Series of posts that will go from the birth of my character to joining my guild, The Faceless. These first two are written in more of an outside perspective, whereas it will shift to a limited knowledge third person/first person mix.
So here is the Prologue and First Chapter of the Faceless Half-Blood, enjoy...
Prologue - Birth
For a Breton, Randale Scoche was not as tall as most of the other men who surrounded High Rock, nor as wide as the typical blacksmith either, though just as strong. But then again Randale Scoche, or Rasco for short, was not your typical Breton. Rasco liked his forge and his bow, and liked to keep to himself. He rarely partook in the High Rock social life, unlike most Bretons, even when he wasn’t busy honing a blade or fletching an arrow. He was rather tan of skin and had eyes the colors of the forest, varying within the iris; accompanied with wavy hair the color of a moonless night that extended slightly passed his lobes, Rasco had a wilder feel about him than his peers. No, Rasco was not a typical Breton. For the few who really knew him - or ever caught a glimpse of his only whole ear that was thinner, smaller, and pointier than it should be for a Breton - this made sense; Rasco’s father was a Bosmer.
Before the war, Rasco’s mother was a traveling merchant. Radrna Scoche was a fine example of the expert mercantilism that was so common among her people. Often times her travels left her lonely and in the bottom of a tankard. This, coupled with a very flirtatious nature, found her in the bed of a local blacksmith by the name of Ancunel while she was passing through Southpoint in Valenwood. Thinking nothing of the incident, she continued on, traveling North through the rest of Valenwood. About a month and a half later she woke one morning with a great sickness and a craving for a pickle covered sweetroll…. Knowing what this meant, she sped with all haste back to Southpoint in hopes of finding the handsome blacksmith she vaguely remembered from those many weeks ago.
From what she recollected, the blacksmith was more of a drunkard than she was and was known for sleeping around. “Snake” and “virtrueless” were often associated with his name when she came around looking for him. But luckily for Radrna, Ancunel was not only kind but honorable about what had happened and what their responsibilities now were. Perhaps it would work out after all.
Ancunel did not want to raise his child outside of Valenwood because, even though the child was likely to take after its mother, it would still have Bosmer blood and must learn the proper ways of life: the Green-Pact. At the same time, however, they could not live within the cities of Valenwood. Though the Bosmer are a rather tolerant people, they still distrust all outsiders firmly and a child with one was unacceptable. So they decided to raise their newborn son, Randale, near the border of Valenwood and Cyrodiil outside of Arenthia….
Chapter 1 - Coming of Age
Rasco grew up among the great forests of his father’s country, tracking and stalking the beasts of the wild. He learned the value of good leather, a strong arm, sharp steel, and a keen eye.
When Rasco was around the age of 16, Ancunel disappeared. Radrna suspected that he had fallen prey to one of the beasts of the forest and told Rasco the same, but Rasco knew better. They had lived in the wilds for over a decade and his father knew exactly how to take care of himself.
No, Randale knew what kind of Mer his father was. He felt he had a duty to pay, paid it to see his son a grown man, and left as soon as he could. But at least that son of a cat-eared-goat was good at a few things: killing and smithing, both of which he passed on to his son.
As far as killing was concerned, Rasco learned the short blade and the bow. Blades were more fun by far, but it also meant you were within killing distance of the animals you hunted that were at least three times your own size; so Rasco learned enough with a blade to not die if worst came to worst or to kill the small game animals.
The bow though, now that was a different story. The bow was a magical weapon, capable of felling the largest beasts in Valenwood with a few accurate shots. The smell of his prey, a twang of his string, and the pain of his forearm letting him know he had loosed an arrow from full draw… ecstasy.
Rasco loved to kill. He did not respect the Green-Pact the way that Bosmer children did, nor did he learn to control the simple beasts like his father was able to. He simply enjoyed the fact that this way of life allowed him to take life and enjoy the spoils.
And his own effectiveness at this only increased as Rasco became larger and was, in turn, able to create larger bows and stronger arrows – which brings up his second skill, blacksmithing.
Even though Ancunel was a blacksmith, he was also a Bosmer, and as such he believed in speed, practicality, and effectiveness. Due to this he tended to stay away from heavier armor and large weapons and was much more skilled in the crafting of leather, bows and crossbows, as well as one-handed blades and daggers. Before being abandoned by his father, Rasco had a few years of honest work at the forge and was forced to make his own hunting gear since the age of 10. He may not have been the master blacksmith that his father was, but Rasco definitely knew his way around the anvil.
Randale was cold and calculating like his father, and that is precisely why he hated him so. It wasn’t the fact that he left his son, barely a man grown, to the wilds of Valenwood. It wasn’t even because he had left his wife, the woman who had sacrificed her life to appease her husband and raise a family. No.
The reason he hated his father was because shortly after his disappearance, his mother became very sick. He thought that perhaps it was some poison or an allergic reaction to the wildlife. So against her wishes, Rasco hauled Radrna from the outside of Arenthia to the thronging heart of Falnesti, the traveling city, in hopes of finding a healer capable of helping.
The reception he found there was not what he had expected.
Upon seeing Radrna carried up to them by Rasco, the wizards instantly grew disgusted. How dare a half-blood mock their place of healing and devotion? But out of kindness they still diagnosed the pale-skinned, limp woman on their table. Much to his displeasure, the healers only prodded Rasco’s mother for mere seconds before one of them by the name of Tunbako screamed, “It’s the Thrassian plague, I would recognize the signs anywhere! This evil has been returned to our people because of this half-blood!”
They turned to Rasco, every one of them with a look the mix of horror and rage. Rasco saw the last bit of life fade from his mother, the light lifing from her dark blue eyes – he should recognize it considering how many times he had killed in the woods surrounding his cottage.
He ran until he hit the Western coast and then kept running until he found a boat. With only a runed dagger and his bow and arrows with him, Rasco gave up his dagger to buy passage to Anvil. Surely he could find work as a smith in a town named Anvil….