As I sit in this prison cell, hours before my execution, I have taken my time to reflect on my short, but glamorous life. I will be hung in two hours, killed in the middle of town, a just reality for my crimes. I do not dispute that I deserve to die, but at least let me recount my story, so you may be the judge.

I was born in Morrowind, at least I believe so. My mother was a hardworking honest woman, or so I am told. She disappeared one day, only to be found months later, murdered and floating in the River Odai. My father had been a noble warrior in the Imperial Legion, but had been killed in an odd experience with a rampaging Silt Strider. Or so I am told. I was orphaned at the ripe age of two, and was taken in by the local magistrate, a kindly albeit foolish man, who raised me well. Like every other person in my life, he met a horrible end, being assassinated by the local Cammona Tong thugs, because he wouldn’t let off one of their “members”. When he died, I was sixteen, legally an adult in Morrowind. Taking my few meager possessions, I set out to for an uncertain destiny, one to this day I cannot believe.

The magistrate and I had lived in Ebonheart, the heart of the Imperial occupation of Morrowind. While almost everyone around me had an opinion on the occupation, I was indifferent to it. It played no role in my life, not affecting me in the slightest. I bore no great hatred for Imperials, nor any great love for them, they were simply other people, supporting actors if you will. After the magistrates’ death, I set out for Vivec, a great city to be sure. I was sad to leave Ebonheart, but as an enterprising thief, this was clearly not the place for me. I had stolen from the local tavern numerous times, never getting caught. It seemed as though the magistrate’s death was a blessing in disguise. If I had stayed in Ebonheart, he would have certainly drafted me to be his assistant, eventually ending up as a magistrate myself. This certainly would not fit in with my plan, as I played on the other side of the law. Now back to my deportation from Ebonheart. I carried in my pack only a few mementos some sustenance and a bow and quiver of arrows. My aim was to travel light, lest I needed to flee quickly.

The day that I left Ebonheart, it rained in sheets, greatly impairing my vision. Looking back, the rain should’ve been seen an omen of things to come. The trip from Ebonheart to Vivec was short, taking less than one hour. I would’ve liked to have seen the sights, but obviously the rain axed that idea. I did manage to stop and pick up some saltrice and marshmerrow. Alchemy was one of my hobbies, something I hoped to practice in the future. The rain only got worse as I trudged forward, but somehow it didn’t deter me. When I reached Vivec, I was in awe of its sheer size, let alone it’s majestic beauty. I had been in the great city twice, both times for important trials. I had been much younger then, and everything still seemed as big as then. One note to add, the Magistrate left me a large amount of money, all which I promptly donated to the Argonian Mission. I preferred to be a self-made man, not have everything laid out for me. I was a man of no particular religion, but I had been raised to worship the Nine Divines.

Back to Vivec: As I walked into the Foreign Quarter, I was greeted by what I could only assume was some sort of performer, wearing armor. The mace the being held did not frighten me, as I found its armor all too comical. Being a smart-boat, I asked the being “And what do you do? Dance? Juggle?” It was wearing a mask, but I could feel the being glaring at me. “Watch your mouth, Bosmer. I am an Ordinator, a servant of Lord Vivec and an enforcer of the law. Don’t break the law, but I hear for your kind, that’s very difficult.” Ignoring the racial slur, I replied “So you don’t dance?” Spitting on the ground, the ‘Ordinator’, turned and walked away. I gave myself a mental pat on the back, annoying guards was always fun. Walking forward, I looked to the right and saw what seemed to be a boat and an oarsman to row it.


I walked over to him and said “My good fellow, can you give me some information on this splendid city?” Not missing a beat, the man replied with a slick “Can you give me some gold?” I liked this man, no nonsense. Pulling out some gold coins from my pack, I handed him ten one-gold pieces and said “Now, my information please.” The man’s eyes glinted as I pulled out the gold, and the only slightly diminished when he had to fulfill his part of the bargain. “Very well. What do you need to know?” Greedy he was, bright he wasn’t “Where can I find some shops? Who are the powerful people here? Where can I find the Great Houses? How can I make some easy money?” The man’s head seemed to spin with all these words.

“Should I say it slower, or write it down?” He ignored this and said “Shops can be found in every canton—“I interrupted him and said “Cantons?” Now he got to savor my inexperience “You don’t know what Cantons are?” he said with a sardonic laugh. “No, I don’t, but judging by your intelligence, you might not either.” He glared at me and said “Cantons are like small cities, each with their own shops, residents, plazas and in two cases, Great House councilors.”

I nodded and said “So you aren’t a moron, great. Now the rest of my questions.” He obviously was getting annoyed with me, but the gold still glinted in his pockets “Shops are found in the wasitworks, plazas, and in a few cases in the canalworks. All kinds of shops, clothiers, alchemists, weapon-masters, smithies, healers— “I interrupted him again and said

“Time is money, my good sir, now the rest of my questions.” He was growing increasingly impatient, but I didn’t care. “The powerful people are obviously the Hlaalu House councilors who have taken up residence here. Councilor Crassius Curio lives atop the Hlaalu canton, in a splendid mansion. I’m told if you want to join that house, he’s the one to go to. Dram Bero, lives somewhere in Vivec, though few know where, some say the St. Olms Canton. Yngling Half-Troll, also a Hlaalu Councilor, lives in manor on the plaza of the St. Olms Canton. Archcanon Tholer Saryoni is probably one of the three most powerful men in Vivec, next to Beral Sala, head of the Ordinators and Vivec Himself.” I nodded and said “And money?

” He said “Many residents of Vivec are lazy, and would gladly except your help in small favors. The Fighters Guild, Mages Guild and it is rumored the Thieves Guild, all reside somewhere in the Foreign Quarter.” I nodded one more time and said “Here’s some more gold. Buy yourself a new hat.” I tossed him some gold and walked away.


The rain was getting worse, and I needed a place to stay. I remembered the magistrate saying that the St. Olms and St. Delyn Cantons had affordable housing for the poor, so that is where I would go. I had taken four-hundred gold pieces from the Magistrates’ bank account, just as living expenses until I could support myself. Then I’d toss that gold in the river. I assumed that the people that controlled housing would live on the highest floors of the cantons, not in the canalworks.

Holy crap! This is awesome.......yay I like it


"Please Sir , Can I have some More"


:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

cool, keep it up

Very impressive. As I said in the other, you've gone from a good writer, who's stories I've always looked out for, to being a really, really good writer. You're rapidly becoming one of the "big guns" now. Just promise me you won't stop writing the unnamed story as well, as that really is fantastic. Looking forward to more of this one though as well, it's a very promising start. Yay, go Stargazey

Nice Gazy... :goodjob:

That's a mad story. The lad is awful realistic, you can tell he's moved around a lot because he's not at all attached to his previous abode and you can also tell he's had a bit of an easy life for the last few years, he's not one bit worried about parting with some cash, he also gives the sailor a bit of a slagging. Keep up the good work, I'll look out for your posts in future.

Awesome story.

The opening draws us in- you almost feel compelled to listen to the life story of a prisoner about to be executed. Then we get a fast-paced, informative sketch of the narrator, with nice detail. Sehr gut!