Posted by
Reikaan Ward November 5, 2011 -
683 views
Hope was a very prevalent ideal throughout my childhood in New Balmora. Hope for a growing population. Hope for new discoveries. An all-encompassing hope that Vvardenfell & the Dunmer could become what they once were. Though it was not a time of prosperity, the hardships we endured always seemed to further our people to a common goal of a better life for all in Vvardenfell.
If there was one person that embodied this feeling, it would absolutely have to have been my sister. Although born a pure Dunmer, her skin had a slightly golden shine to it, her eyes a cool blue. This was a far stretch from the ash skin & crimson eyes of the rest of us. My parents named her Hope, believing that her resemblance to the Dunmer ancestors, the Chimer, was a sign that she was meant for something special.
She was born only two harvests before me, but she seemed a generation wiser.
As children, Hope, and I were inseparable. Even during our young teenage years, we both possessed remarkable skill. My specialty had been tracking; my sense of direction was unmatched by anyone in Lazarus. My sister, however, had an affinity for nearly everything. She learned incredibly fast, living up to her namesake as a hope for Vvardenfell and Dunmer alike. I was never jealous, I merely just aspired to be like her. She was my hero, even more so than our father & his father's before him, probably the most promising figureheads our new nation could have asked for. But Hope was more than a leader. She was selfless and caring, a true steward for New Balmora's future.
With all our talents, Hope and I were still too young to join the Lazarus Scouts. Our disappointment was lessened by our friend and mentor, a middle-aged Nord named Torleif. His family were the last pure-blooded Nords that anyone from Lazarus had encountered, so he was always eager to share his pride for Nordic heritage. I can still recall many a story passed down & told 'round a bonfire chronicling ancient Skyrim heroes . He even had a Nordic heirloom ever present at his side called Jarrett, which means spear of bravery in his native tongue. From being used in combat practice to pointing out lesser known constellations, Jarrett was more a teacher's aide than an ornatley forged spear.
Upon our father's election as head of the New Balmora council, Torleif's duties as guard commander were lessened to help look after and train us. Having never been attacked by any worse than a pack of belly netch at a time, the city's six guardsmen were more than adequate, and more specially trained Lazarus Scouts were needed to further expansion. Most of our days ended up revolving around what we fondly remember as "fetch quests" from various townspeople. "Go get me this flower for that potion, " or "We need five pounds of scrib jelly by tonight, " were the norm for Hope and I. Commander Torleif would accompany us and keep us safe while we satisfied our thirst for knowledge & adventure. All was well.
Then it happened.
It began simply enough, with a half rotten nix-hound corpse floating in our water supply. We thought nothing of it, fished it out of the river, and that was that. A few days later, more bodies appeared in the Odai River. Foul play was never a concern, but it did prompt my father, the newly elected town council leader, to call a meeting together. They discussed the long-standing need for a healer, and an eventual resolution was decided.
I was summoned to the council hall one evening to find Hope and Torleif standing before my father. Upon my arrival, he spoke.
"As you all are aware, while we are competent at teaching ourselves defense, smithing, and alchemy, we sorely lack instruction in magical arts. Hope, my daughter, I task you with seeing my healer friend, Forrowmir, in the north. Seek his counsel and bring restoration knowledge to New Balmora. As a result of the tainted water, I cannot send you with many provisions. Reikaan, my son, you will accompany your sister. You are tasked with pathfinding and hunting. Keep yourselves nourished and ever vigilant. Commander Torleif, protect my offspring. Keep my children safe. Be thorough in your quest, and stay safe. May our ancestors protect & guide you all. "
With that, my father returned to his chambers as Torleif escorted us out so we could pack. It was the last time I would see my father with his head still attached upon his shoulders.
The three of us left early the next morning, headed for Hlormaren to use the propylon chambers to take us north. We arrived at Andasreth stronghold with no issues and proceeded to transport to Berandas, which was only a few hours walk from the settlement Forrowmir called home. As soon as we teleported through the propylon chambers, an excruciating pain enveloped the three of us. I immediately thought of my childhood nightmares of what Oblivion would be like as my flesh seared in agony. It was not until Torleif snached my collar and heaved me to safety that I realized I had been on fire. As the cloud of confusion dissipated, I looked to see the entire chamber engulfed in dancing flames as my sister and I frantically patted at our clothing to stop the embers from burning us further.
