Morrowind Day 22 - A Calm Day

6th Hearthfire

~~~

Spent a fitful night in the magical chamber of Berandas, waking up exhausted, but no longer bleeding. I dragged myself out of the Berandas chamber of Swirling Colors and continued plodding towards Ald'Ruhn.

Travelling along the coast, I came across another Dunmer fortress tucked among the hills, but this one did not appear to be in nearly as bad of shape as Berandas, being much larger and built-up.

I cautiously entered the smaller of the two buildings and confirmed my suspicions. This fortress had a similar chamber of magic as Berandas does, though still no clue as to the purpose. Transportation perhaps? I should ask around the Mages Guild when I reach civilization again.

The reckless, foolish part of me wanted to explore the fortress, but the pitiful remains of my equipment prevented me from undertaking anything that might result in further damage.

The giant rats that seem to be everywhere are normally skittish creatures, but I was attacked by three of them today, all of the showing strange growths on their bodies. The dreaded Nix Hounds have always been stupidly hostile, but the one I slew today also appeared to be very sick.

It seems other people were having troubles of their own with unusually aggressive animals. I was flagged down on the road by a Dunmer woman named Drulene Falen. She owned a small farm just off the side of the road, hidden by the swells of the West Gash plain. She explained that she had lost several of her Guar to hostile mudcrabs already and another was just dragged off this morning by the determined creatures. She was fretting about losing her farm and moving back to her hometown on the mainland.

I agreed to help her, from one immigrant to another I suppose. The mudcrabs managed to somehow drag the guar up the steep hills separating the West Gash plains from the humidity of the Bitter Coast  and when I finally managed to climb the hills myself, the humidity and stench of swamp welcomed me back. The mudcrabs were easy to find and instead of pretending to be a rock as they usually do, both of them advanced on me, snapping their pincers. Brave, but only foolishly. The guar was already dead, but Drulene offered me some hackle-lo leaves for my efforts. A simple reward for a simple task.

A second task came upon me quite strangely. I encountered a finely dressed Argonian named Rasha further down the road who asked if I was heading to Ald'Ruhn. After I told him I would be passing by, he asked me to deliver several shirts of his to a clothier there. I agreed to deliver the shirts since I was going there anyway and found out then that the delivery included the shirt he was wearing. I left the shirtless Argonian on the road as I stuffed the shirts into my pack.

The clothier, Bivale Teneran, gave me a belt she called the "Belt of Iron Will". She claimed it would increase my chances of successfully casting spells, but the belt I received in Vivec has so far turned out to be quite useful. It would be rude to sell the belt to someone in Ald'Ruhn, so I'm carrying it with me for the time being. Bivale did give me a fair amount of coin for the amulets and and mundane rings I had gathered. which I put to use purchasing supplies to repair my armor with.

The repair of my armor was as time-consuming as it was miraculous. The condition of my armor is by no means perfect, but the repairs managed to put it back into 'serviceable' category  The repair of the Admantium was far more complex than the Imperial chain armor supplementing it and I took my time, not wanting to permanently damage the nearly irreplaceable armor. 

It wasn't late by my usual standards when I completed my repairs, but it was late enough that starting anything new would simply drag into the next day. With that in mind, I've retired to the Ald Skar Inn earlier than usual and I'm planning on greatly enjoying the additional rest.

Morrowind Day 21 - Taking Berandas

5th Hearthfire

~~~

I woke a little earlier than usual and walked out into another dark and foggy morning. Given my late start, I ate my breakfast as I walked along the river, intent on reaching a south-bound road to Caldera at some point. The constant overcast and rain made for a very dark morning, but the wilderness has ceased to be a cause for great concern and the lack of light has never bothered a Khajiit.

While walking along the river, I noticed the odd stone arch formation that the publican at the Tradehouse had mentioned yesterday. He had said it was along the coast, so I thought he meant along the coast of the sea, but I suppose he could have meant along the river. Sure enough, an ornate door was set into the side of the hill just below the arch on the opposite side of the river. A quick water walking spell (I'm getting better at this!) and I was inside the smugglers' hideout.

Whether or not I was mistaken about the publican's directions, the former ancestral tomb had been ransacked by some sort of banditry, who then themselves seems to have been overwhelmed by Daedra from  within the lower levels. The skeleton impaled against the ash pit just inside the tomb could either have been the works of smugglers or Daedra, but either way marked this tomb as no longer a family's ancestral home.

What few other remains I found indicate the smugglers, if that's what they were, met a violent end. Behind one locked door was a storage closet with a skeleton curled up in the corner and numerous skulls and bones laying about, all of them looking to be fairly recent additions.

The skeleton on the ash pile had been fixed there by a simple steel longsword, so that at least was done (probably) by the smugglers. The tomb continued downwards along a spiraling ramp, along which I encountered several Scamps and at the bottom a Clannfear, nothing I couldn't handle.The ramp ended at a small room with an altar, which had a single urn of ashes set upon it. My Khajiit blood must have sensed the ring, because I normally would not have disturbed the remains, but something drove me to sift the urn around and as I rolled the ashes around in the urn I gradually uncovered an enchanted ring. I took it, figuring the smugglers hid it there, and the magicka emitting from the ring is very strong, though I can't tell what it does and I won't wear it until I do. If the smugglers hid the ring there, then they were agents of their own destruction, the strength of the enchantment may have lured the Daedra to the tomb. There were two small chests near the altar, but they contained nothing of value.

I left the tomb in much the same condition as I entered it and climbed up the steep, muddy slope of the river and continued south. Not more than two minutes of walking and I found the remains of the smugglers. These remains, however, were alive, wet, and crouched around a dismal fire. None of them were visibly armed, but one of them happened to look my way and gave a shout and suddenly I had three Dunmer running at me. What is it about this place that makes people so reckless with their lives? Three against one are good odds for the majority, but again, I'm fully armed, armored, and trained to kill...Cyrodiil bears, mostly, but Morrowind has been a great teacher.

