I already returned to her game a couple weeks ago, now it looks like I am going to be returning to Joanie's story. Let me refresh her latest stats page though, first. Allow me to geek out for a moment, before whatever chapter comes next gets posted.

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Joan of Arkay

Created: May 19, 2013 3:40 PM

Race: Breton (Human)
Gender: F

Age: 19

In-game Birthday: Morningstar 23, Year 409

Level: 14

ST: 16.2
DX: 13.6
IQ: 14.9

Sign: The Ritual (Taurus)

Alignment: Lawful Good

Class: Holy Knight (Morrowind)
Saint (custom, Oblivion)

Major Skills: Block, Heavy Armor, Restoration, Short Blade, Speechcraft

Minor Skills: Athletics, Blunt Weapons, Conjuration, Destruction, Mysticism

Tabletop Skills: Alertness (2), Axe/Mace (2), Charisma (2), Literacy (1), Sword (2), Shield (1), Warrior (2)

Spells:: Detect Life (1), Fire/Frost (1), Heal (0), Light (0), Turn Undead (0), Water Walking (1)

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And here are her latest quests. This should give y'all a look at the inner workings of how I keep track of her life!

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Joan of Arkay QUESTS

Joan is in front of Rayna Drolan's shack. This shack is on the island just north of Sheogorad Isle which is mostly covered in gray-green colored paint. -- So... to get to Vos means to head West Southwest from there. Basically she can water walk there if she's got enough mana. The island with Vos on it is the next one to the east (NOT north).

Follow the steps below (roughly)


2). Go to Vas. Vas is way the [censored] to the north on the large island, so take the boat from Khuul. Speak to "Ulyne Henim". Ulyne is a Buoyant Armiger, whatever that is. Once we find her, kill the necromancers inside Vas. *UPDATE* Ulyne is deceased; this mission is too hard. Joan can do it, but she needs to show up with a lot of potions.

When she goes back into Vas, hopefully the skeleton champions and bonelords won't respawn. They are not toggled to respawn in the CS.

4). Go to Ald-ruhn and find Hassour Zainsubani. Start looking for him in the Ald Skar Inn. Once we find him, find out what he likes "and get him a gift." *DONE* return to Caius


5). Ebonheart > Kaye. Head to Suran, and then to Mount Kand. Trying to find a magical Silver Staff of Shaming.


Anytime). Find 5 corkbulbs for the Ebonheart ingredient guy *DONE*

6). Larrius Varo (Fort Moonmoth) wants Joan to find 5 members of the Camonna Tong. These CT members are bribing a magistrate in Balmora. Not sure what Joan is supposed to do. Speak to them? Convince them to stop bribing? Pwn them? This quest is lowest on her current agenda.



Unrelated: Hasphat Antabolis also gave Joan a key. This key fits a door in Lower Arkngthand, whenever she has time to go there. There is no quest associated with this,

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MAIN QUEST

Find Hassour Zainsubani, somewhere in Ald-ruhn. Caius seems to think this wealthy trader is in the Ald Skar Inn

Find out what Zainsobani likes, and get him a gift. Then you should give him the gift, and see if he will tell you about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult. Then report back to me." *DONE*

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Imperial Legion

Fort Moonmoth -- Nothing from Radd Hart-Heart atm.

Larrius Varro: there are five folks of the Cammona Tong who are bribing a magistrate in Balmora to allow prisoners early freedom. I am not sure what we're supposed to do (kill them?) so Joan can maybe just find them and see what dialog they offer.

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IMPERIAL CULT -- Ebonheart

Kaye Quest: Linus Iulus disappeared, and was last seen leaving Suran headed east. Go to Mount Kand, find the Silver Staff of Shaming, and bring it back to Kaye.

Synnolian Tonifus: wants 5 corkbulbs. Should be easy enough to find.



Iulas Truptor:


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FIGHTERS GUILD --

Ald-ruhn: go to Vas and meet with "Ulyne Henim". Ulyne is a Buoyant Armiger, whatever that is. Once we find her, kill the necromancers inside Vas. Vas can be found on the map; it's way the [censored] to the north on an island. Take a ferry there perhaps. *DONE*


Balmora --

Go to South Wall Cornerclub and get the Code Book from Sartilde.

UPDATE: Sartilde really hates Joan! We can't get information from her about it. Joan has an amulet which fortifies Speech, but she's going to need more than that to make this quest work.

UPDATE 2: the rare book store in Vivec's Foreignt Quarter Waistworks sells Charm scrolls.



Vivec--------

She did not take the next FG quest for Vivec. I think it's the one which has us doing something evil in Seyda Neen.

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RANDOM

Vivec: Two Ordinators in Vivec were killed. The suspect seems to be a sorcerer or vampire. Go to The Office of the Watch in the Hall of Justice to learn more. (Not sure where this hall can be found, the quest doesn't say).

UPDATE: Somebody told Joan there are now seven victims. As much as she wants to help, this is a very advanced quest for her, for now. Wait until Level 10


Vivec: Morani Uvelas says her husband is missing. He is a skooma addict, but Morani thinks he might be infected with corprus. Interestingly, she suspects her husband Danar could be in the Underworks. Could this be where the Sixth House is?


Sadirth Mora -- There is a rumor about a haunted place called South Turret Bed Chamber. Every time the place gets excorcised, the haunting comes right back. The rumor is that a Necromancer is the one behind this.

That one is rather low on her list right now.

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CLIFF RACERS -- Maximus Julii will give Joan 40 drakes for each cliff racer plume she brings him. He can be found wandering outside of Buckmoth Fort (Ald-ruhn area).

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STORAGE

Balmora FG: 202 gold here, along with assorted other clothes, keys, repair hammers, etc.

Ebonheart Imperial Cult: the Cupboard by her bed has several magic items: Belt of Stendarr, Maran Amulet (both of these are not as powerful as her Septim Ring), and a ring which detects keys. The ring could become important at some point.

NOTES

Make a touch version of a Heal spell for her followers.

Chapter XL - Daris Adram


The sorcerer known as Daris Adram dwells within the darkness of Vas, a Velothi tower located on one of the northernmost islands of Sheogorad.







Daris had been living in Vas for nearly a year when the intruder who would upset his sequestered lifestyle was called to make rid of him. Until then, he considered himself lucky to be here; lucky to have been able to ensconce himself in such a remote fortress. Fortress, hmm… such a pertinent noun. Here in his fortress, he could practice his foul magics for as much time as he desired. He could dedicate himself to whatever whims he pleased. Here in Vas, his will and his desire for progress had been furthered, unimpeded.

No one could tell Daris he couldn't do whatever he damn-well pleased. Even House Telvanni, unscrupulously decadent when it came to measures pertaining to willful magics, no longer had control over his experiments! - So, not only had his zest for sorcery improved, but he'd become quite the necromancer as well, surrounding himself with a dozen or so undead minions to ensure his life of secrecy could last for decades.

Daris had somehow arranged to pay for the tower in advance by that point, now all he had to do was move in.

Reluctantly though, he hadn't arrived at Vas alone. The sorcerer had allowed a few other Telvanni associates, those he trusted most, to come along with him. Every marshal needs his denizens, after all. They’d boarded a boat which departed from Sadrith Mora to Dagon Fel, and then paid a local fisherman (who unknowingly became Daris’s first necromantic victim) to take them to Vas. Together, they'd cleared the tower of dust, detritus, and cobwebs. Now it was ready for long-term inhabitation. And though the others who'd joined him were not as devout or despicable as Daris, together they created a sanctuary, one which was even more formidable than similar Velothi structures on the mainland.

And why was Vas more formidable than these others? Vas had a natural barrier; one which guaranteed unexpected guests were few and far between. It was surrounded ... by acres and fathoms of seawater.

Woe to those who'd somehow managed to locate his lair! - The few who'd been unlucky enough to do so, and then had continued inside the structure (curious seafarers and such) quickly found themselves wishing they'd hadn't.

"And someday... I shall rule the world!" Daris exclaimed aloud to his somewhat doubtful cohorts, a week before meeting his demise.





It was on the second day of Sun’s Dawn when troubles began. An intruder (perhaps two of them) had managed to find and invade his precious hideout. Several of Daris’s ‘pets’: several skeletons and bonelords that is, had been shattered and crumpled in various underground chambers. A woman had been found as well, though she’d been deceased by the time one of Daris’s associates had come across her unfortunate corpse.

“Bring her to the Room of Altars!” Daris demanded gruffly. “I’ll use her for my latest trial!”

Debentien Sylbenitte, one of Daris’s underlings, dragged the body of Ulyne Henim down a set of corridors and into the room where ‘the trials’ took place. Here, she would become yet another animated, shambling carcass, wandering the halls of Vas, moaning like a mindless spook, protecting the tower’s inhabitants against any future invaders just like the Armiger she’d once been. – To their dismay, however, it was soon discovered that performing any feats of necromancy upon Ulyne’s remains would be impossible. Her body had been prepared somehow; prepared in such a way that she’d be able to continue on toward an unseen, hallowed afterlife while her physical remains refused to accept reanimation.

Cornmeal had been piled and arranged in several areas of the room, the proper incantations had been recited, the proper magics cast. Despite this, the woman who’d been lifted onto their reanimating slab hadn’t budged.

“Could this be the workings of a devout follower … of Arkay?!” Daris mused angrily while his cohorts shrugged and worried.

He didn’t have to wait much longer for an answer.





On the tenth day of Sun's Dawn and the Year 428, there was a ruckus in the chamber just below the room Daris Adram used for his rest. Daris had managed to capture and then station an actual Dremora lord (three of them, actually) in the immediate areas just below the apex of Vas's actual tower. Yet somebody was just below his bedroom, fighting the lord who'd been posted there. And if someone was currently fighting this lord, this could only mean that whoever the attacker was, he'd somehow managed to defeat all Adram's other minions.

"But... how can this be?"

His fortress had been penetrated, and to this degree? All his skeletons, bonelords, Daedra, and associates, beaten and bested?

