A Stranger in a strange place
A soft voice was whispering words I couldn't quite understand in my ear as I stood in a place flooded with a brilliant golden light. They seemed to hold a promise but, every time I tried to understand them, a strange sloshing noise filled my head. Try as hard as I might, I couldn't focus on the whisperer - the bright golden light blotted out everything. Suddenly, the world started to shake...
"Wake up," a masculine voice said as the dream shattered and fell away in glittering motes of light. "Wake up, you were dreaming. Wake up, it looks like we've arrived: I overheard a guard say we're docking in Morrowind."
"Not even last night's storm could wake you," the Dark Elf I shared this cramped space with said. Bleary-eyed I blinked at him, trying to figure out what in Stendarr's name was going on. "My name is Jiub," my companion said, helping me to my feet, "who are you?"
"Mishkin, " I responded as I swayed on my feet. The Drake suddenly dropped and I realised that not all of the swaying could be accounted for by my debilitated condition. What was it the one-eyed Dark Elf had said? "Docking in Morrowind"? Yes, that's what he'd said, which meant we were aboard a ship.
"What do you mean, we're..." I started to ask.
"Shhh," he interrupted, "here comes a guard".
"You, prisoner 1356778," the guard said as he pointed a heavily mailed fist at me. "Follow me up on deck: keep quite, keep in step, and no funny business." Shrugging slightly at Jiub, I stood up and shuffled after the Imperial, my movements hampered by the heavy manacles around both my wrists and ankles. As the first guard stood watch, two more guards snapped to attention. One bolted the cell door while the other bent behind me and unfastened the chains around my ankles. With a jerk of his head, the first guard indicated I should follow him. Knowing that any other course was both futile and painful, I complied.
I followed the guard past the other (empty) holding cells onto the upper deck. Marching me to a set of stairs, he snapped, "Get up on deck prisoner. They'll send an escort for you."
Glad to be obliging, I scrambled up the steps and onto the deck. There, an elderly looking Redguard gestured towards the plank leading towards a jetty - at the bottom of which another Imperial Guard was waiting. "Make your way down to the docks prisoner," he said, not unkindly. "You'll be taken to processing and released."
The guard at the bottom of the plank looked up as I approached. "Are you Prisoner Number 1356778?" he asked. When I indicated that I was, indeed, Prisoner Number 1356778, he asked me if I was a Dunmer. I must have looked really confused, because he explained that Dark Elves weren't called Dark Elves in Morrowind, they were called Dunmer. Still queasy, I blinked at him and nodded: either he was blind, or he was stupid, and I wasn't in any fit state to deal with either condition.
"I'm sure you'll fit right in," he said enigmatically, before ordering me to follow him down to the quayside where I was to see Socucius Ergalla in the Customs and Excise Offices for "processing".
I stepped into the offices of the Imperial Bureau of Excise and Census, there to be greeted by an elderly Imperial in an ill-fitting robe. "I'm Socucius Ergalla," he said. "I have a few questions to ask you, then you can sign your papers and leave. Now, you are Sudhendra Vahl, a Dunmer from Hammerfell. Charged with various offences and sentenced to ten years in Alabaster Prison. Said sentence commuted to exile here on the island of Vvardenfell in the Imperial Province of Morrowind. Hmmm, the papers say that you go by the name of Mishkin Dark-Skin, I need to know your real name so that you can be officially entered into the records."
"Sudhendra Vahl," I blurted. I was anxious to leave any trace of my old life behind. Here was a chance to start anew, and I was going to seize it with both hands and never, ever let go.
"Sudhendra Vahl," he said, scribbling my name onto an official looking scroll. "What were the names of your parents?"
"I don't know," I replied, bluntly adding, "I never knew them".
"Uh-huh. And what star sign were you born under?"
"That of the Apprentice," I said.
He looked up sharply at that; muttering something that sounded like "interesting" before handing me two scrolls and saying, "check that all the details on here are correct, and make your mark at the bottom. I'll keep one, you take the other to the captain of the guard - Sellus Gravius. He'll give you your release money and any final instructions."
Release money sounded interesting, at least I wouldn't be starting my new life here penniless. Signing my papers with a flourish, I handed one copy back to Socucius Ergalla. The room's other occupant, a stiffly formal Imperial Guard, unlocked the heavy wooden door and ushered me through into the next room. Politely, I shut the door behind me. Directly in front of me lay a short corridor that terminated in a trio of steps down to another door while, off to my right, was a small chamber. Descending the stairs, I found that the door was unlocked, so I opened it. Inside was a small chamber, a sort of storage area I guess. A rough and stained pallet lay on the floor in an alcove - alongside it were five Hessian sacks and a couple of wooden barrels. There were bits of plant and strange aromatic herbs inside the sacks: thinking that I might manage to get a few Drakes for them, I took them all. The barrels contained a few items - mostly household stuff like jars and bottles. Two kegs, on stands, at the back of the room proved to be disappointingly empty. There was also a key on the bench, but it didn't fit into the lock on the trapdoor that led into a cellar (I guess).
Back up into the main chamber, where I examined the items on the table. A loaf of fresh bread, some silverware, a bottle of some local liquor, a candelabrum, a strange flaky meat I didn't recognise, a sheet of paper, a small note, a lock-pick, and a low quality iron dagger. I took the lot - feeling very happy now that I had some form of defence. (A girl should never walk around undefended). A nearby bench provided another sheet of paper and three loaves of fresh bread, all of which I "liberated" before turning my attention to the bookcase, munching on a hunk of bread as I did so.
There were a number of empty bottles, two earthenware jugs of some hooch, a number of plates and goblets, a strange and leathery egg, a copy of 'The Firmament', and a small locked wooden chest. After filching everything that I could, I turned my attention to the small chest. It took me a while to tease open the lock - despite my light-fingered approach to the contents of the Census offices, I'm not really a thief.
Consequently, it was hard work for me to open the chest, despite the cheap and battered lock. After several minutes of monotonous cursing on my part over the recalcitrant lock, it finally snapped open - just as the pick snapped in two. I managed to get the half of the lock-pick out of the cylinder before opening the chest. Inside was a stack of thirty-seven coins, which I cheerfully added to my purse. My final act was to check the two barrels by the door - they yielded up another couple of those leathery eggs, some strands of a dark dried jerky, and some more of that flaky yellow meat.
