Infobox
Book Information
Type Name Writer DarkElfGuy ID az_bk_adventurer’s life
By Darkvon Elfeguy
It was the dawn of the 42nd year of the 3rd era and Kintyra the first sits upon the throne as empress of all Tamriel. The land was peaceful, or at least as peaceful as it would ever be. Life in the town of Bodrum continued as it always had, albeit some things had changed. Resdayn, or Morrowind as it was now called, had become a province of the empire earlier in the second era in an act of diplomacy between Tiber Septim and the man-god Vivec.
Though now a province of the empire, towns like Bodrum didn’t see a whole lot of difference. The Great Houses still bickered, the Tribunal Temple was still the accepted faith of most Dunmer, and the guards that patrolled the streets at night were still local mer, rather than outlander Imperials. Perhaps the biggest changes came with the implementation of Imperial Law (or partial implementation, as slavery was overlooked in the case of Morrowind) and the increase of foreigners visiting the province.
It was one of these foreigners, a male Breton, who happened one day to stop at the village of Bodrum. He wore cheap armor and caried a tarnished sword that had clearly seen better days. He was an adventurer, not an altogether uncommon sight in Morrowind in these times.
For some reason they were attracted to the Dwemer ruins that dotted the landscape of Morrowind, perhaps because of tales they’d heard of Dwemer riches, or perhaps because they were drawn by the aura of mystique that came with the disappearance of the Dwemer people. Regardless, many of the Dwemer ruins in Morrowind had already been looted, most by local Dunmer, with every object of viable value sold off to the highest bidder. This did little to discourage adventurers, but they were a stubborn group so nothing could be done to help the matter.
In the case of this particular adventurer, he would find that he was in luck, as there was actually a nearby Dwemer ruin that had not yet been looted. The locals were superstitious about the place and tried to ignore it, leaving whatever treasures it contained well enough alone. For the moment though, this poor Breton was merely looking for a drink and a place to stay, adventures could wait a day or two.
Having not much wealth and, in fact, being new to this whole adventuring thing, our friend ‘The Breton’ (who goes by the name Birane), stops in at the cheapest tavern in town, the illustrious ‘Slaughterfish Hollow’. Little more than a hovel, the ‘Slaughterfish Hollow’ was exactly the sort of place Birane was looking for, a quick bite to eat and a cheap bed to rent with no questions asked.
Entering through the ramshackle front door, Birane came into a dim and smoky room, only to find himself immediately an object of curiosity. All of the tavern’s other patrons were Dunmer, not too surprising given the location, but the stares they gave him weren’t exactly friendly (though it must be admitted that it’s hard to tell sometimes, given the Dunmer’s typically stern appearance). Cautiously he approached the bar, hoping he wasn’t intruding on some local custom and hadn’t already insulted the local population.
“Uh, could I get some mead and a slice of whatever meat it is you’re cooking over there?”
The tavern keeper, assuming that’s who she was, glared at him for a moment before responding.
“Another Outlander.” She sighed, apparently not for the first time. “You can have a glass of Shein or Mazte if you want, but we don’t carry any of your western mead here. And as for the meat, you’re welcome to some, as long as you don’t mind eating shalk. Six gold coins for the whole meal, or you can go somewhere else where they serve for less. Word of advice, there aren’t any cheaper places in this town, so just take my offer.”
“Ah, alright then, it’s a deal.” He fished out his measly purse and took out six coins, leaving less than thirty in the pouch. The tavern keeper took the money and roughly dropped a plate of what was apparently shalk meat. A small glass of the local swill was shoved next to it. Birane took his food and drink and moved over to one of the empty tables by the roughshod wall of the tavern. The food wasn’t great, but better than nothing, and he couldn’t afford anything better anyway.
“New at this are you?” One of the patrons asked, matter-of-factly.
“I, uh, assume you mean adventuring? Yes, very new, how’d you know?”
“Besides your youthful appearance? Well, your sword’s notched to hell, probably more useful as a blunt instrument than stabbing or slashing, and your armor’s pretty beaten up, I even see a few holes here and there. I’m guessing you bought your equipment cheap, probably expecting some sort of big payoff when you went out into the world. Adventurers like you are all the same, high expectations with no realistic thinking.” The patron finished his observation, letting his judgment of Birane’s character hang in the air, open to denial or justification. But Birane knew who he was, and he couldn’t deny it or even justify it really.
“Well, I suppose you’ve got me pretty spot on. But maybe you could help me. Do you know of any smiths or traders with cheap gear around here?” It was a desperate plea, Birane knew that any decent equipment in better condition than what he already had would be well out of his price range.
“We’ve plenty of traders around, and old Ararvy serves as a decent enough smith, but I’m going to guess you can’t afford anything they’d offer.” The patron stopped and appeared to think for a moment, then got up and sat down across from Birane, leaning into the light. From this close-up view, Birane could make out a fair amount of detail of the Dunmer’s face. He was old, his hair starting to grey, and there was a scar across one side of his face. A veteran fighter then, but that didn’t tell Birane much, people fought all the time out here in the east, or so he’d heard.
“But perhaps you’d be interested in some work? Nothing as exciting as adventuring of course, but there’s always a need for manual labor around here. I know some of the ashyam farmers here could use some help harvesting crops, and there’s always a fair number of odd-jobs need doing in town. Possibly you could even find a job with the watchmen, guarding the streets against crimes. The pay’s not great, but after a month or two you might have enough for some real equipment. I’ll even offer you lodging at my home while you’re stuck here working. So, what do you think?” The dunmer flashed a smile at the end of his proposal, possibly to encourage Birane to accept the offer, though it came off as more unsettling than anything.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve… well… hmmmm…” Birane stopped in the middle of rejecting the odd Dunmer’s offer, he didn’t like the idea of doing manual labor, he was supposed to be an adventurer after all! Nor did he like the idea of trusting a complete stranger he only just met. But his situation wasn’t great, it must be admitted, and he needed the money along with any help he could get. “Actually, you know I think I’ll take you up on your offer. Know any specific places I should start looking for work?”
“Well, you can start by working for me. My offer for lodgings isn’t exactly free, I own a small farm just outside of town and I could use someone of your youthful energy for labor. In addition to a place to stay, I’ll give you a daily pay. You might also consider checking with a friend of mine, Nibarr Hatust, he runs the local guard garrison and, more importantly, he owes me a favor. So… ” The Dunmer got up from his seat and walked around the table to Birane, “Shall we get started?” He offered his hand to seal the deal.
It seemed strange to Birane that he was about to accept the offer of a complete stranger, go to work for him and live with him, in a town he’d only just come across and would be stuck in for who knew how long. Life was full of strange twists and turns, it must be said. He accepted the Dunmer’s hand and they shook, the deal between them sealed, for the time being anyway. “Pardon, but I haven’t yet caught your name. I’m Birane.”
“Dalamus, Dalamus Rodia. Now I suppose you’d like a place to rest? Follow me and I’ll take you up to my farm, then tomorrow we can start you out with harvesting crops. Ah, the excitement of the adventurer’s life, eh?” With this the Dunmer gave a smile and a wink, and shortly Birane found himself on the path outside of town, following this peculiar Dunmer to his new life.