no matter how much gold I could attain. So, I threw it into a lava ravine. If anything that action worsened my void. There was just something that didn't feel right. My cosmos were out of alignment and the universe was off balance.
I decided to go out on a heist for the first time in ages since my ascension in the Guild. It would be a grand acquisition, far above stealing diamonds and cookbooks. I made haste to Mournhold and waited until the waxing hours of the morning before I made my move. I knew the royal family had wealth beyond reason, so I figured that would take my mind off of my problems. The robbery was a miserable failure, which I was expecting. I wasn't really after the wealth. The chase after messing up the robbery was the exhilaration I needed. For the moment.
Then that fateful night outside of Balmora changed my life forever. Since then I have committed horrible atrocities, but I've never felt guilt or remorse about it. I derived a sick and demented pleasure out of the power that Dagoth Ur had given me. But, I wonder why he set me at the same level as his ash vampire kin. I have to be on my toes though, since I have no idea how difficult the tasks ahead of me will be. Especially since I still have human feelings.
After the Gnisis incident... When Balabhas came to that cramped room in Arrille's Tradehouse and hand crafted those medicines for me... I deserved punishment for letting my guard down. Lord Dagoth seemed somewhat understanding with my predicament, but then had me towed off for punishment. Even as I think these words I'm being suspended upside down by my ankles over lava, restrained in chains that weaken me; my lips sewn together in some sort of symbolism. Despite this, I still hope Balabhas survived Assemanu. If I continue thinking fondly of him I'll never get the chance to rescue him.
In a way, my past has never left me. My insides still tangle with rage and despotic emotions at my tribe. But, they are still my tribe.
Also, it gave me the idea of trying out a new angle with my writing. How does a first person narrative from Isa's point of view for this chapter sound? Tell me if it sounds bueno... Did I say I'd clear up those loose ends "next chapter"? I meant the next chapter that wasn't a giant soliloquy...
--------------------------------------------------------------
While I grew up in the jungles of the mainland I have always been savvy when it came to other cultures. I would never scurry while muttering something about "Pellani" under my breath, unlike my predecessors. Even as a mere child in my fifties I would hide amongst the shadows and observe villages near the tribes' current location. I was amazed at the Neolithic settlements of the humans and widely-accepted Elven races, and I would wonder why my tribe was spending so much of its life blind from things like intellect and science, philosophy and religion, things that can truly enlighten a sentient being.
As we moved to new lands I learned several languages and fighting techniques, and I prided myself in those. I never thought much of it, being a naïve youth in an uncivilized tribe of barely surviving anthropoids. It wasn't until I came of age that I realized my true potential. My bloodline had gained some status with the tribes' evolution, so what my father and his wives said was practically law.
I was arranged to be wed to an elderly mer of the leaders' bloodline. He wasn't quite on his deathbed just yet, and he wanted a young wife to give him a son. I took a look at every other woman he had taken on and I literally ran. As far as biology went they were poor specimens, and after their failures with having children they had been doomed to a submissive lifestyle, waiting on that ungrateful plebian hand and foot and being the object of the tribes' scorn.
I was literate, well versed in the bone machetes of our finest warriors and Hell-bent on making something of myself. I would not waste my life bearing children and then outliving my use.
Some time before we had constructed crude rafts and traveled southward to the Somerset Isles. We shared partial residence with the Maormer of the area, and the Altmer were rude at best. I had wandered into one of their cities and took a look around. Ayleids are natural-born alchemists, so after collecting nearby ingredients and gemstones I sold them to the most dim-witted merchants I could find to make the best profit.
I purchased a set of simple black clothing, took some classes in destruction and left town certain of my next move. Later, as the leader was arranging a search party for me, I appeared. Before my family, the chieftains and every other member of the tribe I pulled on the clothes I had bought and renounced my ancestry and heritage in Aldmeris.
I used my remaining gold to teleport and ferry to the island of Vvardenfell, where my blooming trade as a thief could begin. I arrived in the port of Seyda Neen and quickly took the silt-strider to the metropolitan city of Balmora, where a Guild of Thieves was stationed. The various jungles did my sneaking abilities some good, and with practice in lock picking I quickly rose through the ranks. Gentleman Jim Stacy and I were close associates once I had shamed the other guildhalls skill-wise. I was sent on elaborate, exotic jobs and I also aided him in coordinating new members and other jobs.
Eventually, he was ready to retire and return to Hammerfell, which meant leaving the guild in my hands. He left me with the gloves of the Bal Molagmer and offered to leave me his Daedric short sword as well. I politely declined, having up until that point been faithful to the weapons of my people. The machete made up of razor sharp bones of wild animals and set on a wooden handle with beads and straps, that was to be my weapon. Somehow, I couldn't stand the thought of leaving a part of my old life behind.
I had gained fame, omnipresence and success as the guild master. But, there was still a part of my soul that felt empty; neglected... I had had the epiphany that perhaps remembering my roots was to blame, so the obvious thing I did was rid myself of my weapon. It wouldn't have done justice to sell it, no matter how much gold I could attain. So, I threw it into a lava ravine. If anything that action worsened my void. There was just something that didn't feel right. My cosmos were out of alignment and the universe was off balance.
I decided to go out on a heist for the first time in ages since my ascension in the Guild. It would be a grand acquisition, far above stealing diamonds and cookbooks. I made haste to Mournhold and waited until the waxing hours of the morning before I made my move. I knew the royal family had wealth beyond reason, so I figured that would take my mind off of my problems. The robbery was a miserable failure, which I was expecting. I wasn't really after the wealth. The chase after messing up the robbery was the exhilaration I needed. For the moment.
Then that fateful night outside of Balmora changed my life forever. Since then I have committed horrible atrocities, but I've never felt guilt or remorse about it. I derived a sick and demented pleasure out of the power that Dagoth Ur had given me. But, I wonder why he set me at the same level as his ash vampire kin. I have to be on my toes though, since I have no idea how difficult the tasks ahead of me will be. Especially since I still have human feelings.
After the Gnisis incident... When Balabhas came to that cramped room in Arrille's Tradehouse and hand crafted those medicines for me... I deserved punishment for letting my guard down. Lord Dagoth seemed somewhat understanding with my predicament, but then had me towed off for punishment. Even as I think these words I'm being suspended upside down by my ankles over lava, restrained in chains that weaken me; my lips sewn together in some sort of symbolism. Despite this, I still hope Balabhas survived Assemanu. If I continue thinking fondly of him I'll never get the chance to rescue him.
In a way, my past has never left me. My insides still tangle with rage and despotic emotions at my tribe. But, they are still my tribe.