Part 1.1

"Profitable hunting, lads?" asked Arrille as he looked at the two Dunmer before him. The left one was bald, with a scar where his left eye had been, and various other scars besides. He was covered in chitin armor, save helmet and shield, and had a shortsword at his belt. Jiub grinned and nodded to his counterpart, a slightly younger Dunmer. This one also looked shifty, but in a different way. Jiub looked like he'd won, well, survived, countless street fights. The other mer, Dasreth, looked as if he'd managed to trick his way out of them every time, and had something cocky to show for it. Dasreth was less muscular than Jiub, with a face that the poets could be inclined to call 'darkly handsome'. Whatever that meant. His short black hair was dishevelled, and he had three earrings, one in his left ear and two in his right. He was less heavily armored than Jiub, with only a cuirass, greaves, and boots, and also carried an iron shortsword.

"Well enough. Feast your eyes on these assembled pieces of plunder, Arrille. I'd say the lot's worth about hundred drakes total."

The Altmer nodded, his eyes gliding over the pile of items looted from the smuggler cavern of Addamasartus that Dasreth had pulled out of his backpack and onto the table. He did not know about the two bottles of skooma and the thirteen packets of moon sugar that they had also found, and this, Dasreth thought, was for the better. With the Census and Excise Office right under his nose, he likely wouldn't be quite inclined to trade in those things. Arrille shoved the assorted pile of weapons, alcohol, armor scraps and clothing into a crate. "Tolvise, pay these gentlemen, please. I'm going down to sort through this."

A pretty young Dunmer woman nearby nodded, gliding over to the counter and counting down exactly hundred drakes from Arrille's money box, then put them in a pouch and handed it over to Dasreth. Dasreth took it eagerly, putting his hand on hers and caressing it with a finger. While doing this, he said:

"Thank you...Tolvise. If I can ever do anything for you, just tell me. It'd be my pleasure."

Tolvise removed her hand from Dasreth's, and looked him in the eyes. Dasreth, not taking the time to check the expression on her face, gave her a wink and a grin.

PETCH!

And was returned a slap. Tolvise walked away in a huff, muttering darkly. Behind him, Dasreth heard Jiub emit a raspy chuckle. Still rubbing the fiery red spot on his cheek where he'd been hit, the Mer turned around angrily.

"What's so bloody funny, scarface?"

"You are," Jiub replied.

"I don't see you doing any better! Besides. That used to work. I tried it so often. Must've gotten rusty in the clink... happens often, I heard. There weren't a lot of pretty ladies around there, and they put me in a cell with this orc who took male bonding and prisonerly brotherhood a tad too seriously."

"What happened to that one then, Dasreth?"

"Well, Jiub, he got shivved mysteriously after telling me how cute he thought my butt was. End of story."


Post scriptum: this is my new attempt at a story based on Morrowind which I recently resumed playing. Do not expect the protagonist to be a noble good guy. Do not expect him to be completely stark raving evil, either. For the time being these may seem like tales of humorous incompetence, but do bear in mind that this personage is still Level One. My game uses many mods, such as the CM Partners mod which allows me to have Jiub as a companion. By reading this work of fanfiction, skimming it, laying your eyes on its title on the topic list or breathing, lord_wanhoop legally owns all rights to your soul and the soul of your firstborn child. Many NPCs were hurt physically, mentally, and/or emotionally during the making of this fanfiction. Who cares? We sure don't. LaToaSSD is sponsored by Hlaalu Egg Mining Inc. If you are still reading this, comment already. lord_wanhoop's writing efforts are supported purely by positive yet honest feedback and dubious skooma mixtures.

Hehe....funny this one! Good start Milord Wanhope......hope you´ll continue it! bravo!

Thank you! It's part of my writing style, which is influenced by my personality, which is unable to take anything seriously. Therefore, this piece will contain goodly amounts of (what passes for) humor. But it won't get silly or get in the way of the tale I wish to tell to ye.

I hope.

I give you a thumbs up for an excellent disclaimer

This looks like a promising start. Continue when you wish.

Ask, and you and various other people could recieve.

Part 1.2

The next day, Dasreth and Jiub emerged into the daylight sun as soon as it deemed fit to show its face, Jiub looking a bit more well rested than the other mer. Dasreth, however, had been observing a certain resident of the town and then swept in to take his assorted riches. He then kept them for himself rather than returning even a share, effectively doublecrossing two people who'd offered him friendship. When Jiub was told of this, he chuckled. Neither Dunmer liked any of the two mentioned people. The two of them soon left, heading a bit west and taking a hike cross-country rather than on the beaten path. The pair of thieves noted a few kwama foragers near a rock, so they decided to take a closer look. What they saw shocked them a bit: an Imperial man, a rolled-up scroll and money bag clutched in his hands, lying face-down on the ground, with the kwama nibbling at his left leg. After dispatching the kwama with their shortswords, Dasreth took the scroll (and also the money) and read it.

