Days 11 through 20
Day Eleven: Lost to the slaughterfish
Today was a total loss. When I arose this morning I was thinking of myself quite differently. The tomb that had so nearly claimed me was now covered with a glossy success, and I felt like I had the Bitter Coast spread helplessly at my feet, ready for me to wander around drawing maps and collecting whatever caught my eye or fancy. What a difference a day makes.
One of the spells that I learned in Balmora allows me to breath water. It is a simple spell from the school of alteration, in which I have a fair degree of skill. I learned this spell with three things in mind; the deeper water kollop beds, a couple of submerged caves that I've noticed, and an old shipwreck lying across the bay to the southeast. As I stepped out the door this morning the shipwreck seemed most interesting, and I set off across the bay, swimming at a leisurely pace.
By the time I reached the further shore I had completely expended the healing powers of my ring, and was bleeding from several slaughterfish bites. They came at me in a steady stream, one by one or in pairs, and my leisurely swim turned into a tiresome gauntlet. As fish after fish died on my spear I kept thinking they would catch on and start avoiding me, but they are relentless. I crawled onto the beach and tried to rest.
My rest was repeatedly disturbed by mudcrabs, apparently emboldened by my stillness and the smell of blood. The afternoon wore on. Nothing was getting accomplished. I spent my ring's energy as fast as it accumulated. Although I didn't get anywhere near full recovery I finally set off hiking to reach the nearest point to my derelict target. I arrived at a small beach littered with flotsam from the wreck and scanned the sea. The waters near the wreck were teeming with slaughterfish!
I stepped into the lapping waters of the Inner Sea and lay about me with my spear. I tried to kill the slaughterfish faster than they could gather, and whipped the water into a bloody froth, but soon had to retreat onto the beach with numerous fresh bites weakening me even further. The mass of fish was so great that I could stand on the beach and spear those closest to shore as their escape was prevented by their later arriving fellows pressing in on them. In my weakened condition with no healing magic available I could only glare at the fish, and I saluted the shipwreck which defied investigation for another day.
Clearly I was in no shape to swim back, and I had no zest for the long walk around the bay. Gathering my magical energies together I cast a spell which stiffens the water underfoot, allowing me to make the much shorter walk across the bay safely above the realm of the fish. I set out, with my first step onto the water being taken gingerly; then with growing confidence I just walked over the backs of my swarming enemies and out to sea.
At the end of a day like today it is hard not to challenge my lot in life. The Emperor chose me for the Blades without explanation. Do I owe it to him to accept? I am released from imprisonment and free to make my own way. I could just as easily catch a ship and return to High Rock. Life among my fellow Bretons would certainly be simpler. I don't have the coin for passage though. Perhaps tomorrow I will consider selling off my goods and heading home.
A late addendum.
My fate may no longer be in the Emperor's hands, or my own. I have to assume that whatever my mission it is somehow at the source of the Dark Brotherhood's interest in me, and I doubt that returning to High Rock would take me off of their list. The precautions I have taken against them may have saved my life tonight, but I would be loath to maintain them forever.
Before laying my weary head to pillow I placed a plate balanced on edge upon a crossmember of the door. While my shack of bare planks crudely nailed together may not be fashionable, the door with its accessible construction does have advantages. When the plate crashed to the floor in the depths of the night I had just sufficient time to grab my spear before the assassin was upon me. Although the confines of my home are close, I was able to stay out of range of his dagger well enough and laid him low with my much longer reach. These members of the Dark Brotherhood are not as fearsome as I was led to believe, but I am concerned.
This second attacker was no more skilled than the first. As long as they do not catch me soundly sleeping and plunge their dagger through my throat I am more than a match for them. There is a question, though. Is this all they have? I must guess not, for the Dark Brotherhood did not build their reputation on the likes of these. I suspect that killing me is for them like gathering mushrooms is for the Mage's Guild; a task for the novice. With the death of this second agent I may have sent a message most undesirable, and started an even more powerful foe down the inexorable path to my door.
Day Twelve: The shipwreck
I awoke this morning before dawn, driven by my need for some sort of healing magic. I am not very skilled with restorations, but Arrille at the tradehouse knows a fairly simple healing spell that I should be able to master. Being a trader, however, he will require compensation for his time to teach me this spell. I have accumulated quite a supply of alchemical ingredients, some of which are quite valuable. Rather than surrender them I settled in with my own lab, determined to make something valuable out of the more common ingredients that I have in abundant supply.
Interesting how magical energies collect in the flesh of ordinary creatures. The scrib is a large insect, the young form of a kwama actually; kwama being almost man sized from what I hear. The shell of the scrib is filled with a jelly substance, which is edible and in fact quite tasty. This jelly is known to boost a persons will, enabling them to better control and resist many magical energy forms. Today I found that when mixed with juices extracted from the meat of the local rats this jelly forms a potent restorative that will negate magical poisons. I only succeeded in making one flask of this antidote, and I will be keeping it for my own use.
Cave Rat
I continued my experiments more profitably. The foragers who scavenge the areas around a kwama nest often have a coating of a waxy substance known as cuttle. I had sensed a magical property in this cuttle and have been collecting it whenever a forager tried to scavenge me to take back to the nest. Thinning this cuttle with a light oil and mixing in scales from the slaughterfish (which I have in a discouraging abundance) I created a fluid which when applied to the feet will recreate the effects of my own waterwalking spell for a brief period. While it will not last long enough for a stroll around the bay it will certainly be of value for crossing the narrow straits between islands here in the lowlands of the Bitter Coast, and Arrille cheerfully traded his time for a few vials of this.
Armed with my new healing capabilities and a good amount more caution I set out for the shipwreck. I walked, on land, the long way around. Giving up my previous complaints I took the opportunity to map this part of the coast thoroughly. Nine-Toes will be pleased. I have a complete map of the area southeast of Seyda Neen, all the way to the bridge on the Ebonheart road which crosses into the Ascadian Isles region. In the process I found an egg mine, where the eggs of the kwama are harvested for food and trade. I considered checking on the availability of scrib jelly and kwama cuttle, but there was no one about the entrance and I did not want to take the time to delve inside.
Eventually I arrived back at the littered beach near the stern of the grounded hulk. She lies almost completely on her side with her decks to the sea, about three quarters submerged. After killing the first wave of slaughterfish I clambered up onto the exposed hull and walked her length. The perspective was strange, standing on the hull looking almost straight down the deck into the water. Right at the waterline a door to the stern cabin hung loosely, moving with the swirling currents. Its hinges, which had been on the left side, now held the panel of the door from the top. Further forward a deck hatch also swayed rhythmically. In the almost vertical deck the weight of the hatch no longer held it firmly closed and through it the ship seemed to breathe, exhaling as the small swells ebbed away, the hatch thumping closed with the next swell. I considered whether it was really prudent to enter that maw.
I cast a series of spells, allowing me to breathe water throughout my explorations of the ship. I started with the aft cabin, dropping into the water and scrambling quickly through the door. Inside, the sideways angle of the ship was even more disorienting. As I climbed out I was welcomed by a gathering of slaughterfish which I dispatched, but only after I was bleeding from several more bites. These wretched creatures are the most cursed aspect of my life in Vvardenfell. I returned to the beach, had a lunch of crab meat, and used my new healing spell to recover my well being.
Gathering my courage I again plunged off the hull. As a swell exhaled from the interior of the wreck I propped the hatch with my spear and rode the next swell inside. Through the water I could feel the thud of the hatch closing behind me and fear closed in as well. The boards of the hull had dried and warped where they were above water, and light filtered through, but the interior was still dark and gloomy. Once again I found it disorienting, and the movement of floating crates and barrels did not help. I studied the tangles of wreckage with a chilling premonition.
My fascination with the shipwreck proved worthwhile. Though the cargo was of no particular value in its waterlogged state I recovered two crates of food from the galley and some odd bits of armor. I also learned the value of maintaining my composure. In making my way back to the hatch I got tangled in a snarl of ropes and broken planks. The more I struggled the more enmeshed I became, and I knew that even though my water breath spell doesn't take all that much magica I would eventually run out and drown. Operating underwater, with my legs tangled in the wreckage, I calmly transferred all my newly acquired goods to my pack and released the crates to make their own way. Blotting my previous failure from my memory I completed the gestures perfectly and found myself standing at my appointed mark in my own shack. Seawater sluiced from my clothes as I collapsed with relief.
While I may have yet to master the school of mysticism, I do feel more the master of myself as I lay down to sleep tonight.
Day Thirteen: Bowhunter
Ah, the simple joys of hunting! My alchemy experiments have depleted my food reserves, and I thought that a day of mapping the coast could easily replenish them. It also gave me a good chance to refresh my skills with the bow. While I was fairly accomplished with the bow and arrows in the old days in High Rock I have not drawn since my imprisonment. A longbow recovered from the skeletons of Tharys tomb in hand I set out before dawn.
