Weaver is a fan fiction novel and prequel to An Oblivion Tale. It follows the life of Asylum Weaver when he is born to his parents, detailing his rise from a young street urchin to a mischievous pirate to a hero. It is being written by TheLoneClone.
Weaver[]
One[]
The waves tossed as the wind tore throughout the land. Jaram Weaver, a young Redguard male at the age of twenty-seven, ran a hand through his unkempt short, dark hair. Once he finished his pawing at the curls, they were left in tangled mess as he stared at the approaching harbor.
"Just another fifteen minutes, mate!" the captain of the vessel--the Wind Rider--yelled to Jaram. The young man turned to captain, a Khajiit named Jo'Rak, and said, "All right. I'll go on below deck." The captain nodded his assessment and continued to steer the ship closer towards the town of Anvil as Jaram marched down the ancient creaking steps into the lower planes of the ship.
A hallway with five pairs of room was waiting before the Redguard. The first to his left was his own bedroom, which he had paid for with some gold coins he had worked to get doing volunteer work for an elderly merchant. The next on the left was the captain's quarters, signified by the colored tapestry hung over the door. The other rooms were assorted between the rest of the crew and the other passengers--of whom there weren't many. There were only three other crew members and two passengers.
Jaram moved to his room and wrapped his hand around the cold, metal handle, turning it slightly. The door creaked open as the young man entered the room, taking in every detail. The cracks in the floor, the old wooden walls, the burnt desk that was attached to the ground. But it was the item on the desk that caught his eye.
To Jaram, the most beautiful woman was captured within that frame. Her dark brown hair draped over her shoulders, the brown locks bushy as ever. The artist had worked for nearly five hours recreating Jaram's wife's likeness on the old, wrinkled piece of paper--and he had been paid handsomely for his work.
That was where he was headed now. His wife, Nara, was in Anvil. The two had been married a year earlier, when an opportunity came for Jaram in a nearby land for him to study business like he had wanted to when he was younger. Understandably, Nara let him go. Just a month after he had arrived at his job, a letter had arrived at the home that Jaram was staying at that said that she was, in fact, pregnant. Jaram had joyfully asked his employer for a leave to go and be with Nara. Two weeks after they had seen one another, Jaram returned home. Now, the baby had begun to be born. It wasn't long until he was headed back to Anvil to see his child born.
The ship rocked on the waves as he picked up the framed picture, sitting on his cot. "Don't worry, my dear," he mumbled quietly, a slight smile sparking up in the corners of his mouth. "I'll see you soon."
- - -
On the top deck of the Wind Rider, Captain Jo'Rak steered the ship towards Anvil. His first mate, a young, red-haired human named Camas, stepped to his side. "Captain," he said, crossing his arms. Jo'Rak flicked one of his yellow eyes to the crewman. "Yes, Camas?"
Camas shifted from one foot to the other. "Say...I was wondering if, y'know, I could have an advance in my pay when...when we got to Anvil." The Khajiit's eyes bulged. "An advance?!"
The crewman staggered back. "Y-yes, sir. Just fifteen gold, Captain, that's all I ask for." Jo'Rak rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, that's all." He pointed a clawed finger into Camas's shoulder. "I thought I gave you an advance of fifteen gold at our last stop?" Camas gulped. "Well...yes, sir, you did, but...I was meaning for this stop."
As the two argued, the Wind Rider shifted off course and sailed for a cluster of boulders in the waters outside of Anvil. An elderly member of the crew, a man named Tarbin, strolled around the bow of the ship and hummed an old sailor's tune to himself. From the corner of his eye, he saw the rocks amidst the ocean. Quickly, the old man turned around and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Starboard side! We've got an ol' cluster o' rocks!"
Jo'Rak stopped mid-sentence and turned to face Tarbin. "What are you talking a-"
That's when he saw the rocks. He only had time to yell out a warning before the ship struck the cluster, rocking the whole vessel as water sprayed on the deck and the rocks tore into the bow of the Wind Rider.
Two[]
Captain Hale, the lead guard of Anvil, stared out into the bleak ocean. A vessel was coming through the waters now. Probably either a passenger or shipping boat, he figured. Other smaller ships, holding fishermen, were nearer the harbor and catching all they could.
