Skyrim Day 001 - A Fortunate Escalation of the War

17 Last Seed, 4E201

Riverwood

~~~

"...for what excitement follows a day of chopping wood?"

What excitement indeed.

I managed to sneak past the Ogres still occupying the Cyrodiil side of Pale Pass and emerged on the other side, once again in Skyrim. My vague plan was to spend a few days in Helgen doing odd jobs and then moving on to Whiterun to find somewhat consistent employment. I had no apprehension about the war between the Stormcloaks and the Legion, from what I had heard both sides were content to leave the Khajiit caravans alone and I felt that one more Khajiit in Skyrim would not bother either one of them. As usual, the Gods decided to laugh at me this morning.

I had made it just past Fort Neugrad when a squad of Legionnaires emerged from the side of the road ahead of several bound Stormcloaks. They were just as surprised as I was, but one of the Legionnaires, a rather brash woman clad in steel armor, barked out orders for me to be taken and I was quickly overwhelmed, bound, and thrown into a cart along with some Stormcloaks. We trundled long the road to Helgen and the Stormcloak opposite of me struck up a conversation with a wretched-looking Nord sitting next to him. The filthy Nord was Lokir of Rorikstead and he bitterly complained that if it were not for the rebellion the Legion would have not been alert enough to catch him in the act of stealing a horse. He seemed more confused than I, for I guessed where we were ultimately heading. Lokir had to have our destination explained to him and reacted quite negatively to the thought of his execution. I, on the other hand, found myself wondering if I would somehow be reborn at Red Mountain such as Dagoth Ur's minions were said to be so long ago.

As I recall Red Mountain is utterly destroyed, so that was not a rebirth I was looking forward to as I listened to Lokir panic. 

To my surprise, the talkative Nord revealed that the bound and gagged man next to me was Ulfric Stormcloak himself, confirming my suspicion that the Imperial meant to kill us all. As the anxious conversation continued I learned that the head of the Legion in Skyrim, General Tullius, was already at Helgen waiting to observe the conclusion of the Stormcloak Rebellion. That a Khajiit and a horse-thief also had to die was likely not going to weigh heavily on his mind.

When we arrived at Helgen Ralof, the chatty Nord, pointed out with disgust the presence of the Thalmor, a disgust I silently shared with him even though I have had nothing to do with the group. I have heard they are apt to treat a single Khajiit as little better than a slave, though they are carefully respectful of the caravans in Skyrim. I consider them no better than the Telvanni I left behind so many years ago.

We reached our destination and were hustled out of the carts as the woman who arrested me started to call out names. As the Nords' names were called, they filed in front of the headsman, but when Lokir's name was called he protested that he was not a rebel, then ran right between the woman and another Legionnaire, his hands still bound.

The archers stationed right beside us ensured he did not make it far. And such was the end of Lokir of Rorikstead. My turn came after his and of course the woman referred to me as "the cat". To his credit, the Legionnaire to her left with the list of prisoners pointed out that I was not on it, but the woman waved aside his objection and ordered that I was to go to the block the same as the Stormcloaks. The Legionnaire apologized and assured me my remains would be sent to Elsweyr, though I cannot see the point in that.

I told them my name and walked up to the line next to Ralof. I suppose I could have run away as well and taken some arrows in the back for my trouble, but it probably would not have killed me as it did the late Lokir. Still, something inside of me argued against running away, though I do not know why as the alternative was decapitation and possible rebirth into a pool of lava.

A priestess began to deliver us our last rites, but one of the Stormcloaks complained that he had not the entire day to wait for his turn and started to walk towards the block just as an odd animal call sounded from somewhere in the mountains. He was decapitated with a single blow and once again I was beckoned by the woman in the steel armor with "Next, the cat!". 

Just as I knelt in front of the block, the Stormcloaks, or perhaps just Ulfric, unveiled their secret weapon: a Dragon. A real, fire-breathing Dragon. At the time I thought it a desperate ploy in order to escape the Imperials, but now I wonder if the Stormcloaks' "capture" may have been staged so that their Dragon might kill General Tullius. Either way, the attack of their Dragon was without warning and the Imperials started to fire everything they had at the creature as it systematically began to reduce Helgen to rubble.

The blast of air or fire or whatever the Dragon used knocked me flat to the ground, but Ralouf picked me up and urged me to run to a nearby tower where Ulfric and the surviving Stormcloaks were taking shelter. Ralouf closed the door behind us and asked Ulfric if that had really been a Dragon, receiving the smug reply that "Legends don't burn down villages."

I followed Ralouf up the tower's stairs, but the Dragon blasted a hole in it, killing a Stormcloak and blocking us from going any higher. The only way we could go was through the hole and into the ruined Inn below. I, of course, was chosen as the first to make the leap so that the others could see if the Inn's floor collapsed under me.

From the Inn's second floor I could see the Dragon flying about and roaring, breathing fire everywhere. The occasional arrow or fireball lanced up from the town towards it, but the Dragon did not seem to notice.

On the ground I met the Legionnaire, Hadvar, who had protested my execution and he urged me to stay with him if I wanted to remain alive. The Stormcloaks had disappeared somewhere else, so I followed him through the town, successfully reaching the town's Keep with only a little singing of the fur. The Stormcloaks had been following a similar plan and Hadvar and Ralouf exchanged obscenities as the Dragon flew over their heads dealing death indiscriminately around us. I felt like interjecting that perhaps a later time could be found for such a conversation.

As they argued the Dragon swept down and grabbed a Legionnaire archer and dashed the poor man upon the ground, killing him. His death brought the end of the utterly stupid argument and Ralouf rushed for one portion of the Keep while Hadvar ran for the other, both for some reason expecting me to follow.