I am very pleased with the effectiveness of the restoratives that I have brewed. I can run all day. Hunting with the bow also helps, since I more often make a stealthy approach so I can launch a telling shot. When hunting in Vvardenfell with a spear there is no call for stealth. Creatures here do not flee from the hunter. Even rats will charge a man. Of course the rats here are about two feet long, not counting the tail, and more often then not I have had to dispatch them with my spear even after burying a stout iron broadhead in the breast of a charging rat. The flying cliff racers also get all the more fierce when wounded.
Cliff Racer
I have traveled far, and I am camping out tonight on an island. Early this morning yet another assassin invaded my house, and I am beginning to think it would be wise to move. I would like to complete my maps of the area around Seyda Neen, and today I took the road northwest all the way to the river Odai, then turned and followed the river downstream to its mouth. Turning back towards Seyda Neen along the coast I completed a circumnavigation of the coastal mountains. How I will complete mapping them I do not know, as they are very steep in many places.
At the base of those mountains lies the second tomb that I found. I am not ready to take on another round of spirits and skeletons in search of Mentor's ring, and now have found yet another tomb on this island. I must either take another trip to Balmora to replenish my supply of healing potions or learn to brew my own. Though my healing magic is potent, it is not a spell I would like to try to cast in the thick of battle. For now I will enjoy sleeping in the bracing sea air. The Bitter Coast has surprisingly cooperated by providing a clear night sky.
Day Fourteen: Day in the lab
Tomorrow looks like a great day for a trip to Balmora. I put some coin in my pocket today; more than enough to cover expenses. I spent the long afternoon in my laboratory resting weary feet. I have completed tasks to report, goods to sell, and questions to ask. I have secured my door with the usual measures and look forward to a sound sleep, hopefully uninterrupted by the Dark Brotherhood.
I was awakened before dawn this morning by the settling mists of the Bitter Coast. While I enjoyed my night out of doors I don't think I want to make a habit of it. I skewered a fresh mudcrab for breakfast and set to rummaging the island for useful plants. By mid-morning I had explored most thoroughly and also stuffed my pack. To my surprise I found that I was sharing the island with what I assume is a smuggling operation. A well concealed cave on the north end of the island showed signs of recent occupation. Among other things to be done in Balmora I want to find out from Caius and Nine-Toes exactly what the Blades stance on smugglers is. I may come back and try to join them, or I might try raiding their cave.
With my bulging pack I headed across the water for home, making a fairly quick trip of it. While I was not actively hunting, the regular swamp denizens were, and I did add slightly to my already burdensome load. I also had a chance to use another of my newly learned applications of the mystic arts, which went surprisingly well. One of the soul gems I picked up is now charged with the life force of a cliff racer. Although it is of limited power this gem can now be used to enchant a weapon or other item. I will definitely check with Galbedir the enchantress tomorrow when I arrive at the guild hall to see what can be made of this.
The afternoon passed peacefully and profitably. I am becoming more skilled at refining my invigorating elixers, and sold half a dozen flasks to Arrille when I went to the tradehouse for dinner. Making large batches of potions of course makes for some lulls, and I spent those well experimenting with the wide array of plant, animal, and mineral substances that I have found to contain some trace elements of magic. The most interesting effect I found today came from a combination of juices from the meat of a nix-hound and one of the fungi I collected for Ajira. This odd concoction heightened my magical sense to a shocking degree, lending the mundane substance of the world a degree of transparency through which enchanted items shone clearly. I'm sure this will be most useful in my future tomb raids, as any locked or secret compartment containing an enchanted item will be clearly revealed. What I brewed up today had such limited range that I opted to sell it to Arrille, but noted the recipe for future refinements. Perhaps I will upgrade some of my laboratory equipment.
Tomorrow promises to be a busy day, and I will enjoy resting in my own cot tonight. This trip to Balmora may be more than an overnight stay.
Day Fifteen: Student of history
As I write I cannot help but wonder if this journal can convey even a faint echo of the power of knowledge that surrounds me tonight. I am sitting in the library of the Mage's Guild hall in Balmora with my head bursting with newfound knowledge. I am exhausted in mind and body, but strangely energized as well.
I arrived by the early morning strider, and quickly made my way here to deliver Ajira's mushrooms. She was very grateful, and presented me with healing potions, exactly what I needed most! Her skills do not yet match Tyermaillin's, and these are not as powerful as his, but they will surely be useful and I expressed my own deepest gratitude to her. As I had hoped she also gave a glowing recommendation to her mentor, and Ranis Athrys has promoted me to Apprentice rank.
Ajira In Her Lab
I made the rounds, greeting my fellows and receiving their congratulations and expanding what I hope to eventually call friendships. The diversity of the guild is truly a joy, with Khajiit and Bosmer, Dunmer and Imperial, even an Orc, all working together. My own Breton heritage seems to complement the mix and they certainly make me welcome. I picked up good advice for my first major project here in the city as well, and then spent the rest of the day on that; learning more about the assassins that plague my steps.
The Dark Brotherhood, I have found, has a deeply bitter enemy in an organization called the Morag Tong. The Morag Tong is also a guild of assassins for hire, however they operate only here in Morrowind and are governed by a tight body of ancient customs as well as law. To my surprise they are completely legitimate under Morrowind law and operate openly here in Balmora from a guild house in the best part of town. I went there with some trepidation, but ended up spending most of the day with Gilyan Sedas, a well mannered Dunmer who is far more openly friendly to an outlander such as myself than many that I have met. When I asked his trade he answered with complete nonchalance that he is indeed an assassin. He is quite proud of his standing in the Morag Tong, and excellent company.
With Gilyan's assistance I successfully marketed the black armor to every armorer in town, completely draining their coffers. In all three shops as they were making repairs, I noted that minor alterations were being made. In every case there was no intention to resell the fine black mail. Every armorer in Balmora is now clad in as much of the Dark Brotherhood chain as they could afford, leaving me with a full set for myself, some extra pieces, and a substantial weight of gold coin. Through the day Gilyan also taught me a great deal about how to take best advantage of this light armor, and I am wearing most of a set under my formal robes now.
This evening I spent reading here in the hall. Prompted I suppose by being in the Emperor's service, I was inclined to study some Imperial history, and on a couple of recommendations took up k'Thojj's 'Brief History of the Empire'. Brief is of course relative, and this work of four volumes would merit more than an evening's study for a historian. For a former villain forcibly retired into His Majesty's intelligence corps an evening was sufficient. I have a feel for how Uriel Septim VII came to be the emperor and the forces that would keep him there or remove him. I also noted that on more than one occasion the Dark Brotherhood was instrumental in the imperial succession. Clearly the ties that bind me, the Emperor, and the assassins guild have a weight of history behind them.
I feel safe sleeping here tonight, but wonder if even the security of the guild hall will be sufficient if the higher ranks of the Dark Brotherhood come to bear upon me.
Day Sixteen: Intriguing mages
The ways of mages astound me. It becomes more and more clear to me that the guild runs on personalities, petty alliances, and intrigue. I am very comfortable here, unlike my home in Seyda Neen, which has obviously been marked as a regular stopover for passing assassins or sleeping in the wilderness with a wary eye for rats, crabs and other scavengers who can't tell sleeping from dead. But comfort I think would have a cost. By maintaining myself as a visitor rather than a resident I can hopefully avoid becoming too embroiled in the cheerful infighting, if I haven't already.
I awoke this morning among my fellows, who were bustling about getting on with the business of the day. As I left the breakfast table Ajira approached me, slipping a soul gem into my palm. I sensed mischief afoot, and wondered if there was a diplomatic way to stay out of it given that Ranis has me somewhat assigned to helping the wily Khajiit. What I was trying to avoid was getting involved in Ajira's bet with Galbedir. Khajiit and Bosmer have warred on and off throughout history, and here in the guild this battle has been reduced from violence to a steady bickering. Mostly reduced anyway, according to the Orc Sharn gra-Muzgob the debate escalated not long ago to erupt in battling atronachs conjured from the elemental fire plane. There was no avoiding Ajira's feline hiss. My new assignment was to secrete the gem in Galbedir's desk. It is a fake, and will likely throw one of Galbedir's assignments into complete disarray. I had a tough time with sabotaging Galbedir. Like all Bosmer she is very open with her feelings, and when a wood elf likes you you know you are liked. Galbedir likes me, and in two visits to Balmora she has been probably the friendliest person in town. I justified my actions by telling myself that she did do her part in causing the rivalry with Ajira, and the current bet over which would make journeyman rank first was what really opened up this can of worms. I'm just the latest worm in the fray, so to speak.
Galbedir the Enchantress
I did complete the task, slipping the stone into Galbedir's desk, but partly in atonement and partly because she really is a good enchanter I probably overpaid her for helping me enchant my belt. Even though my gem with the cliff racer's energy is not all that powerful we put almost twice as much healing magic in the belt as my ring could manage. The belt will serve me well, and the practice and sale will look good for her. Hopefully she won't mention who the buyer was, at least for a while. Perhaps I can tell Ajira that I was making the purchase to distract her while I placed the gem.