All three were magicka users and loosed ranged spells of various colors at me, all of which I managed to dodge. Rather than encircle me, all three of them charged my front, as if I wasn't holding a spear. With no armor and only daggers to back up their spells, they became easy prey once they exhausted their spell casting endurance, which happened rather quickly. If they were part of the tomb's smuggling group, nothing on them showed it and I left their bodies where they fell. The Kwama will find them before long.

Just behind them was a building unlike any I had yet seen on Vvardenfell. Squat and wide, it looked like the uglier cousin of Imperial fortress architecture. It also seemed abandoned, the stone wall crumbling in several places and the stairs quickly on their way to become a pile of rubble. I don't understand the reasoning behind building stone walls that someone could simply jump over and the architecture, from the outside, seems to make no sense. There are two stone buildings "within" the fortress: a very large stone building and a very small one. The large one contained two magical, and very colorful, portals that didn't seem to do anything.

The smaller one was the actual entrance into the fortress, housing a landing that descended into the actual structure. Judging by the exterior, I was expecting that the fort would have been ransacked long ago. What I found was very different.

Welcome to Berandas

Whether or not the remains were of the fortress's inhabitants or if they were squatting was impossible to tell, but the two impaled skeletons on the landing certainly served as a powerful warning. I admit I almost turned around right there, but the skeletons were very old and I incorrectly assumed the place would be abandoned by now.

Much like the tomb, the fortress was infested by Daedra, but unlike the tomb, also by more powerful Dremora warriors. It hasn't been long since my first fight with a Dremora in the sewers of Vivec, but I must be more powerful than I was, dispatching the demonic warriors were a challenge, but a welcome one after the eggmine of Khuul and the depressing meele by the campfire. The warriors were well-armed, all of them with Dwemer weapons, none of which I could further burden myself with.

I found a skeleton slumped against the wall in one of the larger rooms, the cause of death being the two very rare Daedric arrows embedded in its rib cage  With my aim, I'll definitely not be using them as weapons, but I could not pass up grabbing them anyway.

The second level of the fort existed only as a rough cavern, with a few furnishings scattered about. On this level I found the reason for the degradation of the fort, as well as almost meeting my death.

The cavern had been intended to be the unfinished third level of the fortress, but the original inhabitants only got so far as to roughly hew out a corridor and several rooms. More Dremora and Scamps awaited me and I dealt successfully with them, but I was growing tired and my armor was starting to become worn. Drawn to the smell and sight of what I thought was a campfire, I entered an alcove and was greeted by a rather gruesome sight.

Staying with the day's trend of "weapons through bodies", the skeleton was stuck to a large stalactite by a spear through the chest and a dagger through a hand. In the poor light I took the weapons for iron or steel, assuming the constant heat of the fire beneath them had blackened the metal. After (reluctantly) extinguishing the flame I pulled the spear free and caught unawares by the weight, fell off the brazier I was balancing on as the head of the weapon crashed against the bowl. I would have been luckier if the blade had chopped into the brazier, but the flat of the weapon rang off the edge and I might as well have rolled a gong after me and announced my presence to the rest of the denizens prowling about.

A hideous shrieking from somewhere further into the cavern was the response to my announcement and I hefted my new spear in an effort to determine what it was before the source of the noise found me. It was far heavier than any other spear I've used, but when I peered at the head of the spear, I realized what a rare find I was holding.

The spear head was probably three times the size of any spear I've yet seen and was cruelly barbed, designed not only to kill an opponent but to cause the maximum amount of pain while doing it. The faintly glowing markings engraved along the ebony were very similar to the dagger my long-gone Demon Tanto had summoned and I'm not sure how long I stood there (stupidly) gaping at the Daedric spear. Smaller weapons, such as daggers and short swords, are a bit more typical, usually owned by mater thieves and assassins. Weapons larger than that are normally found in extremely well-guarded museums and private collections. The price I could fetch for the spear could get me a private residence next door to the Imperial Palace...but the spear is probably too valuable to sell in Vvardenfell and unfortunately too heavy to carry with me right now.

The dagger was also Daedric, but I elected to leave it with the spear for now, since I was growing increasingly concerned about the constant shrieking deeper within the cave: It didn't seem to be getting any closer, but it wasn't getting any quieter either.

I left the alcove with my valuable treasures behind and proceeded straight down the hallway, but that was a dead end and I encountered only a single Dremora. The shrieking intensified as the sounds of our combat rang along the stone corridors. The Dremora was kind enough to leave a Dwemer halberd, but nothing compares favorably against Daedric, unless you happen to be particularly superstitious.

The shrieking creatures were deep within a large pit, off of a side corridor, almost two floors lower than the rest of the rooms. They were unlike anything I had seen before: half-bird, half-woman, the monsters had the torsos and heads of women, but legs of a bird, wings similar to that of a bat and long, barbed tails that somewhat resembled a scorpion's. Obviously they were Daedra, but not of any kind I'm familiar with.

Even from a distance these creatures were obviously formidable and I managed to enter their "lair" undetected thanks to my invisibility spell, but it only lasts for 15 seconds and the two of them were actively patrolling the pit. With only a few seconds left before my spell expired, I elected to attack rather than attempt to renew the spell. Still invisible, I lunged at the closed creature with my spear, but it (she?) somehow detected me anyway and hopped away, shrieking.

What followed was the most harrowing experience (so far) of my life. The creatures were much quicker than I anticipated and attacked with their tails, their wings, and even their mouths, lunging forward to snap at me with a mouth full of fangs. They were also a lot more intelligent, with one of them always at my flank or back and I don't know how much time I spent just trying not to die.

Their wings and teeth weren't very damaging to my armor, but the barbs on their tails cut into the Adamantium surprisingly well. It wasn't long before my the armor on my arms were nearly useless, courtesy of near misses on attempts at my neck. Very aware that I was going to die at this rate, I charged one of the creatures, desperate to take one out of the fight. It slashed at my legs as I closed in, doing grievous harm to the armor, but fortunately not crippling me as intended. My berserk attack  succeeded in spitting the creature with my spear, but it collapsed with an awful screech and wretched the weapon out of my hands, leaving me with no choice but to engage it's companion with my woefully short sword and shield.