"Looks like this guy's the local taxman, Processius Vitellus. Well, was."

"What do you think happened, Dasreth?" , Jiub asked. Dasreth winked, and handed the scroll to the other Dunmer, crouching over the corpse.

"Well. You may think he got killed by a beast of some kind while trying to make a run to greener pastures with embezzled money, but there is evidence disproving it."

"Like what?"

"Elementary, my dear Jiub! First off. See how he doesn't got any blood or claw marks on him? Only these bruises at the throat. That means he was violently strangled, and kwama don't do that. Secondly, if he wanted to make a run with other people's money, he would've had more with him. This scroll says he got more than twice the amount here from our friend Arrille alone. And thirdly, he was headed out into the Bitter Coast, which ain't exactly a green pasture of any kind even if you happen to be from Seyda Neen."

"Good thinking there. That makes sense. So what do we do now? Take the money and run?"

"That's possible. Or we could head to the Excise guys and offer to solve it for them, may be more in it for us that way."

And so the two thieves returned to town. As it turned out, Socucius Ergalla was more than willing to offer a substantial reward for the punishment of the culprit. Thusly, the pair split up to find more information from the townsfolk. Dasreth looked around and trained his eyes on Indrele Rathyron, another one of Seyda Neen's fair flowers of womanhood, and one that he had been able to chat up with moderate success and a notable absence of (threats of) slapping. He semi-suavely sidled over to her, seeking eye contact.

"Afternoon, Indrele."

"Is there something I can do for you?" Indrele replied, keeping her face indifferent.

Oh yes, honey, I'm sure I could think of plenty of things you could do for me...and to me... , Dasreth thought, but what he said was:

"I found Processius Vitellus murdered. Thoughts?"

"He's dead then? Well, it sounds cold, but he had it coming for a while. Nobody in town liked him; everyone knew he was taking some of the tax money for himself, but Socucius wouldn't do anything about it. The only one who could stand him was Thavere Vedrano, the lighthouse keeper. She's a bit of a loner, but seems like a nice enough person...but the rumor's been for months that the two of them had a thing with eachother."

"A thing, eh?" Dasreth snickered. "I suppose I'd best go talk to her, then. Thanks, Indrele. If I can ever do anything at all for you, just ask me." Dasreth grinned widely and winked. Then he closed his eyes in anticipation...

...but instead of a slap, he felt his cheek being touched by some vague, soft, not unpleasant feeling, then the sound of a woman giggling and walking away. Opening his eyes, the thief wondered just what in Oblivion's name had just happened. Then, Jiub came walking up to him.

"Thavere Vedrano...," Dasreth said.

"..the lighthouse keeper...," Jiub added

"...was said to have a thing for Processius...," Dasreth continued

"...so we should go speak to her." Jiub finished.

Any views violently exhibited regarding the murder of tax collectors are purely the characters' own and do not speak on behalf of the LaToaSSD staff. And now a word from our sponsor: try new Hlaalu-Brand Xtra-Lite eggs! Five times as small as your regular kwama egg, and for exactly the same price! Buy Hlaalu products. We care about your money.

A colourful bunch, aren't they? I like it. Somehow, it feels good to have a few people running around who are not serious all the time.

Aye, we could go for some humor 'round these parts. We have been writing mostly serious stuff lately...

Maybe that means I should include another Dremora Memoir to the Temple. They're cheesy, but then cheese is good in small amounts!

Anyways, great update. Your style makes these familiar quests seem very fresh and unique; I'm enjoying it. Now I feel like having some kwama eggs...

Well Done Lord Wanhoop! Well Done! I'm still chuckling as I write this, please,....keep it up!

I actually have the first 4 or so posts written. Here's the third one, wherein we get violence. Yay.

1.3

Thavere Vedrano, the lighthouse keeper of Seyda Neen, took the news of her lover's death rather poorly, to say the least. Dasreth had not finished his sentence or she broke down in hysterics, sobbing uncontrolably. Not being used to this thing - after all, he was usually the one who left behind a broken heart rather than the one who had to sweep up the pieces - he faintly patted her on the shoulder, muttering "there, there" while Jiub stood off to the side glancing about sheepishly. Finally, Thavere ceased crying for long enough to get out some sobbed words.