I opened the door and stepped into a small, enclosed courtyard. I took a deep breath, and then coughed as I caught the swampy stench of decaying vegetation and a flinty, acrid smell I didn't recognise. "Dibella's heliopauses," I cursed, "that's a real stink". I only hoped that I could get used to it (and that the whole island didn't smell quite as bad). Nevertheless, I gathered myself together and walked towards the entrance to another building. Beside the door was another barrel, which, naturally, I investigated. Inside was an ornate cube made of a metal I didn't recognise, a ring (which gave off an arcane glow), and another bottle. Shrugging, I took all of the items, despite the fact I was unable to identify the enchantment on the engraved ring for some reason. It was about then that I realised I had a problem.
So, this prisoner gets off the boat wearing only a pair of stained breeches, a pair of shoes so cheap they're practically made of waxed paper, a prison collar, and a tattered shirt. After signing her papers, said prisoner walks into the office of the Captain of the Guard laden down with silverware, food, books, and what-have-you. End result? Back off to prison with you Sudhendra Vahl - and this time no pardon or exile, stay there until you rot. Not exactly the most auspicious start to a new life my girl, no, not at all.
Julianos teaches that there are no problems that cannot be overcome if you stop and think about them or, at least, so I had read. Making a quick detour back into the storage room, I added a Hessian sack to my haul. Then I did something smarter; I added my haul to the Hessian sack and the Hessian sack to the rain barrel. Now unencumbered by anything that might get me thrown back into jail, I marched into Sellus Gravius' office like a good little prisoner.
Sellus Gravius was a gruff, self-important man clad in shiny Templar armour. He obviously had very little time for me, snapping, "give me your papers" at me the instant I entered the room. He took a long time examining them before gruffly conceding, "These all seem to be in order. Come here."
Rather reluctantly, I went and stood in front of him, obligingly turning my back to him when he indicated that I should. I felt a hand brush my hair aside, and then there was a sharp "click". The heavy metal collar slipped from around my neck and I caught it instinctively. Then I dropped it like I'd just caught hold of a dead rat. Stepping wide around the nullity-collar, I gave it a very disdainful look. Now I knew why I'd been feeling so unwell since I'd woken up.� I could feel the ebb and flow of arcane forces once more, and felt myself slowly recharging my magicka levels. "Here is your release fee," he continued, handing me a heavy leather pouch, "and here is a packet of documents that you have to deliver to Caius Cosades in Balmora."
"Your pardon sir," I said with feigned humility, "but where is Balmora, and how will I find this Caius Cosades?"
He made an annoyed sound as he turned back towards me. "Take a 'strider to Balmora, or walk - it's signposted well enough. As for finding him, I have no idea. I do know he frequents the South Wall Cornerclub. Try asking there." With that, he gave me a dismissive glance and turned back to the paperwork on his desk. With a shrug, and a rude gesture at his back, I went back into the courtyard and retrieved my sack. Looking for all the world as though I was doing nothing out of the ordinary, I marched back through the office of Sellus Gravius and out into a new world.
A broad, open area faced me, bordered on the sides with squat stone houses in a common Imperial style: namely rough-hewn stone blocks with a thatched roof. One of the buildings was taller than the rest, and had a wooden walkway around the side that could be reached by a flight of wooden steps. A stiff breeze blew in from behind me, dispelling the fetid odour with the tangy scent of the ocean. I turned to face it, realising as I did that the prison ship I'd arrived on had already departed. I waited a while, but there was no sign of Jiub. Finally, I called over to the guard who'd escorted me from the ship, "Excuse me, but how long ago was it that you escorted the other prisoner into the office?"
"What other prisoner?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "You were the only prisoner on the manifest to be disembarking here. The 'Arrow' is on its way to Falkreath and the Imperial prison there". Falkreath is a hellhole, well known throughout the Empire as one of the harshest of Imperial prisons. I was disappointed, I had hoped to be able to talk to the Dark Elf and get some information. Information such as how I'd got aboard, where we'd sailed from - stuff like that. Anything, really, to get some hint as to why my prison sentence had been commuted to exile in this... dump. With a sigh, I turned from the sea and promptly bumped into someone.
"Welcome to Seyda Neen," the little Bosmeri said, overriding my apologies. "My name's Fargoth, and you must be the new exile. I hope the guards weren't too rough on you, that Sellus Gravius can be a nasty piece of work..."
"Sudhendra Vahl," I offered, extending a hand in greeting, hoping to cut the little Mer off before he got too annoying. He shook my hand, but carried on yattering away.
"...Sure he's the one responsible for all my problems. It seems that every day is 'annoy Fargoth day' for the guards. They watch my every move, roust me whenever they get the chance. Why, I'm sure it was them that stole my ring."
"Ring?" I queried, hoping to stop the flow of chatter.
"Yes," Fargoth replied, "a ring. Beautiful it was, gold and set with a small green stone. The gold was engraved with intricate designs. It's enchanted you know, belonged to my mother who, quite naturally, had a great many such rings. It's very precious to me, that ring..."
There are some people who will wonder why I did what I did next. Certainly it is common in every Province that "what you find, you keep". Digging into my pocket, I fetched out the engraved ring and showed it to the Bosmeri. "Would this be it?" I asked.
"Why yes," the annoying little Bosmer said, almost snatching it from my hand. "You know, you've done me a great favour, and I'm sure that you and I are going to be very close friends. I'll speak to Arrille and make sure he gives you a discount. He and I are very good friends you know. Why, only the other day, he was saying 'Fargoth, you're such a good friend to me'. And he always..."
And there you have the reason I acted so uncharacteristically. It's always been a policy of mine to get an 'in' with somebody in every new town I visit. They're the people who know where the best deals can be found, who to avoid, what the guard patrol patterns are like: in short, the sort of stuff that that you need to know. The fact that this squeaky-voiced little Wood Elf knew a decent trader was a bonus.
"Sorry," I said, fighting down an urge to smack the Wood Elf across the face. "I must get on." With that, I turned my back on him and walked away, leaving him standing there happily reminiscing to the empty space I'd been occupying. By the Divines, Bosmeri are such annoying little gits.