Hale sighed, looking to his dirtied boots. The recent rains in Anvil had made the dirt mud, so it got everywhere. It didn't look good, especially when you were the captain of a guard and were trying to set an example. Hale looked up again. The ship had drawn nearer. The captain gripped his hand tightly around his spear, the splintered wooden shaft biting stabs of pain into his palm. He ignored the pricking and continued on to walk down the streets of Anvil.
As usual, he passed the normal passerby. An old fellow was preaching his prophetical theories to any random citizen, who in turn would laugh at him or just simply ignore him. He didn't care one bit. He just kept right on talking.
One of the younger guards, who was on patrol, stopped next to Hale. "Captain," he said respectfully, "my patrol's done. Where do you want me to go now?" Thinking for a moment, Hale stroked his bearded chin. Deciding upon a task, he said, "Go and check the shops near the entrance. Some of the storekeepers were saying that people had tried to break in the other night." The soldier nodded and took his leave, turning and stomping away.
Something in the distance--it sounded like yelling--attracted Hale's attention. The captain turned on his heel and marched back to where he had come from. The yelling became more clearer, and a sight in the ocean told Hale what it was all about.
"We have a ship down!"
Some sailor was yelling out, motioning to some schooners. "Come on! We need to help 'em!" Without a second urging, Hale--as well as a few other civilians and sailors who were standing by--darted for the smaller ships, jumping in. "Captain," the sailor who had spoken--Hale remembered him as Julitus--acknowledged. "You comin' too?"
Hale nodded, gripping an oar tightly. He had left his spear and shield on the docks; the only thing he had with him was his suit of leather armor and a sword. "Yes. Let's go." Hale, Julitus, and three other men who had climbed in started to paddle the boat towards the wrecked ship, which was splintered against a cluster of rocks. The captain of the vessel must've been distracted or just careless, Hale didn't know--but it didn't look good. Two other boats, four men in each, started to follow closely behind the one Hale was in.
The captain gritted his teeth as the ocean's wind, specked with dribbles of water, splashed over him. Fighting the surging air, Hale pushed as far as he could. They would be upon the ship any moment.
- - -
Captain Jo'Rak blinked his eyes open. The first thing the Khajiit realized was that his leg was throbbing in pain. Glancing down, the catlike captain saw a beam smashed on his left leg, and two crates were upon that. Muttering a curse, the sailor tried to move, but he only accomplished in hurting himself even more. Realizing he wasn't going anywhere, Jo'Rak just sat back and let the pain settle.
Instead of using his legs, Jo'Rak used his eyes. He calmly searched the surrounding area. Lying upon a reddened boulder was Camas. The young man's head was dented--badly--and blood was soaking the rock. It didn't take a second glance for Jo'Rak to know that the first mate was dead.
The Khajiit looked around more, but he couldn't see anyone else. Tarbin must've been either thrown elsewhere, or was crushed underneath something. The other passengers and crew must've been below deck, or the same had happened to them. Jo'Rak didn't know, and he wasn't going to kill himself trying to find out.
The salty water of the ocean splattered onto the deck and onto the captain's face. Jo'Rak made a face as the liquid touched his lips and leaked through them. More waves began to splash, and the ship shifted. A loud groaning creak sounded in one of the lower decks. The captain knew immediately that it was the sound of the ship beginning to sink more and more.
He had to get out of there.
Fighting past the pain biting through his leg, Jo'Rak sat up and reached at the crates on top of the beam. With one swift shove he moved one crate off and then another. He pulled his injured leg from beneath the beam, letting it fall to the deck in a clutter of shattered pieces.
Jo'Rak felt at the wound on his leg. Blood was soaking the garb he was wearing, and he could see a mass of matted fur caked in blood where the beam had crushed into his leg. Splinters of wood were crushed into the flesh, and the Khajiit let out a hiss as he climbed to his feet--the best he could.
The captain turned and began to walk towards the edge of the deck. As he walked, he saw the limp form of Camas staring at him with open eyes. He felt sorry for the first mate, but he wasn't going to waste more time than he needed to thinking about him. Swiftly, as fast as the injury would allow, Jo'Rak moved to the side of the ship and looked over, gazing into the lapping waters the ship was slowly sinking in.