No matter how the plotting of the bettors turned out, I thought it best to be out of the guild hall, and under the pretext of picking up healing potions from Tyermaillin I reported to my contacts in the Blades. Again I got the potions at a terrific discount, and Tyermaillin gave me a small pouch of coins to deliver for him to Nine-Toes, ostensibly as payment for some ingredients he wanted from the Argonian hunter. With that as an excuse I could stop at his house without raising questions.
Nine Toes was very pleased with my additions to his maps, and agreed that it was probably time for me to leave Seyda Neen. The next village up the coast is called Hla Oad. It is nothing but a tiny fishing village and I don't know if I will even be able to find lodgings there, but it should offer me some shelter from the assassins, at least for a while. With Hla Oad as a destination Nine Toes also suggested that I see Larrius Varro, champion of the Imperial Legion garrison at the nearby fort. Fort Moonmoth lies a short hike beyond the city walls, and I sauntered out the gates enjoying the bright midday sun.
Larrius Varro greeted me warmly, though obviously he is burdened with his duties. Maintaining Imperial law in a region dominated by the 'business first' leadership of the Dunmer great house Hlaalu must be quite challenging. When he heard that I was considering a hunting expedition to Hla Oad he requested that I ease some of that burden for him. Apparently some Nord bandit has declared the local roads to be his private tollways, and Varro suggested, in a roundabout way, that even though it was officially the Legion's problem to deal with he would welcome any unfortunate accident that might befall this Nord. Again I find myself questioning my motivations. There was a time not long ago where I would have praised the Nord for his ingenuity, as long as I could slip by without paying him overmuch. Now I seem constantly coming down on the side of the authorities.
I returned to the guild hall as evening fell, and enjoyed a hearty meal and good company. Ajira has moved on from fungus to flowers, and gave me a new list of ingredients she would like me to find. The undercurrent strains among the apprentices provided much amusement, and I considered betting that I would be a journeyman before either of them. As the newest member I thought better of it, but I'm sure it gives my Breton ancestors a chuckle as I head for bed.
Day Seventeen: No home for me
So much for moving to Hla Oad. That town demonstrates the cuddly warmth of a mudcrab. I am bedding down on board the Harpy as a passenger of the shipmaster Baleni Salavel, bound for Gnaar Mok. It seemed a better choice than trying to make camp in the dark.
I arose before dawn, eager to start wrapping things up in Seyda Neen. I even squandered precious magica to transport myself using my recall spell rather than taking the strider. Stowing my city clothes and gathering my travel gear took only a few minutes and I headed out to Hla Oad, planning to accomplish two things along the way. It is certainly time for me to move on. I found myself studying the faces of anyone who was out at that hour. Who was surprised to see me? Were they just surprised because no one saw me return, but here I was walking out of my shack? Or was there something sinister, perhaps a watcher for the Dark Brotherhood? I must move on before I start killing people for looking at me strangely in the street.
By mid-morning I had arrived at my first objective, the tomb. I had first found this tomb the same day I found the Tharys family crypt, and remember thinking on the day I first entered that subterranean nightmare that I would explore them both in one day also. Then I learned first hand about skeleton archers and ancestral spirits. Today I learned firsthand about another undead guardian in the tombs of the Dunmer. I don't know if these horrors are constructs of the interred dead, or the lingering remainders of previous tomb robbers. They walk, shambling in a misshapen human way. Skin hangs from them in patches, but they are mostly made up of the naked muscle, oozing fluids that glisten in the torchlight. In places there are protrusions of bone. They speak in guttural moans and gurgles from their wasted throats, emitting harrowing curses that left me weakened and discouraged. In the first chamber of the tomb I was set upon by a pair of these terrifying monsters, and before my wildly thrusting spear could dispatch them they were joined by another, and then another.
Are they constructs, made from the flesh of the dead? When they are struck by a weapon it seems their flesh parts easily, but wounds do not slow them. Only the enchanted devil spear was effective, and it battered through not their flesh, but a magical binding energy that I believe gives them life. Amidst their decaying flesh I found soul gems, which could be the core around which the flesh is bound. I wonder though if that is truly their origin, because I fear I may have been on the way to becoming one. I seem to have contracted something, from contact or their curses. I felt weak, exhausted, and it appeared as if my skin was beginning to grow soft and rotten, taking on a brownish tone. I could imagine, if allowed to continue, that it would soon be hanging in ragged strips much like the skin of my adversaries. I quickly used a curative spell from a scroll, which solved the problem, but I wonder if without that restorative magic I would have ended up a replacement for the guardians I had dispatched.
Like the first, this tomb contains a shrine to Saint Veloth. There are other similarities in construction and the burial process, with large urns supported on block shaped altars used to inter the dead and numerous upturned spears sporting the ancestral skulls. There are differences though, in the size and layout of the tomb. The Samarys clan, to which this tomb belongs, is apparently larger and wealthier than the Tharys clan. The burial urns are for more numerous, somewhat crowding a double entry chamber connected by a short hall. In the second entry chamber I found the shrine, and a door to the innermost crypt. When I opened the door I was beset by a skeleton warrior, this one armed with a broadsword and shield, who I calmly dispatched. After the horrors I had faced a skeleton warrior just did not seem as much of a problem as in my previous encounters. The shorter reach of the broadsword offered ample opportunity to drive my spear through its defenses and it was soon reduced to a pile of dust and bones.
In a place of honor at the far end of the inner crypt, alone on a stone alter, stands an ornate burial urn lidded with a seal promising serious damage to the unwary. I tripped the trap with a well insulated iron probe I carry just for such occasions and let the energies dissipate harmlessly. The inscriptions on the urn identified the contents as one 'Lord Brinne', and the local spectral population murmured their displeasure as I poked through the distinguished ashes. Buried in the ashes I found an ornate ring set with purple stones. Could this be the lost Mentor's Ring? Cautiously I placed the ring on my finger and immediately I could feel the powerful magic that gave it its name. My will and intellect have been augmented, giving me greater access to and control over all areas of spellcasting. My first intended task of the day was complete, and a resounding success.
From that time to this nothing has gone well. Every attempt to climb into the coastal mountains behind the tomb was thwarted by their steep slopes. All afternoon I circled, trying from every side, following narrow ledges, leaping for imagined footholds. As the sun dipped in the west I conceded defeat and followed the road towards my destination. In the gathering darkness I lost the track more than once, and were it not for a seemingly endless flock of cliff racers I would probably have just made camp. Pressing on I arrived at Hla Oad, only to find that the local tradehouse is a front operation for a criminal syndicate known as the Cammona Tong, everyone in town knows it and no one cares, and as a non-member I was about as welcome as a stray slaughterfish in a bathing trough. Fortunately I found the Harpy ready to set sail, and took passage more for the bunk than the transport.
Day Eighteen: Breeding netch
Gnaar Mok may not be the most hospitable place in the world, but after Hla Oad it's nice to have a place to lay my head. The trade house here is called the Druegh-jigger's Rest, and is apparently named for some local sea creature. When the Harpy docked with the dawn I was not received with open arms, but presenting myself as a simple hunter who had been basically run out of Hla Oad got me directed to the Rest.
In addition to its other functions, the Rest serves as a gathering place for the thieve's guild, whose main operative locally is a Khajiit called Wadarkhu. He is gruff, and the way the others talk about him he is strong medicine. Apparently strong medicine is needed here. The thieve's guild is embroiled in a major gang war with the well entrenched Cammona Tong. The Tong is Morrowind local, almost exclusively Dunmer as far as I've seen, and heavy on bigoted posturing. I don't think my cover in the Mages Guild or my service to the Emperor would be served by involving myself directly with the Thieves Guild, but I'm starting think that any of these Cammona Tong that get belligerent with me I'm just going to skewer. If for no better reason than that they are heavily into the slave trade. I kept my opinions on the Tong to myself mostly, but did curry some favor with Wadarkhu. When he saw I was a hunter he took an interest, and told me about a recent attack his boat had suffered from a pair of netch. I've seen these huge creatures floating in the air, but they have always seemed very docile. Wadarkhu informs me that when they breed they become aggressive and dangerous, and apparently this breeding pair has staked out a territory north of town. I gathered as much information as I could before setting out. The larger netch, with six powerful tentacles dangling from an oval gasbag, is the bull, and will fire bolts of magical poison before closing to attack. The round betty netch is more aggressive, though smaller and with only four tentacles.
Armed with my bow, my poison antidote, my new knowledge, and the best wishes of the locals I set off to the north. It did not take long to identify the culprits. While most netch drift slowly along the breeding pair was jetting around in a jagged pattern. I circled patiently. The opportunity I looked for was to have the two netch separated by a significant distance, and headed in opposite directions. In their random charges they eventually complied and I sprinted to intercept the bull, which was nearest.
I did not get very close, and skidded to a halt nocking an arrow. Aiming high on the gasbag I released, and quickly drew and fired again. One arrow thumped harmlessly off the heavy hide, but the other pierced through and the netch jerked in the air, tentacles flailing as it turned. I started running. I made a couple of erratic moves and used trees for cover as much as possible to spoil the beast's aim. Success. My maneuvering and the pursuit brought me and the netch very close together without any poison bolts fired, and I dodged through the battering tentacles while stabbing up through the softer underside with my spear. With a loud sigh of escaping gas the netch settled to earth, dead I suppose, but I ran my spear through it several times to be sure.