"I see you've had a run in with Fargoth," a male voice said. I turned, and found myself face to face with a dark-haired Man. He could have been Bretonian or Cyrodiil I was uncertain which. When he introduced himself as Vodunius Nuccius, I knew him for an Imperial. "I know this must be hard on you, exiled far from home, but it's not too bad here - well, it's actually pretty bad, appalling actually - but we pretend it isn't to keep ourselves from running, screaming, for the first ship away from here." I laughed, then extended a hand and introduced myself.
"Pleasure to meet you Sudhendra Vahl," he said. "Vahl, that's a very old name. I guess it's traditional Dunmeri although it's not one I've heard before. What?" he added with a smile, "you're surprised I said 'Dunmeri' instead of 'Dark Elf'?"
"I am," I admitted.
"Most folks around here tend to use Dunmeri to describe you people. It's only the ignorant," here he scowled at a passing guard, "or the deliberately rude who don't. Listen, I must be going but, if there's any help I can give you, don't hesitate to ask."
"Well, there are a couple of things," I admitted. "The guard captain mentioned something called a 'strider' that could get me to Balmora. And Fargoth mentioned someone named Arrille."
"Arrille runs the local Tradehouse, in fact, it's the only Tradehouse in Seyda Neen," he said, swivelling to point at the two-storey building I'd noticed earlier. "He's pretty much a general trader. There's a decent bar upstairs, run by a Yokudan named Elone, but no beds I'm sorry to say.
"'Strider is short for Silt-Strider; a unique form of indigenous transport." Taking my arm, he swivelled me around and pointed between two buildings. There I could see a massive creature standing up against some sort of ramp. It looked, for all the world, like a massive flea. "It's an insect that the locals use to transport people from one place to another. Another good thing is that it's pretty cheap too. Listen, tell them that Vodunius Nuccius sent you; they'll give you a little discount. "Now, I'm sorry, but I really must be going."
Thanking him profusely, I made my way towards Arielle's Tradehouse, climbing the short flight of steps and making my way around to the door, which, happily, looked seawards. Inside, an Altmeri introduced himself as Arrille, and asked if I had come to trade. I showed him the items I'd picked up in the Imperial Census buildings. He quickly sorted through them and, sliding the strange cubic object back across the desk to me, offered me five hundred and six Septims. "Why are you excluding this?" I asked, pointing at the device.
"Simple muthsera," he replied. "That is a Dwemer Time-Keeping Cube. I don't know where you got it, but trading in anything Dwemeric is against Imperial law. Besides," he added with a lopsided grin, "I couldn't afford it."
"I've heard of the Dwemer," I replied, "but I know very little about them. Nor do I have any idea what this is doing here."
"Well, I can help you very little with the first problem," he said. "I understand that the Mages Guild has several experts in the field of Dwemeric history: they might be able to assist you. "As to how it came to be here," he continued, "that's simple. Vvardenfell is, or rather was, the home of the Dwemer. Now, is there anything else I can do for you? Weapons, armour, scrolls, potions, or spells; I have a pretty good stock here."
I browsed through his stock, eventually choosing a pretty decent sabre, some light armour of local manufacture,� and a fireball spell. I slipped on the greaves and cuirass over the top of my clothing, and strapped the sabre to my belt. Thus armed and armoured, I asked Arielle if he knew of any ventures that might earn a poor exile some money. "There's not an awful lot of anything in Seyda Neen, to be truthful," he said. "It's just a small fishing village that the Imperials use to dock ships that aren't heading around to Ebonheart. Although, I have heard that Hrisskar has a few monetary problems and is looking for some cash. But you didn't hear that from me."
"Dark Elf," a big voice boomed as I reached the top of the stairs. "I, Hrisskar Flat-Foot do greet you. Come, a drink I'll be buying our latest arrival to this dark isle Elone." The Nord, equally as big as his booming voice, enveloped me in a hug and guided me over to the bar where, with a sly grin on her face, a Redguard female that I assumed was Elone, poured out a small quantity of liquor into one glass before pouring a dark, frothing ale into a mug. My new companion slammed a couple of coins on the counter and then, barely giving me time to collect my drink, guided me over to a nearby table.
As I tentatively sipped the dark purple liquor, Hrisskar Flat-Foot lowered his voice to what he considered a conspiratorial whisper and asked, "Would it be some money you're looking to earn lassie?" when I indicated that I wouldn't be adverse to such a venture; he drew his chair closer and continued. "There be a Wood Elf name of Fargoth who owes two hundred Septims to Hrisskar. Yon rascal claims he has nae money, but I know that he tells an untruth there. If ye have a mind to it, I can tell you where and how you can recover the money. I take my two hundred, and ye will be having the rest."
I asked him to elaborate, and he outlined the plan. "Now, 'tis known that yon Fargoth does go creeping around late at night, although nobody knows for why. I figure that it's his money he visits. I be none too stealthy, and am much too well known to yon beastie tae be skulking around trying to find the gold he has stashed. So, what I propose tae ye is, get yourself up atop the lighthouse sometime after the sun, He has gone down. Frae there, ye'll have the perfect view of all a' Seyda Neen. Watch where he goes an' what he does. Speak ye not to him, afore or after, lest he suspect. And, in the Name of Emperor Zero, dinnae let the wee fool catch a sight of ye."
Common thievery was it? I doubted that Fargoth owed this Nord a single Drake and that Hrisskar was as flat-footed as his last name implied. This was the sort of thing Mishkin Dark-Skin would have done, I had to ask myself, was it the sort of thing that Sudhendra Vahl would get involved with? I would have to think long and hard on that before I made the decision.
I wandered over to the counter, where the Yokudan woman was grinning. "Got you doing a task for him has he?" she asked, not unkindly. "I'm Elone, by the way. You must be the person who came off the Arrow earlier. You do look a little lost."
"Very lost," I conceded as I returned her greeting in the traditional Redguard manner. "I have paperwork to take to somebody I've never heard of, in a town I have no clue where it is or how far away it is."
"We're here, in Seyda Neen," she said, dropping a well-drawn map on the counter. "This whole area up along this western coast is known as 'The Bitter Coast'. Now, where is it you've got to get too?"
"Balmora," I said looking at the insignificant dot that represented Seyda Neen. If I was reading the scale correctly, the island was about fifteen miles from north to south, and about ten miles across.
"Balmora is right here," she said, pointing to an icon representing a blue building. "That's on the banks of the River Odai, east of here in the area known as West Gash. It's a good day's walk away, through some pleasant countryside although you will have to pass through the Mamaea Gap and that's a little rough. Alternately, you could take a 'strider from here around to Balmora. That takes about eight hours and should cost about twenty Septims."