I chose to follow the Legionnaire, not feeling very comfortable joining a group that claimed control (or partial control) of a Dragon. News of that will eventually reach Cyrodiil and I believe the Stormcloaks' rebellion will not last much longer.

Once inside Hadvar cut my bindings and asked me to look around the room for equipment. We were in some sort of barracks, so a suit of Imperial leathers and an iron blade was readily available for me, despite the fit of the armor requiring some further work.

Further inside the Keep we ran into some Stormcloaks. Hadvar wanted to talk to them and try to avoid a fight, but the rebels attacked him as soon as they saw him, but the battle was a short one in Hadvar's favor. One of the Stormcloaks had a light shield which I took with me.

We proceeded deeper into the Keep, but were blocked by the collapse of a hallway following a fly-by of the Dragon. This forced us to make our way through the torture chamber/prison, the likes of which I cannot say I enjoyed. On our way we fought two more groups of Stormcloaks, one of them with the assistance of the Imperial torturer and his assistant. The torturer did not believe Hadvar's story about the Dragon and refused to evacuate the Keep. I hope it collapsed on top of him. His assistant was more accepting of such stories and followed us out of the torture chamber.

The assistant was evidently more used to his foes being restrained, for he fell in the next encounter with the Stormcloaks. This time we faced more than a few, with one group engaging the three of us in melee while a second group on the other side of the room fired arrows at us. My combat skills are certainly not what they used to be, but some of it came back reflexively as a Stormcloak soldier charged at me with a two-handed hammer. I turned aside his blow with my shield and buried my blade in his chest. I judged Hadvar and the toturer's assistant to have the melee under control and made my way, under arrow fire, towards the Stormcloak archers, killing the three of them myself, but not before the assistant caught an arrow in the throat.

Hadvar and I each claimed a bow and some arrows from our assailants and followed a cobbled path whose walls gave way from stone and mortar to the dirt and rock of a cavern. This must have been a secret escape route at some point in Helgen's history, but it did not seem to have been maintained in some time.

This was made very clear by the den of giant spiders that had taken up residence. With a Dragon now flying around I was equally loathe to waste arrows as much as I was to engage the creatures up close. Hadvar had no such qualms and waded grimly into the seething mass of creatures, forcing me to follow. A sleeping bear in the next chamber he was more willing to leave alone and we crept past it without any trouble.

After the bear: freedom! The path we were following led us to a cave entrance well-concealed by bushes. Just as we stepped outside the Stormcloaks' Dragon flew overhead, roaring while departing Helgen, its mission evidently complete with the escape of Ulfric Stormcloak.

Hadvar and I walked from Helgen to the small town of Riverwood where he had an uncle. As we walked he talked of the Legion, its future, and that I should consider joining. I nearly laughed. While I do not think the Stormcloaks have any chance of success, I also do not want to join their opponents and become a baked Khajiit. No, I will do as I have been doing since the Oblivion Crisis: take small jobs at small places and move on when my welcome starts to become over-stayed.

Riverwood is a small town near, as the name suggests, a river. There also seems to be plenty of wood for the town's lumber mill. Hadvar introduced me to his uncle, the town's blacksmith, who believed Hadvar and asked him to talk with the Jarl of Whiterun to ask for the city's protection against further Dragon attacks. I was more worried about finding work, so I excused myself and walked around a bit. At the lumber mill I exchanged some coin for a wood-cutting axe and spent a few hours chopping wood which helped to clear my mind.

While I was working a Bosmer introduced himself as Faendal and asked if I had met a man named Sven. When I asked him why that was his business he replied that the man was a Bard and was wooing a woman of the town that Faendal himself had his eyes on. He handed me a letter he wrote to make it look as though Sven was a demanding domestic partner.

The woman was Camilla, an Imperial and a sister to the owner of the 'Riverwood Trader' general store. When I entered the store I was forced to watch Camilla and her brother argue about some item that had been recently stolen from them. After I had been finally noticed they broke off their disagreement, allowing me to approach Camilla and tell her that Faendal was a complete liar. She thanked me and suggested I speak to Sven and let him know what occurred.

Her brother, Lucan, bought the wood I had chopped and explained that a golden ornament in the shape of a dragon's claw had been stolen from his shop a few nights ago. Camilla spoke up behind me and offered to show me where the claw had been taken, if I was interested in earning some coin. I agreed and the two of us walked outside.

Camilla and I went as far as the town's bridge from which she pointed out a ruined temple or hall of some sort kind and warned me that there were quite a number of bandits, and worse things, living within the place, Bleak Falls Barrow. It has been a long time since I willingly engaged a group by myself, so I am not certain I am yet up to the task, but I shall keep it in mind for the future. 

I rented a room at the local Inn and found Sven playing and singing in the common room. I told him what had happened and he gratefully gave me a handful of coin as a reward. Having taken care of that, I retired for the night.

Tomorrow I will look for more work, perhaps some hunting or fishing to supplement my wood-cutting before someone starts to resent the newcomer. It has always happened before. I shall be cutting wood tomorrow, or catching fish, or hunting, yet any one of those three things is already been done by someone else. It is just a matter of time before I will have to leave Riverwood, though after what I have been through today I think a few days is not too much to ask for.

Oblivion Day 1 - The Dawn & Dusk of Life

27 Last Seed, 3E433

Weynon Priory