While making sure of the bull I kept a wary eye in the direction of the betty, who had stopped dashing about and was turning in slow circles. Obviously she was looking for the bull, but had not seen him drop through the tree cover. I sighted carefully and launched an arrow, then another, and another. The betty netch either had a tougher hide or is just a lot more durable. My arrows did not slow the creature's charge for an instant. Again I tried to make use of the trees, but this netch was faster and more maneuverable. As our courses converged I called once more on my Breton heritage and toughened my hide for the beating I could surmise was inevitable. I barely completed the spell before I was engulfed in a swirl of thrashing tentacles. As I ducked and rolled I unslung my new steel halberd. The blade left deep gashes in tentacles as I drove the point up into the gasbag hovering above with rapid strokes. More than once I was knocked off my feet, but always I kept my point up, holding the monster off as I gathered myself to continue the fray. Suddenly, with a bursting rush of gas, the full weight of the creature was falling on me! I braced the butt of my halberd on the ground and angled the falling mass away with the blade to avoid being crushed beneath it. After untangling myself and my battered halberd from the sprawling tentacles and flattened gasbag of the netch I healed myself with my belt, cut out some large patches of quality netch leather, and returned to Gnaar Mok.Having resolved a problem for them the locals greeted my return with much greater appreciation, and I was grateful for their hospitality. I will be bunking in a hammock in the Rest tonight, and I cannot imagine the Dark Brotherhood finding me in this remote corner of the Bitter Coast.
Day Nineteen: A new home
Tonight I am once again sleeping in the security of a ship at sea. It is not as comfortable this time. The shipmaster Valveli Arelas runs a tight ship, but the Priggage is open hulled. I will be bedded down between the thwarts, hoping against the rain. I will probably be a regular passenger, so I'm hoping this first journey goes well.When I awoke this morning at the Druegh-jigger's Rest I was already considering the possibilities presented by Gnaar Mok. It is so remote that it seems an ideal place to stay out of the path of the Dark Brotherhood. It was a thought, but there were obviously immediate problems with it. The hospitality of the Rest was certainly good...For a night. Probably even for a short stay. Balan the scout and Hinald the pawnbroker had warmed to me nicely even if Wadarkhu was still gruffly tolerant at best, but the Rest could be looked upon as a guild hall for the Thieve's Guild. Unofficial, as is always the case, but already spoken for as a place to reside. Hinald definitely lives there, and for the most part so does Wadarkhu when not on his boat. Without joining the guild I'm sure my welcome would run out quickly.
As I enjoyed the camaraderie this morning I gave some consideration to joining the guild, but again that would conflict with my ultimate aims. It is also clear that the Thieve's Guild is deeply embroiled in a turf war with the Cammona Tong. In Gnaar Mok this isn't just something to consider, it's an every day fact of life that has to be dealt with, and in general there is a consensus that the Thieve's Guild has no chance. The guild has always relied on smooth and skillful operations, and is poorly equipped for a battle with the well established Tong. Even though I will not be joining the guild I will be taking some of the pressure off of my new friends.
Gnaar Mok is located at the narrow waist of a small island, and is connected to the mainland by rough planks for those who want to keep their feet dry, or a short wade for those who don't. In keeping with my guise as a simple hunter I explored the island. I moved carefully at the southern end, site of a cave known as Shurinbaal. This cave is an operating center for smugglers, smugglers who are beholden to the Cammona Tong if not members outright. Enriching myself at their expense would also start shifting the balance in favor of the guild. I took a wary survey and moved on. Now I have to consider whether keeping my own peace with the Tong might be more prudent if I'm going to stay in residence.
Staying in Gnaar Mok became much more attractive in the early afternoon when I discovered an uninhabited shack on a small island to the seaward side of the village proper. The shack is sorely run down, and the mystery of what became of the prior inhabitant may call for some further looking into, but the convenience of his departure is too good to overlook. I placed my magical marker inside, and will use that to transport my laboratory and other possessions from Seyda Neen. Arriving by teleportation in such a remote location should make me very difficult to track.
For now, a good night's sleep.
Day Twenty: Dumb as a kagouti
Today has been a day of running. My time in Morrowind has certainly improved my conditioning. A steady stream of restoratives helps too. I could jokingly say that I ran like the Dark Brotherhood was chasing me, but I wouldn't be able to laugh. Well, safe here in the guild hall I probably could.
The Priggage docked in Hla Oad shortly before dawn. I had no reason to talk to anyone there, so I set out resolutely for Seyda Neen. On the way I mapped out the area from the village to the river Odai, which seems to be some sort of nesting ground for the cliff racers. They attacked me in swarms. My healing belt served me well, as I could heal near instantly and move on where previously I would have had to seek shelter and rest.
Once I crossed the river I was in familiar territory. As I ran along the base of the coastal mountains a feeling came over me, a strange dissatisfaction. Whatever the purpose of Nine-Toes mapping project it would probably be well enough served by just noting this area as 'mountains, impassable'. That weighed on me though, and a new sense of determination welled up in me. I will survey those mountains. With that determination came the beginnings of the plan which has me here in Balmora tonight.
Driven by my sudden urge for completion I added a brief dash across the water to map out some rocky outcrops visible offshore. They turned out to be barren; too small to serve any useful purpose. Adding them to my map added to my own newfound sense of purpose though, and I was glad to have made the slight detour. After making my landfall I rushed on to Seyda Neen, arriving in time for lunch at the tradehouse.
Having settled on spending a little more time before my move to Gnaar Mok I was faced with the prospect of sleeping in my familiar shack, which I had come to consider as marked with a bullseye on some map in Dark Brotherhood headquarters, wherever that may be. I suppose not wanting to sleep there was at the root of my thoughts over lunch, as reasons to make a trip to Balmora boiled to the surface one after another. Gnaar Mok is even more remote than Seyda Neen, I should get all my spears sharpened before I go. Someone at the Mage's Guild should have some idea about surveying impassable mountains. I have a handful of soul gems charged with the energies of cliff racers, perhaps I could get another item that would turn out as useful as my belt.
With all of those thoughts rushing about my conversation with Raflod and Elone, who are both widely traveled, naturally turned to ways to get to Balmora. My only experience had been taking the silt strider, but the two scouts debated the virtues of the roads and cross country paths they had taken. When Ajira set me to the task of collecting flower samples she had suggested the road to Suran along the shores of Lake Amaya as a good place to look. I already had two of the four she specifically requested, and asked my guides if the various roads they were discussing would lead me to areas likely to yield the others.
Armed with Elone's assurances that I could reach Balmora by nightfall, and likely find Ajira's flowers growing alongside the road, I took off at a steady jog. Heavily laden with all of my spears it was a tiresome run. Since I had no desire to camp in the wilderness tonight I pressed for a fast pace and used restoratives to maintain my energies rather than stopping to catch my breath when I grew fatigued. I also reasoned that any assassin following me out of Seyda Neen would be hard pressed to keep up.
My only respite came when the road was clearly blocked by a fearsome looking creature. I halted some distance away after angling off into some underbrush. The creature stood on two powerfully muscled legs, its oval body suspended between. The hide, mottled on top and creamy white underneath, looked to be very thick but pliable, especially around the leg joints. I surmised that the beast would be surprisingly fast for such a behemoth. A bony pointed snout and two long glistening tusks made me suspect that I would not fare well if it ran me down. I considered working my way around through the brush, but Elone had said there were many roads in the area, and while they are clearly marked at junctions I could get lost if I stumbled out of the brush onto the wrong road. Willing my aim to be steady I stepped out into the road with my bow in my hands.
Kagouti
My aim was true enough to get the monster's attention, but the shot fell higher than I had intended and glanced off the thick hide of its back. It raised its head from its browsing, and uttering a horrible bellow charged down the road. Thankfully, as the creature hurtled down the road it continued to raise its head high to scream out its challenge, exposing the wide pale breast. I buried shot after shot, wondering how much punishment the oncoming horror could withstand. With a final shot I tossed my bow to the ground and quickly unslung the sharpest of my numerous spears. I crashed the butt of the spear into the soil to make a divot and braced it with my foot. Bearing down with all my weight I laid the point low. Without hesitation the snout and tusks passed over the tip, and I leaned quickly to lift it into the belly. The weight of the fast charging beast hit the spear and the impact sent me sprawling to the ground. It also drove the spear completely through to emerge in a gush of blood from the thick hide of the back just above the stubby tail. The entry was a long rip in the softer underbelly, and the beast's entrails glistened in the sunlight as it thrashed on its side in the dirt.
I marveled at the four arrows protruding from the breast, only three of which were mine. The fourth was surrounded by thick scar tissue, a memento of a previous encounter from which the beast obviously learned nothing. This evening, when I was describing the incident to Ajira she laughed her purring Khajiiti laugh and said "now friend Arvil Bren, you know the meaning of the saying 'dumb as a kagouti'." There is a market for kagouti hides, and clearly a market among the kagouti for brains, though they don't know it.