"Thank you," I said, pushing the map back towards her.
"No, you keep that," she said. "You'll probably need that and this," she added dropping a small golden stone on top of the parchment map. "Do you recognise it?"
"A locator stone," I said. "I'm sorry, but I really can't afford that."
"Nonsense," she replied, folding the map and handing it and the locator stone to me. "Consider it a welcome to Vvardenfell present." I thanked her profusely for her generosity, which she waved away. "Let me tell you a little secret," she said, "talk to everyone. Talk is free, and you can pick up some very useful information that way."
Bearing that in mind, I thanked Elone and circulated through the bar for a while - speaking to people about things they'd heard. I was told that the Empire had granted a mining concession in a place called Solstheim. When I asked about Solstheim, I was told it is a Nord controlled island a way to the north between Vvardenfell and Skyrim. The general consensus was that Solstheim is a frozen hellhole and nobody in their right mind would want to go there, despite the rumoured deposits of Ebony. Another snipped I discovered is that, for the foolhardy, there is a boat service running from a place called Khuul to Fort Frostmoth on Solstheim.
Much more interesting was the chat I had with an Imperial Mage named Albecius Colollius. He was deep in his cups and it was hard to understand his slurred speech but, from what I could gather, he was looking for a powerful artefact known as The Mentor's Ring. According to him, some "fool" had lost it in a tomb somewhere along the Bitter Coast.
Another interesting snippet I heard was that the local tax collector had gone missing. From the generally smug tones, I guessed that the man wasn't overly popular amongst the local populace - something about ostentatiously displaying wealth while taking their money.
Having exhausted the topics of conversation, I made my way downstairs and left Arielle's Tradehouse for a breath of fresher air. Since the day was relatively pleasant, I decided to take a walk out of the village and look at the local countryside. Crossing the two bridges, I struck out to the west along a fairly well defined path. I'd gone but a short distance before I came upon a very familiar sight. A rounded building with a domed roof stood alongside the pathway, purple and gold banners displaying the device of Mara fluttering from the walls. In front of the door stood the traditional braziers. Although I am a devotee of Stendarr, I was pleased to see a familiar institution here on Vvardenfell. It made it likely that there would be a Stendarrian Temple somewhere should I feel the need to make an offering.
The path wound onwards, curving around a noisome pool before descending into a steep fold. As I walked down the path, I fancied I could hear a noise.
The noise, a yodelling wailing sound, wasn't part of my imagination: it was definitely getting louder. Drawing my sabre, I dropped into a combat stance as I scanned the area for what I presumed was an attacker. I could see nothing. Suddenly, there was a terrific crash in the treetop near me, accompanied by what - for all the Mundus - sounded like "ooofff". A book spun to the ground in front of me, followed a second later by the figure of a Man. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, and lay very still. Cautiously, I approached and, as I got nearer, I came to the realisation that he was very, very dead indeed.
I knelt by the figure, which, for all the appalling force of the impact, was remarkably undamaged. The Man was wearing a pair of good quality shoes and a splendid blue robe. A small money pouch hung from one side of the belt while, from the other, hung a long-bladed sword that glistered with arcane force. His backpack, ruined beyond any hope of redemption, contained three tightly bound scrolls and had, at one time, obviously contained the book. The only thing that marred this picture of sartorial elegance was the fact that the Man was wearing one of those asinine Colovian fur hats: you know the ones, a cone of fabric with a furred trim around the bottom? This one was a remarkably ridiculous yellow.
Since the dead Man, whose name I discovered was Tarhiel, wouldn't be needing any of these things, I took the money, the sword, the robe, the scrolls and his journal - which I read as I continued walking. It seems that Tarhiel was a research-mage of sorts with a phobia about levitation spells and a miserly opinion of the Guild-Guides. To save money (and avoid having to levitate) he had concocted a cantrip for his own use - one which would fortify his ability to jump beyond all sane levels. The last entry in the journal virtually crowed about how brilliant he was and how, from atop the tallest tower in Ebonheart, he was going to prove that brilliance the following day before an adoring audience. I could, almost immediately, see the single flaw with his spell and it must have come as a very unpleasant surprise to him when he realised his error far too late.
Creating a spell that will lift you hundreds, if not thousands, of feet off the ground with a single bound is all very well and good. What he had neglected to consider was: what happens hundreds of feet above the ground when the spell wears off? Unless you have a cantrip of slow falling, or a levitation spell, or are some form of super Man, gravity will take a very sudden interest in you. I regarded the three scrolls with a jaundiced eye, resolving to sell them at the very first opportunity. Should I ever get back to civilisation, that is.
So engrossed had I been in the journal, I'd sort of lost the track I'd been following. Steep black cliffs loomed on one side of me while, on the other side; the ground fell sharply away towards another of those foetid looking pools. In front of me, the ground rose quite sharply - at least giving me the hope that I would be able to spy out the lay of the land and figure out how to get back to Seyda Neen. What awaited me at the top was a rather more pleasant surprise.
The ground sloped quite sharply down towards a secluded cove, upon the shore of which the sea lapped gently. Trees and large rocks screened off much of the little bay from sight but I was sure that there was some sort of structure down there. As I descended, the shape resolved itself into a sort of tunnel set into the side of the hill. Made of an odd, sandy-coloured stone, it had a rounded, oval shape, cut off at the bottom by a slab of grey-coloured stone. As I moved around, I could finally see that there was a wooden door set at the back of the awning, old and slightly mossy. Next to the door was a column of inscribed characters that seemed to identify the place.
Samarys Card'ruhn was engraved inside the recessed cartouche. I had to dig deep to translate the local script into something I recognised. However, knowing that the engraving said "Samarys Card'ruhn" didn't help in the slightest since I had no idea what either Samarys or Card'ruhn actually meant. Only one way to find out I reasoned.
With a rusty creaking noise, the wooden door swung open. Beyond it, a short flight of stairs descended to a small area lit by a flickering light. As I got closer, I could see that there were two lamps set into the wall, one on either side of the door. It was puzzling, from the state of the door I would guess it had been a very long time since anyone had been down here - yet here were these two lamps, burning away merrily. They were comprised of a cylinder of a black tarry substance wrapped around a simple metal hook. Try as hard as I might, there didn't appear to be a way to extinguish them. Chalking this up as another one of those esoteric mysteries I'm unlikely to ever solve, I pushed open the door in front of me.