"I can't believe it...he was the gentlest man I ever met...he never got angry at anyone...only once or twice...at Foryn Gilnith...it must've been Foryn...he's a brute...please..."

Thavere broke down into sobs for a minute, leaving the two mer to look sheepish. Then she tugged on Dasreth's arm, hard, and whispered.

"I gave Processus...a ring...he cherished it...if it was Foryn, he'd have taken it..and if it really was him..." Thavere paused, and looked up at Dasreth. She stared intensely into his eyes, hers reddened even more than was natural to the Dunmer, and her face wet of tears. Harshly, she whispered. "Kill him. Murder him for me, Dasreth. Make him suffer. And bring back my ring..."

The two mer left. Again asking Indrele (who even batted her eyelashes at Dasreth, as if to ask when he was going to ask for directions to her place... or she could just have blinked.) they soon found out that Gilnith lived in a run-down shack in the poor district of Seyda Neen, which consisted of less than a half-dozen run-down shacks facing the sea. Swinging the door open without knocking, Dasreth and Jiub fingered their shortswords as the former adressed Gilnith threateningly, asking plainly:

"Did you happen to kill Processius Vitellus lately?"

Gilnith looked up, and snickered. He was dressed in the rough rags of a fisherman, and had a pair of arms almost as wide as Dasreth's were long. It wasn't hard to imagine him throttling Imperial tax collectors with them.

"So what've I did? Processius was corrupt! He'd asked far more tax than we could pay! He took the money of honest Dunmer to buy pretty trinkets for himself an' that 'ore Thavere! She's a shame t'our race, letting the greedy Imperial bestr'd into her in exchange for tax exemption! I'm givin' ya a chance here. Don't spill this to anyone and you gets to walk out alive."

"I'm afraid, Foryn, that won't be an option." Dasreth grinned, and he and Jiub simultaneously drew their shortswords with a metallic sound.

"So you're more empire-lovers, then? I'll die before I beg for yer mercy!"

Gilnith lurched at the both thieves. But his main asset was his brute strength, and furthermore his victim had been scrawny, unarmed and unarmored. His current opponents were not: they were swift, deadly, and even with their shortswords had a better reach than Foryn did. They spread out, each picking one of Foryn's sides to stab at. Unable to fight them both at the same time, Foryn decided to focuse on Jiub, seeing him as the more dangerous fighter. This gave Dasreth the time to sidestep around and sink his shortsword in the mer's back. As Foryn dropped to the ground with a gurgle, Dasreth whispered:

"You know, I don't love the empire, per say. It's just that they paid me really well to do that."

While Dasreth picked Processius' ring off Gilnith's corpse, Jiub looked around and said:

"You know, in one way he wasn't lying."

"How so?" Dasreth asked as he wiped the ring against his shirt to get the worst of the bloodstains off it.

"Nothing in this dump is worth the twohundred-twentyfive drakes he owed. Even combined."

The two thieves laughed as they exited the shack.

The management would like to impress upon you that any views regarding the violent murder of murderers are purely the characters' own and do not speak on behalf of the LaToaSSD staff. Furthermore, to the people who demanded a rating change from All Ages to 6+ for the scenes of violence above, nobody's forcing you to read it. Moron.

I love those disclaimers, and the really light-hearted approach to the ...darkish quests in Seyda Neen...I wonder if Dasreth and Indrele hook up in the near future?

Doubt it. He isn't really looking for anything beyond a one-night stand. Well, an as-many-as-you-want stand would be nice, too. But for now...let's say he ain't not exactly James Bond when it comes to charming the ladies.

Funny....and so well written! I still smile .....keep it up Milord!

Huzzah, praise! But I have a question towards you all... apart from the humor present that you so highly praise, do you like the other parts? As said, I don't mean to write purely a work of comedy...

Ok...I´ll tell you what I think:

You give the charachters life, and humour, and a good conversation...and that´s just awesome! I like your style and the flow of the story is really good....

Do I need to say more?

My ego wants me to say yes. I hit it on the head with a lead pipe to shut it up, and decided to give you this following extra:



Have a screenshot of our protagonists standing somewhere in the Ascadian isles. You can't see their faces perfectly, but I think it should still give you a good idea of what our anti-heroes look like.

The management desires your lunch money. Hand it over. Now.

I second Black Hand's opinion on the disclaimers. I almost read this fic for those alone. Almost read it; the actual story is great was well. I kinda wished I had Juib at the beginning of the game, it would make killing Foryn so much easier when you play in the game. I hate getting knocked out all the time!

Congrats on some great work!