Rather than draw out a combat I was fighting at a disadvantage, I risked everything, charging at the remaining creature, swinging both sword and shield at it until it collapsed in a bloody heap. There was a corpse of a Dunmer Legionnaire in the chamber who, oddly, appeared unharmed but had been dead for some time, the dry heat of the lava pits turning his flesh into leather. He had on him a pair of heavy boots that radiated more magicka than anything I had ever felt before, including the ring from the smugglers' tomb, so I took them, figuring that was my reward for what I had accomplished.

I managed to stumble out of Berandas and am now taking refuge in the portal chamber on top the fortress. I have no idea what time it is, other than that it must be very early in the morning. My armor is nearly destroyed, there is very little of my fur that isn't matted with blood, my spear is damaged, but repairable, and I am utterly exhausted. I've locked the portal chamber with my spell and piled all the furniture against the door. I'll continue my journey south whenever I happen to wake up.

Morrowind Day 20 - The Witch of Khuul

4th Hearthfire

~~~

Woke up at the Six Fishes at my normal time this morning and braved the placid, slow seas of Morrowind once again, this time on my way to Khuul to see about the witch Kaye assigned me to.

Trips via boat are already hardly worth mentioning at this point. A boat from Ebonheart to Hla Oad: five hours. Hla Oad to Gnaar Mok: four hours. Gnaar Mok to Khuul: seven hours. Sixteen hours on small, nearly flat-bottomed skiffs, with a polite, but quiet Dunmer my only company on every leg of the journey.

I write this now: Today is the last day Kerra steps upon any sea-going vessel of any kind. If I have to somewhere unreachable by magicka, I'm walking.

A Khajiit immediately offered to send me to the Imperial Fort of Frostmoth on Solstheim as I stepped on to the docks of Khuul. I'm not sure why any Khajiit would want to go there, we're hardly the type for cold living. He had a bit to say about the local egg mine, Asha-Ahhe. He had heard rumors that the miners were hearing mysterious voices and seeing ghosts. I had no desire to spend the night at Khuul, wasting another day on sea travel, so I purchased the location of the mine from him for a few Septims, determined to take care of the issue tonight.

I stopped in the local tradehouse to see if I could find out more about the mine, but the inhabitants are a droll lot. A Khajiit by the enviable name of Shotherra suggested that if I was looking for civilization, I'd do better to walk along the coast to the west, where House Redoran funds a small outpost with an inn. I do wonder how places like Hla Oad, Gnaar Mok, and Khuul remain in existence since most of the people I talk to in these places seem only to want to leave.

The mine was a little bit of a walk from the dismal village, but close enough that anything potentially hostile kept its distance, so the walk was without incident. I expected the miners to share the same disregard for visitors as the villagers, but they were surprisingly affable even before I revealed why I was there. The oldest among them told me he had tried to find the source of the voices they kept hearing, but did not get very far before his nerve failed him. He felt there was an evil presence there and refused to go back there for any reason.

I never found out what the evil presence was, but I did find two Dunmer and a Nord, the three of which did they meager best to kill me. Or rather one Dunmer and the Nord tried to kill me. I heard them talking among themselves as I was making my way towards the lake and with the help of my Invisibility spell managed to get one shot off with my bow. The "witch" wasn't hard to pick out of the trio, as she was the only female there. If she wasn't, the expensive clothing she was wearing would have marked her as my target anyway. I shot her to dispel what protective spells she might have woven about herself, but she had none and the arrow bit into her side.

She yelped, but I had already dropped the bow and was leaping at her as my spell fizzled out. I stabbed her as she was attempting to summon something from the Outer Planes and the force of the blow combined with my physical momentum knocked her off the small ledge the three of them were occupying. The shock of hitting the ground below probably finished her off if my attack did not and that was it for the infamous Witch of Khuul.

The other Dunmer retreated further into the cave, but predictably the Nord drew his sword and charged. As Auxiliaries we're taught that a trained spear-carrier can handle any type of adversary, but I've always been more comfortable going sword-and-shield against foes stronger than myself. It doesn't sound like it makes sense, but I don't see the wisdom in going after a Nord or Orc with a staff of wood topped with an iron point. Granted, my equipment is now several levels above the Imperial standard-issue, but old habits, especially ones centered around survival, die hard.

But an egg mine is not a place experienced fighters (or witches) choose to hide out in and a Nord showing the signs of skooma addiction makes for a strong, but clumsy enemy. He kept his armor in about as good a shape as his body and my sword found little resistance. His sword was done in the Nordic style and possibly hailed from Skyrim judging by the intricate lettering along the blade. It was the only thing of his that did not look like he picked it out of a trash barrel and I left the family heirloom with his body. Should the miners see fit to loot his corpse, let that be on their hands.

The other Dunmer's fate is not nearly as dramatic, though perhaps more fitting. In his retreat, he managed to blunder into the Kwama Queen's nesting area and was killed by her Kwama Warrior guards. The egg miners were not pleased by this, as the Warriors will be more aggressive for awhile, posing a threat to the miners whom the Warriors usually ignore.

I carefully crept by the corridor leading towards the Kwama Queen's chamber and found the lake where the "evil presence"  was said to reside. I was expecting something like a ghost or skeleton, some left-over from the witch's experiments, but the small lake area was quiet and rather peaceful. 

The miners were relieved to hear that the witch was dead. In their minds, she seemed a mighty sorceress, bent on twisting their souls and bodies to her own means. In reality, she was an Imperial Cult reject and never got a spell off, dying on the damp stone of the cave, just like the smugglers I've dispatched.

It was already late in the evening, so I used a scroll of Divine Intervention to move myself to Fort Darius in Gnisis. I didn't visit the Fort and instead went straight for the Tradehouse for some much needed sleep. The publican, Fenas Madach, told me I looked the "adventuring type" and confided that two guests of his the previous day had mentioned a cave along the coast they were using for smuggling. Maybe I'll look into it. Maybe I won't.

It's now about two in the morning and I'm barely keeping my eyes open any longer. I have to go back to Caldera at some point and return Nedhelas's basement key to him. I also want to speak to someone at the Mages Guild about learning some useful traveling spells. I also need to find a place to actually live. So much to do, never enough time, it seems, to do any of it.

Morrowind Day 18 & 19 - A very long day

2nd Hearthfire, 3rd Hearthfire

~~~

The past two days have been busier than usual and given that I worked through the night, today's journal entry will span both today and yesterday. Note to self: don't make this a habit!