Daris listened closely, choosing not to get directly involved as of yet. Heard his downstairs lord get slammed by some sort of magical weapon; the sound of frost magic zinging through the demon's fiery skin was unmistakable. Whoever was attacking, he'd had to withdraw a couple times, perhaps to heal up.

Finally, the sound of bootsteps, climbing the ramp to Adram's lair.

"Prepare for thy doom, necromancer!"

To his surprise, it wasn't a 'he' who'd been attacking. A woman, a Breton wearing Imperial Legion armors, her hair tied behind her head in a ponytail like some little schoolgirl, came stomping toward him. How can this be?

"Today you'll draw your last breath, s'wit!" Daris warned, hoping he was right.

But it hadn't taken long for her to take the sorcerer's life. Ironically, he'd been easier to defeat than his multitude of pets; his variety of magics apparently not as powerful or practiced as he'd thought. As Daris succumbed to the litany of blows and slams from the woman's powerful mace, which was indeed imbued with frost magic, his opponent found herself bewildered that the Telvanni wizard wasn't as hardy as she'd been led to believe.

After the sorcerer had fallen, Joan of Cheydinhal (now realizing herself as a devout disciple of Arkay) took a few minutes to catch her breath. She then prepared Daris's corpse for afterlife, reading a few passages from one of her books while making a variety of sullen gestures. This way, no one could someday come across the man's fallen body and then decide to use his reanimating slab in an attempt at bringing him back.

Evil or not, despicable or not, every individual deserved proper respect as they continued toward eternity.


------------------------------------------

Daris Adram (or what's left of him)

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Notes: Daris was certainly not as tough as we'd been thinking. It took two or three days to defeat all of Vas's enemies one by one, drinking potions during combat, and resting in unoccupied areas of the lair to gain her stats back. But Daris himself was downed in one session.

Vas makes me think of the vas deferens.

Daris sounds like someone who belongs in the vas deferens: a real dick.

Bonelord sounds like a porn name.

That is neat that Ulyne can't be reanimated as undead, thanks to Joan of Arkay. She always ends up getting killed in this mission.

"Meet thine doom!" sayeth the ponytail Breton commando!

I liked Joan performing the last rites on even one as despicable as Daris. She is transitioning from Joan of Cheydinhal to Joan of Arkay.

I was wondering what Joan's been up to! Appreciate the synopsis to help us catch up.

Daris does seem like a pretty classical rogue wizard. And Vvardenfell's just chock full of places for their ilk to hide out. I also like how Daris brought along a few companions. Cleaning an abandoned fortress is an intense job, too much for any one wizard, regardless of power.

And it looks like Daris has some unexpected company. I like how the POV switches to Daris for this chapter. Gives an interesting perspective.

Ah, classic problem of the evil overlord: too high and mighty to help their minions, even though doing so would likely lead to a better outcome (for the evil overlord, anyway).

Another triumph for Joan! Funny that, at this point, Daris wasn't even as threatening as she'd been led to believe.

Respect for the dead or just a precaution to keep the dead, dead. It is wise to perform the ritual over the recently departed.

Joan of Arkay has an illustrated Book of the Dead, nice.

Welcome back to Joan. It was fun to see this episode mostly from the perspective of the doomed Daris. As SubRosa said, neat to see Joan transitioning from Joan of Cheydinhal to Joan of Arkay.

Daris was powerful but that power was mostly in his fortress and minions. With his minions defeated, he (thankfully) fell fairly easily to Joan.

Sanctifying Daris’ corpse is a happy confluence of both the right and smart thing to do, as macole pointed out. Sure don’t want anyone bringing him back to (un)life.

"Welcome back to Joan."

Thanks, Acadian! I am happy to return to Joanie. Different style from Laprima, and all that. You may notice I have switched from mostly present-tense to mostly past-tense for this next season of JoA. Which reflects the fact that in the beginning I was mostly writing as I played (Kahreem and some Lady Saga from way back were written in this way as well). But nowadays I'm writing just over half after whatever latest quests & story are done. 📚

Writing from the perspective of an NPC mixes things up a bit, this is true. Daris didn't know what was coming to him. And the fact that he didn't come after Joan, even though she was right below fighting his Dremora Lord, is just a limitation of Morrowind's NPC combat detection. But still, it had to be explained in the story. So I like to imagine he was cowering.

----------------------

"It is wise to perform the ritual over the recently departed."

Absolutely. I have no idea if it's possible for a consecrate a corpse in Bethesda's lore; whether devotees of Arkay can do this or not. So that may be a bit of creative licensing.

Actually, UESP has this on their Arkay Lore page: His priests are staunch opponents of necromancy and all forms of the undead, and are empowered to bestow Arkay's blessings which prevent the forceful misuse of a mortal soul.[1] Thus, any body properly buried by a priest observing the proper rituals is protected by Arkay's Law from being raised as undead. ✝

So there we go.

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"I was wondering what Joan's been up to! Appreciate the synopsis to help us catch up"

Hee hee, yeah. The synopsis is my messy notes-to-self as I switch from one character to the next. I wanted to show you all how silly the organizing gets. I'd be lost without those notes, though.

I play Bethesda games seasonally. If it's below 65 degrees F, I get interested in Skyrim, so that's pretty much October thru May. I cannot play a game full of snow if it's actually sunny and hot outside. I used to play Oblivion year-round, but over the past few years I've gotten more addicted to Morrowind. I tend to want to play MW when it's warmer here on Earth (late spring thru early or mid-fall).

Actually, I did not write what happened to Daris's friends. One of them attacked Joan when she met him, but the other two (two ladies) did not attack. So they're still in Vos. They've got the entire place to themselves.

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"Daris sounds like someone who belongs in the vas deferens: a real dick"

What is vas deferens? *Bing* Oooooh.. sorry I asked!

""Meet thine doom!" sayeth the ponytail Breton commando!"

And the evildoer one-lines his own quip as well: "Some day, I shall rule the world!!"


Alright, well the next chapter's almost ready. It's gonna be a shortie.

Chapter XLI -- The Return to Caius

3 First Seed (Day 201), Year 428




Upon hearing the news that his charge had made it safely back into town, Caius Cosades breathed a sigh. She had returned! He'd been receiving occasional updates from 'sources': agents and informants located all over Vvardenfell. Last sighting of Joan had been in Caldera just a day ago. Still, a lot could happen in a few hours. It was always a relief when things were rolling along as planned.

...Not that there was any real steadfast ‘plan’ involved when it came to this latest long-term mission, of course. Anyhow, she was back. Now all he had to do was wait a few hours more.

The knock on his door came late at night, and there she was.






This time she was wearing a demure tan robe, which Caius silently approved of. The robe's fabric was cheap, not costly, which meant she'd been blending in with the locals. They had chosen well when they’d picked Joan Marie of Cheydinhal. Because little details like this could matter a lot, for those who were assigned tasks which could place them into precarious situations.

As always, she was barefoot.

"Are you here to discuss your orders, Joan of Cheydinhal?" Caius droned casually. "Or is there something else you want?"

She explained that she'd been successful with the Dunmer named Hassour Zainsubani, whom she'd found in the rear cellar of Ald-ruhn's Ald Skar Inn. As Caius had informed, Hassour was indeed an Ashlander who'd become a wealthy trader. And now he lived quite the comfortable life, here in this Redoran-sponsored township.

But to Joan's dismay, she learned Hassour was also a Thieves Guild operative of some sort. A criminal, in plain sight! - Thankfully, there was no need to get involved in any of the elf's day-to-day; he did not ask her to break into anyone's home or shop to satisfy decadent desire for a 'long-lost amulet' or some such, all he wanted was a book.

"'A book of poetry given to me by a stranger shows the giver respects me', he said."

"Ahh-hah," Caius sipped a glass of water.

"With the monies lent to fatten my purse," she said to Caius, "I was able to procure a copy of 'Ashlander Hymns' from the book-merchant right there in town, which I then delivered to Hassour within the hour. Fact of matter, the elf revealed a list of three books I could suss for him, two of which the book-merchant possessed at present upon his shelves: 'Ashlander Hymns', as mentioned, but also 'Words of the Wind'. Well..." Joan Marie blushed shyly, as though about to reveal a deep, dark secret shared only between friends. "...As a studious scholar myself, I could not but take pause, to arrange purchase of both these tomes, which I then perused within the confines of his shop."

She then began to summarize her thoughts on each book. "'Ashlander Hymns' is poetic indeed, nothing other than pure inspiration, which I examined to such delight." The young disciple smiled. "'Five Far Stars', on the other hand, praises the might of the Red Volcano (or seems to), which I must divulge caused my thoughts such consternation...such turmoil...such righteous indignation, which I then contained to great merit as I…"

"Enough talk!” Caius growled. “No offense. Don't need to listen to you blabber all night!"

"Oh. Apologies! Ehm. But I must contend: thy quest for knowledge regarding the cult of the Nerevarine was indeed a success, as Hassour then dolefully attested."

"Thanks for your report," her superior replied. "But keep Zinsubani's notes on the Ashlanders. You'll need them."

"Thank ye, sire."

"I'm promoting you, and sending you to the Urshilaku camp to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Macsa."

Joan waited quietly as the man looked at a journal, his lips moving in silence as he seemed to take serious regard over some deep thoughts of his. And then once again, a surprise from the man who'd been her unobtrusive director thus far.

"Before you go, I think it may be time to tell you what's going on."

“Ah…going on?"

"Aye. Let's get to it."

Caius Cosades then spoke the words which would change the rest of Joan Marie’s turbulent, venturous life.


—----------------------------------------------------

Joanie’s Overwhelming Quest Revelations

Water Walking

Lopov’d

Joan of Cheydinhal, in her threadbare robe and barefoot, definitely makes for the humble penitent.

Poor Joanie is getting caught up in the poetry, but Caius the Abman is having none of it!

Well, Joan is off to the races now! Time to meet the Ashlanders and get the ball really going. I also suspect that Caius is going to drop the bomb on her that she is the Chosen One. Well, at the least the current one.

Like Caius and SubRosa, I took note of Joan’s attire. Not only is the humility becoming on her but it is always nice to give an unassuming impression, then reap the benefits of being underestimated.