Today was a total loss. When I arose this morning I was thinking of myself quite differently. The tomb that had so nearly claimed me was now covered with a glossy success, and I felt like I had the Bitter Coast spread helplessly at my feet, ready for me to wander around drawing maps and collecting whatever caught my eye or fancy. What a difference a day makes.
One of the spells that I learned in Balmora allows me to breath water. It is a simple spell from the school of alteration, in which I have a fair degree of skill. I learned this spell with three things in mind; the deeper water kollop beds, a couple of submerged caves that I've noticed, and an old shipwreck lying across the bay to the southeast. As I stepped out the door this morning the shipwreck seemed most interesting, and I set off across the bay, swimming at a leisurely pace.
By the time I reached the further shore I had completely expended the healing powers of my ring, and was bleeding from several slaughterfish bites. They came at me in a steady stream, one by one or in pairs, and my leisurely swim turned into a tiresome gauntlet. As fish after fish died on my spear I kept thinking they would catch on and start avoiding me, but they are relentless. I crawled onto the beach and tried to rest.
My rest was repeatedly disturbed by mudcrabs, apparently emboldened by my stillness and the smell of blood. The afternoon wore on. Nothing was getting accomplished. I spent my ring's energy as fast as it accumulated. Although I didn't get anywhere near full recovery I finally set off hiking to reach the nearest point to my derelict target. I arrived at a small beach littered with flotsam from the wreck and scanned the sea. The waters near the wreck were teeming with slaughterfish!
I stepped into the lapping waters of the Inner Sea and lay about me with my spear. I tried to kill the slaughterfish faster than they could gather, and whipped the water into a bloody froth, but soon had to retreat onto the beach with numerous fresh bites weakening me even further. The mass of fish was so great that I could stand on the beach and spear those closest to shore as their escape was prevented by their later arriving fellows pressing in on them. In my weakened condition with no healing magic available I could only glare at the fish, and I saluted the shipwreck which defied investigation for another day.
Clearly I was in no shape to swim back, and I had no zest for the long walk around the bay. Gathering my magical energies together I cast a spell which stiffens the water underfoot, allowing me to make the much shorter walk across the bay safely above the realm of the fish. I set out, with my first step onto the water being taken gingerly; then with growing confidence I just walked over the backs of my swarming enemies and out to sea.
At the end of a day like today it is hard not to challenge my lot in life. The Emperor chose me for the Blades without explanation. Do I owe it to him to accept? I am released from imprisonment and free to make my own way. I could just as easily catch a ship and return to High Rock. Life among my fellow Bretons would certainly be simpler. I don't have the coin for passage though. Perhaps tomorrow I will consider selling off my goods and heading home.
A late addendum.
My fate may no longer be in the Emperor's hands, or my own. I have to assume that whatever my mission it is somehow at the source of the Dark Brotherhood's interest in me, and I doubt that returning to High Rock would take me off of their list. The precautions I have taken against them may have saved my life tonight, but I would be loath to maintain them forever.
Before laying my weary head to pillow I placed a plate balanced on edge upon a crossmember of the door. While my shack of bare planks crudely nailed together may not be fashionable, the door with its accessible construction does have advantages. When the plate crashed to the floor in the depths of the night I had just sufficient time to grab my spear before the assassin was upon me. Although the confines of my home are close, I was able to stay out of range of his dagger well enough and laid him low with my much longer reach. These members of the Dark Brotherhood are not as fearsome as I was led to believe, but I am concerned.
This second attacker was no more skilled than the first. As long as they do not catch me soundly sleeping and plunge their dagger through my throat I am more than a match for them. There is a question, though. Is this all they have? I must guess not, for the Dark Brotherhood did not build their reputation on the likes of these. I suspect that killing me is for them like gathering mushrooms is for the Mage's Guild; a task for the novice. With the death of this second agent I may have sent a message most undesirable, and started an even more powerful foe down the inexorable path to my door.
Day Twelve: The shipwreck
I awoke this morning before dawn, driven by my need for some sort of healing magic. I am not very skilled with restorations, but Arrille at the tradehouse knows a fairly simple healing spell that I should be able to master. Being a trader, however, he will require compensation for his time to teach me this spell. I have accumulated quite a supply of alchemical ingredients, some of which are quite valuable. Rather than surrender them I settled in with my own lab, determined to make something valuable out of the more common ingredients that I have in abundant supply.
Interesting how magical energies collect in the flesh of ordinary creatures. The scrib is a large insect, the young form of a kwama actually; kwama being almost man sized from what I hear. The shell of the scrib is filled with a jelly substance, which is edible and in fact quite tasty. This jelly is known to boost a persons will, enabling them to better control and resist many magical energy forms. Today I found that when mixed with juices extracted from the meat of the local rats this jelly forms a potent restorative that will negate magical poisons. I only succeeded in making one flask of this antidote, and I will be keeping it for my own use.
Cave Rat
I continued my experiments more profitably. The foragers who scavenge the areas around a kwama nest often have a coating of a waxy substance known as cuttle. I had sensed a magical property in this cuttle and have been collecting it whenever a forager tried to scavenge me to take back to the nest. Thinning this cuttle with a light oil and mixing in scales from the slaughterfish (which I have in a discouraging abundance) I created a fluid which when applied to the feet will recreate the effects of my own waterwalking spell for a brief period. While it will not last long enough for a stroll around the bay it will certainly be of value for crossing the narrow straits between islands here in the lowlands of the Bitter Coast, and Arrille cheerfully traded his time for a few vials of this.
Armed with my new healing capabilities and a good amount more caution I set out for the shipwreck. I walked, on land, the long way around. Giving up my previous complaints I took the opportunity to map this part of the coast thoroughly. Nine-Toes will be pleased. I have a complete map of the area southeast of Seyda Neen, all the way to the bridge on the Ebonheart road which crosses into the Ascadian Isles region. In the process I found an egg mine, where the eggs of the kwama are harvested for food and trade. I considered checking on the availability of scrib jelly and kwama cuttle, but there was no one about the entrance and I did not want to take the time to delve inside.
Eventually I arrived back at the littered beach near the stern of the grounded hulk. She lies almost completely on her side with her decks to the sea, about three quarters submerged. After killing the first wave of slaughterfish I clambered up onto the exposed hull and walked her length. The perspective was strange, standing on the hull looking almost straight down the deck into the water. Right at the waterline a door to the stern cabin hung loosely, moving with the swirling currents. Its hinges, which had been on the left side, now held the panel of the door from the top. Further forward a deck hatch also swayed rhythmically. In the almost vertical deck the weight of the hatch no longer held it firmly closed and through it the ship seemed to breathe, exhaling as the small swells ebbed away, the hatch thumping closed with the next swell. I considered whether it was really prudent to enter that maw.
I cast a series of spells, allowing me to breathe water throughout my explorations of the ship. I started with the aft cabin, dropping into the water and scrambling quickly through the door. Inside, the sideways angle of the ship was even more disorienting. As I climbed out I was welcomed by a gathering of slaughterfish which I dispatched, but only after I was bleeding from several more bites. These wretched creatures are the most cursed aspect of my life in Vvardenfell. I returned to the beach, had a lunch of crab meat, and used my new healing spell to recover my well being.
Gathering my courage I again plunged off the hull. As a swell exhaled from the interior of the wreck I propped the hatch with my spear and rode the next swell inside. Through the water I could feel the thud of the hatch closing behind me and fear closed in as well. The boards of the hull had dried and warped where they were above water, and light filtered through, but the interior was still dark and gloomy. Once again I found it disorienting, and the movement of floating crates and barrels did not help. I studied the tangles of wreckage with a chilling premonition.
My fascination with the shipwreck proved worthwhile. Though the cargo was of no particular value in its waterlogged state I recovered two crates of food from the galley and some odd bits of armor. I also learned the value of maintaining my composure. In making my way back to the hatch I got tangled in a snarl of ropes and broken planks. The more I struggled the more enmeshed I became, and I knew that even though my water breath spell doesn't take all that much magica I would eventually run out and drown. Operating underwater, with my legs tangled in the wreckage, I calmly transferred all my newly acquired goods to my pack and released the crates to make their own way. Blotting my previous failure from my memory I completed the gestures perfectly and found myself standing at my appointed mark in my own shack. Seawater sluiced from my clothes as I collapsed with relief.
While I may have yet to master the school of mysticism, I do feel more the master of myself as I lay down to sleep tonight.
Day Thirteen: Bowhunter
Ah, the simple joys of hunting! My alchemy experiments have depleted my food reserves, and I thought that a day of mapping the coast could easily replenish them. It also gave me a good chance to refresh my skills with the bow. While I was fairly accomplished with the bow and arrows in the old days in High Rock I have not drawn since my imprisonment. A longbow recovered from the skeletons of Tharys tomb in hand I set out before dawn.