I woke at the Vivec Mages Guild late, at 8am and grabbed a mobile breakfast before walking out into a dreary overcast morning. I wonder what it would take for the sun to shine on Morrowind once in a while.

A typical morning in Vivec

Aurane was glad to receive her Roland's Tears and exchanged a rare fate potion for them. I never put much stock into the fate potions myself, but drinking one was said to somehow link you to the Gods, increasing your chances of succeeding at anything...until it wore off. I can't see how a potion that relies on beings so capricious can always be said to have positive results, but I'll hang on to it until I can barter it for something more predictable.

With nothing else to do in Vivec, I decided to take care of some unfinished business back in Balmora. Ajira greeted me cheerfully when I popped into existence in her "lab" and I bartered the remaining gems I had taken from Arkngthand to her in exchange for various restorative vials.

I also reported my progress on the task my friend had given me and he seemed pleased, but said he would need more time to digest the material I had given him. He gave me some scrolls of Divine Intervention which would teleport me to the nearest Imperial Shrine and promoted me in his organization. What benefits, if any, come with my promotion remain to be seen. So I have some free time from my semi-official obligations for the time being and plan on making the most of it. 

By "most of it" I mean, "wander around Balmora wondering what to do". Working for Ranis at the Mages Guild was an option, but both Ajira & Sharn had recommended speaking with Edwinna at the Ald'ruhn Guild instead. I was about to teleport over to Ald'ruhn before Ygfa suddenly came to mind for some reason. The Nord had mentioned I would be a decent recruit for the more militant side of the Imperial Cult and I thought it would be a nice change from the Mages Guild, so I teleported back to Vivec, much to Ajira's amusement.

The walk to Ebonheart was much like the walk anywhere has been lately: cold, damp, and boring. I need to find more reasons to spread my travels around, so far I've been stuck on the Bitter Coast. I had been hoping that joining the Imperial Cult would widen the scope of my journey, but it did not, as further events would prove.

A few inquiries pointed me towards Ruccia Conician, head of the Morrowind chapter for the Imperial Cult.  She was quite relaxed about my joining, accepting my fifty Septim 'donation' and welcoming me to the organization. She recommended I speak with Lalatia Varian within the Ebonheart Chapel about duties. We spoke about my history and what I was looking She in turn directed me to Kaye, a Redguard in charge of the shrine sergeants of the Imperial Cult.

My first task was to track down an Altmer, Caryarel, who had been a patient at the local infirmary up until a few days ago, when both he and a valuable limeware bowl disappeared from the Chapel. Kaye had no information as to his whereabouts and suggested I speak to the local Altmer living in Ebonheart. This simple task would in some ways wind up being my most trying so far.

An Altmer by the name of Fainertil was able to point me to the fishing village of Gnaar Mok when I asked him if he had heard of Caryarel. The combination of his Altmer skin and the brutish iron armor favored by the Nords made it easy to mistake him for an Orc until he spoke. While certainly not unheard of, it an Altmer wearing heavy armor, especially Nordic iron, was a rare sight and I wonder what his business in Ebonheart was.

An easy mistake to make

I took the boat from Vivec to the fishing village of Hla Oad, but the trip took seven hours, owing to having to sail against Vvardenfell's counter-clockwise coastal currents. It's due to those currents that this journal entry spans two days, since I spent most of those seven hours dozing. The young shipmaster was surprised that I was willing to sleep on the small craft, but shrugged and mumbled her consent. The Dunmer as a whole are not to be sought for their skills in idle conversation.

She gently shook me awake when we finally reached the village and I was startled to see that the overcast afternoon had slipped into an overcast evening. My aquatic guide told me she figured it was about ten in the evening, which proved correct. I had no desire to spend the evening in the village and I wasn't tired anyway, so I hired a second shipmaster to take me to Gnaar Mok immediately.

The second leg of my trip was mercifully shorter and I finally arrived at the village at two in the morning. I hadn't napped on the trip over, but I wasn't tired yet either, so I walked around the town for a few minutes, getting my bearings and trying to locate my prey. Caryarel turned out to be easy to find, being the only Altmer in town. A limeware bowl is a large thing and certainly nothing he would be carrying on him, but I didn't know which house was his. A stranger poking around everyone's  houses would certainly raise some ire, so I had to settle on more subtle methods. A Khajiit who called himself Wadarkhu pointed me to Caryarel's home after my "gift" of one hundred Septims, saying something about not liking independent competitors anyway.

By four in the morning I was ready to put my plan in effect. Wasn't a big plan: wait until Caryarel wasn't facing his house, then try my unlocking spell to gain entry and hopefully recover the bowl before he noticed what had happened. Sometimes the simple plans are best, because it worked beautifully. 

Luck must have been with me, for he never saw me press my palm to the lock and slip into his house. The bowl was secreted in a worn barrel in the corner of his modest dwelling and I delicately lifted it out. With luck he won't notice it's gone for quite some time and he'll probably blame one of his fellow residents. Now that I had the bowl, leaving was going to be a bit trickier. I had no desire to kill the man, so I had to leave the hut before he decided to come back. In the end I simply trusted fate and sneaked back out as quickly as possible. Fate again was on my side (without drinking the potion!): he was preoccupied on the far side of the village and never saw me lock the door as I left.

I was not looking forward to the boat trip home, but then I remembered the scrolls I was given when my "friend" promoted me. I ducked behind Caryarel's shack, unfurled one of the scrolls and after a moment of disorientation found myself in the Buckmoth Legion Fort at Ald'ruhn, far to the east of Gnaar Mok. A short walk to the Ald'ruhn Mages Guild and I was making the journey from Vivec back to Ebonheart yet again.

