Quoted By:
You are Naruq, a scion of the Na-Totambu. You do not know your people as the Redguards, but instead as the Ra Gada, the Warrior Waves that conquered Hammerfell after Yokuda sank beneath the sea. Your ancestral homeland may be gone, but your gods and traditions shall never be forgotten. When no one else is around to hear you, you offer your prayers not only to your ancestors, but to the true Yokudan pantheon. To Tall Papa Ruptga who put the stars in the sky, to Onsi the Boneshaver who taught mankind the secrets of the sword, and to many-armed Morwha who endlessly hunts for more husbands.
You awaken to the first traces of sunlight pouring through the small, barred window in your bedroom's wall. Your quarters are humble, with barely enough space for a wardrobe, a desk and the bed that you lay on. With a groan, you push yourself from the hard mattress and stagger over to the table, where you fill a pewter basin with lukewarm water. You stare into your reflection for a moment, at your sun-baked skin and the stubble of your shaven head – a painful reminder of the sacrifices you have made to get this far. When you first came to this city, most of your face was hidden by a regal beard and your beautiful braids reached half-way down your back. Since then, you have had to conform to the Imperial style – clean-shaven with short hair, if you must have any at all. It's better to fit in, than to be spat upon as a filthy Crown in a city full of Forebears.
Soaking a washcloth in the basin, you busy yourself scrubbing off all of the grime that accumulated over the night. A quick shave follows in order to keep yourself presentable, before you begin to dress yourself. For now, you put on a simple shirt and chausses worn over braies. You'll worry about the rest of your uniform after you've eaten – even during the colder months, it can be uncomfortable. During summer, it's almost unbearable.
You leave your room behind and make your way down to the mess hall. It's quite a journey – the Vault is the largest structure in Taneth, even bigger than the magnifico's manor. Once upon a time, it was an impenetrable fortress, the most defensible stronghold in all of Hammerfell. These days, it only serves as a barracks for the city's guards and a prison for the city's ne'er-do-wells. You muse on how times change as you join the line for breakfast, a steaming bowl of pork and beets.
You only manage to fill your belly with a few mouthfuls of the sour soup before you are joined by your patrolmen. Radan is the first of the two to join you, with his broad lips curved in an earnest smile. You can't help but think of the expression as condescending, though maybe that's just your prejudice against the Lhotunic at work.