Well, either "Samarys" or "Card'ruhn" meant "Tomb" and, since the pottery urns on the dais nearest me were labelled up "Velendron Samarys" and "Tovale Samarys", my money was on Card'ruhn meaning tomb. Carefully, I lifted the top of the canoptic jar, peering inside. There was very little inside to indicate that this was the final resting place of one "Tovale Samarys", the urn being empty of everything except a small quantity of greyish-coloured powder. Opening my satchel, I looked inside at the supplies I had. Amongst them were a number of small phials with securely fastened lids - all empty of course. Working carefully, I scooped up the powder (which I recognised as Grave-Dust), and poured it into one of the vials. This done, I proceeded to check the contents of the other urns in this small part of the tomb. Most of them were empty, although I did find a small bone in one jar, and a small quantity of a greenish powder that I didn't immediately recognise. I took it anyway, knowing that many alchemists will pay quite high prices for any form of necrotic ingredient for their potions.
I got quite the shock as I rounded the corner into the next part of the tomb. A flickering spectre that I immediately knew was a Guardian Ancestor noticed me and, skeletal hands awash with ethereal fire, it launched itself at me. Quickly drawing the sword I'd taken from the idiotic Tarhiel, I slashed at it frantically. There was an odd, tugging sensation as the blade passed right through the vorpal fiend. There was a smell of ozone, and a small but perfectly formed cloud sprang into being as twin bolts of arcane lightning lashed into the form of the ghost. Again and again I struck out at the spirit, determined to keep it as far away from me as possible. Most of the swings were wild - five years in an Imperial Prison doesn't give you the time to maintain your skills at their peak - but enough connected that I was holding my own. After one particularly vicious blow, there was a smell of putrefaction and, in a sparkle of dust motes, the ghost simply... ceased to be.
Panting heavily, I muttered to myself that being attacked like that was one stupid way to discover what the enchantment on a sword was. Quite handy though, I thought as I returned it to my belt. It is, at this juncture, that I should point out that I'm not much of a swords-woman, much preferring to use the axe as my primary weapon. I'd done a little sword-work over the past few years but I was anything but proficient with a long-bladed weapon. For the record, I have also used a bow - although I'm about as good with that as I am with a sword.
Anyway, a search of the area revealed nothing much of great value other than a scroll written in the local script. Careful translation revealed that it called on various arcane forces from the Realm of Ignis to incinerate whatever target the incantation was aimed at. Such a useful spell, so I decided that it would make a fine addition to my growing collection of items. If this kept up, I'd certainly need a scroll case and more alchemy collection equipment - not to mention a scabbard, quiver, and straps for an axe. It was becoming increasingly clear that adventuring wasn't a particularly cheap pastime. Perhaps I should have picked some other occupation to give to Socucius Ergalla, he might have aimed me at a steady, profitable occupation somewhere safe. Still, as I was about to discover, adventuring did have its rewards.
The final door yielded itself to my touch, opening into a small chamber at the end of which stood a single urn on a dais, alongside which was a rough wooden chest. The chest turned out to be locked. I don't know what prompted me to make the sign of the Serpent and mutter, "Ostendo Sum" near the urn, but I'm mightily glad I did. The revelation spell caused the outside of the canoptic urn to crawl with flickering ghost-fire - an indicia of the trap that was ensorcelled into it. I had a probe with me, courtesy of those kind folk over at the Customs and Excise Offices, and I carefully used it to examine the jar. The focus of the trap seemed to be the inscribed metal band that joined lid to urn and it took me quite a while to disarm the bedevilled thing.
Popping off the top, I tipped the urn towards me to examine the contents. I laughed as I saw the jar was partially filled with flaky black ash. Resignedly, I started to return the jar to its upright position when a clump of ash shifted, revealing a glint of silver. Lifting the heavy jar down onto the floor, I plunged my arm inside and started to dig around in the ashes. It wasn't long before I had withdrawn the two items that had been hidden therein. The first was a brass key with a strangle design cut into the circular part at the top - something like a "B". This exactly matched the symbol cut into the cap of the lock on the chest. The other item was a ring, made of a silver metal that most definitely wasn't silver, set with a large purple-coloured stone. Engraved around the stone were the words " Scientia, Sapientia, Dominatus" or, if you prefer, "Knowledge, Wisdom, Mastery". So this, then, was The Mentor's Ring. With trembling fingers, I slipped the artefact onto my hand, gasping as strange purple light flared before my eyes. I could feel my reserves of magicka swelling as the constant effect enchantment took hold.
With renewed enthusiasm, I used the key to open the chest - only to find that whatever contents it had borne had long since rotted to mulch. With a heartfelt sigh, I grabbed my new belongings and, swinging the satchel over my shoulder, I stepped back outside into the salt laden air with a jaunty step. Before entering the tomb I had been hopelessly lost, now a quick glance at my map showed me an obvious solution. All I needed to do was follow the coastline around to the east and I would eventually fetch up in Seyda Neen.
It wasn't long before I could see the squat huts and buildings of Seyda Neen, but I discovered something else before I got there. It was the smell that caught my attention first, a smell I was familiar with - that of rotting flesh. Sure enough, sprawled between some large rocks, was a dead body. A couple of sleek and well-fed rats were in attendance, and I made sure to kill the damn' things before I investigated further. It was, as far as I could tell without getting too close and actually handling the body, a well-dressed Cyrodiilic male. Near the corpse (and thankfully upwind of it) lay an ornately decorated satchel. Dragging this away from the body, I squatted and examined the contents. The satchel contained a tightly rolled and official looking document that, on closer examination, turned out to be a tax-record for the inhabitants of Seyda Neen. It also contained a heavy purse that contained two hundred Septims in gold coin. I wasn't sure, but I'd be fairly willing to bet that this was Processus Vitellius, the missing tax collector.
And that was a worry, for two reasons. The first reason was that it hadn't been rats that had done for Vitellius, unless you mean the two-legged variety. Even the most cursory examination indicated that his throat had been cut. And, whoever had done the cutting, hadn't been even vaguely interested in the large sum of money the tax-gatherer had gathered. Meaning it was a crime of revenge rather than one of robbery.