Kaye was pleased that I had not killed the Altmer thief and gave me two hundred Septims, plus another three scrolls of Divine Intervention. He also promoted me one rank and I am now a Novice in the Imperial Cult. He was also quick to assign me another task, this time in the much more civilized town of Caldera. A Bosmer had been complaining to the Cult that his house, which he recently moved into, was haunted by a malevolent spirit that kept chasing him out.

By now it was eight in the morning and I hadn't slept since three in the afternoon the previous day, but I was still feeling pretty good. I am growing tired of walking between Ebonheart and Vivec though. If I had more confidence in my water walking spell I could probably jog across the bay to the city. As usual, the weather was grey and wet.

Does the sun ever shine on Vvardenfell?

I exchanged pleasantries with the members of the Caldera Mages Guild on my way out and managed to run into the Bosmer, Nedhelas, all by myself. He was embarrassingly grateful for my assistance despite having received none yet and gave me the key to his basement, where he said the spirit seems to live.

The house was quite nice by the standards of most I've seen so far on Vvardenfell and the Bosmer had apparently tried to solve his problem by piling crates over the basement's trapdoor. After several minutes of exertion I was able to open the trapdoor and descend down into the basement.

There was something odd about how the "basement" looked and the long descending stairway right after the ladder made it seem even odder. The mystery wasn't a long-lived one, I was greeted by an armed skeleton as soon as I opened the door at the end of the stairs. It was quickly dispatched and I took a moment to examine the crates stacked in the corners of the room, but they contained mundane sundries and utensils. The door opposite the one I entered from opened to a small ancestral shrine, from which streamed an angry (I assume) ghost. It was no different than the few spirits I had fought already and it passed on without much fuss.

Nedhelas was still full of gratitude for myself, the Imperial Cult, and the Empire. I managed to get away from him before he started naming thanks to any Gods he could think of. It was starting to get late by now and I was actually growing tired, so I teleported back to Vivec and walked, again, back to Ebonheart, a trip quickly wearing out its welcome.

Closest thing to a sunny day so far

I stumbled into the Ebonheart Chapel at about dinner time and Kaye immediately set upon me another task before I even said anything to him. I've been asked to track down a Dunmer cultist who fled an Imperial Cult raid on a Daedric shrine she had been inhabiting. For whatever reason, she is thought to be hiding in an egg mine near Khuul . Kaye handed me a sack of Septims for my expenses and bade me be on my way. He said not a word about Nedhelas and I was too tired to even bring it up.

Ten Septims later at the Six Fishes got me the bed I'm barely staying conscious in and it's only six in the evening. Hopefully I'll wake up at my normal time tomorrow morning so that I can get an early start towards Khuul. It will be the farthest north I've traveled so far, which is pretty exciting. I'm getting tired of Vivec and the rest of the Bitter Coast. 