Hmm, he is rather flirtatious. And yes, I love the disclaimers. Unfortunately for you, I skip lunch so I don't have any lunch money.

Mallet, Gilnith is easy. I remember this sword lesson from Lup:
,,If you meet a fool who thinks his fists are so great, let him pound on the sharp of your blade. That should show him that skin can't defeat solid steel. Don't forget to lob off his head afterwards. Nothing as annoying as a forgotten enemy who still holds a grudge."

Too bad Morrowind doesn't take that little rule into account. If you're not a sworduser though, I suppose that the 'run in-fight-run out-recover stamina-run in-kill' works.

Speaking about Gilnith a bit more, I've found that summoned creatures are either powerful enough to wipe him out in one hit or they get in the way and end up fighting against me.

Maybe it's best to simply let him go. 500 septims is cheap in the end and there are plenty of other houses to steal. Fargoth's looks nice. No drafty walls or leaking roof.

All movement based antics actually occured ingame. It was me being the stupid one, not my character. Still, it makes for good writin'.

1.4

After solving the business with Processius Vitellus, Dasreth and Jiub headed north for Balmora. Dasreth had his own business there, which he was not to tell anyone, even the friend he'd gotten off the prison ship with. Jiub was content, however, with the idea of it being a big city with plenty of work potential. After a few encounters with wildlife and a single random brigand, the companions reached Pelagiad where they stayed for the rest of the day. Dasreth used some time to unsuccesfully flirt with several prissy Imperial noblewomen, resulting mostly in various variations on the classic slap. Jiub was starting to think that his companion was intentionally trying to cultivate a layer of callous on his cheeks. They left town early the next day, delving into a cavern called Ulummusa where they obtained various items, such as an engraved silver bowl and a Belt of Northern Knuck Knuck, which Dasreth and Jiub agreed was Nord slang for something they didn't want to know, and where Dasreth got a nasty hit with a hammer that resulted in him having to lay down on one of the defeated bandits' hammocks as Jiub applied the mediocre healing powers of Fargoth's ring on him. Early in the afternoon Dasreth's head no longer felt like a mashed egg and the two of them resumed their journey. A few hours later, they were in a valley that seemingly had no way out except for the one they'd used to enter it. And it was getting dark.

"Hmm," said Dasreth as he placed the map they'd recieved on the ground. "According to this map we should be right at Balmora, or very close."

"Maybe it's behind those mountains?" , Jiub suggested. "It doesn't show height level very well, which is bloody incovenient. At least we should be able to see where we are up there."

"Good idea," Dasreth said. He rolled up the map and placed it in his backpack, then jogged up the slope at a steady pace, Jiub following behind more slowly. Upon reaching it, he pointed at the city below them, built out of what looked like sandstone in a local style different from what he was used to. Just now the city was glowing with many lights, as guards looking no smaller than insects went around to light lanterns and families came home for dinner, lighting candles to illuminate their houses.

"Balmora."

"Not bad," Jiub said.

"Come on, Jiub! We can make it before night settles properly!" Dasreth said enthousiastically, and started down the slope. As he did so, his chitin left boot made contact with a protruding rock, disturbing the mer's balance. This caused him to fall down, face first, onto the very steep slope. With a cry of "Oh shiiiii---" the young thief slided down, dragging with him a lot of loose gravel and groaning for the entire duration of this trip. It was mercifully short, however, for after a few seconds he landed face first into the Odai River.

"Bfffrrlgh!" Dasreth exclaimed, spitting out at least half a gallon of polluted river water. Behind him, Jiub roared with laughter as he steadily made his way down the rock face.

"What's so bloody funny, scarface?" asked Dasreth angrily of his companion. To which Jiub replied with, "You are."

"Hmph. We're not done yet... Last one on the other side is stupid and ugly!"

And with that, Dasreth plunged himself into the Odai and began swimming for the other bank. Jiub shook his head, and was still doing so as the soaked young mer got back ashore. Dasreth glared angrily as his companion came walking towards him calmly over the bridge that was just a few feet north of where he'd dived into the river.

"You know, Jiub, this makes you stupid. And ugly."

"I'm not the one who jumped into Vvardenfell's dirtiest river when there was a bridge right next to it."

House Hlaalu would like to make it clear to you that the Odai is not the streaming open sewer described in this work of speculative fiction but rather sparkly and clear, with a charming reflection at the times of dusk and dawn that can be seen particularly well from the balconies and rooftops of the many charming inns and hotels Balmora possesses where stays can be booked for as little as 10 drakes per day per person. This was a public service announcement by the Balmora Board of Tourism, under the motto 'Welcome to Balmora, You May Not Get Robbed'.