My other big problem was this: I hadn't been on the island for a day yet and I had two corpses on my hands. The first one, Tarhiel, I could pass off since his journal clearly showed what an idiot he was. This one, however, was a barbcat of a different stripe. Guards tend to be remarkably unimaginative, and would assume that dead body, plus a woman with money in her hands, equals murderess. It also hinted at the sheer lethality of this place, and gave me grave concerns about my own longevity.
I made my way back across the rickety bridge into Seyda Neen. There I very nervously reported my gruesome discovery to one of the guards, but he seemed supremely uninterested. He did, however, condescend to advise me to report it to Socucius Ergalla. I would do that fairly soon, but first I had a rendezvous atop the lighthouse. As I walked down the path towards it, a trader named Foryn Holyoak, who was selling backpacks, approached me. They were well made, and shimmered with the unmistakable sheen of a glamour: probably a feather-spell. Although such a thing would be very useful, I couldn't afford such a luxury at the moment.
Arielle had something much more useful, a spell called 'Hearth Heal'. Although I'd survived my various encounters to date, I hadn't come away unscathed. And a spell that could heal your injuries, that had to be the top of my shopping list for the moment. I cast the spell right there and then, sighing in contentment as the healing sparks settled into my skin - easing the cuts and bruises I'd accumulated.
It was quite pleasant atop the lighthouse - oddly, the lighthouse keeper didn't seem to object to me walking in and heading upstairs - what with the cool breeze blowing off the ocean and dissipating the smell of rotting vegetation. I passed the time playing with the Dwemeri device I'd picked up - the one Arrille had called a "time-piece". It didn't take me long to discover that I could get the device to speak the Hour of the day to me. It would also speak the Phases of Masser and Secundus, and it had a handy little light that I could turn on and off.
I waited, and waited, then - for a change - I waited some more.
Finally, at the Twentieth Hour, I spotted the little Bosmer creeping around the "square" of the village, clutching a lit torch. He pottered about for a while; presumably making sure that nobody was spying on him, before sneaking towards the lighthouse. Having convinced himself that he was unobserved, he made a beeline for a pool close to the rude huts along the water's edge. There he waded in and spent a while doing something at a tree stump that jutted from the pond. I guess that is where he hides his treasures.
Making sure I didn't get between him and the beacon atop the lighthouse, I made my way down to the ground and calmly walked over to the pond. Shucking off the blue robe and my boots, I rolled up the legs of my trousers before wading out there. The stump appeared, even on close examination, to be solid but I soon found the hollowed out hiding place, artfully hidden beneath the solitary branch. The soft leather pouch contained a lock pick, the same engraved ring I'd given him that very morn, and some three hundred Septims in cash. I was almost tempted to keep it all, but resolved that I would give Hrisskar his due on the morrow.
Having resumed an outward appearance of decency, I made my way back into the Customs and Excise offices where I spoke to Socucius Ergalla.
"Murdered you say?" he asked, eyes shining brightly as he stood looking at me. "Tell me, citizen, did he have anything on him when you found him? Paperwork, or anything?"
"He had what I assume are the local tax records," I said, setting the scroll down on his desk. Setting the purse down beside it, I added "he also had this purse, containing two hundred Septims."
"Interesting," he muttered. "Murdered and yet not robbed. Not a usual occurrence, wouldn't you say?"
"I suppose not," I replied.
"You are to be commended on your honesty," he said, looking up from the scroll. "There is a bounty of five hundred Septims on anyone who kills an Imperial officer. If you can find out who was responsible, bring them to justice and I'll pay you the bounty."
I agreed to try and find the guilty party and asked for the records to assist in my investigation. He parted with them readily enough, and I left his office, shutting the door behind me. I had a good reason for this as, instead of heading outside, I made my way into the downstairs storage area and curled up on the pallet to get some sleep.
I awoke, rested and somewhat refreshed, just a little after the Sixth Hour. Donning my clothes - which I'd used as makeshift covers during the night - I made my way outside and over to Arielle's Tradehouse. There I got a meal of wonderfully aromatic conserve, a pat of unsalted Bretonian butter, and a loaf of freshly baked bread. I washed the whole lot down with a tisane made of a local berry called Comberry. As I ate my hearty breakfast, I studied the tax records closely. There were two interesting candidates - Arrille himself and somebody named Foryn Gilnith. Both had very high tax bills, although Arrille had paid his on the due date and this Gilnith's bill was unpaid and overdue.
Having completed my repast, I made my way downstairs where Arrille was serving another customer. "Fair day to you," I said to the Dunmeri woman who was cleaning the shelves that lined the side of the shop.
"Oh, fair day to you muthsera," she replied. "Can I help you?" I admitted that I was actually making small talk while I waited for Arrille to finish up with his customer. She didn't seem too offended, and we quickly fell to chatting. Tolvise, for that was her Given Name, told me many amusing stories of her family, including one about her cousin - a notorious drunkard - who claimed to have seen a city beneath the waves near the village of Gnaar Mok. Of course, he couldn't remember where exactly he'd seen this city, and nobody else had seen it. He became the laughing stock of the village and, not long thereafter, moved to Blacklight to escape the ridicule.
Arrille had, by now, finished dealing with his customer, and I spoke to him briefly before showing him the items I'd gathered since I last came in. He was particularly interested in the alchemical ingredients, and we quickly agreed on a price of three hundred and twenty-six Septims for the lot.
Having dealt with that, I made my way upstairs to where Hrisskar Flat-Foot was waiting. He seemed very pleased that I had found Fargoth's stash, and we retired to an isolated table. He quickly counted out two hundred Septims for himself, then slid the pouch back across to me, "the rest, is yours Ja?"
We got to talking, and he told me that there was a team of Imperial Seekers here on Vvardenfell. A Captain Terris out of Fort Moonmoth near Balmora was leading them, and the captain was looking for good fighters to assist in ridding the province of a number of members of a dark Orcish sect. That was interesting news - not because it was something that I wanted to get involved with, but because I knew that I should avoid any lone Orcish Knights.
"Are ye heading towards Suran?" a florid-faced man asked, just prior to introducing himself as Ruflod the Braggart. When I said I had no immediate plans to do so, he said that I must visit "The House of Earthly Delights" if I'm ever there. I'm not sure; it sounds suspiciously like one of those "Houses of Ill-Repute", if you catch my meaning.