Morrowind Day 17 - For the want of flowers

1st Hearthfire

~~~

Breakfast again at the Balmora Mages Guild, then a beeline for Masalinie as soon as I was finished with my meal. I teleported to Vivec and wasted no time in leaving the guild, though I did grab the magicka restoration potions from the Guild's supply chest on the way out. They are free to members and my lack of casting skill means I'll need them a lot more than any other guild member. Besides, no one else ever seems to go anywhere.

On my way down to the lower levels of the canton, I stopped to talk to a Khajiit merchant, Baissa, who didn't have much in the way of adventuring wares, but did mention she overheard a rumor that there was something interesting underneath the Arena canton. It seems that every person I talk to has a rumor to investigate or a task that needs doing and if I pursued half of what I have already been told I'd be dashing about from one side of Vvardenfell to the other. The 'Mystery Under Arena' will have to remain just that.

I managed to avoid any other rumors and jobs and finally reached Jobasha's Rare Books. I had been hoping to find the books Hasphat had mentioned, but the Temple Ordinator stationed right inside the store was a sign that I would not, in fact, find the books here and I didn't, to no surprise. I did sell off a few of the larger books I had been carrying with me though, freeing up valuable backpack space and making me a few Septims richer. I do enjoy reading though and if I had a place of my own I'd certainly stock up on books. Maybe that's from my upbringing in the temple, so many years ago.

On my way out of the canton I passed an Alchemist's shop on the way out of the book store and stopped in, figuring I could sell some of the gems. The store's owner, Aurane Frernis, was clearly distraught and asked if I had seen any of "those horrid leaflets". I had a leaflet that the Redguard outside the Mages Guild had given me nearly a week ago, but I hadn't done more than glance at it. I think I kept it in case I needed to light a fire. The leaflet was a proclamation that Aurane's potions were bad and had several testimonies to that effect. Naturally, Aurane was not happy about this and asked if I could look into it for her. Ordinarily I'd pass, but having a friend in Vivec may be handy in the future, so I agreed to track down the source of the slander and put an end to it.

Naturally, my initial questions were directed at the man handing out the leaflets outside the Mages Guild: the Redguard Domalen. He was not ashamed to admit he was being paid by a Telvanni eager to discredit her competition. This Telvanni, Belan, was more likely driving customers to a different foreign alchemist rather than to her. My brief visit to the Telvanni canton was a cold, unwelcoming experience.

Nevertheless, I braved the (perceived) silent hostility of the canton and spoke to Belan. In true Telvanni fashion she admitted that she was the source of the leaflets and offered me one hundred Septims for my silence. I simply walked out and informed Aurane who her slanderer was. She was furious and promised me (for some reason) that she would go to the magistrate with the information. I wonder what chance a foreigner has for justice against a Telvanni. Coincidentally my reward was one hundred Septims, plus a new task.

Aurane spoke of flowers very similar to Gold Kanets that only grew in one location in all of Morrowind: Roland's Tears, a type of Gold Kanet that could only be found near the Daedric ruins outside of Vivec to the northeast. I was a bit uneasy about approaching the ruins, but agreed to undertake the job, figuring I could skirt around the ruins until I saw the flowers.

The ruins were a surprisingly short walk from the Telvanni canton and I heard the ruins before the rainy, overcast weather allowed me to see it. The Daedric shrines were built to communicate with and summon Daedric servants, but when the cults were destroyed or dissolved, the ruins fell into disrepair and the whatever barrier protects our world from the Planes of Oblivion is weakened, allowing daedra to inhabit the remains of the shrines. Fortunately, they seem unable to venture out of the ruins, but the concentration of foes makes ruin exploration a very hazardous affair.

My plan to avoid entering the ruins turned out to not be feasible, as one side lies against the water and the three landlocked sides were not home to Roland's Tears, so I wound up having no choice but to cut through the ruins to reach the far side.

In pristine condition, the shrine's architecture must have been a wonder, with gazebos, staircases and spires seemingly placed at random. In the haphazard jumble that time inflicted upon it, it was easy to get turned around and confused. Only by sheer luck was I prevented from becoming a crispy Khajiit, courtesy of my would-be Flame Atronach assassin. As it was, my sneaking about paid off for the first time in my life and I had the distinctly uncomfortable experience of watching the Atronach stomp right past me, probably no more than twenty yards away.

When its back was turned I quietly laid my sword on the ground and pulled out my bow and a handful of enchanted arrows I had purchased from Aradraen. The damp weather and my anxiety caused the first two arrows to fly wide, but they impacted wet soil instead of stone and the Atronach remained unaware. The next arrow smacked right into the side of its head and the arrow's enchantment sent a cone of cold into the creature as it reeled. I was able to get off two more quick shots as it charged at me, but both of these missed. I fought the creature with sword and shield and received several scorch marks on my armor for my daring, but the final stab of my sword into the unnaturally cold fire of its body sent it tumbling. Valuable Fire Salts were my reward, another one hundred Septims for my effort. I encountered several Scamps, but that combat does not bear mentioning.

I found Roland's Tears growing on the far side of the ruins against the lake and picked six of the flowers before cautiously creeping back through the ruins and towards Vivec.

The Imperials have a fairly distasteful saying: "Curiousity killed the cat", often substituting 'Khajiit' when the situation warranted. I don't think "Having a smart mouth killed the Imperial" is likely to catch on soon, but when I crept by the spidery entrance to the ruin's interior, I paused for a moment, reasoning that the Flame Atronach had not been very difficult and I was surely up to whatever challenge (and treasure) lay within. Assumptions and overconfidence may be the most dangerous foe in Morrowind.

The door opened too easily for something that should have been abandoned for years, so the young Dunmer's attack came as less of a surprise than I'm sure she had hoped for. Her dagger was enchanted to strike with electrical shocks, but her weapon and her combat style was unsuited for use against an armored and shielded opponent. She kept trying to get in close, behind my shield, but that never works against any opponent with even a little bit of experience. The battle did not last long and I took the expensive-looking lock picking tools she had on her. I left the dagger.

The entrance to the ruins was small and served only as a landing from which three staircases, one to each side and one in front, descended. I crept down the right staircase, bow at the ready and caught the mutterings of an older Dunmer male encased in full bonemold armor. The arrows I loosed at him pierced his armor as he charged up the stairs, but did not seem to hurt him much. My opponent this time wielded an iron longsword with surprising skill, but I had enough time to ready my spear as he came up towards me. The difference in height and reach afforded me a large advantage and he met the same fate as his comrade. Unlike his younger companion, he had nothing of value on him, his armor being too damaged and too heavy to make the effort of carrying it worthwhile. The Dunmer's body had stopped rolling at the foot of the stairs, but the chamber he had been guarding was empty and the room, and his death, seemed to serve no purpose.

I crept back up to the landing and down the opposite staircase, concentrating with the extreme intensity of the incompetent to not make any noise as I clanked down the stairs in my armor. My near decapitation was the only warning I got that I had failed, but the large blade swung from around the corner of the stairs struck my spear first, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I dashed under the blade as it slashed across the spear shaft and clanged against the glassy stone wall, turning to face my enemy as I leapt into the room. My assailant was, again, a young Dunmer woman, but she was heavily outfitted and wielded her ordinarily cumbersome weapon with enough skill and grace to make me immediately regret placing her between myself and the stairs. We traded blows, she with her two-handed sword, me with my spear, but neither one of us were greatly harmed. I took cover behind one of the braziers situated in the middle of the room, stabbing at her over the top and around the sides as she attempted to back me against the stone foundation.

She was more skilled than I, but I was quicker and less encumbered by my equipment. Her weapon was fatiguing her quicker than mine was and she was increasingly going on the defensive. Rather than continue to dangerously wear her down, I loosened my grip on my spear, waited for her next swing, and let the spear fly from my hands as I parried the blow. My cry of despair and fear would no doubt win me accolades at theatrical circles everywhere and I fled back up the stairs, weaponless.

Unencumbered, I dashed up the stairs well ahead of her and took a chance, casting my weak spell of invisibility. To my surprise, it actually worked on the first try and I crouched into the corner of the landing where I had hidden my sword as the Dunmer warily stepped upon the landing. I knew I only had seconds before the spell wore off, so I rushed her and drove my short sword into her side, just under her arm. 

Not a trick anyone with honor would try, but her breastplate, which I had mistaken for steel, was a rare Imperial silver curiass, given to Legionaries who demonstrate exceptional skill and bravery. My surprising pang of guilt dissolved when I looked at the inside of the armor, where an engraving dedicated the armor to a 'Captain Ildonia Viciulus', whom she clearly was not. Whether she came upon the armor via theft or murder, the Imperial in me left the armor in the ruins, as a sort of memorial to the man it once belonged to.

Besides, I couldn't comfortably carry any more weight.

The walk back to Vivec was dark, rainy, and dreary, but uneventful. I arrived at the Mages Guild a few minutes past midnight and will turn in the flowers tomorrow morning. Who knew such a simple task would result in so much?

Morrowind Day 16 - Disturbing Dreams

31 Last Seed

~~~

I woke at midnight this morning after having a disturbing dream. In it, a gaunt, tall figure wearing a large golden mask led me down an aisle, through a party of ghostly figures and apparitions all talking among themselves. The figure would pause to talk and laugh with the ghosts, but they ignored him, talking among themselves. My strange host did not seem bothered by this and continued to try and converse with various guests. I struggled to speak within the dream, but found I could neither speak, breathe, or break the man's hold on my arm as he led me towards a giant iron statue at the other end of the room. I woke up before we reached the statue, feeling sad and nostalgic for nothing in particular. My waking did not disturb the other sleeping members of the Mages Guild and I fell back asleep, untroubled by further dreams and waking up again in time for breakfast.

