Short Stories and Such

Fathis moved, crouched and slow to the edge of a patch of flowers. Hoping his shuffle was quiet, he got as close to the edge of a cluster of tall kanets as he dared and, slowly, nocked an arrow so it's shaft wouldn't touch any of the surrounding flora. He pushed the spike of chitin at the end of of his bow into the ground and began slowly inching back the string. Two inches, Four, to his lips, and then to the edge of his growing smirk. After a generation of the Avel line being forced to live on the mainland, Fathis was ecstatic to return to Gorne and equip the mantle of the island's hunter. Never before had just another nix-hound looked like such a prize.

He breathed slow, gentle breaths from his mouth as the hound sniffed at some anther before turning it's heads to face the seas behind it. The bug-beast seemed in no hurry to get wherever it thought it was going as it stepped casually past the flower patches and sniffed at the air towards the distant calls of cliff-racers. Decades of being the top predator made them careless and fat. The fat part wasn't quite as obvious till they were over a fire, but that didn't stop Fathis' mouth from watering at the thought. Eventually the beast stopped just a few feet away, nose again sniffing the air, now with more intensity. Apparently, it was finally becoming weary of the the odd smell of the kanets.

Without a second thought the hunter let fly the arrow. With a hollow k-thunk it went into the side of the hounds abdomen.

Damn it.

Before the beast knew what had happened, Fathis nocked another arrow, took a deep breath, and aimed more carefully at the gap between the head and abdomen shell.

qua-ssch

Guars-eye

The hound let out a croak as it fell... dead before it even hit the ground.

The Dunmer stood from his golden blind and ran to his prize with a sharp laugh. He began his work tugging off the front and hind legs and tossed then off the ledge into the sea, then held the measured notches of his bow up to the creature's tusks. Easily over a foot long. Anywhere else in Morrowind and it would've been a once in an elven lifetime trophy, but Fathis had seen bigger in the last few days and tossed the head into the sea after plucking out the eyes. After the dressing was done, he slid his bow into a guar skin sheath on his back before hoisting the shell up with both arms. Nix-hounds tended to be rather light compared to most big game, but the size of such a juicy one meant the walk back to the village would require multiple breaks... and perhaps even a quick snack of raw hound eyes.

Fathis didn't mind the long journey. After a lifetime of hearing about Gorne, the last few weeks felt like a dream and, if it was, he intended to remember every moment of it. The flowers were more plentiful then even his childhood mind imagined, butterflies and bees fluttered about giving the air a quiet hum, and the sounds of the many small streams and waterfalls he passed gave him a peace he didn't think possible on the mortal plane. To his right, the salty sea glowed golden from the setting sun, and to his left grew full-leaved trees beside the freshest ribbon of water in Tamriel.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll see where these streams start... he thought as the village came into view.

The village of Gorne looked like a common Indoril settlement. Same elegant jade rooves that curved at the corners with polished stone brick walls below, same eye for beauty with a large gazebo and a garden that surrounded it. The only difference that could be spotted was the closeness of the structures and the the variety of flowers planted in front of every home and business. Purple and pink willows and anthers, blue stoneflowers, yellow and white kanets, and Timsa-Come-By's and heathers filling in the space lower to the ground. Every inch of town was idyllic and in bloom.

As with many Indoril, however, the people who lived there were a little less inviting. Despite their request for his return, and his ancestral right, the majority of locals did not view him as such. The treated him much like a stray cat... he may have his use catching the rats, but that doesn't mean they'd give him a pat for his efforts. Even when the rats are in fact hounds, and the cat leaves them at the village's doorstep. He didn't mind however. Most of everyone just gave him a wide berth and shifty eyes, outside of one family.

The hunter and his haul received a few glances and grimaces from the townsfolk as he worked his way to his small home on the edge of everything. He had a small butchery set up outside, just a table for a chopping block and a small fire for roasting and smoking, but was surprised to see someone already at the butcher block. Fathis tried to remain composed as he approached the familiar unfriendly face.

Ah, how are you Avel? I was wondering if you'd make it back with anything before sundown. Idav, working son of the Andary family, was in the middle of removing the scales off a particularly nasty looking slaughterfish with his fillet knife.

I knew I should've sealed that table... Well I have, and here I am. Now would you mind finishing your work at your own home or by the docks so I can begin mine?

Sure sure, I just was fishing on your side of the island and, well, another small haul as usual since the beasts moved in made me think I'd just clean em real quick here... Let me just finish up. With practiced grace, the bald dunmer dropped his hand, slicing the fish in two, and catching the fillet that fell while allowing the guts to land and burst on the table. Good luck with that hound hunter. He said snickering as he walked towards the docks.