I am very pleased with the effectiveness of the restoratives that I have brewed. I can run all day. Hunting with the bow also helps, since I more often make a stealthy approach so I can launch a telling shot. When hunting in Vvardenfell with a spear there is no call for stealth. Creatures here do not flee from the hunter. Even rats will charge a man. Of course the rats here are about two feet long, not counting the tail, and more often then not I have had to dispatch them with my spear even after burying a stout iron broadhead in the breast of a charging rat. The flying cliff racers also get all the more fierce when wounded.
Cliff Racer
I have traveled far, and I am camping out tonight on an island. Early this morning yet another assassin invaded my house, and I am beginning to think it would be wise to move. I would like to complete my maps of the area around Seyda Neen, and today I took the road northwest all the way to the river Odai, then turned and followed the river downstream to its mouth. Turning back towards Seyda Neen along the coast I completed a circumnavigation of the coastal mountains. How I will complete mapping them I do not know, as they are very steep in many places.
At the base of those mountains lies the second tomb that I found. I am not ready to take on another round of spirits and skeletons in search of Mentor's ring, and now have found yet another tomb on this island. I must either take another trip to Balmora to replenish my supply of healing potions or learn to brew my own. Though my healing magic is potent, it is not a spell I would like to try to cast in the thick of battle. For now I will enjoy sleeping in the bracing sea air. The Bitter Coast has surprisingly cooperated by providing a clear night sky.
Day Fourteen: Day in the lab
Tomorrow looks like a great day for a trip to Balmora. I put some coin in my pocket today; more than enough to cover expenses. I spent the long afternoon in my laboratory resting weary feet. I have completed tasks to report, goods to sell, and questions to ask. I have secured my door with the usual measures and look forward to a sound sleep, hopefully uninterrupted by the Dark Brotherhood.
I was awakened before dawn this morning by the settling mists of the Bitter Coast. While I enjoyed my night out of doors I don't think I want to make a habit of it. I skewered a fresh mudcrab for breakfast and set to rummaging the island for useful plants. By mid-morning I had explored most thoroughly and also stuffed my pack. To my surprise I found that I was sharing the island with what I assume is a smuggling operation. A well concealed cave on the north end of the island showed signs of recent occupation. Among other things to be done in Balmora I want to find out from Caius and Nine-Toes exactly what the Blades stance on smugglers is. I may come back and try to join them, or I might try raiding their cave.
With my bulging pack I headed across the water for home, making a fairly quick trip of it. While I was not actively hunting, the regular swamp denizens were, and I did add slightly to my already burdensome load. I also had a chance to use another of my newly learned applications of the mystic arts, which went surprisingly well. One of the soul gems I picked up is now charged with the life force of a cliff racer. Although it is of limited power this gem can now be used to enchant a weapon or other item. I will definitely check with Galbedir the enchantress tomorrow when I arrive at the guild hall to see what can be made of this.
The afternoon passed peacefully and profitably. I am becoming more skilled at refining my invigorating elixers, and sold half a dozen flasks to Arrille when I went to the tradehouse for dinner. Making large batches of potions of course makes for some lulls, and I spent those well experimenting with the wide array of plant, animal, and mineral substances that I have found to contain some trace elements of magic. The most interesting effect I found today came from a combination of juices from the meat of a nix-hound and one of the fungi I collected for Ajira. This odd concoction heightened my magical sense to a shocking degree, lending the mundane substance of the world a degree of transparency through which enchanted items shone clearly. I'm sure this will be most useful in my future tomb raids, as any locked or secret compartment containing an enchanted item will be clearly revealed. What I brewed up today had such limited range that I opted to sell it to Arrille, but noted the recipe for future refinements. Perhaps I will upgrade some of my laboratory equipment.
Tomorrow promises to be a busy day, and I will enjoy resting in my own cot tonight. This trip to Balmora may be more than an overnight stay.
Day Fifteen: Student of history
As I write I cannot help but wonder if this journal can convey even a faint echo of the power of knowledge that surrounds me tonight. I am sitting in the library of the Mage's Guild hall in Balmora with my head bursting with newfound knowledge. I am exhausted in mind and body, but strangely energized as well.
I arrived by the early morning strider, and quickly made my way here to deliver Ajira's mushrooms. She was very grateful, and presented me with healing potions, exactly what I needed most! Her skills do not yet match Tyermaillin's, and these are not as powerful as his, but they will surely be useful and I expressed my own deepest gratitude to her. As I had hoped she also gave a glowing recommendation to her mentor, and Ranis Athrys has promoted me to Apprentice rank.
Ajira In Her Lab
I made the rounds, greeting my fellows and receiving their congratulations and expanding what I hope to eventually call friendships. The diversity of the guild is truly a joy, with Khajiit and Bosmer, Dunmer and Imperial, even an Orc, all working together. My own Breton heritage seems to complement the mix and they certainly make me welcome. I picked up good advice for my first major project here in the city as well, and then spent the rest of the day on that; learning more about the assassins that plague my steps.
The Dark Brotherhood, I have found, has a deeply bitter enemy in an organization called the Morag Tong. The Morag Tong is also a guild of assassins for hire, however they operate only here in Morrowind and are governed by a tight body of ancient customs as well as law. To my surprise they are completely legitimate under Morrowind law and operate openly here in Balmora from a guild house in the best part of town. I went there with some trepidation, but ended up spending most of the day with Gilyan Sedas, a well mannered Dunmer who is far more openly friendly to an outlander such as myself than many that I have met. When I asked his trade he answered with complete nonchalance that he is indeed an assassin. He is quite proud of his standing in the Morag Tong, and excellent company.
With Gilyan's assistance I successfully marketed the black armor to every armorer in town, completely draining their coffers. In all three shops as they were making repairs, I noted that minor alterations were being made. In every case there was no intention to resell the fine black mail. Every armorer in Balmora is now clad in as much of the Dark Brotherhood chain as they could afford, leaving me with a full set for myself, some extra pieces, and a substantial weight of gold coin. Through the day Gilyan also taught me a great deal about how to take best advantage of this light armor, and I am wearing most of a set under my formal robes now.
This evening I spent reading here in the hall. Prompted I suppose by being in the Emperor's service, I was inclined to study some Imperial history, and on a couple of recommendations took up k'Thojj's 'Brief History of the Empire'. Brief is of course relative, and this work of four volumes would merit more than an evening's study for a historian. For a former villain forcibly retired into His Majesty's intelligence corps an evening was sufficient. I have a feel for how Uriel Septim VII came to be the emperor and the forces that would keep him there or remove him. I also noted that on more than one occasion the Dark Brotherhood was instrumental in the imperial succession. Clearly the ties that bind me, the Emperor, and the assassins guild have a weight of history behind them.
I feel safe sleeping here tonight, but wonder if even the security of the guild hall will be sufficient if the higher ranks of the Dark Brotherhood come to bear upon me.
Day Sixteen: Intriguing mages
The ways of mages astound me. It becomes more and more clear to me that the guild runs on personalities, petty alliances, and intrigue. I am very comfortable here, unlike my home in Seyda Neen, which has obviously been marked as a regular stopover for passing assassins or sleeping in the wilderness with a wary eye for rats, crabs and other scavengers who can't tell sleeping from dead. But comfort I think would have a cost. By maintaining myself as a visitor rather than a resident I can hopefully avoid becoming too embroiled in the cheerful infighting, if I haven't already.
I awoke this morning among my fellows, who were bustling about getting on with the business of the day. As I left the breakfast table Ajira approached me, slipping a soul gem into my palm. I sensed mischief afoot, and wondered if there was a diplomatic way to stay out of it given that Ranis has me somewhat assigned to helping the wily Khajiit. What I was trying to avoid was getting involved in Ajira's bet with Galbedir. Khajiit and Bosmer have warred on and off throughout history, and here in the guild this battle has been reduced from violence to a steady bickering. Mostly reduced anyway, according to the Orc Sharn gra-Muzgob the debate escalated not long ago to erupt in battling atronachs conjured from the elemental fire plane. There was no avoiding Ajira's feline hiss. My new assignment was to secrete the gem in Galbedir's desk. It is a fake, and will likely throw one of Galbedir's assignments into complete disarray. I had a tough time with sabotaging Galbedir. Like all Bosmer she is very open with her feelings, and when a wood elf likes you you know you are liked. Galbedir likes me, and in two visits to Balmora she has been probably the friendliest person in town. I justified my actions by telling myself that she did do her part in causing the rivalry with Ajira, and the current bet over which would make journeyman rank first was what really opened up this can of worms. I'm just the latest worm in the fray, so to speak.
Galbedir the Enchantress
I did complete the task, slipping the stone into Galbedir's desk, but partly in atonement and partly because she really is a good enchanter I probably overpaid her for helping me enchant my belt. Even though my gem with the cliff racer's energy is not all that powerful we put almost twice as much healing magic in the belt as my ring could manage. The belt will serve me well, and the practice and sale will look good for her. Hopefully she won't mention who the buyer was, at least for a while. Perhaps I can tell Ajira that I was making the purchase to distract her while I placed the gem.