I intended to visit Vivec to search for the books Hasphat's notes referenced, so I wasted no time in delivering the notes to my friend, who then asked that I talk to Sharn gra-Muzgob at the Mages Guild about another task. Assuming that it would be a quick task (the last of such an assumption I'll be making!), I agreed to see what needed to be done. I mentioned my dream and my friend became more disturbed than I had been, cautioning me that the Temple locks people up when they have strange dreams. I find that interesting, as it sounds like other people are experiencing similar dreams as my own.

Sharn gra-Muzgob had a rather distasteful task for me: swipe an enchanted skull from a Dunmer tomb and bring it back to her. The reason for this is probably best left unknown. Sharn gave me directions to the tomb, just south of Pelagiad, as well as an enchanted iron short sword and four scrolls of offensive magic. The sword was for the tomb's undead guards, but my silver spear made her sword unnecessary and I sold it to Ra'Virr for a few Septims. The scrolls I kept, then forgot to use later on.

As usual, the walk from Balmora to Pelagiad was uneventful and I easily found the tomb dug into the hills just before the crossroad to Seyda Neen. The entrance was unassuming, but at the foot of the stairs just inside the tomb lay the body of a male Dunmer. A quick search of his body turned up nothing of interest and I could not determine what had killed him, though he had not been dead long.

The tomb's guardians were largely no threat, mostly ghosts and skeletons, both of which fell to my silver spear and sword. The skull, however, was guarded by a disgusting abomination the Dunmer call a Bonewalker. The name is somewhat inaccurate, as the creature is more meat than bone...slimy, foul-smelling, rotting meat. It is quick to close distance to its victim, but once engaged, strikes with weak magicka and slow, clumsy swipes of its arms. I made short work of the creature, but not before it got in a few hits that left me feeling drained and weak for a few minutes.

The skull was sitting on a small stool positioned before a large basin filled with bones and bonemeal, obviously used ritualistically by the Dunmer for some purpose. A large chest sat beside it, but oddly only contained a few spoons. 

I was surprised to find it was already night when I stepped out of the tomb and into the warm, humid air of the Bitter Coast. Fighting always makes the time pass quicker somehow. Darkness can hide nothing from a Khajiit though, so I stopped in Pelagiad only to sell a few of the trinkets I had taken from the tomb. On my way out, I was accosted by a Dunmer babbling about Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House, stating that he had a message for me from the fallen lord. The message wasn't much, just more talk about driving out all the Outlanders and securing Morrowind for the Dunmer people. What was chilling, however, is that this insane man knew my name. I shook him off and continued to Balmora, he didn't follow me but I will be more cautious as I travel from now on.

I arrived at the Balmora Mages Guild at 10pm, a fact which was immediately pointed out by Ranis as I walked in, but she didn't seem displeased. The other guild members seem content to stay inside and study and I'm sure Ranis would have tasks for me if I asked, but I'm too busy right now with the mystery of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. As usual, today's original plans are going to have to be pushed off until tomorrow.

Before turning in for the night, I handed over the painted skull of Llevule Andrano to Sharn and she rewarded me with information. According to her, the cult of Nerevarine, which the Temple prosecutes, believes that the Nerevarine will be reborn to honor the ancient promises to the Ashlander tribes which are as follows: The Nervarine will destroy the Tribunnal Temple,  restore the traditional practice of ancestor worship, and drive the Outlanders from Morrowind. Both the Temple and the Empire have outlawed overt worship of this cult, but the Temple actively stalks and "takes care" of its members in a most brutal fashion. I can't say I care much for anyone whose goal is to drive all of us Outlanders out of Morrowind either.