~~~

Ingratitude. It is what I have been suffering for the past six years while languishing in prison. Prior to today, the last breath of fresh air tasted of ash and sea in Khuul village of Morrowind. I had boarded the Khajiit S'virr's small boat for a trip to Solstheim to visit Raven Rock and had just started to relax as Vvardenfell disappeared into the morning fog.

The first hint of trouble came in the form of a crossbolt bolt suddenly sprouting from poor S'virr's throat. He toppled overboard and was immediately set upon by slaughterfish. Even six years later the thought of dying that way makes me shiver, I have always hoped that he died before the fish got to him.

No crossbow bolts shot out of the gloom for me, but a fairly sizable vessel I most often saw wrecked and beached along Vvardenfell's dangerous shore. Hooks latched on to my little rowboat and I was quickly hoisted upon the ship and facing at least two dozen Imperial Legionaries. My arrest for smuggling illict goods to Raven Rock was laughably pronounced and without my amulet, I had the choice to either surrender or kill a few of them before dying. The latter was pointless, so I agreed to be detained below deck.

At the time I thought it a simple mistake. I knew S'virr was smuggling something, for why else but for profit would a Khajiit be rowing a boat between the two islands? Killing him struck me as a bit extreme, but then we arrived in Cyrodiil via the Imperial Run and I was thrown in a dungeon for six years...clearly not for smuggling, but my crime, be it real or imagined, has never been explained to me.