There were several chunks of debris floating in the water, as well as a pair of bodies. One resembled Tarbin; the other looked like one of the passengers that had been picked up. It looked like the Argonian who had joined them in his native homeland.
Jo'Rak sighed as he turned around to face the door to the lower decks. There were two passengers and three crewmen below deck. The Khajiit captain began to think on what he was to do. Save his skin by leaving now...or risk his life by going to help the others.
With a sigh and a curse, Jo'Rak marched towards the doorway. "Why'd I have to be such a nice person..."
- - -
Hale stood up in the small ship as its bow hit the hull of the larger vessel. The captain turned and searched around in the ship for some kind of rope, but there was nothing. Hale turned back to face the side of the ship and said, "We'll need to get into that bucket without a rope." He motioned to one of the three men who had climbed into the ship with him and Julitus, a bald and muscular sailor. "You there. Give me a boost up, and once I get up there, I'll help pull Julitus up. Got it?"
The man nodded and got down on his hands and knees. Hale, a rather tall and lanky soldier, climbed onto the sailor's back and jumped up, wrapping his thin fingers around the edge of the ship's side. Quickly, the captain threw his legs over the edge of the boat and doubled over, rolling onto the deck.
He turned and moved back to the side of the boat and stretched out a hand. "Okay, I'm up. Julitus, you next."
The sailor climbed onto his companion's back and stood up. A short and stocky man, Julitus needed more help to reach higher than Hale did. But, with his long arms, Hale was able to reach out and grab Julitus's hand and pull him up onto the deck of the ship.
As Julitus brushed off his tunic, Hale spoke over the deck of the ship to the muscular sailor. "You there! Julitus and I will search for any survivors. You men stay put." The sailor nodded back to Hale as the captain turned and marched towards a pile of debris. Julitus ran to a smashed crate and flung a portion of it to the side. Nothing.
After a few moments of searching above deck, Hale turned to Julitus. "I'll go below deck. You stay here and keep searching."
"Aye," Julitus responded, going back to work. Hale ran for the nearby door that led into the lower decks of the ship.
Three[]
The captain took careful steps down the creaky, wooden staircase leading into the depths of the sea vessel. The sound of water came through the wooden structure of the boat, lapping against the oak.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing water came to Hale's ears. The captain turned and looked on in horror as he saw a portion of the ship smashed open, water pouring through the smashed section of the hull. Quickly, Hale rushed deeper into the ship until he came to the first room, on his right. It was time to search for any survivors.
- - -
Jo'Rak flung aside the crate that lay upon the limp form of Jaram Weaver. The young Redguard was unconscious, a slice from his right eyebrow down to the left corner of his lip. The Khajiit male cursed under his breath as he grabbed the young man's arms, pulling him through the wreckage of the room that was once occupied by the wounded passenger.
The Khajiit let out huff after huff as he laid Jaram's body down on the deck. He had already searched the two rooms on the right--one belonged to the only other member of his crew besides Tarbin and Camas, whom had both met their ends. The man, like his companions, was also dead. The other room was that of a wealthy businessman who had come from the land of Skyrim; he had met the same fate as the sailor. Only one other room was left--the owner, a young woman whom had made it clear that she wasn't in the mood to speak of anything, especially her life. A few curses upon his hide had made Jo'Rak aware of that much.
I don't even know why I'm bothering to do this, the Khajiit thought. She's either dead or alive, and personally, the former would suit me just fine. It's not like I'll get any thanks for saving her.
Jo'Rak tried the door handle and found it to be locked. No surprise there; she was a suspicious character, and a very careful one. Wouldn't do for her to leave her room unlocked for an intruder to just stroll in. The captain of the vessel raised his right shoulder, bracing for a charge. Quickly, the captain slammed into the door that blocked his way.
It didn't budge.
Jo'Rak tried the same maneuver three times in rapid succession, and eventually the door shifted. A fourth time resulted in a snapping sound, causing the Khajiit to glance down to the door's lock. He could now see the small metal bar, and it was breaking through the oak wood that made up the door's frame. It would only take one or two more slams from his body before opening.
The captain's calculations were right; after two more charges, the door swung open and Jo'Rak staggered into the room, unready for the surprise opening that the door gave him. The Khajiit wiped his furry brow before scanning the surrounding area. No sign of the young woman's body.