Joan is quite a student of literature it seems; Caius is not.

Another promotion. And an upcoming revelation it seems.

Ah, good ol' Caius, worrying about the Nerevarine. I always knew he cared about us. And yeah, Caius never struck me as a "plan" type of guy. I always got the feeling he was more for improvisation.

Figures that Joan would be put off by working with a thief. But maybe her time on Vvardenfell's blunted her to the point she can accept its necessity.

Aw, it's fun to see Joan get excited about the poetry. But dang, Caius did not approve. I suppose duty is a harsh master.

And what's this? Caius is about to let her in on a bit more of what's going on? I can't remember how much he tells the player at this point, but if he starts going into some of the Nerevarine stuff it'll be a lot for Joan to take in.

@SubRosa: I get the feeling this mysterious Main Quest is about to kick in. Thing is, I've gotten enough spoilers over the years (inadvertently while reading old forum posts) to the point that I kind of know some of what's about to come. But since my head is also pretty dain-bramaged, I tend to forget a lot of what I read, which is a GOOD thing. Overall though, I get the sense that there'll be a lot of confusion and mystery, and it all starts with this upcoming chapter.

@Acadian: Morrowind is interesting because dealing with Caius is like following an opposite path, compared to Oblivion & Skyrim's Main Quest, in which we are respectively hailed as Champion, or Dragonborn. 🐉 Of course, Joan could parade around in her Imperial armors, casting Light spells and drawing attention to herself, and there'd be no consequence to this at all. But approaching the story in such a way wouldn't feel right.

The whole 'promotion' thing cracks me up! It's not like she's an overt member of The Blades, receiving accolades in some Grand Hall from some Grand Lord or something, dozens of knights and squires as witnesses. No, she's meeting an aged skooma addict in undercover situations, doing deeds which seem pretty darn shady, at best. "I'm promoting you..." he says. Okay.. but how? Why? ... if nobody else is supposed to know what's going on.

@WellTemperedClavier: Joan has an alignment of Lawful Good, which in Dungeons & Dragons means she's supposed to uphold the law at any cost. In DnD this would translate into her constantly righting wrongs on the spot. But in this case, she's forced to pertain to what she perceives as a greater good. So she can't go off searching for an Ald-ruhn Ordinator screaming "THIEF!!! THIEF!!!" because she's supposed to be following the Emperor's orders for this mysterious mission she's on. Chances are, the Ordinators would simply ignore her warnings, anyway.

That moment when she was trying to explain her thoughts on the books she 'perused' was pretty fun to write. One of those moments when the game does not provide any insight into what our character is thinking, but the story does.

Yes, this next chapter's going to be pretty overwhelming for Joanie. Just you wait.

Chapter XLII -- The Nerevarine Prophecy


"The Emperor and his advisors think you have the appearance of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies. That's why you were pulled out of prison on his Majesty's authority, and sent to me."

Joan Marie shook her head, slowly. Unbelieving.

"So you could satisfy the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies and become the Nerevarine..."

"Become the Nerevarine?"

The elder blade nodded somberly. "Here. This is a decoded copy of the package you gave me when you arrived. Read it later. It should explain everything."

But Joan found herself not satisfied. Perhaps what he was saying was true; perhaps she could read what she'd just been given, and perhaps it would pave what had been quite a few rutted roads within her mind. But the man who could (hopefully) give specific answers to some very specific questions was here, standing before her, right now.

"I... But I do not understand, sire. Why was it decided, to commission me for such lofty title?" She thought for a moment. "Are you thusly arranging that I pretend to play the part..." she gulped, "of the Nerevarine prophet?"

"As you'll see in the decoded message, the Emperor and his counselors say you have the 'appearance'," he said, using his fingers to gesture quotation marks, "of satisfying the conditions of the prophecy."

Joan Marie, newly-realized disciple of Arkay, scratched the nails of her right hand through her hair. Thought back. To the time just before she'd boarded that ship, the schooner which had taken her here to Vvarndenfell. Upon the ship were members of her home chapel; fellow worshippers and acolytes, and even the Chapel of Arkay's deacon. They'd been with her ON the ship when she'd originally boarded, she was sure of it. Yet they weren't around when she'd awakened some time (apparently days) later. The idea had been to travel to Vvardenfell as a group, where holy works would commence. Yet none of them were around to witness her entry into this strange land.

"I'd been called a prisoner," she mused, speaking to herself as though lost in a dream, her eyes glazed and unfocussed. "They had referred to me as such. 'You'd better do what they say'," she recalled that shirtless dark elf, the first person she'd met here in Morrowind, saying. "And I had explained to them that they'd been mistaken. I was not a prisoner! Yet then immediately, I was then set free. So I could locate a mysterious Imperial, an Emperor's Blade by his own admission, who'd been dwelling unobtrusively within a town full of Dunmer."

Had all of that been a ruse? A ruse which would allow her to enter the province of the dark elves and deliver the package without unwanted attention? - Had her fellow chapel brethren also been part of the ruse?

"Do you REALLY satisy the prophecy?" Caius bellowed, nearly causing Joan to jump. "Are you REALLY the prophesied Nerevarine?" The man stepped back, shaking his head, perhaps going through a similar set of thoughts as the demurely-robed maiden before him. "At first, I thought we were just suppopsed to create a persuasive imposter. Now I don't know what to think."

"Nor do I, sire."

"But I am sure of one thing. This is not just primitive superstition, and we will treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands."

"Ah. So this is all the Emperor's doing," Joan realized. "'Twasn't any of yours." Again, the question: why me?

Caius handed her a pouch. Hearing the way the contents within its fabric clinked and clicked, obviously it was full of coin. He then explained that Sul-Matuul and Nibani Macsa, two Ashlanders who lived in a camp called Urshilaku, were the purported heads of the Nerevarine Cult here in Vvardenfell.

"And you wish for me to suss these two, and speak to them, eh?"

"Tell them your story," Caius rasped. "Have them test you against the Nerevarine Prophecies. As heads of the Nerevarine Cult, they can best judge whether you satisy the prophecies."

Joan of Arkay said nothing. Found herself wondering if Caius knew how ridiculously casual he sounded, as he droned the most sobering set of words she'd ever received within her ears.

"When you've spoken to them, report back to me."

Unbelievable.

"Now, I've given you two-hundred drakes for expenses as you travel across the land," Caius intoned. "Make sure you also head to Fort Moonmoth, where you'll be able to pick up a few essential supplies, scrolls and potions and so on."

Finally, Caius handed her the package she'd originally entered Balmora with. Its contents had been coded when she'd first arrived in town, days and weeks and months ago, but now whatever code had been there was supposedly, presently, unscrambled.

Without blame, Joan experienced a desire to unravel and read what she'd just been given, right then and there. But then, she thought different. Because something was tickling within her throat. Though she had tasted wine long ago in the past, she'd never felt temptation for any sort of alcohol. But this could be one of those rare times. Perhaps it'd be a good idea to go for a drink.

"Does the Eight Plates peddle libations?" she asked Cosades, before her mind could temper the words.

------------------------------------

Notes: Joan has gotten really good with Speech over the past few months, in-game. When she actually does meet these two Nerevarine Cult leader folks, I wonder if she'll need to use her words to convince them of her supposed status. Hmm. What a weird quest.

I liked how Morrowind handled the Chosen One trope. I don't want to spoil anything for you. But it is not as convenient for the Chosen One as it usually is. You might be Chosen in this game, but Fate is not conspiring to make sure you succeed. Not by a longshot. In this game being the Chosen One is less an honor, and more like a doom hanging over your head.

I like her mysterious arrival more and more now. Had her brethern been in on things? Or had they been removed by some divine presence?

If now is not the time for a libation at the public house, I don't know when is! Hopefully Joanie can get used to her new life as not just an Arkayite, but also as the NeverNeverLandVarine.

So now Joan is beginning to realize that she is the chosen one but new questions arise. Chosen by whom, Azura or the Emperor? Are their objectives the same or do they conflict with one and other. I think Joan needs more information. Search the land learn the way of things before committing to action. Choose wisely Joan of Arkay.

Well, I guess that’s one way to tell for sure about this NeverRaven stuff – go get tested in Urshilaku.

I continue to love the delightfully quirky style of writing you use to express Joan’s thoughts. Such as:
’… as he droned the most sobering set of words she'd ever received within her ears.’
and
"Does the Eight Plates peddle libations?"

Yeah, SubRosa, you don't have to tell Joan this. She's already got some of the feelings you speak of. Not doom really, right now she's more confused than pessimistic. Put it this way: she's certainly not anticipating ever being hailed as some sort of champion, as we can expect in Arena, OB, and Skyrim. Rather, it's looking to be sort of the opposite. Like they're telling her to pretend to be some sort of false god.

But this seems to be why Morrowind is considered to be so different from the other Elder Scrolls games, and different from a lot of RPG stories in general. Our 'toon's not some glorified diety, come to save the world for everyone else. Or IS she? Really not sure how it'll play out.

It's a contrast from expecting to save the Emperor from Jagar Tharn's grasp (Arena), or saving Cyrodiil from the minions of Oblivion, for sure. Maybe the reason so many who praise MW's MQ do so because it's different, eh?

Hee hee that's a great web page.



I think they were in on it. Word got passed down from Uriel's people. "Be there when she boards the ship, but don't let her know she'll get to Vvardenfell alone. We'll make it ... worth your while." 🪙 Or perhaps everyone boarded the ship, but Joan got drugged & moved to a different ship. I don't really know. Leaving that open for interpretation!

But the cool thing is: I'm doing this game's MQ totally blind. All that stuff about her chapelmates not being there when she got to MW just happens to fit with the game's actual quest. Didn't expect that it would. Also the fact that Joan actually IS an orphan in her backstory. I didn't write her backstory to fit the game, so that's actually coincidence.




That's the mystery, for sure, Macole, Vampire Hunter. Caius is telling her Uriel himself is the one behind this, but is he really? It just seems so odd. That he'd know about Joan at all.