I received my daily ribbing from the Dunmer in the cell across from me, a tiresome tradition just over five months old today and was about to mount a bored riposte when voices and heavy footfalls sounded from the stairs next to my cell. I thought it too early for breakfast and figured another unfortunate soul had found her way into captivity.

The soldiers lacked the sloven indifference of the jailers and carried themselves with a sense of purpose, nervous though they obviously were. An older man was with them and I was curious to see what business this odd group had in the damp depths of the Imperial City.

The man was somber and stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with before declaring that the Gods had placed me in this cell so that he and I could meet. I was about to reply that I had no business with him, but he continued on, nonchalantly identifying himself as the Emperor, Uriel Septim and his solders as members of the Blades, such as I was once. They were escorting him through a secret escape leading out of the city, the beginning of which started in my cell. One of the soldiers sardonically commented that today must be my lucky day before the group left via a passageway behind my cot. Not one to let opportunity pass me by, I followed.

The reason for their escape soon became clear. Creeping behind them as quietly as I could, I spotted the assassins moments before they did, allowing me to shout out a warning as their foes sprang to the attack, cutting down their Captain within melee's initial seconds.

The two remaining Blades quickly dispatched their foes whom appeared to be conjurers of some kind. One of them thanked me for my warning with a silent, curt nod, collected the Emperor, and moved deeper underground, leaving the Captain's body behind.

Unarmed and in an area possibly still housing assassins, I had no qualms about picking through the bodies for useful equipment. I claimed a simple steel short blade from the late Captain and on a whim, her rare Akaviri Katana. My wrist irons had long since lost their chain and I was able to (carefully!) use the short blade to pry the rusted manacles off of my wrists, which conspicuously have all the fur rubbed off of them.

The group had locked the door behind them, so I was at a bit of a loss as to where to go now. Back to my cell was an incredibly depressing thought, but two rats came to my aid, crashing through a loose pile of masonry in an attempt to eat me. Once they had been dealt with, I examined the area the rats had come from.

Save for the scratchings of rats, I heard nothing, so I deemed it better than going back to jail. Evidently someone else had thought the same, for I found upon a gnawed-upon skeleton with rat-damaged, but serviceable, leather armor. It was a great deal better than my burlap shirt and pants. Further inside I found a bow and some arrows in surprisingly good condition and a battered leather-wrapped shield in considerably worse condition, but it was better than nothing. At least I had a decent complement of weaponry.

A zombie assailed me in the next room, eerily reminding me of the Corpus-infected creatures I fought so very long ago in Morrowind. Other than that, I thought the place was only infested by rats until I nearly stumbled over the body of a goblin sprawling in front of the only door I could find. It appeared to have succumbed to wounds from the zombie, but I could not be sure.

The goblins had set up camp further inside...where ever I was. Two of them died underneath a pile of logs I pushed down a small hill and one died after tripping its own trap. The rest, including a shaman who fired bolts of lightning at me, died to my bow or sword.

Through some strange trick of architecture, my journey through the underground goblin caves ended not at an opening to the outside world, but a finished section of the jail once more. Voices floated through the stale air, reminding me that there were others trying to make their way through this odd place.

The Emperor somehow heard me and motioned towards my hiding place. Instantly, I had two angry Blades approaching me, but he ordered them to stop, saying that they could not see what he had already seen, that I would play a part in (once again...) saving the Empire from a dire threat. I felt like asking him if perhaps the Legion might be better suited to the task.

We walked uneasily together for a ways until we were stopped by a gate that should not have been locked. The two Blades told the Emperor to retreat to an adjacent room just as five conjurer assassins sprang from the alcoves above us. Not wanting to die immediately, I retreated with the Emperor, but he pressed the amulet he had been wearing into my hand and told me to bring it to a man named Jauffre. With the sounds of battle growing more desperate in the room behind us, he insisted I go to the aid of the Blades.

And so I did, accounting for two assassins on my own, greatly surprising friend and foe alike. But when we returned to the Emperor he was dead, his throat slit, but his face peaceful, as if he had expected it all along.

