Dok Do Strun Riin
(Hounds of Storm Wave)
~Prologue~
Middle sons of Eastmarch stonemasons who grow up to become marines are rarely accused of being scholarly historians. Old Fish-Ear says it's not very smart to go off insulting historians like that. “They put names to deeds, and deeds to paper, lads. Piss ‘em off, and ye’ might end up the most infamous loser history has ever known.”
Alright then, Old Fish-Ear, what do you get when you have a historian who just so happens to be the middle son of an Eastmarch stonemason, and did grow up to be a marine? “An ornery, stubborn and humourless son of a whore who wasted a perfectly good career as a stonemason, that’s what!”
For a salty old seaman, Fish-Ear doesn’t miss much. He was a ways off the mark there, though. I would have never made the cut as a stonemason. And I think my sense of humour is pretty decent.
That leaves historian and marine. Not necessarily in that order. Either way, hardly a common combination in most parts of Tamriel. Oddly enough, there’s at least one outfit around that maintains a billet for such a person who has the qualifications. It’s the kind of job that has an opening more often than one would think. There are some hazards.
The outfit? Well, it’s been active a long, long time. The Hounds of Storm Wave, last free Company of Companions on the Waves of Nirn. Legend has it, the Hounds were unleashed upon the oceans of this world by Ysgramor Himself. Descendants of a crew of Companions from Ysgramor’s Five Hundred, whose ship was known as Strun Riin. ‘Storm Wave’ in the ancient tongue. Well, descendants in spirit anyway. That was ages ago, during the time of the Return.
It’s even been said the primeval Companions of Strun Riin once had their own volume in ‘Songs of the Return,’ documenting their exploits on the oceans and seas of antiquity. Sadly, that tome, along with many others from the ‘Songs,’ have been lost for untold generations. I guess that’s why this Company employs a historian these days. Keep it straight for posterity.
The Company has me on the payroll as Companion Marine. I get a little extra bump as ‘Chief Companion Historian.’ Duty is pretty much in that order. Marine first, Historian second. Immortalizing our heroic deeds in written words that will be read in awe and reverence for generations to come usually happens when the deck clears after first dog-watch. As long as we’re not riding out a storm. Or charging across an enemy deck while pirates try to hack us into fish-bait. And if my writing gear hasn’t been lost or ruined during a hostile beach landing. Again.
Chief Companion Historian is technically what you would call a collateral assignment. The most important assignment in the Company if you ask me. Not many in our rank and file would disagree with that sentiment. Though, there's a few who might think I use it to duck out of hard work.
Funny thing is, most in this outfit with a rank of Chief Companion are usually in charge of squads of marines or some other operationally dependent function. Me? Outside of a few new recruits on occasion, the only thing I’m in charge of is a big, old oak and iron casket, filled with scrolls and books penned by my predecessors. A collection of chronicles that trace the highs and lows of the last three hundred and sixty some-odd years of Company ventures. I have the dubious honor of adding my own chapters to this archive, not that it’s usually all that illustrious or heroic.
I’ve been at this gig for a while now. I’ve contributed several volumes worth myself, primarily in the form of logged reports. Patterned after the bulk of what was recorded by historians who came before me, most of it reads about as interesting as a boot maker’s ledger. The best stuff, though, comes from those who wrote in narrative form, instead of just esoteric entries. Storytellers. That’s where our past really comes to life.
Captain agrees. Says those vibrant, and often illustrative works are among the best tools we have for morale and keeping our Company on course. He gave me the nod to try my hand at some storytelling in true Historian fashion. I don’t have the time to go back and convert a stack of journals into some kind of epic saga, so I’m picking up pretty much where we are at now; early summer in the Abecean Sea, year 199 of the Fourth Era.
Who knows? If the Captain and the rest of the Companions like it enough, maybe they will let me retire from the marine side of things and go at Historian full time. No harm in wishful thinking.
I have to mention; if our ship sinks, I’m under strict orders to save the casket and its contents. Considering that solid hunk of wood and metal takes three men to move, I’m pretty sure it will plummet to the bottom like a loose anchor, along with whoever is stupid enough to hang on to it.
Oh yeah, stupid. That would be me. Should our ship ever slip beneath the waves, that old casket and my clean-picked, salt encrusted bones will spend eternity at the bottom of the sea, regaling the local fish with colorful tales of our heroic adventures.
Lucky for me, the casket and all it contains, currently resides safely aboard Strun Riin, ship-side headquarters of the Hounds and flagship of our fleet. Of course, this isn't the original vessel from the days of the Return. Tradition dictates the Hounds always sail a Strun Riin. She is the sixteenth such ship in our written history to bear the name.