When I got downstairs, Tanden Andralen told me that she knew there was something else she wanted to tell me. It seems that the local militia chased a necromancer out of a hut near the village. He managed to escape, but seems to have left a lot of his stuff behind and nobody, so far, has had the nerve to enter the hut and see what's there, it occurs to me that a visit there might be useful, before anyone else plucks up the courage to sack the place. Leaving Arielle's, I wandered out of the town a way until I came upon a doorway into a small series of caves. According to my map, the name of the place was Addamasartus.
Drawing my sword and preparing a spell, I pushed open the door and crept inside - if this were anything like the caverns on the mainland, there could be just about anything in here. There turned out to be less of an anything and more of a very annoyed Dunmeri female. I tried to explain that I meant no harm, but she was having none of it and attacked me, forcing me to defend myself. I seem to have forgotten less than I feared, because I was able to hold my own against the dagger-wielding woman with relative ease. The fight reached its gory conclusion when I slipped the blade past her defences and drove it home into her chest. There was gout of blood, almost black in the lamplight, and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Breathing heavily, I ventured deeper into Addamasartus. There was a whooshing sound as a sphere of eldritch fire went past me, smacking into the wall near my head harmlessly. Even as I spotted the mage, he was preparing to cast again. In a panic, I raised my hands and made the Sigel of Ignis before chanting " Exuro meus Hostilis".
I distinctly heard him say, "Bugger, you weren't supposed to be able to cast sp..." The rest of what he was going to say was drowned out by his screams as the fireball engulfed him, filling the cavern with sooty smoke as it incinerated him in seconds. The shuriken-throwing female further back in the cave met a similar fate. I looked at the Mentor's ring with renewed respect; the spells had been far more powerful than they should have been and hadn't drained my reserves as much as they should have. I understood now why the ring was so coveted by every mage between here and the Golden Tower. I resolved to keep very quite about my possession of the ring.
I started exploring the caves by checking out the contents of the crates and barrel on the small wooden platform. Inside, I found several useful scrolls and a small quantity of alchemical ingredients. One of the packs contained a gritty, grey-white crystalline substance that I quickly realised was Moon-Sugar. I returned it to its original location with some despatch: I certainly didn't want to be caught with any of that in my possession. I also found a crude iron key.
I pressed deeper into the cavern, sparing a cursory glance for the scorched remains of the blade-thrower. There was nothing on her corpse that I could use. A little further back, I found several more crates containing a small amount of coinage, a few more ingredients, a couple of cheaply made weapons, and some more Moon-Sugar. I also found a couple of phials of Skooma, a sort of "liquor" made by dissolving Moon-Sugar in alcohol and then distilling it: known as Khajiiti Beer, it was even more illegal than the raw material it was made from.
A small tunnel curved around deeper into the hillside, and I followed it. Having despatched the rat that blocked my passage, I soon found myself wading in water - water that was getting progressively deeper. Not being a brilliant swimmer, I turned back and returned to the cave entrance. The only other thing of interest was a rickety ladder leading up to another platform. Hoping that there were more crates up there, I headed up.
No treasures, but three rather bedraggled Khajiiti slaves were all I found. The key I carried opened the locked door of their rough cell and, rather fortuitously, also opened the Slaver-Bracelets they wore. All three were deliriously happy at their rescue but really shouldn't have been. I only released them so that they wouldn't starve now that there were no smugglers in the cave to feed them. Making my way back to the cave entrance, I snuffed out the torch I was carrying and stepped outside into the warm sunshine.
As I left Addamasartus, I spotted a well-dressed Noble and two guards. They seemed to be looking for someone. On the off chance it was me they were looking for, I quickly put the large boulder between me and them as I made my way back into Seyda Neen. As I crossed the unstable little bridge, I noticed the unmistakable golden symbol of Dibella glinting on a tower southeast of town, past the silt-strider. That was good to know.
I'd been doing some thinking about the murder of the tax-gatherer. You see, the problem was it was now an official matter - and an official matter with my name attached. I knew exactly what was expected of me, I just wasn't happy about it. That's the big problem with Imperials: they like to get you into impossible-to-get-out-of situations. So, I spoke to several people about the murder of Processus Vitellius, and got pretty much the same reply from everybody. He wasn't liked (hardly surprising since he was the taxman for a small provincial town) and he wouldn't be missed. One lady, Darvame Hleran, did suggest that I speak with the lighthouse keeper: Thavere Vedrano. It seems that she and Processus Vitellius spent quite a bit of time together.
Darvame Hleran also mentioned that she didn't think Vodunius Nuccius was particularly happy on Vvardenfell. I approached him and spoke to him.
"I came here with high hopes," he admitted. "I wanted a life of adventure: expecting to find riches, fame, and love. Unfortunately I found none of them, and sleeping rough and fighting creatures isn't the fun I expected it to be. After five years, I have nothing to show for my time here except this..."
"This" turned out to be a silver ring with a small reddish coloured stone. "It makes you run very, very fast," Vodunius said, "Unfortunately, it also drains your strength as it does so. I'd love to sell the cursed thing, but nobody will buy it."
"And what would you use the money for?" I asked.
"To get off this damn' island," he responded quickly. "I'd go to Ebonheart Port and get a boat to the mainland. Once there I'd head off to Silgrad Tower or Veranis Hall, both places I know well. And it'd only take a hundred Septims."
"Here," I said, reaching into my purse, "I'll buy your ring for one hundred Septims."
Vodunius' face lit up like a child's at Old Life. "You are my saviour," he gasped. "If you ever get over to Silgrad or Veranis, look me up. I'll do whatever I can for you." With that, he blew me a kiss and hurried off towards the silt-strider, presumably to get to the Ebonheart Port place. Silently, I wished him luck, and then made my way up to the lighthouse.
Thavere was, understandably, quite upset when I delivered the news that her lover had been killed. As gently as I could, I questioned her on the circumstances in the village, and who might have had a problem with Processus.
"He wasn't a bad man," she sniffled, "despite what people say about him. He was always willing to give people more time to pay what was due, and he never raised his voice. Well, I only ever heard him raise it once, to Foryn Gilnith."
Well, wasn't that interesting? I thought as I made my way out of the lighthouse and sat on the wooden dock. Gilnith owed a lot of tax, tax that hadn't been paid. Recently, Gilnith and Vitellius argued over something - my guess would be about the amount of tax Gilnith owed. Then, all of a sudden, Processus Vitellius turns up dead, and in full possession of two hundred Septims. Methinks I should have a quiet word with this fisherman.
