"Is this your attempt at prompting me to reveal my deep, dark secrets?" You ask teasingly, earning a snort in return. "Obviously I am growing rather advanced in age, so forgive me if some of my memories of events are a bit fuzzy."
"That's fine, it's not like I'm asking for a detailed history here." Louise responds, leaning forward in her seat.
Sitting back, you stroke your beard in contemplation. "I guess it begins with my first memory." You say, holding back a smirk. "I was born in the one hundred and forty fourth year of the Fourth Era. My mother had been ejected from Markarth a year before my birth and found refuge with my grandmother's... clan, I guess you could call say. I remember hearing her voice singing songs of the city she once called home. Sitting on her lap by the fire as she tells stories to the gathered children.... Then she was gone. I recall sitting on top of a cliff with my younger brother, Esmond, and the other children as the adults fought to clear out an old stone tower below. You see, a necromancer had taken residence in the tower and decided that she didn't like having neighbors. She would send large groups of skeletons to attack us in the night and drag away the bodies to be experimented on. Naturally, we took exception to that and spent the next six years in that tower with her body tied to the ramparts."
"That's barbaric!" Your apprentice exclaims, voice laden with disgust. "How could you live with a rotting corpse just sitting out in the open next to your home?"
Chuckling at that, you continue. "Well, it wasn't just rotting. You see, my grandmother was an accomplished mage and after the necromancer was slain... That was the day I started learning magic. We bound the woman's spirit to her body, leaving her to suffer through her decay for her transgressions against our family. For killing my mother. Let's not forget the carrion as well... But still, that first successful spell is what set me on my path. My unfortunate birth was a hindrance in my practice, leading many to suggest I leave the magic to the women and focus on more physical pursuits. Even my own brother thought me foolish for continuing what was, in his eyes, pointless study. Still, grandmother was always willing to teach an eager student and I am thankful for that."
Pausing to take a few bites of your meal, you see Louise eyeing you with a strange look. You suppose your story must sound familiar to her in some regard. "I spent those six years mastering the basic spells and theories that are common knowledge across Tamriel, along with my own people's brand of 'bush magic' as the more narrow minded wizards call it. You see, the Reachmen have always been inclined toward nature. Throughout history we have used magics to grow foods, rituals to call forth great storms, create natural barriers to hinder large armies, encourage the plants and animals to kill our enemies, and even resurrect the dead. I-"
"Wait! Resurrect the dead? You say that like it's special, but you mentioned some 'necromancer' attacking you with skeletons... and what about my familiar?"
Shaking your head, you explain. "No, necromancy is creating an undead servant or conjuring ghosts. What I mean by resurrection is that, with the proper ritual, we can truly bring someone back to life. It requires a special ingredient and the only one I have has... sentimental value... I would not use it if I had a choice. Also, do not forget that the familiar you summoned would be a bisected corpse if not for me reanimating it, so that is still necromancy."
"Now, where was I... Ah. Those six years were some of the best in my life; constantly learning new things, helping my grandmother prepare potions or heal wounded warriors, creating a towering monster out of wood and vines to scare the other children when they were mean, and one time I snuck into Markarth to see the place my mother had lived in." You eat the rest of your meal as your apprentice gets more and more annoyed at the lull in conversation. Just as she is about to say something, you speak up. "To my childish eyes the city of Markarth was a wonder. Towering white stone building, doors and decorative inlays made of golden Dwemer metals, waterfalls leaving rainbows in the air as they rush over toward the ground from above the tallest towers... and all this carved into the very mountain itself, a massive wall with equally massive gates. I could see why my mother had loved the place, it was truly beautiful back then before... but the people... Nords as a whole have never been very accepting of foreigners in Skyrim, especially elves... which extended to Bretons and the Reachmen for some Nords. Luckily my childhood was over long before distrust turned to hatred and violence or that might have been my last day among the living."
"But why? How could they hate anyone as much as the elves?" Louise asks, looking somewhat disturbed at the notion. "I can't even see hating Zerbst that much and she's a Germanian trollop that always made fun of me!"