No matter how the plotting of the bettors turned out, I thought it best to be out of the guild hall, and under the pretext of picking up healing potions from Tyermaillin I reported to my contacts in the Blades. Again I got the potions at a terrific discount, and Tyermaillin gave me a small pouch of coins to deliver for him to Nine-Toes, ostensibly as payment for some ingredients he wanted from the Argonian hunter. With that as an excuse I could stop at his house without raising questions.
Nine Toes was very pleased with my additions to his maps, and agreed that it was probably time for me to leave Seyda Neen. The next village up the coast is called Hla Oad. It is nothing but a tiny fishing village and I don't know if I will even be able to find lodgings there, but it should offer me some shelter from the assassins, at least for a while. With Hla Oad as a destination Nine Toes also suggested that I see Larrius Varro, champion of the Imperial Legion garrison at the nearby fort. Fort Moonmoth lies a short hike beyond the city walls, and I sauntered out the gates enjoying the bright midday sun.
Larrius Varro greeted me warmly, though obviously he is burdened with his duties. Maintaining Imperial law in a region dominated by the 'business first' leadership of the Dunmer great house Hlaalu must be quite challenging. When he heard that I was considering a hunting expedition to Hla Oad he requested that I ease some of that burden for him. Apparently some Nord bandit has declared the local roads to be his private tollways, and Varro suggested, in a roundabout way, that even though it was officially the Legion's problem to deal with he would welcome any unfortunate accident that might befall this Nord. Again I find myself questioning my motivations. There was a time not long ago where I would have praised the Nord for his ingenuity, as long as I could slip by without paying him overmuch. Now I seem constantly coming down on the side of the authorities.
I returned to the guild hall as evening fell, and enjoyed a hearty meal and good company. Ajira has moved on from fungus to flowers, and gave me a new list of ingredients she would like me to find. The undercurrent strains among the apprentices provided much amusement, and I considered betting that I would be a journeyman before either of them. As the newest member I thought better of it, but I'm sure it gives my Breton ancestors a chuckle as I head for bed.
Day Seventeen: No home for me
So much for moving to Hla Oad. That town demonstrates the cuddly warmth of a mudcrab. I am bedding down on board the Harpy as a passenger of the shipmaster Baleni Salavel, bound for Gnaar Mok. It seemed a better choice than trying to make camp in the dark.
I arose before dawn, eager to start wrapping things up in Seyda Neen. I even squandered precious magica to transport myself using my recall spell rather than taking the strider. Stowing my city clothes and gathering my travel gear took only a few minutes and I headed out to Hla Oad, planning to accomplish two things along the way. It is certainly time for me to move on. I found myself studying the faces of anyone who was out at that hour. Who was surprised to see me? Were they just surprised because no one saw me return, but here I was walking out of my shack? Or was there something sinister, perhaps a watcher for the Dark Brotherhood? I must move on before I start killing people for looking at me strangely in the street.
By mid-morning I had arrived at my first objective, the tomb. I had first found this tomb the same day I found the Tharys family crypt, and remember thinking on the day I first entered that subterranean nightmare that I would explore them both in one day also. Then I learned first hand about skeleton archers and ancestral spirits. Today I learned firsthand about another undead guardian in the tombs of the Dunmer. I don't know if these horrors are constructs of the interred dead, or the lingering remainders of previous tomb robbers. They walk, shambling in a misshapen human way. Skin hangs from them in patches, but they are mostly made up of the naked muscle, oozing fluids that glisten in the torchlight. In places there are protrusions of bone. They speak in guttural moans and gurgles from their wasted throats, emitting harrowing curses that left me weakened and discouraged. In the first chamber of the tomb I was set upon by a pair of these terrifying monsters, and before my wildly thrusting spear could dispatch them they were joined by another, and then another.
Are they constructs, made from the flesh of the dead? When they are struck by a weapon it seems their flesh parts easily, but wounds do not slow them. Only the enchanted devil spear was effective, and it battered through not their flesh, but a magical binding energy that I believe gives them life. Amidst their decaying flesh I found soul gems, which could be the core around which the flesh is bound. I wonder though if that is truly their origin, because I fear I may have been on the way to becoming one. I seem to have contracted something, from contact or their curses. I felt weak, exhausted, and it appeared as if my skin was beginning to grow soft and rotten, taking on a brownish tone. I could imagine, if allowed to continue, that it would soon be hanging in ragged strips much like the skin of my adversaries. I quickly used a curative spell from a scroll, which solved the problem, but I wonder if without that restorative magic I would have ended up a replacement for the guardians I had dispatched.
Like the first, this tomb contains a shrine to Saint Veloth. There are other similarities in construction and the burial process, with large urns supported on block shaped altars used to inter the dead and numerous upturned spears sporting the ancestral skulls. There are differences though, in the size and layout of the tomb. The Samarys clan, to which this tomb belongs, is apparently larger and wealthier than the Tharys clan. The burial urns are for more numerous, somewhat crowding a double entry chamber connected by a short hall. In the second entry chamber I found the shrine, and a door to the innermost crypt. When I opened the door I was beset by a skeleton warrior, this one armed with a broadsword and shield, who I calmly dispatched. After the horrors I had faced a skeleton warrior just did not seem as much of a problem as in my previous encounters. The shorter reach of the broadsword offered ample opportunity to drive my spear through its defenses and it was soon reduced to a pile of dust and bones.
In a place of honor at the far end of the inner crypt, alone on a stone alter, stands an ornate burial urn lidded with a seal promising serious damage to the unwary. I tripped the trap with a well insulated iron probe I carry just for such occasions and let the energies dissipate harmlessly. The inscriptions on the urn identified the contents as one 'Lord Brinne', and the local spectral population murmured their displeasure as I poked through the distinguished ashes. Buried in the ashes I found an ornate ring set with purple stones. Could this be the lost Mentor's Ring? Cautiously I placed the ring on my finger and immediately I could feel the powerful magic that gave it its name. My will and intellect have been augmented, giving me greater access to and control over all areas of spellcasting. My first intended task of the day was complete, and a resounding success.
From that time to this nothing has gone well. Every attempt to climb into the coastal mountains behind the tomb was thwarted by their steep slopes. All afternoon I circled, trying from every side, following narrow ledges, leaping for imagined footholds. As the sun dipped in the west I conceded defeat and followed the road towards my destination. In the gathering darkness I lost the track more than once, and were it not for a seemingly endless flock of cliff racers I would probably have just made camp. Pressing on I arrived at Hla Oad, only to find that the local tradehouse is a front operation for a criminal syndicate known as the Cammona Tong, everyone in town knows it and no one cares, and as a non-member I was about as welcome as a stray slaughterfish in a bathing trough. Fortunately I found the Harpy ready to set sail, and took passage more for the bunk than the transport.
Day Eighteen: Breeding netch
Gnaar Mok may not be the most hospitable place in the world, but after Hla Oad it's nice to have a place to lay my head. The trade house here is called the Druegh-jigger's Rest, and is apparently named for some local sea creature. When the Harpy docked with the dawn I was not received with open arms, but presenting myself as a simple hunter who had been basically run out of Hla Oad got me directed to the Rest.
In addition to its other functions, the Rest serves as a gathering place for the thieve's guild, whose main operative locally is a Khajiit called Wadarkhu. He is gruff, and the way the others talk about him he is strong medicine. Apparently strong medicine is needed here. The thieve's guild is embroiled in a major gang war with the well entrenched Cammona Tong. The Tong is Morrowind local, almost exclusively Dunmer as far as I've seen, and heavy on bigoted posturing. I don't think my cover in the Mages Guild or my service to the Emperor would be served by involving myself directly with the Thieves Guild, but I'm starting think that any of these Cammona Tong that get belligerent with me I'm just going to skewer. If for no better reason than that they are heavily into the slave trade. I kept my opinions on the Tong to myself mostly, but did curry some favor with Wadarkhu. When he saw I was a hunter he took an interest, and told me about a recent attack his boat had suffered from a pair of netch. I've seen these huge creatures floating in the air, but they have always seemed very docile. Wadarkhu informs me that when they breed they become aggressive and dangerous, and apparently this breeding pair has staked out a territory north of town. I gathered as much information as I could before setting out. The larger netch, with six powerful tentacles dangling from an oval gasbag, is the bull, and will fire bolts of magical poison before closing to attack. The round betty netch is more aggressive, though smaller and with only four tentacles.
Armed with my bow, my poison antidote, my new knowledge, and the best wishes of the locals I set off to the north. It did not take long to identify the culprits. While most netch drift slowly along the breeding pair was jetting around in a jagged pattern. I circled patiently. The opportunity I looked for was to have the two netch separated by a significant distance, and headed in opposite directions. In their random charges they eventually complied and I sprinted to intercept the bull, which was nearest.
I did not get very close, and skidded to a halt nocking an arrow. Aiming high on the gasbag I released, and quickly drew and fired again. One arrow thumped harmlessly off the heavy hide, but the other pierced through and the netch jerked in the air, tentacles flailing as it turned. I started running. I made a couple of erratic moves and used trees for cover as much as possible to spoil the beast's aim. Success. My maneuvering and the pursuit brought me and the netch very close together without any poison bolts fired, and I dodged through the battering tentacles while stabbing up through the softer underside with my spear. With a loud sigh of escaping gas the netch settled to earth, dead I suppose, but I ran my spear through it several times to be sure.