Joan was literally a nobody back in Cheydinhal. She was a student who'd received some military training, and also she was involved with the Chapel of Arkay back home. But that was all. She hadn't done anything to attract attention to herself beyond that.



Also doing a lot of reading. There's a lot of information in that Decoded Package, along with everything else going on with the MQ in this game.


"Delightfully quirky..." wow, Thanks, Acadian!

A lot of that is automatic writing; literally just open the mind occasionally. Maybe it doesn't work for other writers, but for me there's often some weird combination of words or some phrase, come to me from the universe. Also, you actually taught me to try to write in more of a medieval fashion, long ago when I first joined Chorrol, writing the Saga of Ann Thraxx. So I always filter my TES stories in that fashion, as well.


All: Next couple chapters, I'm going off the rails, folks. A couple of ideas which'll diverge from the story being told by the game. Why? Because it's the Fan Fiction section. As usual, I'm somewhat nervous about this.

It's gotta be a shock to hear this. Joan's entire life has revolved around her faith in the Nine, and now she finds herself a potentially major figure in an entirely different faith!

Despite the shock, she's still thinking. She's putting things together to figure out some of the oddities of her arrival. Yes, there is a lot going on in Vvardenfell. Like Caius himself says, they need to take this seriously even if they don't believe it per se. The Emperor expects this work to be done. And maybe, just maybe, there's something cosmic going on behind the scenes.

I do not blame Joan for wanting a drink after all that. Whew!

And yeah, going off the plot can definitely be a good thing. I'm curious as to where you'll take Joan with this.

Chapter XLIII – The Oracle

Midnight, 4 First Seed (Day 202), Year 428





Turns out, Eight Plates didn’t ‘peddle’ any of the ‘libations’ Joan was familiar with from back home. No Surilies, no Tamika’s, not even any beers or ales. No Nordic mead! Perhaps these sorts of brews could be found in Imperial-established towns, such as Ebonheart or Gnisis. Joan wasn’t sure. She was not in the habit of purchasing or consuming alcohol. The only liquor sold by Dulnea Ralaal (the Plates’ proprietor) from Joan's home province was Cyrodiilic Brandy. But the price? 100 drakes per bottle! -- Way too expensive for somebody who was constantly needing to allocate her funds, while attempting to avoid destitution.

Dulnea suggested shein or matze. Either choice could be had for just 10 drakes. “Matze is brewed from rice, and can be found in other provinces, though probably not Cyrodiil,” she said to the plainly-robed Breton before her, “while shein is more of a localized sort of drink, fermented mostly from comberries.”

Thinking it’d be better to show respect toward the locals, Joan Marie bought a mugful of shein. Had a seat. Took her first sip, savoring its bittersweet taste. And another sip. About halfway toward the mug’s last dregs she realized a sort of warmth had crept within her person, as though she was ready to endure anything coming her way. A certain sort of bravery had infused its way into her blood, perhaps.

“No wonder provincial logic tends to favor these brews for combat,” the crusader mused.

But she also noticed her mind, it had blurred a few notches. As though her intellect wasn’t quite as sharp and alert. As though she’d get lost partway through reading one of her studious tomes, unable to comprehend the last paragraph’s streams of words. It wasn’t fully necessary to possess a lot of smarts here in this dim, dark elf bar of course, but still. This sort of drink, shein, would be bad for spellcasting! -- That is what she surmised, right away. Grasping for mana while out in the world somewhere, while being faced down by a gang of brigands, or a giant, flying monster, needing to heal up on-the-fly while magical essences were dwindling!

No, none of that would ever happen, not so long as Joan Marie of Arkay was at the helm. She smiled, unable to efface such jubilant reaction from her thoughts. Was this the reason drunkards always were in such befuddled moods?

"Inebriation...so this is what it is like to be so," the robed woman at Table Six mumbled.

Still, this combination of brave (yet a little dulled) felt just about perfect for someone who was about to unravel the package which contained a bevy of “decoded” material, material which was sounding as though it could change the course of the rest of her life. Joan hadn’t been ready to pore over whatever contents the Emperor’s package contained a half hour ago, but now she thought maybe she could handle them.

But first, she was distracted by a leaflet made of fine parchment, which had been placed at some point, right there on the table before her.

“A Fashion Guild, right here in Balmora?” She took a final swig of her mug. How unusual.

Distracted, she began reading the leaflet, which seemed mostly an advertizement for those who were concerned about improving their apparel. “Come one, come all,” she read quietly. “Are you Forlorn about your Frumpy Frocks? - Grouchy over your Grumpy Garb? Here at the Fashion Guild of Balmora, we can assist!" She unfolded the leaflet further. "Become the Daring Diva, or play the part of the Torrid Tart you have always desired...Flaunt like a Flooz, Strut as Chic. Make him, or her, your curious about this wonderous Vixen of Vogue who Vaunts the Valley of the Odai like no other.”

Joan laughed, actually caught herself in mid-chuckle, before regaining her usual modium of personal manners. Irrationality, be damned. But still... this was the perfect thing to take her mind off her troubles; for she sensed that indeed there would be some things of concern on her immediate horizon. … Nerevarine, ME? … Bah.

She glanced down at the well-worn tan robes she'd bought earlier in the day. This new attire of hers was preowned, purchased from the pawnbroker here in town for just two drakes. She wondered what would happen if she showed up to this Guild of Fashion, wearing such downtrodden apparel. Wondered what sort of requirements its purveyors might ask of prospective new guildmates. The Fighters Guild, for instance, wanted able-bodied, strong individuals, gifted in the arts of most kinds of weaponry. What would the Fashion Guild seeketh? Hmm. Probably a devotion toward Dibella, if any religion was involved. Probably some sort of background in the arts of sewing and cloth-making. If she were a seamstress for instance, that would be something boast about.

“Greetings, Breton.”

It was at this very moment when Joan realized a woman, a Dunmer wearing green, had seated herself on the chair across from her table.

“I can see your countenance is distraught,” said the woman as she pulled back the veil draped across her face. “Perhaps I can help.”

Distraught? - Joan lifted her mug, surprised (maybe a little saddened) to discover she was all out of shein. “Help? In which way?” Not that she’d planned on getting smashed on the brew like some decadent debauchee slated for the gutter, but the crusader realized it wouldn’t hurt to order at least one more mug.

“I am a seer. An oracle, if you will,” said the Dunmer. “Aradirr is my name. I can portend and predict thy future, Breton.”

“Joan. Of Cyrodiil," Joan Marie answered. "And nay. Am afraid I haven’t got interest in that sort of thing." ...And I do not as of now, she thought, need yet another mysterious savant, come to inform me about the praises of the Red Volcano. Several of these folks, these so-called savants, had approached Joan over the last few weeks, walking toward her from the shadows at times, divulging bits of information which made little sense. Initially she’d been interested in what these shady sorts had to say. But mostly, all they’d spouted so far tended toward nonsense.

“No worries, my dear,” said Aradirr. “You’re probably getting all sorts of strange natives, striving toward you at all hours of the night, eh?” It was as though the woman had just read Joan’s thoughts. “Well I promise I am not one of them. For just seven drakes, I can … enlighten your soon-to-be path. Which I sense contains quite a bit of consternation, as I am skilled toward scrying thy aura with accuracy. Not to brag.”

Joan's head was a tad swimmy from the drink she’d imbibed. Perhaps it was this which caused her to answer the woman's request affirmatively.

“Well, alright. Aye,” Joan replied. "Seven drakes?" Joan currently had several hundred stashed away in a Fighters Guild chest. “Aye. Why not take us a glance, then?”

Aradirr the Oracle appeared to be at ease. Relaxed. Scented of cinnamon, perhaps. It was nice to have someone pleasant to talk to, Joan quickly opined. Over the past few months, she'd been practicing her speaking abilities, gabbing frequently with complete strangers. So why not allow the woman to glean whatever sort of future there was to glean?

To know one's future, one must presuppose knowledge of his or her past, as well. So let us begin there. If Aradirr the Oracle got anything wrong, Joan would certainly call her upon it.

“You may pay me when I’m done,” said the seer. “Here, let us locate to one of the Eight Plates' quieter corners.”


-------------------------------------

Notes: 1). Shein enhances Endurance yet drains Intelligence, hence the effects Joan experienced above. 😊

2). 'Tis true, WellTemperedClavier, about faiths colliding. Good thing Joan is young (she just turned 19 recently, in the month of Morning Star). If she were some older veteran who'd become more set in her ways, keeping an open mind might be much harder.

The main thing about your participation as a reader of The Saga of Joan of Arkay, WTC, is that you've already done Morrowind's Main Quest! So you must be biting your tongue at everything which is to come.

We wait with baited breath to see how this wondrous Vixen of Vogue who Vaunts the Valley of the Odai overcomes the ordeal of Vvardenfell.

Next time I’m in Balmora I’m going to have to stop by the Fashion Guild. There are some Daring Divas, Torrid Tarts, and Flaunting Floozies back home that are aching to Strut their stuff in Chic attire.

The Eight Plates is seriously lacking in the libating department. As Homer would say, no TV and no beer make him something something...

Well at least they have Matze and Shein for people who aren't billionaires. It looks like Joanie is getting fortified with some Dutch Dunmer Courage.

The Fashion Guild! Somehow I don't think Joan of Arkay is going to be glowing up with the latest styles, given that she usually goes barefoot.

Oh, its a fortune teller. Let's see where this leads.

Sitting in a tavern with a mug of shein is certainly something different for Joan, and I enjoyed her observations about the foreign experience. Absolutely loved the nod to the Fashion Guild of Balmora! Hmm, a savant to mayhaps discern something about this Nevarian stuff.

You know, if someone had informed me that I was going to be taking the role of a long-prophesied hero for a religion I didn't even believe in, I'd probably get some drinks too. It's a very relatable action on Joan's part. Though yeah, as she finds out, Eight Plates isn't the best place to do it.

I also liked the way you tied in alcohol's in-game effects. Fits very well with the tone of the story.

And great Fashion Guild cameo, here! Still spreading the news on the best things to wear. It was very fun to read that.