What luck. Maybe she flew out the window. It was busted. This would be the best bloodiest day--
"Hey! Is someone there?!"
Jo'Rak cursed himself mentally. "I had to jinx myself," he muttered, looking to where the voice had come from. Sure enough, the woman had fallen from the window, but was still hanging on by a small bit. Her fingers dug into the cracks of the wood just below the window's broken glass. She was struggling to keep hold.
"Yeah," the Khajiit grumbled, moving to the broken window. "Here, give me your hand."
Slowly, the cat-like man reached out and grabbed the empty hand of the young woman. She looked up at him, her dark eyes that once held a look of hate and anger now filled with an aura of uncertainty and the want of help. There was no doubt about it: this girl was afraid.
The Khajiit brushed aside a few pieces of glass that were jabbing lightly into his stomach. The small bits of shrapnel splashed lightly as they fell into the water. He grabbed the edge of the wood and began to hoist the woman up. "Hold...on...tightly," he pleaded, reaching out with his other hand.
Gods, please help me.
- - -
Julitus examined a heap of wreckage, searching for any signs of life. Nothing. He stood up and brushed his forehead with his sleeve. Turning, the stocky man looked to see what his companions were doing, but found a terrifying sight: a large wave, at least eight to ten feet tall, rising in the air.
The townsman rushed to the edge of the ship. "You there!" he yelled to one of the sailors. "Get clear--that wave'll smash you into bits!" He jabbed a finger into the open air towards the wave coming at the ships. The sailor's jaw dropped as he loudly cursed, grabbed his oar hurriedly. "Move, move! Move!"
As the ships left for a safer location, Julitus ran for the lower decks. "Captain Hale! Grab ahold of something; there's a giant wave on the way!"
- - -
Hale's face fell as he heard Julitus's cry. He turned and made a sprint from the room. He had found one dead body but no others; he assumed the one must've been the only passenger inside.
As he left the room, the captain spotted a young unconscious man lying on the ground. He definitely had not been there when he entered. That either meant that this man had come out on his own...or there was another survivor.
That was when the large wave smashed into the hull of the ship, sending it sliding down the mound it was lying upon. Hale flew from his feet and smashed into the wooden wall of the ship. The unconscious figure rolled lifelessly down the hall after him, slamming into the hull as well. A cry sounded from above deck. Hale knew it was Julitus. He uttered a quiet prayer from the gods on the poor man's soul, hoping that he had survived. There was a chance. A slim chance, but a chance all the same.
Another cry suddenly escaped from the room next to Hale. The door was open, flapping around as the ship fell to the water. The window was broken, and on his knees by the pane was a Khajiit man. He was holding onto a woman, who was dangling out of the window.
Quickly, Hale rushed to the man's aid. "You there! Let me give you a hand," the captain offered, sliding onto his knees. The ship had already begun to sink down; a hole in the hull and the broken window contributed to that factor. With Hale grabbing ahold of the woman's empty hand and the Khajiit on her other, she was being pulled in without any trouble. As she climbed to her feet, Hale pushed her and the Khajiit ahead. "Go on! Go, go, go!"
The captain rushed from the room behind the two passengers, grabbing the young man as he went. He held him up, wrapping an arm over his own shoulder. The four quickly moved up the stairs and to the top of the ship.
As Hale had assumed, Julitus was indeed killed in the wave's strike. The citizen had fallen back and slammed into a pike that was jutting from a smashed barrel of supplies that was on the ship. Hale gulped as he moved to the edge of the boat, on the side of the Khajiit and the woman. Hale waved to one of the boats moving around aimlessly, waiting for his return to the deck.
"You there! Over here, quick!" Hale yelled out to the sailors manning the small vessel. They quickly responded by rowing with their oars to the ruined ship. Once they got to the hull, the Khajiit helped the young woman down. Then, he jumped down himself, raising his hands to take the unconscious man's legs and pull him into the boat as well. As soon as that was finished, Hale placed a hand on the edge of the wooden boat and vaulted over it, landing with a thud on the wooden deck of the small ship.
"Those were all the survivors," the Khajiit muttered remorsefully. Hale sighed as he turned to the head sailor. "Get us back to town." The man nodded briefly and then started rowing back to the city docks.
- - -
MORE COMING SOON!