The Blades did not take it well and were shocked to see the Emperor's amulet in my hands. The younger of the two told me that it was the Amulet of Kings, a sacred Artifact that could only be worn by someone of the Septim bloodline and one that would keep the Empire safe so long as a member of the bloodline wore it. I will not divulge the Blade's name here, but he told me to go to a specific monastery to find the monk named Jauffre, after which I would receive further instructions. He then thanked me for returning his Captain's Katana, an item which I had completely forgotten I had been carrying to begin with.

There was a small sewer system to contend with on my way out, but it does not bare mentioning compared to what I saw at the end of the sewer tunnel: sunlight.

And finally, the freedom of the outdoors once again.

The monastery was just past the Auxiliary post of Fort Ash and while I doubted that anyone I used to know was still in the Auxiliaries, let alone that they would remember me, I would at least be able to identify myself as a former militia-Khajiit and be sure of a cordial reception. 

To say life can be cruel would be an understatement.

Not only was Fort Ash abandoned, it was also decrepit, neglected, and re-occupied by goblins. In my day it was a thriving toll post and now it is a ruin. I must make time to find out why the Auxiliaries abandoned the fort. For today though, I decided to do some investigation of my own. Into the fort I went.

I found little of note. Just goblins, goblins, and a single dead adventurer. When I left the fort I was accosted by a Khajiit bandit who demanded one hundred Septims to let me pass alive. It did not end well for him.

I arrived at the monastery with no other trouble and even though it was late into the night, Jauffre was still awake at his table, doing whatever it is monks do at two in the morning. For safety's sake, I cannot record what he and I spoke about, but I certainly have an interesting task at hand now. He offered me a good steel bow and arrows and I gratefully traded my worn, bitten bow for it.

Now I am resting in a comfortable bed at the monastery, nervous, excited, and eager to tackle my new responsibilities. This morning I was a prisoner and this evening I am a Blade once again.