Pausing only to take the silver goblet and twenty-five Septims from the hollow stump next to the dock (I'd spotted them while musing on the case), I made an enquiry as to the location of Foryn Gilnith. He was, it turned out, in his hut near the sea.
"Yeah, I killed him," the wall-eyed and unpleasant fisherman said bluntly. "Him with his fancy clothes and jewellery brought from the money he stole from us hard-workin' folk. And his cavorting with that strumpet over at the lighthouse." Here he actually spat on the rush-covered floor. "Bloody disgusting it was. Deserved it he did, right and proper. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
"Your presumption of his guilt doesn't alter the fact that you killed an Imperial official," I said, with rather more calm than I felt. "If you felt he was stealing, it should have been reported to the IRIS. Whether or not he deserved to die wasn't a decision you are empowered to make, and his guilt or otherwise doesn't alter the fact that you've committed a capital crime."
"You're another of 'em aren't you?" he snarled. "Another one who opens her legs to any Imperial who comes along..." and then he slapped me. Furious at the insult and the assault, I slammed my hand onto his chest and, with a good deal of relish, hissed, "igneus manus". His eyes widened as the arcane fire caught hold, and he flailed at me in desperation. Before too long, however, he was in no state to do anything, and he collapsed onto the floor. As his skin started to turn to ash, and his moans became the soft cries of a dying man, I leaned over and whispered, "Never, ever, insult a magic-user unless you want to die in agony".
It was a lesson he learned well, albeit rather too late, I reflected as his body crumbled to ash and settled into an indefinable heap on the floor. I was still very annoyed and didn't trust myself to go out amongst the general populace. Besides, he had given me a couple of very hard blows, and I had some spectacular bruises. It seemed strangely fitting that I should spend the night in his hut.
Before I bedded down on his hammock, I quickly searched the hut. Unsurprisingly, there was little on any value - although I did find a very nice ring and thirty iron crossbow shafts tucked into a chest along with thirty Septims.
After breaking my fast by eating everything edible in Foryn Gilnith's hut, I made my way to the Customs and Excise building, where I reported what I'd done to Socucius Ergalla. He seemed pleased, pleased enough to pay me the five hundred Septims he'd promised me anyway. With the money safely tucked away, a pair of stout walking boots purchased from Arielle's Tradehouse, and a lovely clear sky overhead, I decided that a walk to the next town, Balmora, was in order. Skirting the Noble and his guards, I set off along the well-marked path.
The road wended its way up a short incline, and then meandered through a high walled canyon before descending again to a wide, grassy area. According to my map, this was the Ascadian Isles region. In front of me was a large pond, or very small lake at the far side of which was a broad sandbar separating this body of water from a much larger area of water. It was getting on a little, and I felt in need of something to eat. The sandbar looked an idyllic place to take a small break and a quick repast. The place might not have been as restful as it seemed - there were lots of scuffed footprints leading to a cavern entrance that dominated one end of the sandbar.
The runes scratched into the door said "Mannamu", and it turned out to be the residence of a number of bandits. Fortunately, they were well spaced out in the spacious cave-system and, using a combination of magic, summoning, thrown weapons and some up-close-and-nasty blade work, I was able to kill all of them. My efforts proved to have been very, very worthwhile.
There were a number of small, iron-banded chests that, once I'd forced them open, netted me several hundred Septims. In addition, I found quite a large number of scrolls and alchemical ingredients - as well as a remarkably fine wooden bow, some arrows and a rather ornate hand-axe. Further examination of the caverns that led off the main one revealed more alchemical ingredients and three large crystalline stones. Both were oddly coloured - one being pale brown and the other two a pale pink - and completely transparent. It took me a while to realise what I had here, three genuine Ioun Stones. I'd seen these items on one of my visits to Cyrodiil, but knew no more about them than any Commoner would. There was supposed to be some way to use them that gave you magical powers but, because they are so difficult to make, their secrets are well guarded.
Scarcely believing my luck, I continued to investigate the cave, finding a number of ensorcelled charms, a few more scrolls, and a ring. I couldn't believe this: scarcely three days on the island and I'd found two powerful artefact-rings. For, what I held in my hand was no less a ring than the Battle-Band, an ancient ring of great power. However, it seems that the years had not been kind to it: there were setting for eight stones (Ametrines if I remember the Lore correctly) on the broad golden band, but all eight were missing. Even mutilated as it was, I felt the power of the ring's magic sweeping through me when I placed it on my finger.
I also found another Restoration Charm, twin to the one I'd found in Addamasartus. Grinning, I put them side by side: imagine, then, my surprise when the two metallic charms shimmered like quicksilver and ran together in the fashion of that rare metal, fusing with one another to make one single charm. I carefully probed the Charm and found that, whilst no more powerful than before, it now had twice the duration of the original item. I've seen some very odd things in my life, but that surely ranks as one of the oddest.
I made my way out of Mannamu and found, to my surprise, that a good deal more time had passed than I had thought. The sun was already westering, and it seemed unlikely that I'd make Balmora before nightfall. And, on a strange island such as this one? No way I was planning on walking in the dark - who knew what manner of afreets and shades might be abroad. Fortunately, across the road from the very spot I was standing, was a tomb. I deciphered the cartouche (Andrano Card'ruhn) to discover it was the Andrano Ancestral Tomb. Provided I ensured that all of its haunts were dealt with, it would make a sheltered and safe place to spend the night.
Inside the tomb, I had to deal with a couple of unfriendly spirits but - to my delight - I found that fire-based spells work extremely well against such spectres. In a recess at the back of the tomb I found a skull (which had been inscribed with the rune X), a Chitin dagger with a very powerful cantrip on it, and a small stone chest. The ensorcelled dagger was etched with the runes indicating Divine (DIVINE) and Judgement (JUDGEMENT) in an esoteric version of Aldmeris that I could barely read. Obviously an artefact of some power, I took it for my own. Inside the unlocked box, I found a pale yellow Ioun Stone and another very powerful ring - this one the Elementward. Since this would perform a better role for me than the Battle-Band, I swapped the two rings. For some reason I can't fathom, I also picked up and packed away the skull. I know it was an odd thing to do, but something was telling me that I needed to do this.
(c)2005 OverrideB1
On to part 2