Fathis held his glare till it was obvious Idav wasn't turning back to look again at his handiwork. The hunter shook his head and decided he'd work on the ground today.

When the first of the Avel's arrived during the Velothi exodus, they had wondered if Azura had taken them when they'd laid eyes on it. It was a rocky island with a mountain at it's center off Morrowind's Padomaic coast and, to the pilgrims, it was like a chunk of Moonshadow had been conjured for them right there on Nirn. It had everything those few who went beyond Necrom would've wanted. The mountain was adorned in waterfalls and lush trees, the land below was fertile both in soil and beasts, and the sea surrounding was plentiful with fish and kalpops. Gorne grew a small but rich culture closely tied to the three, but notably separate from the rest of Morrowind. Fathis' family had been the islands sole hunters for generations till late in the Third Era, when it seemed all that was left were the rats in the ruined Sixth House tomb. With all the other ancestral duties taken by others on the island, Fathis' father left, heartbroken, for the mainland.

Fathis' father spoke of his past home frequently, especially between jars of Sujamma. Even with the damn hounds gone I'd still go back... if only it wouldn't be such a disgrace... fetchers... is rat meat not good enough for you? Prefer Andary's week old slaughterfish I guess... His father's ramblings about Gorne was more familiar to Fathis then any hunting technique. So it was cruel irony that lead to him receiving a letter from that very island calling for a return a mere week after his fathers death.

To whichever Avel this may find,
We hope you have been well on your exile; however, we are a bit embarassed, to request your swift return. As of the last few years, we have been blighted by a seemingly unending assault of cliff-racers whom have taken roost on the mountain above the village. Admittedly, we asked additional guards be sent from Mournhold to deal with the problem, but someone along the line thought it better we call back our ancestral hunter to deal with the issue. Please send word of your return BEFORE your journey, we'd like to know if we'll need to mount our own militia.
Hope to see you soon.

Fathis was under the impression he'd never see the island. His father had moved from city to city for work, starting in Akamora (where relations with a certain Indoril noblewoman lead to Fathis' birth, and him and his father's quick and quiet removal from the city), then Andothren, before eventually settling in Aldruhn. The barren ashlands around the city were about as far from the warm and wet island as you could get, but the two locales now had one important similarity. It was quite handy that the majority of the hunting being done around Redoran territory was for the same flying devils that had invaded the Avel ancestral home.

The journey took a number of days by siltstrider and then by boat. Fathis had brought nothing from his old life but the chitin bow used by his father, apparently made by some great-grandfather, believing it to be his key to his fathers old home and whatever remained inside. After a rather cool welcoming committee from the village elders, he was disappointed to find that little remained in the old house but a number of sujamma jars and broken furniture. It seemed his father was was especially torn up about the exile before he left. After a few days of sleeping on cold stone and hunting from dawn til dusk, he had managed to gather enough hides and gold to construct and purchase some meager furnishing. His cheap construction lead to him looking like a squatter in his own house, and his treatment from the townsfolk didn't help that feeling, but he had grown used to roughing it most of his life and was as comfortable as he ever was.

The worst part of the island was the Andary family. Apparently Fathis' father and Idav's fathers, Delamus, were not on the best of terms when he departed, and with the head of household being that same father, Delamus had his kin make every day for Fathis one in the Deadlands. His grandchildren would spit at Fathis as he walked through town, his wife would leave 'gifts' of fish guts at his door, and Idav (being the most interested in following his fathers example) would find a new method of torture nearly every day. One of the guards in town, Drarana, was nice enough to Fathis since his arrival, but was discouraged by the other two guards in town from intervening. If the homecomer was anywhere else in the Empire, he would've left weeks ago.

The torture did not outway the islands peace and beauty however, and despite never knowing what thorn he'd find in his side by the end of the day, he woke up happy and thankful for his controversial return. Everyday seemed brighter in Gorne, and Fathis knew it would be just a matter of time before he sewed his way into the tight knit society.

As a new day dawned, and Fathis was awakening from a pleasant dream about a Dunmer girl (in nothing but daedric boots), the hunter heard the sound of hard tapping on the bricks to his right. He quickly sat up to grab some string and tie up his black hair, grabbed his bow and his gut knife, and jaunted out the door to the side of his house still in just his shorts. There, fluttering obnoxiously, was a cliff racer. It seemed to be attempting to assault the east wall of the hunters house with its tail stinger. It seemed as of the last few mornings that the cliff-devils managed to track their killer down, and were doing their best to assert dominance. It had become a nuisance, mostly because of the old and less pleasant folks in town trying to blame the beasts' early-morning ruckus on him.