Okay, I'm not sure how much I trust Aradirr here. Hope Joan's drinking hasn't fogged her brain too much, since I'm not yet sure Aradirr will be truthful. Though in Morrowind, who is? Hope Aradirr isn't a Sixth House agent...

@Vampire Hunter -- Whoever would've thought you too can enter this torrid world of the Fashion Guild! Just so you know, I derived that segue from WellTemperedClavier's Outlanders story, which has a Fashion Guild being built from the ground up.

Yeah, that's true @Florens, about there being a lack of alcoholic choice from our Earthly point of view. 🍷 Whadoya mean you ain't got no beer?

Although Joan's not joining the Guild of Fashion, I imagine she wouldn't last more than five seconds within their doors. With Morrowind's guilds having strict requirements for joining, and all. Good thing she's already way too busy with guilds and quests as it is.

Thanks much, @Paladin. As I game with her seven years later in Elder Scrolls IV: Cyrodiil, Joan does occasionally drink. Usually Surilies or Tamika's and often the cheaper vintages, as she's often broke (or headed that way) in that game, too. 🍷 But the thing is, Joan never 'drinks 'n' delves'. It's always an after-campaign treat for her, and usually in the comfort of some tavern, or in her home: Battlehorn Castle. 🏰

Yes, the Fashion Guild... couldn't resist throwing Quinn Morgendorffer's brainchild into the story.

Thanks, I appreciate it, @Clavier. Indeed, I considered the effects of each 'libation' offered by the Plates, selecting the one which 1). Wasn't too expensive, and 2). wasn't too complicated to write into the story with its effects, and 3). resulted in whatever she'd need to assist her get through this odd moment Caius and the Emperor (supposedly) have thrust upon her.

Aradirr is purely someone I added in. 🧙 She doesn't exist within the gameworld, although she certainly could. But this is what I meant by "I'm going off the rails". All of this is pure imagination, not backed by any in-game events or quests.

Alright next chapter... gosh I hope I can finish it this morning. It's raining really hard outside right now. I got up at 5:18 AM just when all the birds began chirping in our neighborhood. There was some weird 'bird' making weird sounds which freaked me out (turns out it was a young raccoon, running around our back yard). 🦝 All of this added some magic of what's to come.

Chapter XLIV – Consulting the Cards

—------------------------

Aradirr led Joan to a quiet table, to one of the far corners of the Eight Plates. Which was fine with Joan. Because whatever she had just agreed to, it’d been a hasty, spontaneous decision; partially caused by the fact that she was partially inebriated. If Aradirr had suggested they leave the tavern to go to some hovel over in Labor Town, for instance, that would’ve culled an immediate “sorry, but no,” from the crusader.

“Have you ever heard of Omen cards?” Aradirr asked.

“Hmm.” Omen cards. The term was familiar to Joan. Probably something she’d read in one of her scholarly tomes as a student. But to keep her answer simple she said, “Cannot say I’ve heard of Omen cards, no.”

“So, here we are. Here is my deck.” The oracle opened a book-sized ornate box made of wood, reached into it and brought out a dark-colored cloth. And inside the cloth was indeed a deck of cards. “Well, these are not Omen cards, but they are similar, I suppose. Both sorts of decks can be used as tools of divination."

“I see.” Joan had ordered a second mugful of shein a couple minutes earlier, which was delivered to their table by a young knave.

Aradirr fanned the cards, placing them face up upon the table’s surface so Joan could take them in for a moment. “Have a quick glance upon these.”

Joan could see each card had what looked to be its very own picture, each one painted with striking colors and images. But there were a lot of cards, and at the moment, each one partially covered the next. At the very end of the fanned-out pile lay a card called THE WORLD, which featured a disrobed woman bearing what looked to be a wand in each hand. The woman was centered within what looked to be a circular bough, a wreath made of green leaves.

Joan was fascinated. Out of curiosity, her hand moved towards Aradirr’s deck.

“Oh heh heh, sorry. You may not touch them until I say.”

“Mm. Right.” Joan looked cautiously around at other patrons across the floor. Sitting at tables, conversing amongst themselves. Nobody seemed to be watching Joan and Aradirr. Nobody seemed to notice the veiled, green-frocked Dunmer at Table Twelve, or the Breton wearing shoddy robes sitting across from her. Joan took a sip from her new mug of shein.

“Now, focus on something within your mind, whether this is a question, or a notion, a fixation, or an ideal. Do not reveal to me what it is you are pondering, Joan.”

“Sure. Fair enough, I suppose.” According to Caius, she was not supposed to blab any of this Nerevarine fodder to anyone, anyhow.

“Aye. Keep whatever it is you are considering to yourself. I needn’t know your thoughts.”

This was an easy endeavor for Joan of Arkay, since her mind had been centered upon one exact thing over the past hour or so, until being sidetracked by that silly Fashion Guild pamphlet. “Alright.”

“Now, pick up the cards, and shuffle them.” – When Joan balked at these instructions (she’d apparently never shuffled a deck of cards before) Aradirr the Oracle quickly taught Joan the Crusader how to handle them. “As you shuffle the cards back and forth from hand to hand, keep whatever thoughts you’ve pondered in mind. Focus upon them, dear.”

Joan did exactly this, while clumsily shuffling Aradirr’s deck.

“Splendid. Place the cards upon the table, when you feel thy query has been resolved.”

This caused Joan to stop the awkward, arrhythmic motions of her fingers and hands. “How shall it be known, this .. resolve, as you put it?”

“That, I cannot answer,” Aradirr’s face went momentarily grim. “This is something, well … you just sort of ‘know’, as the moment commences.”

Fine. “Fair enough.” Joan gave the deck another couple of clumsy shufflings before placing the full deck face-down upon the table.

“Now, with thy recessive hand, that is, the hand which is not the one chosen for scribing, cut the deck twice and to thy left.”

Again, the phrase ‘cut the deck’ was a new one for Joan, which meant the oracle had to attempt to physically show the woman wearing the tattered, two-drake-costing robes what she meant. Thing is, she had to do so without actually touching the deck. Apparently, whoever touched the cards last imbued them with whatever personal essence was unseen throughout his or her persona.

Joan cut the deck of cards with her left hand, twice, and to her left.

“Splendid!” Aradirr smiled broadly, her blue cheeks dimpled with satisfaction. She picked up the deck and selected its very top card, which she placed face-down upon the table. She followed this card with six more, all of which were placed face-down.

“This is called the Horseshoe spread, Joan. As you may notice, the cards have been arranged in the shape of a horse's shoe.”

Indeed, the cards had been spaced upon the table like an upside-down U from Joan’s perspective, with the U’s zenith pointing away from her.

“And now, I shall reveal the very first card, which represents past events.”

Aradirr turned the card which was on Joan’s bottom-left so that it was face-up. “This is the Six of Coins. As mentioned, it portrays whatever happened within the past, which has led to whatever current situation has commenced, Joan. As can be seen, we've got what looks to be somebody who is well-endowed with money, a well-dressed merchant or a land baron perhaps, who is giving away to those in need. In the giver's left hand are a set of scales, which represent fair-mindedness. Weighing of options and such.

"Now, one might assume that it is you who has been in need, judging by the robes you're currently donned within." Aradirr seemed to select these final words carefully, not wanting to possibly offend. "However, your accent is cultured, Joan. I have gathered you are a Heartlander. And obviously educated, by the words you choose and the sentence structures you use. And my feeling is that you are not currently destitute. And not truly in need. That is is you who has in fact been both the giver and the receiver of material possessions. The scales in the merchant's left hand clearly portray this--that you have settled upon fair-minded approach. Considering, and thoughtful behavior. Not rash. Not impulsive or greedy. In any event, a solid background of philanthropy. Alms dispensed most fairly, resulting in a series of material needs met."

Joan, unsure what to say, said exactly nothing. Her new mugful of shein had barely been sipped. But what struck were some of the words Aradirr had chosen: not currently destitute, and a solid background of philanthropy. Though she did not reveal anything of her past to the Dunmer, Joan's upbringing as an orphan who'd been raised under the tutelage of Cheydinhal's Chapel of Arkay was certainly telling. She certainly had been in need at some point, long ago in her past, when whomever her mother was had abandoned her on the chapel's steps.

Still, the Cyrodiilian had doubts. Where exactly was all of this going?

"Next we have Queen of Cups, which represents thy immediate present, current situation. As can be seen, here we have a queen in flowing robes, sitting upon her throne, staring intently into what looks to be quite a decorative cup. More like a chalice than a cup, in fact.

"Seems this woman could be you, Joan of Cyrodiil. As cups signify the vessels which often contain water, and water is the symbol for emotion, here we have you, a queen of her domain, who is presently immersed with emotional concerns." Aradirr paused. "Not that you are a queen yourself, per se. Rather, when queens show during a reading, they signify someone who is confidently an adult. Who has outgrown her girlish pursuits, and is now focusing upon what it means to be in command of her life."

"Alright." Hmm.

"Next card represents your immediate future," Aradirr continued. "And here we have The World." It was the very first card Joan had glanced when the elf fanned the deck face-up minutes ago. "Frankly, I can tell you upfront that here we have one of the most positive cards in the deck.

"When it shows, The World signifies some sort of completion, some sort of outcome which is grand, and final. That, in fact, you shall enter what is to become, in fact, a brand-new world for you. Not that you are about to embark toward Akavir or Black Marsh; The World, as all the Major Arcana cards, is more concerned with an inner state of mind. A new cognitive phase of life. Those who have seen The World as a future card have often returned to me with news of great things, great changes in their lives, usually for the better."

"Well, I must admit this is a good omen," Joan observed. "At least it is not seen that I am about to perish as I journey about..."

"Oh no," Aradirr interrupted. "That is one thing these cards cannot do, Joan. In fact, that is quite a fallacy some irresponsible seers burden their consultees with. They cannot predict whether one shall die, or not die. Rather, the cards can only predict if what shall occur if he or she continues upon his or her present path. Understand?"

Not really, Joan of Cyrodiil thought. But then, "surely," she answered.