Morrowind Day 1 - The stinking shores of Morrowind

16 Last Seed

~~~

Whatever my reason for being here, the circumstances of my arrival has certainly lent me no small amount of curiosity and excitement. I was woken before the sun rose by one of the Knight Protectors, who cautioned me against excessive (meaning more than none) questions and bade me make no noise, as I was to follow this man to the docks. "This man" turned out to be a hooded and cloaked figure sulking near one of the Argonian's cots, apparently not minding Keel-Lee's tail smacking him as she slept. The Auxiliaries certainly do pick from a large garden, as I once overheard and Keel-Lee's tail was a menace while she was sleeping. We even tried tying it to a nearby post, but she didn't take kindly to that when she had woken up.

The Knight Protector, whose name I never got, just about shoved me out the door after the mysterious figure and escorted us both to the docks. I confess to a slight feeling of disappointment at leaving, I never had true friends, but the Auxiliaries I shared the barracks with were well-known to me as mostly decent folk and I hope fortune finds them, where ever end up.

I was brought to a vessel typical of the small-time Imperial traders and given a sack of clothes only marginally more comfortable than the sack. The cloaked man declared that for the duration of the journey I was a convicted thief, a prisoner aboard the ship destined to be dumped at Morrowind. The clothes itched, but not nearly as much as the excitement I felt for my first "real" assignment. I held the thousands of questions I had and boarded the ship. The crew were oddly absent and I wound up never seeing them until well into the voyage.

The crew were apparently not privy to my now-secret identity and I spent most of the voyage in a cramped storage closet nestled in the back of the ship alongside a Dunmer who called himself Jiub. Like the few Dunmer I've known, he was a quiet, humorless sort, though polite and of no trouble to me. In fact, other than some very vivid dreams, likely due to seasickness or the poor food, the voyage was uneventful and very boring. 

I was in the midst of one of the most vivid dreams, images of flames and horrible, mutated creatures swam before me as a voice seemed to dictate my fate. I thought the beef last night had tasted a bit off, but I trusted my Khajiit constitution to deal with it. Fortunately, a restless sleep was the only side effect of my last meal aboard the ship.

Jiub shook me awake, pointing out that the ship was stopped and for the first time, asked my name. I truthfully gave it, as I doubt he would have had any connection to the Auxiliary Legion back in Cyrodiil. I would have spoken with him at further length, but the thudding of the sailors' heavy boots marched purposely above us and I was brusquely escorted out of the ship and before a bored-looking Legionnaire. He welcomed me to Seyda Neen and asked me where I was from before escorting me down the dock to a building bearing the insignia of the Imperial Census & Excise office. I never did find out why Jiub was on that ship or where he was going.

Inside the office an older man greeted me, managing to sound bored and nervous simultaneously, as if he were tired of the process, but had never seen a Khajiit in his office before. For whatever purpose, he asked me my profession and I semi-honestly gave it as a freelance scout, which could mean anything, I suppose. True to Imperial form with their constant cataloging and organization, my answers granted me an official census record, which I was given only to pass it along to a Knight Errant of the Imperial Legion, Sellus Gravius, in an adjacent building. 

I did not see the purpose of this until I gave the Knight Errant my "census record", which he observed minutely for several minutes, despite there only being my name, race, and stated profession written on it. He must have found what he was looking for, since his statue changed from bored to quite respectful towards me, which certainly struck me as odd. He handed me 87 Imperial septims and a wrapped package, with instructions to seek out a Caius Cosades in the nearby town of Balmora for my assignment. Feeling a bit giddy at my real assignment having begun, I thanked the Knight and stepped outside, my first steps on to the soil of Morrowind. 

The stench of rotting vegetation hit me like an Orc to the face. I'm not sure how I managed to not smell it when I left the ship, but the thick, foul smell was nearly overwhelming, at least for a Khajiit. While I was experimenting with tiny sips of air, a Bosmer approached me, wringing his hands and stammering if I had found a ring of his in the Census office. I had, on a barrel I passed on the way to the Knight Errant, and I handed it to the distraught elf without a second thought. He sputtered his thanks and mentioned something about a guard, but I was too busy battling against the smell and my own excitement at finally being on my own.

My nose got used to the smell mercifully quickly and I spent a few moments trying to make small talk with one of the guards patrolling the village. He was a lot more brusque than I had expected, but this was Morrowind, after all, the tail end of the Empire. He suggested I go to the village of Gnisis if I was interested in joining the Imperial Legion. I guess it is worth thinking about, but I'm not sure if an Auxiliary makes for a good fit in the actual Legion. The guard also mentioned that he had a son stationed on the island of Solstheim, which I don't know much about. He said it's a frozen wasteland, certainly not a place for the Khajiit.

I thanked him for his time, which seemed to surprise him, and entered the Tradehouse to see what equipment my meager allowance would allow me. Surprisingly, the tradehouse had a wide selection at reasonable prices. Unfortunately, "reasonable" doesn't mean "cheap", so I bought myself a small steel stabbing sword and saved the rest of my money.

The proprietor of the tradehouse, Arrille, remarked that most of his customers bought the herbs and crab meat. When I replied that I had adventures in mind, he laughed and recommended I try taking care of some nearby smugglers. The directions to their cave were simple and I felt that a few smugglers would be no match for an experienced Auxiliary. Granted, thinking of myself as experienced might have been to quench my fear, but I did have a few run-ins with bandits lurking in Cyrodiil and while most fled when confronted by a group of Auxiliaries, we also dealt with larger groups of bandits who thought us easy marks. I'm no neophyte at combat, but this was the first time I was doing it alone.