Today is the 19th of Midyear, 4E 199. The six vessel fleet of our Company is tucked into a small, protected anchorage off the island of Stirk. A fever pitch of activity fills the air as the crews, from Captain to ships’ boys, work at readying the fleet for war.
But, more on all that in a bit. First, let me give my dear readers a little backdrop:
Our current commission saw us protecting shipping and merchant interests for the chief families of Anvil. Cities and ports from Iliac Bay to The Gold Coast were steadily rebuilding in the aftermath of the Aldmeri invasion and their subsequent withdrawal. The Cyrodilic Empire had long since pulled back remnants of Imperial land and naval resources to shore up what was left of the crumbling interior. Old family merchant enterprises of Anvil have spent the last twenty five years rebuilding the old port into the maritime hub it once was. And of course, jockeying for position as rulers of the growing city.
Aldmeri naval control over much of the Abecean Sea was finally broken by Hammerfell’s successful resistance. The ancient shipping lanes of western Tamriel began to see brisk business and booming prosperity again. Of course, busy and prosperous attracts the attention of pirates and raiders. In the vacuum of authority, growing concerns like Anvil hire freelance mercenary companies like the Hounds to protect their assets.
It isn’t terribly interesting work, just acceptably honorable. We are contributing to the renewal of a region utterly wrecked by war. Our reputation is such that pirates and raiders will rarely risk a direct confrontation with us. Instead, they scatter and run whenever our colors are spied. Simple, boring, honest work. Work the Hounds are very good at, but a sadly diminished state compared to the glorious deeds of our forebears.
Where Anvil got complex, and put a sour taste in our mouths, was when House Umbranox decided the muscle and reputation of the Hounds would aid in his political maneuvering over the other families of Anvil.
Being the only relevant port city of Imperial Cyrodiil, Anvil is quickly becoming an economic gold mine. House Umbranox is a member of the five-family Council created to govern the recovering city. Lately though, the temptation of that burgeoning power and wealth has been getting to Umbranox’ head. He was dead-set on reinstating himself as ‘Lord Count,’ based on hereditary right, and relegating the remaining four families to vassal status. Of course, those families took exception to this notion.
We found ourselves in the middle of a political dog-fight. And it was turning nasty.
Umbranox had somehow leveraged the other four Council families off of our commission. He drafted a new contract, giving himself sole discretion and authority. If we accepted, the Hounds would be ordered to act as his personal army of thugs and skull-crackers. House Benirus, Umbranox’ chief rival, convinced his fellow council heads the Hounds were in collusion with Umbranox.
We avoided any actual skull-cracking purely by reputation, and by keeping the Company ship-board whenever possible. Our Captain and Harbinger, Duinn Stone-Keel, spent days arguing with Umbranox over unlawful revisions made to our commission. Revisions made without Company consent. The Council refused to mediate. Truth be told, I think Captain Stone-Keel was desperately working to distract the would-be Lord Count from simply ordering us ashore to carry out what would most assuredly be a bloody coup.
Honor dictates the Hounds of Storm Wave carry out their commissions and contracts. Nowhere in the chronicles written by my predecessors can there be found an example of this Company of Companions breaking a commission sealed by oath. Captain Stone-Keel, a staunch traditionalist, lives by this ideal. The thought of the Company being backed into slaughtering merchants and townspeople at the whim of an infantile autocrat was abhorrent, but breaking our sworn oath? Incomprehensible.
And Umbranox knew that.
Our fleet was kept in port while Captain Stone-Keel contested the legality of the leveraged commission. As luck would have it, for five consecutive days, five merchant ships owned by House Umbranox had failed to arrive at the family warehouse docks. On the fifth day, rumors surfaced that a pirate fleet, commanded by a Nord who styled himself as ‘Halfryg Spine-Breaker, Commodore of the New Red Sabre,’ was attacking any ship flying the Umbranox colors. Things got extra ugly when it became apparent none of the other Houses were losing ships and seemed to be going about business as usual.
Umbranox nearly went apoplectic accusing the other council members of conspiring to undermine his House. He immediately sent Captain Stone-Keel written orders with instructions to deploy half the Company ships and men to capture or kill Spine-Breaker. The other half were to secure Umbranox’ family holdings, docks and warehouse, and garrison his House compound.
Umbranox neglected to recall our commission was in legal limbo, so Captain Stone-Keel ignored the orders. Shortly after, on a late evening tide, all six vessels of our fleet, with our entire compliment of marines and sailors, swept out of Anvil Harbor. Without warning, without an explanation and apparently without fulfilling our commission. I learned a few of these details at a later time, but document them here now, by my duty as Chief Companion Historian.
Stonecutter List, Companion Marine and Historian, Hounds of Storm Wave.
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I look forward to ... more
Yes, my premise is, there are many (48... more
Cool premise, though... more