Morrowind Day 15 - First Steps

30 Last Seed

~~~

Conscious that I've been less than prompt to my tasks, I made sure to visit my friend first thing in the morning. He was surprised to see me, but gave me quite a lot of information about the political landscape of Morrowind and asked that I to go to the Fighter's Guild and see the Drillmaster, Hasphat Antabolis, about the Nerevarine and the Sixth House. My friend warned me that I would likely have to do some dirty work before Hasphat would divulge what he knew.

Hasphat's "dirty deed" didn't seem very dirty: Explore the Dwemer ruin of Arkngthand and retrieve a a Dwemer toy of some sort, a puzzle box, from within the ruined city. He mentioned that the ruins might occupied by bandits or Dwemer automatrons, but with my new equipment and training, I felt I could handle any challenge. This, naturally, would turn out to be false, but not until much later.

He also pressed a copy of "On Morrowind, the Imperial Province" into my hands, paradoxily stating it wouldn't do me much good, since an adventurer needed current events, not history. To that end, he spoke of assassinations (legal and illegal), murders, the feuding of the three great Houses, and the Blight spilling out of the Red Mountain. I grew a little worried at that, as I had been in the Red Mountain, but so had Viatrix. Either way, I think if I were Blighted, I would know.

I left Balmora towards Dwemer ruin immediately after, confident and a little anxious. I can deal comfortably with run-of-the-mill bandits, but I theorized that a group claiming a ruin as large as Arkngthand would have to number at least two dozen. I encountered one of them on the bridge crossing the foyada, who immediately conjured up a skeletal apparition and started flinging fireballs at me. Had I been him, I would have let my prey approach far closer than he did, for his spells were easily dodged and the apparition's cohesiveness was already starting to fade by the time it dutifully closed to melee range, over half the length of the bridge. Two blows of my sword scattered the skeleton's bones, but the bandit had either grown smarter or tired and was holding back with his fireballs, sending them flying only as I was dashing between the barrels and carts littering the bridge.

I briefly considered my bow, but trying to fire it likely would mean a ball of fire hurtling at my face and an arrow flying off in some unhelpful direction. While I was contemplating a retreat and loop around the bridge, the enthusiastic mage sprang from behind a barricade of barrels and charged at me while waving a sorry looking axe over his head. A competent axeman, of which he was clearly not, would never wave the weapon over his head unless he was looking for more iron in his diet. Irony dictated that he also be wearing an iron breastplate, but it did him little good. He swung wild, intent on cleaving my head satisfyingly from my shoulders but I merely ducked under the swing, burying my sword beneath his armor. While that did not kill him, my hurling him off the bridge and into the foyada below certainly did. I find it odd that I have had so little difficulty with the bandits of Morrowind, yet encountering any of the land's fauna is cause for great alarm.

Also odd was the raw ebony and ruby the bandit had hidden away. The bridge did not seem well traveled and individuals carrying easily misplaced wealth were far more likely to travel via silt strider or teleportation. I pocketed both with the intention to sell them in Balmora.

The door into Arkngthand was a wonder: A nearly perfect, to my eyes, stone sphere which split into two halves to allow entry and egress, powered by some unseen machine. The spherical design allowed for very tight security, allowing at most two people to enter at a time, but the sensation of the door closing behind me, sealing me between the fort's door and the sphere, was unsettling. If I had not been able to open the door, I might have been entombed just within the entrance of the ruin unless someone else happened by. Fortunately, the door, stone also, swung open easily. I was expecting to enter into a hallway or antechamber, but instead found myself within a rather voluminous, natural cavern, with the actual Dwemer ruins built into the far side. Large stone slabs had been felled to replace a now-missing causeway connecting the entrance to the floor of the cave.

A Redguard, similarly equipped as the bandit on the bridge, was in front of the ruin's main doors, far below the entrance to the cavern. Evidently Arkngthand does not receive many visitors, for he did not seem particularly alert or dutiful about his task as he leaned against one of the several pillars supporting the second level of the ruined entranceway. I did not want to expend my limited magicka on an invisibility or feather fall spell, but the stone slabs provided the only non-lethal, non-magical way to the cavern floor, where the guard would be sure to spot me. I decided to fire an arrow in his general direction, hoping he would charge up the ramp at what would appear to be a skittish, frightened Khajiit archer. If he called a few friends, I was confident that my skill with my spear, combined with the height advantage of the ramp, would enable me to defeat several attackers.

However, the arrow, for him, turned out to be a once in a lifetime shot. The arrow flew truer than I intended, driving deep into his neck and chest as it hurtled downwards. The arrow must have hit something vital on its way in, for he gave no alarm and showed no surprise as he crashed to the ground. Should I live a hundred years I might never make such a fortunate, albeit accidental, shot.

Lucky for me, unlucky for him

Behind his corpse were a collection of heavy metal barrels of Dwemer design. Expecting nothing, I was quite surprised to, again, find more gemstones, this time a diamond and an emerald. To have in my bag four precious gemstones represented more money than I would have made in the Auxiliaries in as many years. It is a mystery as to how so much wealth would find its way in a desolate ruin, in the possession of equally desolate individuals.

There were three doors set into the fort's entrance, though for some reason known only to the Dwemer, two of them opened into the same hallway. I crept through one of the doors expecting something along the lines of a garrison, but only ran into a few more bandits and all of them individually. None of them proved to be difficult to best, though none of them tried to parley either, each one choosing to fight a better-armed and trained opponent to the death. Money is insufficient as the sole origin of such fanatic motivation, but I found no hints as to what drove these people to die at my hands. It could not have been the ruin's meager loot, as the Dwemer were obviously a people of great skill and craftsmanship, but either they were all incredibly strong or they never made anything with the intent of moving it. Even something as small as a cup must have weighed at least three times what I had expected it to. There were, however, a good deal of silver coins laying about that I pocketed.

The air became increasingly fetid and hot as I prowled the halls and it was only when the air became nearly unbreathable that I came upon the source of my discomfort: an open pool of lava, over which spanned a broken bridge. The gap in the bridge was far too wide to jump and I could see no quick way to the other side, so I turned back, the dank, stale air gradually tasting as if it was the coolest, most refreshing breeze. I have no way of knowing what lies beyond the bridge, but as I said earlier, the Dwemer must have been a confident, architecturally advanced people, to feel so comfortable building over such an obviously fatal obstacle.

I prowled about a bit more and ran into two more bandits, each one on their own and each no great threat. Writing this after the fact, I cannot recall enough details about any of the fights to embellish on the battles. Even their leader, an Imperial calling himself "Boss Crito", was not especially difficult. To summarize: I wiped out a band of common smugglers more accustomed to slipping coins into hands rather than blades into flesh and the entire exercise left me feeling quite disappointed. Back in Cyrodiil, I fought alongside several individuals against a stated threat, be it animals, highwaymen, or the occasional goblin raid. The task and its purpose was always clear. But I was sent to the ruins of Arkngthand to fetch a simple item, the smugglers were merely in the way and I get the feeling no one cared or knew whether they lived or died.

The puzzle box was sitting on a shelf behind the body of Boss Crito. The surface of the small, metal cube was covered in scratches, results of attempts to pry or smash it open, though it did not feel as though it contained anything. I did not think to have any greater success than its previous owners, so I left it alone. It would be quite embarrassing, returning to Hasphat with the broken cube.

I was surprised to exit the ruins under the night sky, I had spent far more time in the ruins than I thought. I returned the cube to Hasphat, but will report to my friend tomorrow morning.

Hasphat's reward for my returning the cube to him was a key to the lower levels of the ruins, plus some information about the Sixth House and Dagoth Ur. The sheaf of notes I was given to pass along to my friend made mention of several books for further reading, which I should follow up on soon. The lower levels, he warned, would probably contain Dwemer automatrons, so I think I will be avoiding them for now.

According to Hasphat, the Sixth House was plotting treason against the other Houses during a war long ago and was destroyed, along with House Dwemer, for its attempt. The leader, Dagoth Ur, was thought dead but apparently he and his cohorts survived through magical means, the result of which is the blight and dust storms, as well as a host of foul creatures I've fortunately not yet encountered.

No one in the Mages Guild questioned my absence, though I stunk of brimstone and exertion. Ajira did pointedly remind me that the baths were always open to Guild members and they are my next stop before bed after I finish this journal entry.