Laughing at that, you elaborate. "To put it simply, my people are not fully human. Bretons and Reachmen are the same physically, just not culturally. Most who call themselves Bretons would sooner claim to be an albino Redguard than an 'mongrel'. Semantics aside, the two groups of people are the product of many generations of interbreeding between Nordic slaves and their Elven masters since the First Era. The Reachmen, having been around since the first voyages to the continent of Tamriel have extended their... couplings to include Imperials, Daedra, and Orsimer... probably some Dunmer in recent generations since Red Mountain's eruption forced them to flee to Skyrim."
"So... you're part elf?" The girl asks quietly, doing a poor job at subtly looking around the room. You really should teach her more about the Daedric Lords if she is more concerned by your relation to elves than Daedra.
"That was many, many, many generations ago... It would not be an exaggeration to say that I am more closely related to Sanguine than I am to any elves... well, maybe an Orc on my father's side, but once again, I digress. Markarth had opened my eight year old mind to the idea that there was more to the world than the canyons and valleys of the Reach. I saw traders from Solitude bringing Imperial clothing, Redguard women peddling gems as big as my fist, an Orc blacksmith selling Arms and Armor... There were so many new sights and sounds and smells. By the time I remembered to go home, father had gathered a search party to hunt down 'my kidnappers'." You chuckle at the memory of his face when you made up an excuse about a troll. "Esmond never let go of the fact that he was not invited when I told him about the city."
Louise follows your lead when you rise to leave, dropping an ecu in the waitress' hand as you pass. "Two years later, everything fell apart. Esmond was captured by a group of bandits while hunting with our father and uncle, who were both murdered during the attack. Grandmother, in desperation, made a pact with the Old Gods for power. Offering a captured bandit as a human sacrifice, the corpse of a skeever, and a set of carefully arranged soulgems, she sacrificed her ability to influence nature and power is what she received in turn. Transformed into a Hagraven, my grandmother used her frightful new power to revive the two men as Briar-hearts... I can still remember her rasping voice as she cut out my father's heart.
'Heart of thorn... bones of the wild... in life, Forsworn... rise from death, Blood of our Blood.' Unfortunately, this ritual is intended for resurrecting fallen warriors in times of great need, greatly improving their strength and vitality at the cost of dulling their gentler emotion over time, slowly driving them to care for nothing but battle. I doubt she had that ritual in mind before she was changed... but most Daedra care not for the intentions of mortals, so they turned her into an uncaring monster."
"The children seemed to take the whole event as another reason to antagonize me. Nepos liked to complain about how the bandits took the wrong brother, but the girls were even worse with Silvia making 'heartless' puns whenever I was around and Moira creeping me out with her constant heavy breathing, following me around, and staring at me when she thought I would not notice. I am fairly sure she was going to murder me in my sleep. Either way, with my father obsessed over finding Esmond, the other children being their usual selves, and my kind grandmother turned into a cruel taskmaster... well, there was nothing to encourage me to stay and a whole world waiting for me to exploit... er- explore." Turning, you see that Louise appears unaware of your slip of the tongue. In fact, she's barely listening at all as she stares at the passing countryside below.
The rest of the flight passes in silence and you spend the next two weeks-
Choose 2:
[] Disenchanting your new sword.
[] Building an Oblivion gate.
[] Continuing Louise's training.
[] Write in.
[] Assassinating and reanimating influential members of Tristain's government as thralls.
[] Raising Chaurus and Frostbite spiders with Cattleya.
[] Write in.
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Chose 1 if option three is not chosen:
[] Have Louise practice what you've already taught her.
[] Write out a translation of some Shouts you've heard, Louise can meditate on during her free time. She should be able to Shout in a few years if she works at it.
[] Write in.
[] Have Louise assist you, she can learn while helping.
[] Write in.
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A/N: Couldn't write out a whole chapter about petty complaints, so you get this instead.