I need not have worried. I startled a young Dunmer woman as soon as I entered the cave and she charged at me while brandishing a dagger that looked like it was made from bone. Having someone furiously trying to kill you tends to dispel one's hesitations and doubts. She fell quickly and I swapped my clothes for hers, they were of a far more comfortable material than mine. I figured the blood would either wash out or it wouldn't.

The woman must have been the early warning, the key on her body unlocked the gate she was guarding. Two Dunmer were arguing in a cavern further down, one of them in a robe, perhaps a mage, the other in a crude-looking suit of leather. I was surprised that they hadn't heard their comrade's last moments, but the argument was loud and furiously animated, which must have drowned out the melee. It also sealed their fate. With no inclination that anything was wrong, I was able to creep down the rickety stairs and drive my sword through the back of the mage's neck. He died quickly, but not quietly, and a disc of some sharp material whizzed past my head as the mage rattled his last breath. The second Dunmer threw another one of the discs at me and I ran back up the stairs, several discs shattering against the cavern walls. Her inability to hit me was probably due to nerves, but when she ran out of discs, she foolishly drew the same type of dagger the first woman had and met a similar end. I found a few discs that hadn't broken and tried throwing them myself. I managed to throw one out of five accurately, but their light weight and fragility ensured they were just about useless.

I spent several minutes hiding behind some crates, waiting to see if anyone else was lurking about, but no one else was around. In about fifteen minutes I had wiped out a cave of smugglers that had been holed up a mere thirty yards from a garrisoned Imperial village. I searched the bodies for valuables, but they together only came up with a few Septims. What they were smuggling turned out to be far more lucrative.

The first crate I pried open with one of their daggers yielded clothing, none of it particularly valuable looking, but I did exchange my somewhat bloodied shirt for a clean shirt. The second crate seemed to be of an agricultural nature, but a sack in the corner caught my eye and wound up containing the bane of the Khajiit: moon sugar. 

Now I have never had any moon sugar or skooma and no desire to, but the stuff was very valuable and illegal in Cyrodiil and I have no reason to suspect otherwise in Morrowind. I transferred the moon sugar to the bottom of the clothing crate, as well as the bottles of skooma I found later on. A part of me wants to forget about the stuff, not deal in substances so harmful to my people, but the cold, practical side is aware of how much money some would pay. For now, the sugar and the skooma remain in the cavern of Seyda Neen.

I pried open the remaining crates further into the cavern, breaking the bone dagger on the last crate. The results were disappointing, mostly food items and trinkets of little value, but one crate did contain an Imperial halberd, which I have some cursory training in. The Auxiliaries are trained in spear, sword, and bow, but the spear training was cursory and the truly effective training with the bow was given only to a selected few, of which I was not one. Still, I felt confident after a few practice swings and thrusts and rigged a very uncomfortable strap for it using a belt from one of the other crates. 

I continued down a corridor branching away from the disappointing "treasure", but it ended at water and that was the end of that. I'm not getting into any water unless I absolutely have to. 

On my way back out, a voice called to me from further up the stairs by the gate and I warily crept up the ladder. I was shocked at what I found, but shouldn't have been. The small upper level housed a cage, in which two Khajiit and an Argonian were kept. I immediately unlocked the cage, though thinking about it now, I realize I shouldn't have, but I was greeted with nothing but gratitude and urgent requests to unlock the shackles each of them had attached. I was told the shackles were enchanted to sap the wearer of energy, a tool slavers used to keep the enslaved in line. Baardago, the Khajiit who had risked calling me, explained that the slavery problem was severe on Morrowind and tried to convince me to leave Morrowind for my own safety. I refused, of course, and when I asked him of their intentions, he replied that he was merely grateful for the chance to even have intentions. A fair point, I suppose. He said they were going to stay in the cave for a few days to recover their strength before trying to get to one of the larger cities of Morrowind, at which point they'd try to head back to their homes. I haven't returned to the cave yet, but I hope they aren't taking up the previous occupants' professions instead. 

I sold some of the trinkets at the Tradehouse and Arrille offered me a good deal for the halberd, which I took, exchanging the steel halberd for an iron Imperial spear and some septims. The training we received as Auxiliaries was with simpler spears and while I could have used the halberd, the axe head kept throwing off my balance and the weapon was simply too unwieldy for me. The spear was much lighter and more familiar to me, so I judged it a more effective weapon. Arrille thought it unlikely that I would run into bandits on my way into Balmora, so I passed on the second-hand armor he was peddling. 

As I was leaving, Arrille recommended I stop at the garrison town of Pelagiad, which lays halfway between Seyda Neen and Balmora. I obviously took his advice, as I am now writing this while in the Halfway Tavern, but the my journey to Pelagiad was just as uneventful as Arrille assured me it would be. I find it hard to believe that just this morning I was being escorted off an Imperial prison ship. Tomorrow I will resume my journey to Balmora and hopefully find out more about my assignment.