28 Last Seed, 3E433
Skingrad
~~~
I awoke early this morning amused to find that, now free, I am resuming the schedule I held in Morrowind years ago. Which is to say: I woke at roughly six in the morning as the monks were finishing breakfast and preparing to go about their daily tasks.
My goal was the town of Kvatch, where I would find a person of interest to Jauffre. This person does not know they are of interest, so it was up to me to convince the man to leave the town and join me in walking back to the monastery.
But before I did anything of the sort, I needed better equipment. Chorrol was right outside the monastery, so I waited for the gates to open and walked into my first city in six years. The experience was a bit underwhelming, but I did learn that some madman had attacked the congregation in Anvil's chapel, leading others to start loudly proclaiming that the end of the world was at hand. I am sure the Anvil city guards can deal with such a problem.
A better weapon was needed before I set out to Kvatch, but the blacksmith's shop completely lacked anything even resembling a spear. I suppose that's just as well, for I am six years out of practice in wielding any sort of weapon and wound up choosing a simple iron long sword instead. I probably have just as much skill with a long blade at this point as with a spear.
Thus armed and somewhat armored, I left the small town and started the trek down the road towards Skingrad and Kvatch. The walk and weather afforded me a beautiful view of the Imperial City, though I am not comfortable with the thought of visiting it quite yet, being the escaped convict that I am.
As if to ruin to the moment, a yell sounded from my right and I turned to see a conjurer charging at me from across a rope bridge, summoning a frail-looking scamp as he rapidly approached. Perhaps he did not see the bow strapped to my back.
The last time I was in Cyrodiil the Imperial Legion constantly patrolled these roads and banditry was a rare and short-lived occurrence. The Auxiliaries were more frequently engaged in fighting bears than bandits, but I like to think our presence, rowdy though it could be at times, helped maintain order. If the death of the Emperor was not bad enough, it appears that the strength of the Legion was diminished in the Empire's home province and the Auxiliaries have ceased to exist.
The lack of patrols had a very visible result when I found a group of imps wandering around near a small cave. As soon as one of them saw me, it would start to fling magicka and make a big nuisance of itself. To an unarmed farmer trying to get home though, even a single imp would have been a dire threat and I wound up shooting down five of them outside the cave, certainly enough to cause a great deal of harm to anyone...if they had attacked all at once.
As I was pondering where so many imps might have come from, one answered my question by flying out of the cave. After putting an arrow into its back I sliced open the imps' bodies and collected the gall into small vials which I could either use myself or sell for a decent amount of coin, disgusting as collecting it might be. Cheered by the prospect of making good money today, I decided to proceed into the cave in the hopes of finding more imps.
I was quite startled to find a large pile of skulls and bones right at the entrance of the cavern, but all it contained was a few rats and some more imps, nothing I could not comfortably handle by myself. There were also several rotted bedrolls strewn about, one with a complete skeleton laying upon it, clutching a small sack in its skeletal hand.
Aside from the imps' remains, there was little of value to be found. The place had likely been used by rogue mages who became overwhelmed and killed by their own summonings. A fitting, though ironic, way for them to go.
The sun was beginning to set when I exited the cave, six more flasks of gall sloshing in my pack. I was not going to make it to Kvatch before night fell, but I thought I could at least reach Skingrad, so I continued down the road. Again: a cave with skulls and other remains littering the entrance. But I had no time left in the day to pursue this, but I may on my way back to the monastery. Someone should and it appears no one else is.
It was dark as pitch by the time I reached the gates of Skingrad and a helpful guard directed me to the Two Sisters' lodge where I could get a bed for the night. The two sisters were Orsimer, but pleasant enough. The proprietor, Mog gra-Mogakh, handed me a pamphlet about the Emperor's death. It was short and light on theatrics, only stating that we must all continue on for the good of the Empire.
I will be doing my part by reaching Kvatch tomorrow. What happens after that or what I will do is a mystery.
The lack of patrols had a very visible result when I found a group of imps wandering around near a small cave. As soon as one of them saw me, it would start to fling magicka and make a big nuisance of itself. To an unarmed farmer trying to get home though, even a single imp would have been a dire threat and I wound up shooting down five of them outside the cave, certainly enough to cause a great deal of harm to anyone...if they had attacked all at once.
As I was pondering where so many imps might have come from, one answered my question by flying out of the cave. After putting an arrow into its back I sliced open the imps' bodies and collected the gall into small vials which I could either use myself or sell for a decent amount of coin, disgusting as collecting it might be. Cheered by the prospect of making good money today, I decided to proceed into the cave in the hopes of finding more imps.
I was quite startled to find a large pile of skulls and bones right at the entrance of the cavern, but all it contained was a few rats and some more imps, nothing I could not comfortably handle by myself. There were also several rotted bedrolls strewn about, one with a complete skeleton laying upon it, clutching a small sack in its skeletal hand.
Aside from the imps' remains, there was little of value to be found. The place had likely been used by rogue mages who became overwhelmed and killed by their own summonings. A fitting, though ironic, way for them to go.
The sun was beginning to set when I exited the cave, six more flasks of gall sloshing in my pack. I was not going to make it to Kvatch before night fell, but I thought I could at least reach Skingrad, so I continued down the road. Again: a cave with skulls and other remains littering the entrance. But I had no time left in the day to pursue this, but I may on my way back to the monastery. Someone should and it appears no one else is.
It was dark as pitch by the time I reached the gates of Skingrad and a helpful guard directed me to the Two Sisters' lodge where I could get a bed for the night. The two sisters were Orsimer, but pleasant enough. The proprietor, Mog gra-Mogakh, handed me a pamphlet about the Emperor's death. It was short and light on theatrics, only stating that we must all continue on for the good of the Empire.
I will be doing my part by reaching Kvatch tomorrow. What happens after that or what I will do is a mystery.
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