The racer turned to begin dealing with its opponent when Fathis launched three shards of chitin through its leathery wings. It squawked in disapproval and swooped down, only to be slashed from neck to torso with the gut knife as the hunter ducked. The fight was over in only a few seconds, and officially concluded when the beasts swoop ended against the side of a building next door. The face of old lady Flannu flashed a glare out her window a moment later. Fathis gave an apologetic wave and, by the tail, dragged his prize to the gutting area.

Cliff-Racers don't have much for meat on them. That and their exceedingly aggressive behavior make them nothing but pests to those who get the pleasure of having to deal with them. Their plumes however were relatively valuable to alchemists, and Fathis had found a way to make their tail tips into heavy, but effective arrows. He hacked off the tip of the tail with a hatchet and gathered as many decent plumes as he could before lugging the beast a ways out of town and pushing its carcass into the sea below. After, he went back inside, laced up a tan shirt, wrapped his feet, and slung his bow in sheath over his shoulder. With that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, he began his day proper.

Fathis never really took days off, even before the move, but he liked to consider his scouting days as something of the like. They normally involved nothing more then walking in silence around the mountain, and if any groups or large animals were spotted, he'd take note and watch for a bit. Many nobles from around the empire would pay good money to do just that. But first, he needed to pick up fuel for the journey.

The biggest building in town was their one Inn, The Emerald Haven, and while he could just eat some of the hound he got the night before (or if he was REALLY desperate for variety, some cliff-racer tendons), Fathis prefered to start his day with kwama-egg fried mudcrab on scouting days. His financial situation didn't quite support the habit, but it helped that the girl who ran the front was the same one from his dreams.

The place was as quiet as always in the early morning: empty, besides the guard snoozing at a table in the corner. Even behind the counter seemed quiet, but that wasn't unusual at this hour. Fathis usually had to wake Delyna up. He sat on a stool at the bar and peered over to see Miss Belvayn asleep on her bedroll, still in her linen clothes and apron, ever ready for the rare traveller or early hunter to arrive. He kept himself from staring by giving the bar a few hard knocks.

Delyna's eyes fluttered open. She seemed still half chained by Vaermina even as she lifted herself up. Welcome to Gorne and The Emerald Haven traveller... what would you... Her voice slurring a bit as she leaned on the bar. Oh, she chuckled a tired laugh. Goodmorning again Fathis... uh, the usual?

That and some scrib jerky, if you have any. I've ran out since last week.

Mm, the girl yawned as she turned to the stove behind her. She pulled her maroon hair behind her ears with one hand while another tossed some mudcrab meat from a barrel to the pan in front of her. Too bad we don't have any egg mines huh? You could hunt your own scrib for jerky and sneak out an egg or two, then you wouldn't have to come in and wake me up so early. She said, glancing back at him with a smirk.

Well paradise can't be perfect, in this life at least. Fathis did his best to keep his eyes up as Delyna worked, bent at the low stove. Though I suppose the islands rather close.

Delyna put another log in the stove and gave the blaze a few pokes. After a moment, she took a kwama egg in both hands, gave it a shake, broke a hole in it's top, and poured a short stream of the beaten egg into the crab. After a few flips of the pan, the rich smell of of the sea took over the room. The guard in the corner gave a congested sniff, but remained peaceful at his post.

The cook picked out a blue and white plate from under the bar as a target, and with a flip of the pan, landed her creation on the guars-eye. ta-da!

Impressive! We'll have to ship you out to Andothren or Vivec and have you perform for some of the great houses.

I'm sure they have plenty of Khajiit chefs who can do things much more impressive then put mudcrab on a plate, but thank you. And here... She pulled out a jar of mazte and put it down beside his plate. On the house.

Did she just wink?

You sure? I don't need the mazte but I can pay for the rest.

No need. The ingredients aren't exactly Great House quality, and my parents set me for the easy life when they fixed this place up when I was little. She paused for moment, and let out a quiet sigh. Besides... I guess it's nice having someone wake me up in the morning. She said with a gentle smile.

The hunter gulped.

Seems the Avel line might be busy with a hotel in the future.

Seems the two of them had disturbed the guards 'watch' after sneaking to the guest rooms. When Miss Belvayn sent her favorite hunter away, the snoring suit of bonemould was nowhere to be found. Fathis walked down the quiet street of the village with a bit of a bounce in his step. Between the warmth of both his breakfast and its surprise happy ending, the cool morning air felt perfect, and he was as energized as fire when the suns rays hit him from the padomaic horizon.