While making sure of the bull I kept a wary eye in the direction of the betty, who had stopped dashing about and was turning in slow circles. Obviously she was looking for the bull, but had not seen him drop through the tree cover. I sighted carefully and launched an arrow, then another, and another. The betty netch either had a tougher hide or is just a lot more durable. My arrows did not slow the creature's charge for an instant. Again I tried to make use of the trees, but this netch was faster and more maneuverable. As our courses converged I called once more on my Breton heritage and toughened my hide for the beating I could surmise was inevitable. I barely completed the spell before I was engulfed in a swirl of thrashing tentacles. As I ducked and rolled I unslung my new steel halberd. The blade left deep gashes in tentacles as I drove the point up into the gasbag hovering above with rapid strokes. More than once I was knocked off my feet, but always I kept my point up, holding the monster off as I gathered myself to continue the fray. Suddenly, with a bursting rush of gas, the full weight of the creature was falling on me! I braced the butt of my halberd on the ground and angled the falling mass away with the blade to avoid being crushed beneath it. After untangling myself and my battered halberd from the sprawling tentacles and flattened gasbag of the netch I healed myself with my belt, cut out some large patches of quality netch leather, and returned to Gnaar Mok.Having resolved a problem for them the locals greeted my return with much greater appreciation, and I was grateful for their hospitality. I will be bunking in a hammock in the Rest tonight, and I cannot imagine the Dark Brotherhood finding me in this remote corner of the Bitter Coast.
Day Nineteen: A new home
Tonight I am once again sleeping in the security of a ship at sea. It is not as comfortable this time. The shipmaster Valveli Arelas runs a tight ship, but the Priggage is open hulled. I will be bedded down between the thwarts, hoping against the rain. I will probably be a regular passenger, so I'm hoping this first journey goes well.When I awoke this morning at the Druegh-jigger's Rest I was already considering the possibilities presented by Gnaar Mok. It is so remote that it seems an ideal place to stay out of the path of the Dark Brotherhood. It was a thought, but there were obviously immediate problems with it. The hospitality of the Rest was certainly good...For a night. Probably even for a short stay. Balan the scout and Hinald the pawnbroker had warmed to me nicely even if Wadarkhu was still gruffly tolerant at best, but the Rest could be looked upon as a guild hall for the Thieve's Guild. Unofficial, as is always the case, but already spoken for as a place to reside. Hinald definitely lives there, and for the most part so does Wadarkhu when not on his boat. Without joining the guild I'm sure my welcome would run out quickly.
As I enjoyed the camaraderie this morning I gave some consideration to joining the guild, but again that would conflict with my ultimate aims. It is also clear that the Thieve's Guild is deeply embroiled in a turf war with the Cammona Tong. In Gnaar Mok this isn't just something to consider, it's an every day fact of life that has to be dealt with, and in general there is a consensus that the Thieve's Guild has no chance. The guild has always relied on smooth and skillful operations, and is poorly equipped for a battle with the well established Tong. Even though I will not be joining the guild I will be taking some of the pressure off of my new friends.
Gnaar Mok is located at the narrow waist of a small island, and is connected to the mainland by rough planks for those who want to keep their feet dry, or a short wade for those who don't. In keeping with my guise as a simple hunter I explored the island. I moved carefully at the southern end, site of a cave known as Shurinbaal. This cave is an operating center for smugglers, smugglers who are beholden to the Cammona Tong if not members outright. Enriching myself at their expense would also start shifting the balance in favor of the guild. I took a wary survey and moved on. Now I have to consider whether keeping my own peace with the Tong might be more prudent if I'm going to stay in residence.
Staying in Gnaar Mok became much more attractive in the early afternoon when I discovered an uninhabited shack on a small island to the seaward side of the village proper. The shack is sorely run down, and the mystery of what became of the prior inhabitant may call for some further looking into, but the convenience of his departure is too good to overlook. I placed my magical marker inside, and will use that to transport my laboratory and other possessions from Seyda Neen. Arriving by teleportation in such a remote location should make me very difficult to track.
For now, a good night's sleep.
Day Twenty: Dumb as a kagouti
Today has been a day of running. My time in Morrowind has certainly improved my conditioning. A steady stream of restoratives helps too. I could jokingly say that I ran like the Dark Brotherhood was chasing me, but I wouldn't be able to laugh. Well, safe here in the guild hall I probably could.
The Priggage docked in Hla Oad shortly before dawn. I had no reason to talk to anyone there, so I set out resolutely for Seyda Neen. On the way I mapped out the area from the village to the river Odai, which seems to be some sort of nesting ground for the cliff racers. They attacked me in swarms. My healing belt served me well, as I could heal near instantly and move on where previously I would have had to seek shelter and rest.
Once I crossed the river I was in familiar territory. As I ran along the base of the coastal mountains a feeling came over me, a strange dissatisfaction. Whatever the purpose of Nine-Toes mapping project it would probably be well enough served by just noting this area as 'mountains, impassable'. That weighed on me though, and a new sense of determination welled up in me. I will survey those mountains. With that determination came the beginnings of the plan which has me here in Balmora tonight.
Driven by my sudden urge for completion I added a brief dash across the water to map out some rocky outcrops visible offshore. They turned out to be barren; too small to serve any useful purpose. Adding them to my map added to my own newfound sense of purpose though, and I was glad to have made the slight detour. After making my landfall I rushed on to Seyda Neen, arriving in time for lunch at the tradehouse.
Having settled on spending a little more time before my move to Gnaar Mok I was faced with the prospect of sleeping in my familiar shack, which I had come to consider as marked with a bullseye on some map in Dark Brotherhood headquarters, wherever that may be. I suppose not wanting to sleep there was at the root of my thoughts over lunch, as reasons to make a trip to Balmora boiled to the surface one after another. Gnaar Mok is even more remote than Seyda Neen, I should get all my spears sharpened before I go. Someone at the Mage's Guild should have some idea about surveying impassable mountains. I have a handful of soul gems charged with the energies of cliff racers, perhaps I could get another item that would turn out as useful as my belt.
With all of those thoughts rushing about my conversation with Raflod and Elone, who are both widely traveled, naturally turned to ways to get to Balmora. My only experience had been taking the silt strider, but the two scouts debated the virtues of the roads and cross country paths they had taken. When Ajira set me to the task of collecting flower samples she had suggested the road to Suran along the shores of Lake Amaya as a good place to look. I already had two of the four she specifically requested, and asked my guides if the various roads they were discussing would lead me to areas likely to yield the others.
Armed with Elone's assurances that I could reach Balmora by nightfall, and likely find Ajira's flowers growing alongside the road, I took off at a steady jog. Heavily laden with all of my spears it was a tiresome run. Since I had no desire to camp in the wilderness tonight I pressed for a fast pace and used restoratives to maintain my energies rather than stopping to catch my breath when I grew fatigued. I also reasoned that any assassin following me out of Seyda Neen would be hard pressed to keep up.
My only respite came when the road was clearly blocked by a fearsome looking creature. I halted some distance away after angling off into some underbrush. The creature stood on two powerfully muscled legs, its oval body suspended between. The hide, mottled on top and creamy white underneath, looked to be very thick but pliable, especially around the leg joints. I surmised that the beast would be surprisingly fast for such a behemoth. A bony pointed snout and two long glistening tusks made me suspect that I would not fare well if it ran me down. I considered working my way around through the brush, but Elone had said there were many roads in the area, and while they are clearly marked at junctions I could get lost if I stumbled out of the brush onto the wrong road. Willing my aim to be steady I stepped out into the road with my bow in my hands.
Kagouti
My aim was true enough to get the monster's attention, but the shot fell higher than I had intended and glanced off the thick hide of its back. It raised its head from its browsing, and uttering a horrible bellow charged down the road. Thankfully, as the creature hurtled down the road it continued to raise its head high to scream out its challenge, exposing the wide pale breast. I buried shot after shot, wondering how much punishment the oncoming horror could withstand. With a final shot I tossed my bow to the ground and quickly unslung the sharpest of my numerous spears. I crashed the butt of the spear into the soil to make a divot and braced it with my foot. Bearing down with all my weight I laid the point low. Without hesitation the snout and tusks passed over the tip, and I leaned quickly to lift it into the belly. The weight of the fast charging beast hit the spear and the impact sent me sprawling to the ground. It also drove the spear completely through to emerge in a gush of blood from the thick hide of the back just above the stubby tail. The entry was a long rip in the softer underbelly, and the beast's entrails glistened in the sunlight as it thrashed on its side in the dirt.
I marveled at the four arrows protruding from the breast, only three of which were mine. The fourth was surrounded by thick scar tissue, a memento of a previous encounter from which the beast obviously learned nothing. This evening, when I was describing the incident to Ajira she laughed her purring Khajiiti laugh and said "now friend Arvil Bren, you know the meaning of the saying 'dumb as a kagouti'." There is a market for kagouti hides, and clearly a market among the kagouti for brains, though they don't know it.
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