"Would you like to continue to see what the next four cards reveal?"

Despite her doubts, Joan decided she would.


-------------------------------------

I did a real-life Tarot reading to write this chapter. I understand not everyone believes in this sort of stuff. My experience has been that we divine whatever it is we believe can assist us through life.

----------------------------------

Notes: 1). Though Tarot cards are not canon, Elder Scrolls lore does support what are known as Omen Cards, as stated in the article just linked.

Supposedly one of the methods of summoning Omens used by the Supernal Dreamers involved the usage of the Omen Cards. The ornate set of cards was believed to provide aid in calling forth those Daedric spirits.[2]

It’s not too much of a stretch to imagine something similar to our Tarot could possibly exist in Tamriel.

2). I use the Rider-Waite deck, which is the most generic Tarot deck of cards, I suppose. Rider-Waite is (or was) immensely popular. It was originally drawn up during the 1800s, when seances and mysticsm and other such occult phenomena were suddenly in vogue. Aleister Crowley, the Golden Dawn, and so on. I've got several other decks, including a native American deck and so on. But Rider's got the symbolism I can really glean answers and draw inspirations from.

Whew! I thought the Queen of Cups card coming up meant that Joan was going to become a shein lush.
Okay, just kidding.

Knowing nothing about such readings, I found this episode really interesting. So far things look good for Joan, and I look forward to learning what the remaining cards reveal.

Cool, some Tarot. Deal me in!

Now I am wondering, will this reading be about Joan being the Neveraraine, or about the Fashion Club?

Now I am imagining someone telling Conan to cut the deck, and him pulling out his sword and actually slicing the cards in half!

Neat card reading so far, and quite appropriate to Joan,though possibly the Fashion Club as well. I don't know this layout. I am more familiar with the Celtic Cross. But the Hermit kind of makes me think of Caius. The Three of Swords does not look good. Neither does Temperance reversed. Looks like heartbreak and a bender, as if Joan is about to become a Country music song. Though the Hanged Man does imply that she will indeed hang in there, in spite of her suffering, and perhaps even make it all look easy.

Given how grounded in the game this story is, it would make sense to think about the specific effects of the various drinks. It's a lot to keep track of, but adds to the vibe of the story.

Funny how rain is so good at conjuring a magical feeling. It certainly fits with this chapter. Funnily enough, I actually got my very first Tarot reading from a friend a few months ago (the advice boiled down to "trust your judgment"), so it's nice to see these Omen cards as well.

And yes, Joan is going to be entering a whole new world. She already has, really; Morrowind's a universe unto itself, practically. But she'll soon be going even deeper than the Dunmer will normally go, and completely change everything about the place. It's going to be wild ride. But I think she's just about ready.

Ha ha ha!

She does drink wine in Oblivion. Not the best (no Year 399 vintages) and not the Cheapest Wine, but somewhere in between. 🍷 Like, whatever current Tamika's or Surilies is on the shelves, the inexpensive stuff. Never while delving, she only drinks if she's been in safe civilization for a while. So it's nice to know where this habit began.



Awesome! Yeah, the cards tell an interesting story, for sure.




Ha ha ha! Fashion Club, of course. She needs some Devious Duds to become a Vogueing Vixen.



The Horseshoe is a beginner's layout, sometimes I'll do the Celtic Cross as well. Back in the day I'd usually start with the Horseshoe, and if the reading required more info I'd do the Celtic Cross. ✝ There's also the Three Faces of Time, which lives up to its name because it takes a lot of time.


Ah, hadn't thought of Caius. Well, I'm doing this card reading but then filtering it through what Aradirr might say. So therefore she's not going to know of Caius. She came up with a different interpretation.

Yeah... Three of Swords... thing is, it's in reverse (upside-down). Some card readers don't consider upside-down cards but I always have. Anyway, getting ahead of myself here, but since 3 of Swords is reversed, it's not quite as heartbreaking.









Wow, really! That's really great! See, now I'm curious.

I began reading cards in high school probably, maybe college. Back in the day I even worked at the Tarot Card Hotline (this was a 1-800 number, pre-internet, of couse. People would call from all over the country). Didn't work there for long, though. Too impersonal doing that sort of thing over the phone.



You are very right, my piano-playing buddy. I'm currently 3 stories ahead of what you're about to read, the "even deeper" part is especially hitting home. Because the thing is, I've been sort of questioning how a Breton could get involved with such a serious foretelling. But it's actually playing out just perfectly, and unexpectedly.

Let's see what happens next.

Chapter XLV: Considering the Cards


"Excuse me," Joan said to Aradirr. "Might we just take a moment so I may gather my thoughts?"

"As you wish!"

The Breton sipped her drink, ruminating all which had been said by the Dunmer across the table. What exactly was Joan Marie doing, allowing this virtual stranger to engage in what amounted to fortune-telling?

She realized that she'd accepted the seer's card request because it was a way to put off what had been troubling her not long ago. A small chain of events had occurred the moment she ordered her drink, which was why she was sitting here now. For instance, if she hadn't taken those moments to read the Fashion Guild literature which had been placed at her table, perhaps she would've forced herself to pore Cosades's decoded material, instead.

Reading about the guild of Torrid Tarts and Saucy Succubi had caused her to laugh, and appear lighthearted. Which caused Aradirr the Oracle to perhaps feel more welcome to approach the previously-preoccupied woman whose face had been etched with worry. Might I desire a reading of cards to take my mind away from my troubles? Why surely, I would.

Joan took another sip, and noticed: her usually pristine self-centered equilibrium, the balance of her hips, torso, and shoulders, seemed off. Even sitting here upon this chair, she could feel the difference. Maybe it'd been good she'd been interrupted by the elf. She wasn't an experienced drinker. Perhaps she'd be stone-cold drunk by now if she'd continued to slurp her second shein in a row!

Her head still swimmy, she took a few quick moments to consider all which had been said so far by the oracle.

Joan had always been a rather earthbound person, not given to flights of fancy or (let's say) a mage's desire for experimentation. She had exactly four spell-types inscribed within her spellbook for instance, not forty. She'd always been the sort of person who utilizes exactly what she needs. So, not that she was putting any belief into Aradirr's attempts at reading Joan's fortune. But hypothetically speaking (hypothetically speaking), some of what Aradirr revealed did ring some moments of truth.

The card which represented her past, for instance, the Six of Coins. Fact is, Joan had certainly been involved in performing righteous deeds; collecting money for the Imperial Cult so it could eventually assist those in need. She'd done similar acts of kindness back home as well, as part of the congregation of Cheydinhal's Chapel of Arkay.

...And the card which supposedly portrayed her future, The World; the one with the unclothed lady centered inside that wreath of green leaves. What had Aradirr said? ...That, in fact, you shall enter what is to become a brand-new world for you. Something like that. Which was definitely true. If Joan chose to continue the path she was currently striding upon; if she actually DID decide to somehow play the part of a prophet returned to Vvardenfell, certainly it was sounding as though her life would change in some grand way. No doubt about it.

"May we continue?" the Dunmer grinned, eager to plunge.

Joan considered two options. She could simply throw the coin she owed on the table and leave. But she was too curious to see which cards would be turned over next. If anything, it was good to at least think about her present, past, and future, to ponder these facets of time with someone she did not know.

"So, we've glanced the past, and also thy present and future. The next choice is the Card of Consultant." Aradirr turned card number four over. "Usually, this one denotes a sort of answer, to whatever query it is upon the mind. A way to proceed forward, which ties into whatever conclusions are forthcoming."

"Oh," the Cyrodiilic Breton gasped slightly.

"And we have The Hermit."

Joan could see what looked to be a typically-gray, elderly fellow. A wizard perhaps, wearing a hooded gray robe. In his left hand he held a staff, or a walking stick. He carried a lantern with his right.

"Hmm. Perhaps I should explain a few things about the deck, Joan. It is comprised of two sets of cards, actually: Major Arcana and Minor Arcana. The Six of Coins, for instance, is a Minor Arcana card."

"Alright," Joan replied.

"Those from the Minor set mostly consider events, situations, and other such outer happenings. Physical moments which occur as we muck about. And also actual people in our lives, sometimes represented by kings, queens, and pages.

"Conversely, those from the Major Arcana, such as The World and The Hermit, are more concerned about inner states of being. Changes which occur mostly inside of our minds, and inside our hearts. These changes may be brought on through outer events, but it's the inner transitions which are shown by these cards."

"I see."

"The Hermit, like The World, is a Major Arcana card. As stated, this is your card of consultant, often regarded as an answer to unspoken questions. The Hermit lives on his own, by himself upon the top of the mountain portrayed beneath his feet. This mountain he stands upon represents life experience. He is wise, he's got wisdom on his side, which is portrayed by the lantern he's carrying. This lantern, it is insight, it is inspiration, you see? Yet he shares it with no one. And feels as though he's no longer a part of society.

"Not to say you are exactly within this frame of mind, Joan. You are sitting right here in this bar, after all, amongst lots of others. You are also young. But what I am saying: concerning whatever's troubling you, whatever it was I saw upon thy face not long ago, THAT is what is being borne, all alone. You may have experienced a few things beyond your years. Not to pry, but I can sense this onus you're carrying. But... The Hermit is not just about antisocial wisdom. Quite often, you may find it necessary to remain in such a state, as you embark into whatever new things are to come. You may find it necessary to draw upon this lonely wisdom at times. This shall become the beacon carried as you hasten forward."

Joan seemed stunned. "But ... so ... ehm... how? I mean, you and I have just met," she blurted. "We are literal strangers, you and I. How is it you know of these things?" Was the elf somehow in cahoots with Caius, and whatever folks were cavorting unseen?

"I do not know of them," Aradirr countered. "I do not know you. But I do know my cards. Would you like to see what comes next?"

Joan nodded.

"Next card represents the Attitudes of Others. Significant others in your life, that is, and how they'll influence as this phase of life unfolds.

Aradiir turned card number five over, making a face once she saw what was revealed.

"Oh no," Joan said. "Three swords piercing a heart? I do not gather this one's any good."