Paradise can't be perfect in this life, but it seems closer every day. Count your blessings Serjo.

Fathis Walked down the western path of the island. Though his mind struggled to stay on the days task, he only passed the waterfall he was heading for once before approaching it. The largest waterfall on the island started at the very top of the mountain, ended dramatically at the base, and formed a small and shallow river that lead out to the sea. It was picturesque and dramatic, yet fell gentle enough it was a favorite bathing spot for many of the villagers. Though the islanders had never given it a proper name, the hunter had started calling it Wedding Falls shortly after arriving. Cliff-racers liked rocks and mountains, and if that wasn't reason enough to check the spring above, he'd seen the beasts drinking from the bottom of Wedding Falls in the morning before flying right up it's length.

There was no easy way to the peak. The west trail of the island went halfway, but became to steep to go any higher past a certain point. While he was practically as far down as he could be, the cliffside by the falls had many jutting rock faces with decent handholds all the way to the top. Not an easy climb by any means, but quicker, cheaper, and much more exciting then heading to the mainland to purchase a levitation potion.

With just a quick rub of his callous hands, the hunter was off. First few handholds were like warped steps, too far apart for man or mer, but too small for any larger beasts. Left hand. Right hand. Left foot. Pull-up. Right foot. This continued up and back and forth across the rock face for a while, eventually leading his climb to under the water. His soaked clothes and hair made the ascent drag, and there were a few times where he stopped just to hand himself in the torrents. Draining, but cool and pleasant.

His first proper rest came a hundred feet off the ground, where the falls made a small shelf, just big enough to stretch out to lay in the water. Fathis pulled his soggy scrib meat from the bag and chewed, looking out at the top of the canopy of trees from his vantage.

Only way this could be better is if I had some hackle-lo... I'll have to ask Delyna to import some.

After swallowing his snack dryly, he only had to climb a few more short shelves before reaching the top. It was a touch underwhelming to the mer, it looked much the same as the rest of the island, tho perhaps a bit more sparse. It was a plataeu, only visible at the top. The few short trees that were there seemed thin, like the leaves had been shaken off, and every few feet was a large pile of dung turning the grass to dirt. At the center of the plataeu was the most noteworthy part of it all, the crystal clear spring that birthed the islands falls. A small pond, deep in the center with quickly sloping sides. It would've been beautiful, if not for the flock of over thirty Cliff-Racers now taking flight from their nests around the peak.

A cacophany of squaks and screeches, the likes Fathis hadn't heard even during their mating season in Ald'ruhn, erupted around him. Each one spread their wings and screamed as they took off, before beginning to circle the peak. In just a few moments, the mountain top had become a whirlwind of leather and feathers as each beast joined the flock in what almost felt like the springing of a trap.

The hunter pulled the bow from his sheath and began hurling arrows into the swarm. It seemed for every arrow that punched through one's wings were two sent careening towards the sea. He knew it would've been more effective to use his knife on the ones that swooped, but he wasn't sure if he could handle more then one at a time. He kept letting arrows fly while doing his best to dodge the swoopers. Nine. Eighteen. Twenty-four. Thirty-six. He counted only four fall. He ran out of chitin at forty-two and switched to the tail-tips. One... Two... dodge... four... five. He shot a bit slower, managing to knock four more out of the sky. Eight... ten... twelve-

A Racer tail clipped his bow, hurling it over the cliff and into the river below.

Damn it- by The Three!

He pulled out his knife as another one dived for him, dashing to the side and slashing a long cut through it's wing with the sound of torn flesh. The beast lost control and seemed to thrash through the air in the direction of the hunters lost bow. He noticed a branch on the ground and held it in his left hand. Two more came in, their attack staggered just enough he managed to smack one mid flight before slicing the other. Both tumbled, then seemed to deem the fight hopeless, and flew west.

It was at this point that Fathis noticed the flock finally beginning to thin out from death and retreat as he felt warm drops coming from the sky. Warm, red drops falling from the feather storm... it seemed his arrows flew truer then he had thought. The beasts had quit their assault, and the screeching storm dissappated slowly with a thick rouge rain. Many dipped and fell out of the sky, into the sea or onto the hard soil. Those that stayed in the air drifted away, fatigued, in the direction of the mainland, little by little, till the skies were finally quiet.

There was no prize to claim back in the village. His prize had been given to him when he had arrived on the island, though the sudden shift in how the townsfolk looked at him was reward enough. Everyone had seen the carnage of the fight, and with the mer returning from the mountain painted red, a small victory celebration was planned that night.