Torleif yelled for us to follow his lead as he shoulder charged through a doorway. Air whooshed inside, fanning the flames and boosting the heat to incredible levels, but we continued through the last of the scorching flames and came outside to find...
" Ah, I was... wrong, it seems.. This really is a d-dream.., " I remember thinking. My mind, still racing from the threat of being burned alive, tried to comprehend what I now saw, but a nightmare was the only possible description.
A settlement, thriving probably no more than a day ago, now filled my vision. Flames danced and twirled around houses, taverns, and farmsteads. Livestock lay in the street, burning alive. Man and Mer alike lay on each other in murdered piles in alleyways, or hang out windows bleeding like animals. And the blood. It was everywhere, like paint on a demon's canvas. So much that it ran down the walkways, sanguine rays protruding from a hellish, slaughtered town center.
A similar look of horror stayed on Hope & Torleif's faces as well. Seven harvests ago, shortly after my father came across the master propylon index, we offered to help construct a small trading post outside Berandas to help stimulate growth between our townships. It ended up being so successful that my father and I regularly came here to help build more huts & homes, and before we knew it Berandas was a small town of its own. That is what made the carnage here so much more difficult to endure.
We were now stranded, at least a full day's walk from home. After careful deliberation, we decided to seek high ground to determine if our destination held the same fate as Berandas. An hour's climb to the nearest cliff confirmed our fears as thick black clouds of smoke billowed from every known settlement within view. It was times like this I envied Torleif and his limited vision. Seeing the distant destruction so clearly through these elven eyes was heartbreaking.
From the cliff I plotted a course home for us. There was little hope that Forrowmir had escaped disaster, and even if he had, he'd be hidden somewhere anyways. Better to get the news of this horrible onslaught to the New Balmora council so preparations could be made. This was the first time that I had considered that the corpses in our river were no accident, but I kept my mouth shut as we traveled home. We decided against using the Dunmer strongholds for travel just in case another had fallen to an attack. Hope and I hit Torleif with a barrage of questions as to who or what could have done this, but fables of dragons & daedra are all he could come up with, citing that these were horrors neither Man nor Mer could be capable of.
As we closed in on Caldera, Torleif's stopped us. "There's something I should tell you two, " he said out of the blue. After a long, soul-searching pause, he continued. "I don't think we should go home. Your father told me that he believed those rotten corpses were put in our river to poison the townspeople. He feared of an attack before we even began this voyage. He told me to keep you kids safe, so Lazarus is out of the question."
"What!!? That's absurd! " I replied.
"We have to help any way that we can, " my sister interjected. We argued for another moment, disregarding our volume, but we were overheard.
The next thing I knew, Torleif grew silent as I looked down to see an arrow protruding from a seam in his armor. It glowed green and smelled putrid, a sure sign of poison enchantment. We dove for the cover of a close boulder as Torleif cursed and spat up blood when he moved. He grunted in pain once more, but there were to be no heartbreaking last words from Torleif the Nord. Only the clattering of his spear, Jarrett falling from his grasp and hitting the rocks. Tears began streaming down Hope's cheeks, but I shook her and told her we had to get to safety. We darted from cover to cover, headed toward an entrance to the old Caldera mine not far away. Finally, we were safe for the time being as emotion of the morning's events swept over both of us.
Wiping tears from my eyes some moments later, I lit us a torch and spent the remainder of the day navigating half-collapsed caverns. It was night by the time we found another exit, but decided it'd be safer to travel under concealment of darkness. There was no large, dangerous wildlife in the area further fueling speculation that those corpses were dropped in our river with intent. That last walk from the Caldera mine to New Balmora seemed to last all night, when in reality the star signs were still faint in the sky from the sun setting over the horizon of the one last hill left to crest before New Balmora came into view. At this point, my sister and I shared a single, unified thought, "I hope everyone's all right... "
Comments