"It's the Three of Swords. As can be seen, it's a rather grim card, of course, very obvious with its meaning. However, this card is in a reversed position. Which means it is upside-down, from your perspective."

Joan could see this. The numeral "3" was represented in the old Imperial manner, so 'III' instead of '3'. But this number was at the bottom of the card, not its top. "Looks rather grim, I'd certainly concur."

"Well, since the card is upside-down, this changes the way things are to be interpreted. Normally, Three of Swords is all about strife. Loneliness. Disappointment, and so on. However, here we have a different interpretation of such things, due to that inverse position. Which means somebody, or some persons significant within thy life, have not necessarily disappointed or caused harm in some great way...

"But I'd take this one as a warning, Joan. Whomever it is that's involved with whatever's on your mind, it's advised to remain cautious around this person, or these persons."

Joan couldn't help but immediately think of Caius, of course. She'd been working with lots of people so far here in Vvardenfell, from two separate guilds, and two Imperial factions. But this was about Caius! -- Caius... and whoever was really ordering her around the province with these mysterious instructions.

"Next card represents a potential obstacle, something which may hinder progress. And here we have Temperance, which is again in a reversed position."

The crusader could see what looked to be a glorious setting: a winged man, an angel perhaps, pouring what looked to be water from one cup to another.

"I am going to turn this card upright," the seer said, "so that you may take in Temperance's full glory. Notice these things: the figure in Temperance is pouring fluid from one goblet to another, but note that this fluid is defying gravity. Instead of dripping straight from one cup and into the pond below, it is pouring sideways.

"And this represents some sort of mastery, you see? Even our attempts at telekinesis via Mysticism magic has never been able to cause fluid to pour in such a way. Also, the angel's right foot is dipping into the pond below, while the other stays firmly on land. Usually, all of this portrays somebody who is exemplary at coordinating several things at once."

Several things at once, Joan Marie's mind echoed. Not that she was giving full stock to any of this, but 'several things at once' is what her entire life had become, over the past few months.

"We have the four universal elements well-illustrated upon this card, Joan: The sun rising is Fire, which is our spiritual, unseen side. The angel's wings are mastery with Air, mastery of thoughts, that is.. The pond and the goblet being poured displays Water, which are emotions and feelings. And all of these symbols would not be complete without the ground under the angel's feet, and the mountains, which espouse Earth. Our physical being, which we use to navigate our world.

"However..." Aradirr turned the card so it was upside-down again. "Temperance is reversed. It is also in the position pertaining to an obstacle. So, the meaning is clear. To remain within the boundaries of wisdom and steadfastedness," she pointed to The Hermit, "and step into what shall be a brand-new world," she pointed to Joan's 'future' card, "you must avoid being distracted from unfortunate combinations. In other ways of saying: Keep thy head upon straight," Aradirr elucidated. "Do not become overwhelmed as a number of facets are faced."

Joan nodded.

"And now, the final card, the Outcome. Whatever is here shall be our entire conclusion, regarding all which have been discussed." The elf turned the one which resided to Joan's lower right over. "The Hanged Man... eek!"

Eek, indeed. The Hanged Man showed man who was hanging, except he'd been noosed from his foot, not his neck. He was, in fact, hanging upside-down.

"Hope this does not mean I shall someday soon be strung from my ankle!"

Aradirr laughed. "No worries about such things, Joan. Aye, the man on the card has been placed into what some may consider to be a precarious, uncomfortable position. But notice the look upon his face: it is serene, not filled with angst. And notice this also: he's got a halo surrounding his entire head."

"And what does this mean, Aradirr? I gather there's more insightments? More elucidations?"

"Aye, splendid, Joan of Cyrodiil, but there's more. - This card portrays what happens when the events which occur within our lives cause us to completely reverse those things which we've previously regarded to be as most sacred. Most trustworthy. Most expected. Our habits, our viewpoint on life, all of those things are to change, Joan. Seeing life from a new perspective, usually in some opposite way as before. The halo around his head, like the lamp being carried by The Hermit, indeed represents enlightenment, and possibly inspiration."

And Joan could see this. Not that she was putting any faith into a bunch of painted cards, but the things the seer was speaking of could definitely become true. If she were to actually follow the instructions given to her by Caius; if she were to head off to Urshilaku Camp and pretend to be the long-lost prophet returned to grace, and assuming these Ashlanders actually believed her somehow, certainly her entire 'viewpoint on life' would be 'seen from a new perspective ... usually in some opposite way'.

Aradirr and Joan spent another hour or so, discussing further things about their lives late into the night. The seer ordered a drink of her own, while Joan chose to abstain from more liquor. Eventually, it was time to go.

The seer had asked seven drakes for the reading. Joan Marie gave her twenty.

-------------------------------------------

Notes: The interesting, almost unique thing about this reading is that the entire left side of the horseshoe (6 of Coins to the Hermit) are rightside-up. The entire right side of the spread is upside-down. Even The Hanged Man, which is technically upright, portrays a figure who is upside-down. Obvious overall rhythm here: the things to come are going to totally flip my 'toon's world.

Joan slurp her shein? Arkay forbid!

I liked how you put all the meanings of the cards into context with one another, rather than just take them separately. I am sure Joan will indeed need to keep her head on straight during what is to come.

Like its predecessor, I found this episode fascinating. Aradirr seems pretty good at what she does. Joan is right to be skeptical, but wise to at least consider some of the implications of this reading. She is also wise in that she stops her libations, and generous in overpaying her seer.

Is it okay the story took a detour away from the main plot?

I suppose you know my answer! With what Lena Wolf is getting up to... Of course it's Ok! It's what makes your story your story and not just another retelling of the Morrowind Main Quest.

Funnily enough, I didn't realise the card reading wasn't a part of Bethesda's version until I nearly got to the end of the second episode! So that's the proof - it fits!

For those of us who know the main plot already, the enjoyment of the story comes only from watching how a different character handles the same situations. Going off the main plot means we also get brand new situations, to go with the new character handling it in their own unique fashion. So it is a two thumbs up!

Someone once said:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

For the longest time I misread and misunderstood what Frost was saying. It was a few years ago during a Kentucky Bourbon Trail lighting run (9 distilleries in three days) that I came to understand what was being alluded to. Someone had set the GPS device to avoid highways. Traveling dirt roads that wound their way around hills and valleys took three times longer to drive from one distillery to the next but the beautiful Kentucky countryside we saw made the trip memorable. In other words, unless you make the choice now and then to venture into realms unknown, the well beaten path may be comfortable, but it can become flat and boring. So, I echo, for the divergence.

Guild of Torrid Tarts and Saucy Succubi, I need to get back to Vvardenfell.

Thanks for the explanation on Minor vs Major Arcana. I hadn't been clear on that.

So this matches up pretty well with what little I do know regarding Tarot; namely, that it doesn't deal in certainties but more like... probabilities? At any rate, it gives Joan a lot of food for thought. Her life definitely will be uprooted if she continues on her quest.

Regarding the Hermit: Describes the Nerevarine's position pretty well. They have to draw on a lot of inner strength. Yes, they must also work with others, but figuring out who those others should be is a pretty big part of the job.

Regarding the Three of Swords: it could be Caius she has to be careful with. But I could also see it as being Almalexia or even Dagoth Ur (given Dagoth's interest in the Nerevarine).

Regarding Temperance: Clearly, this means avoiding too many side-quests. Maybe in a more narrative-focused sense, it just means that the Nerevarine must stay focused.

Regarding the Hanged Man: Yeah, fulfilling an ancient prophecy will indeed completely rearrange one's beliefs (even if one doesn't believe in the prophecy per se).

We all know the storyline to Morrowind, so there's certainly no harm in deviating from it.

Hey, thanks all for taking the time with answers. Those are good points: the story of these quests are Beth's stories, but what really makes them unique are what we add on our own. Funny thing: I hadn't really even thought of it in such a poignant way.

Now... ugh. I'm going to need to take a break from writing for a while. Mostly due to real-life midlife crisis stuff which has been weighing quite a bit.
Anyway, thanks all for your participation in this thread, and others who have helped me along when I get stuck with this or that. Maybe I'll return to this story later in the summer. If not, at least it ends in a way so that it feels sort of complete, in a way.

I'll continue to be here at Chorrol and read your all's stories, including yours Lena, although maybe I'll keep comments to myself for a while just because I really want to catch up to where you're at now.

macole: So that's how GPS works! No wonder when I went to Jersey a couple years ago I wound up in some backwoods countryside almost about to faceplant while driving over one-lane bridges. In any event, using the "Shortest Distance" feature to navigate definitely does not mean using the "shortest time" quotient. Ah, well.

Clavier: Yes, Tarot deals with probabilities, as do a lot of diviniation techniques. In the olden days it seems whenever the Death card showed up for instance, that *Oh no, you're gonna die!* was the immediate interpretation, and there's no choice at all in the matter. But life is not like that. We often have choices to follow. Tarot cards (astrology, etc.) are merely a good way to see more clearly what's going on.

And wow, very nice interpretation of the cards on your own. See, that makes me smile. Really need to just smile and relax and *everything's gonna be alright*, as my father used to say. And check out some Outlanders later on.


Thanks again folks, and as always, have some

Renee, sorry you're struggling with life a bit right now. One really nice thing about fanfic is that you can do it however/whenever you want and go in any direction you want and, especially here at chorrol, there are folks you can always count on for support and friendship regardless. When you wanna write, you gotta write; when you don't, no worries. We're patient.

I am sorry to hear you are dealing with life issues right now. I hope you can get things sorted out, and get back to a happier state. In the very least, we will always be here to help you blow off steam and forget about the rest of the world for at least a few minutes.

Real life just always gets in the way, doesn't it. So now it's your turn, Renee. Hang in there! It will blow over! No matter how big a storm, unless you are standing right next to an Oblivion gate, it will be over!

Renee, I am saddened to hear that RL pressures have gotten you down. To brighten-up your day, a bouquet of one of my favorite daylilies from my flower garden.

