Skyrim: Orebane

She nodded in agreement and after being paid I put away the items before leaving the shop for the potion shop. It was a small thing. Couldn't have been more than five or six meters long and three wide in total. It wasn't cramped feeling though as the walls were lined with potions that had clear labels on them for what they were and empty floors. Just looking at them I could tell they were good quality as there was no settled particles at the bottom of any of them. A sure test of skill is letting the potions settle over at least a day and checking the result.-

If the essences of even one ingredient sink to the bottom it means they weren't mixed as well into the potion as they could have been. This didn't make the potions stop working as you could just shake it up to restore the mix but not having to was a sign of proficiency. The back of the shop behind the counter was the alchemy table that was currently in use by a gnarled up Altmer. He wore a plain hemp shirt and traditional parachute cotton trousers with a gleaming red dagger at his waist in a simple leather belt loop sheath.-

Because of his shirt I could see the pale scars that absolutely covered his arms and the notch straight up missing from his left ear as well as the bald scar that crossed his skull in a jagged angry pattern.

"I will be with you in a moment." he said with a hoarse ragged voice that spoke of throat damage.

I didn't speak but merely observed him at work. His hands moved deftly as he mixed various essences in precise ratios and applied heat in the correct temperatures.

"I would normally charge a fee to watch me work." he said clearly noticing my staring.

"Apologies, just comparing our skills." I said a little embarrassed.

He flinched slightly at my voice causing him to make a small mistake that he clicked his tongue at. It wasn't anything major, just a little extra essence of salt than the normal fortify restoration potion called for. It would at most lower the effectiveness by a percent, maybe even a fraction of a percent. So long as he didn't make any further mistakes the potion would still be a good one, I could smell it.-

"You must be the newest stray to wander into town. You must have lied about something at the gate. Heard the commotion from here." he said without turning his attention from his work since he was almost finished.

"I wouldn't have if the Thalmor weren't so interested in killing me." I said and to his credit he barely reacted this time.

"Why come to Hammerfell if you are enemies with them?" he asked with a hint of curiosity.

"Daedric shenanigans. I was supposed to return to Skyrim and ended up in the Alik'r desert. I lied about my name so the Thalmor wouldn't know I was here. Didn't go over so well." I explained frankly.

He chuckled.

It was a rough sound like the weak breath of something dying slowly.

"Morghul doesn't take chances." he said clearly both sympathetic and amused.

"I noticed. Orcs are typically a very straightforward people. They don't really do backstabbing usually. It's the front you have to worry about." I say with a chuckle of my own.

"Isn't that the truth?" he said amused.

He finished up the potion and set the bottle in the metal holder to stabilize. Potions aren't just done after the mixing and bottling are over after all. That liquid still has to cool and the essences need to finish reacting which is why you never directly cork a potion after it's been crafted but allow it to breath and stabilize.-

He turned and froze in place like paralysis had taken hold as his only good eye widened dramatically. Yes now that I saw his face it was obviously why he sounded the way he did. Terrible burn scars covered a good half his face including his right eye that was milky white and clearly blind. The burns covered his mouth and nose so I was fairly certain he had inhaled fire and scorched his throat.-

"You shouldn't be here!" he hissed in alarm.

"So it's true then, you know who I am." I say with a sigh.

"I might not know your face but those eyes, I could never forget those eyes. They are just like your mothers." he said softly.

"She is the Altmer half of my parentage I assume?" I asked curious.

"She is. You have a few things of hers. The eyes, the hair and cheeks. The rest is clearly your mongrel fathers." he said with his voice turning venomous at the mention of my male parent.

I sigh "I assume my birth was not the result of a happy union?" I asked and his features screwed up viciously.

"No it was not." he spat practically seething just thinking about the matter before he took a deep breath to calm himself. "I apologize for losing my composure. Come, I will explain everything over tea." he said as he pulled open a wooden hatch on the floor and motioned for me to follow him.

I followed him down into the basement of his shop that was in truth clearly used as a living area with a bed, table, chairs and shelves with his personal belongings alongside a chest at the foot of the bed. He went over to the kitchen area that was a stone stove/oven and a barrel surrounded by several reed baskets. He opened the lid to the barrel and ladled out a few scoops of water into the simple iron tea kettle on the stove. He held out a palm and flames shot into the small pile of wood at it's bottom. From one of the baskets he plucked out a few brown dried leaves that he crushed between his fingers into a pair of clay cups with thin white cloths resting in them.-

Soon the kettle began to whistle and he killed the fire before pouring the hot water into each cup after tying the cloth together at the top. He set the pot on the clay pot coaster on the table along with the cups of steeping tea. I sat in one of his offered chairs and brought the cup given me up to my nose and inhaled deeply.

"I don't recognize the strain, some variant of red dawn yes?" I asked curiously.

"You know tea?" he asked both surprised and incredibly pleased looking.

"I am a master chef. I know ingredients." I explained with a nod.

A smile bloomed across his face "You mother loved to cook despite what everyone said about it. You can't even begin to understand the joy that fills me at hearing you inherited her passion for the art." he says but his expression makes it pretty obvious that it's a lot.

"So what is the tale behind my origin?" I asked not wanting to dance around it just because it's unpleasant.

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