Daylilies are beautiful flowers. A single bloom only last a day. It closes up overnight to be replaced by the opening of a new bud the next morning.

A local witch once told me that at the end of the day just before sunset if you whisper your troubles into an open flower by morning the flower will have closed up sealing the painful event away and a new bloom, free of pain, will have opened to greet you.

Hopefully, your troubles pass as swiftly as a daylily flower and are soon replaced with the opening of a new trouble-free day.

Hey, sorry to hear that RL's getting in the way. That's something every writer's familiar with (I certainly am). Creativity is a great fallback to have, though. Even if we can't control the world around us, we can control the little worlds we create, and there's a strength in that.

Rest assured, we'll be here waiting for the further adventures of Joan and Laprima.

Thanks everyone. I'll come back at some point. Writing doesn't wreck my entire week, but it does take a good many hours and we're all getting older and all of that. If I actually make it to retirement age I'll have all the time I want. That won't happen for over a decade though.

Anyway, I'm figuring some things out, my therapist and I, that is. Hopefully by September I'll return full force.

6 Rain's Hand (Day 234) late morning, 3E 428





Fresh from learning her fate from the seer in Balmora, Joan of Arkay felt ready to continue her journey into whatever was to come, and headed north. But before she did so, she made sure to study the accounts and journals given to her by Caius; the ones which stated matter-of-factly what her new mission in life was to be. And though she did not fully agree with what the Emperor supposedly had in store for her, she felt eager to traipse forward. Because perhaps she could somehow make sense of all of this nonsense. ... She? ... The Nerevarine prophet? Hmph. She would plunge forthwith anyhow, perhaps hoping to make her new world a better place.

It took several days for the crusader to arrive at Urshilaku Camp. The scout in Maar Gan had given her some directions, telling her to head East, not North. But this route would've taken her through what looked to be more danger than necessary. At the very least she'd pass right by the foot of the Red Mountain. With her luck, this meant there'd be at least one storm full of ash along the way.

Instead, she chose to walk from Maar Gan to Ald Velothi. From there, she headed to Khuul. She bade her new Dunmer bowgirl goodbye inside of Khuul's tradehouse, promising to return in a few days. Joan would be water-walking for the rest of the trip, and unless her follower wanted to do a lot of swimming, she'd better stay behind.

After striding over seawater during most of Rain's Hand 5, Joan got lucky; discovered an abandoned shipwreck which had smashed upon the coast. Perfect place to spend the night! After dispatching a skeleton which resided within the boat's upper hull, there was nothing to interrupt her sleep. Since the boat had nested itself upon the shore on an angle, Joan Marie needed to prop her bedroll in such a way that she wouldn't roll within its cabin while she slept.

According to the scout, Urshilaku was somewhere east of a Daedric city called Assurnabitashpi, which Joan walked safely by the next day. As she did so, she spied one huge daedric monster from a distance which looked like an enormous walking eggplant. What the Nine is that?

The daedra. This was a subject which, sometime soon, she'd need to begin studying. Joan had read about Cyrodiil's daedric minions in an academic way: the daedroth, the dremora, the scamps, and xivali, but didn't know much about what Vvardenfell had to offer. This was because so far, she hadn't much need to approach any of their ancient cities or temples.

And hopefully she wouldn't need to...

Finally past Assurnabitashpi, Joan began to edge closer to shore.

The air was pleasant. Here, the beach was silty and gray. She strode upon it a while, still heading east, until she thought she heard the sounds of those hanging wooden tubes (chimes?) Ashlanders sometimes placed outside of their yurts. As breezes blew the tubes around they made distinctive clinking noises. Seems she might be in the right place.

Yes, she'd found the camp. Climbed a small hill, and here it was. "There is someone watching me," she overheard a male villager say, "I can tell."

Urshilaku consisted of the usual assortment of stands, yurts, and earthen decorations. It was similar in size (and atmospherically) to Erabenisum, that camp which’d been in the middle of that horrible ash storm, where that somewhat clueless Breton researcher had gotten trapped up by an Ashlander witch.

"I don't have a lot of patience, outlander," said a Dunmer matron wearing colorful clothes.

"And ye needn't possess basketfuls of such, as I come in peace," Joan stated. "I am Joan, of Cyrodiil, as you may've gleaned from my accented words. I presume this is Urshilaku?"

"This is Urshilaku camp, outlander," the matron confirmed.

May Dibella guide my path. This next stint would be sensitive, requiring a delicate approach. Joan had memorized the names of the camp-dwellers she was to speak to, but made a show of consulting her journal, anyway. "I am here to suss either Sul-Matuul or Nibani Macsa," she said, keeping her eyes cast downward as a show of respect.

"Hmm. Have you a small kwama egg for me?" the Ashlander asked slyly.

And in fact, Joan did have one. "Would you like it?" Joan asked. "I understand eggmines can be quite distant at times."

"Ah, these are quite tasty," the Dunmer matron said, looking forward to not having to scrounge for her next meal. And it was because of this moment of generosity on Joan's part that the matron confirmed the two tribal members she'd been sent to speak with were here, at the camp.

After awkwardly searching several yurts, her pale (yet somewhat tanned, after all she'd been spending plenty of time outdoors) skin glowing pink everytime she overtly blushed while making small social blunders, she finally found Sul-Matuul. "I don't have a lot of patience for questions, outlander," the Nerevarine Cult's supposed guardian huffed. The elf then surrounded himself with shielding magic; Joan could see the magic's purple essence swirling all around him.

She took a breath. Silently channeled Dibella into her thoughts while activating the magical belt she wore. This belt contained magic which would assist her persuasion attempts further. But none of this mattered. Sul-Matuul immediately told Joan she should leave! -- After a few additional attempts the guardian drew his weapon (a large, magical broadaxe), causing the crusader to vacate his premises.

It took another couple hours. Joan jabbered to several other camp-dwellers, all who wanted 'small gifts' from her, usually a handful of coin. Finally, she met Kurapli, the camp's trader. It was this trader who explained a way in.

"You want to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Macsa? I doubt that this is possible. You are an outlander. You have no permission to speak with them." But then the trader confided: "I suggest you speak with the gulakhan Zabamund."

"Gulakhan Zabamund," Joan repeated.

"His yurt is just across from mine. With a recommendation from a sub-chief like Zabamund, Sul-Matuul might be more willing to speak with you."

Zabamund, like several others Joan met, wanted drakes. But not just a handful. He would only accept a hundred pieces, and not a coin less. Even after the money was paid, the sub-chief balked to accept Joan's presence. It was only after a few more moments of clever banter the elf finally gave in.

"You have no standing among us, outlander," she said, "but you speak well...So I will explain. It is against our customs that an outlander should speak to an ashkhan or wise woman."

"Graces, sera," Joan replied. "'Tis of mighty importance that a mere acolyte from the central province of Tamriel must do so, and posthaste, as the matter provides."

"I'll tell you also that Sul-Matuul has no love for outlanders," warned Kurapli the trader.

As if that wasn't obvious enough. Still, armed with this new bit of advice, her boots by now filthy with ash, Joan finally felt as though she had the information necessary to cause some final progress.

"Filthy s'wit," the ashkhan Sul-Matuul muttered a few minutes later, after Joan re-entered his yurt. Though still grouchy, at least the elf had deactivated his magical shield. Nor was he brandishing his huge, magical broadaxe.

"I come in peace, sera," Joan began, looking downward once again. "That we might arrange to discuss some very urgent matters..."

It was at this very moment that she realized she'd made a crucial mistake: all this time, she'd been talking to these suspicious, distrustful Ashlander elves while wearing her Imperial armor!


----------------------------------------------------------------

Urshilaku Camp (map)

Joan in the northern Ashlands

Striding into the Camp

Sul-Matuul - *shudders* The guy creeps me out.

Societal Sundown (Notice she's changed into common clothes... oops!)

-----------------------------

Notes: 1). Joanie had to sell a bunch of items and bribe several camp members with commodities or gold. When she finally spoke to the sub-chief he wanted a hundred drakes. Joan paid this money, and then successfully Admired him (phew) so that his Disposition toward her was 80!

All those times I've been clicking on the Persuasion option, and we're talking in the thousands by now, finally, all those clicks paid off!

2). My crusader found a safe place to store all her armor: her Imperial Steel Cuirsass, Imperial Templar Greaves, Steel Boots, and Iron Gauntlets, though she still has her weapons and her Blessed Shield. Now, she's down to her regular common clothes and bare feet. In the next chapter we'll see if this wardrobe change makes any difference.

Ah yes, I remember the social rituals of small (not) gifts and the importance of proper clothing. Good going, Joan!

Joanie is off into the unknown, if not embracing her fate, at least looking upon it with curiosity.

Ah, she is doing the trick of water walking to avoid the dangerous spots. Some of my characters used to do that in Oblivion to go back and forth between the IC and Leyawiin, walking or swimming all the way up and down the river.

Thankfully Joan has done her homework relating to Ashlander customs, and is ready with bribes gifts to smooth the way.

And it still ends the same way as usual, being unceremoniously thrown out! I always find the Ashlanders to be endlessly exasperating.

We'll see if Joanie's thread selection changes anything.

Welcome back, and glad you’re able to find a bit of time for sharing Joan’s story.

So Joan has an elven bowgirl, albeit a Dunmeri one.

Urgh, the only thing Ashlanders have going for them is that they’re no more pompous and hateful to outsiders than Dunmer from any of the major houses.

Joan has the patience of Arkay to play their games. I hope her Imperial armor is not going to be a large further impediment.

Good to see this again!

I liked Joan's idea of water-walking to Urshilaku. It's a good example of how the game rewards unconventional thinking, since the shoreline provides an orientation marker for her. She's also less likely to be attacked.

And once in Urshilaku Camp, she has to go about the business of gift-giving and proving herself all over again. The Ashlanders do not trust easily, and having a good reputation among the regular Dunmer doesn't mean anything to them.

The bit at the end was great. Morrowind makes a surprisingly big deal about what you wear, and Joan belatedly realizes that donning the armor of the Empire makes it a lot harder to win over the anti-Empire Ashlanders.