The hard stone floor provided cold comfort, but it was better than sleeping outdoors. With that thought in mind, I drifted off into a fitful sleep. Feeling rather achy, and shaking off the residue of a disquieting nightmare that I couldn't quite recall, I left the tomb and gathered a few sticks together to light a fire. Warming myself, I took out one of my three remaining loaves of bread and a few strips of salted fish. After washing off the salt in the pool, I carefully threaded the fish onto some green twigs and propped them up over the fire until they were brown and sizzling. Having sated my hunger, I packed up my pack and, getting my bearings, headed off down the road towards Balmora.
As I followed the road, I walked past a turning to a town - identified on the signpost as Pelagiad. Built in the Imperial-style, it seemed tranquilly agrarian: the ideal place to visit and explore. However, I wanted to get myself set up on the island and, the sooner I delivered this packet of documents to Balmora, the sooner I could make a start on doing that. Shrugging my shoulders to settle my pack, I turned my face away from the town and headed on down the road. Before I'd gone much further, I saw a large stone building set into the hillside. The silver and blue pennants fluttering from the top of the walls immediately identified it as a temple to Kynareth. That made sense, really - a temple devoted to the Lady of The Air near an Imperial settlement.
Just down the road a little way was a cave, the markings identified it as Ulumusa. Pushing open the door, and gripping my axe tightly, I ventured inside. It was a small cave, home to a large Nordic warrior and his female companion. The woman was fairly easy to beat - my first axe-blow cracked her ribs and she went down fairly easily after that. The Nord, however, was a totally different proposition. Armed with a massive warhammer, which he swung with a great deal of dexterity, he was able to keep me far enough away from him that my axe was, effectively, useless. Shame then, that I had a backup plan. As he recovered from a swing, I dropped my axe, extended my hands and intoned, "Exuro meus Hostilis". He screamed as the fireball wrapped itself around him, staggering off towards the front of the cavern before collapsing in a smoking heap.
I found nothing of any great value in Ulumusa, with the exception of a silver bowl. Inscribed around the rim was the following: To Armond Beluelle, from the East Empire Company, for courage and daring in the protection of the Company's couriers, with our thanks. It was obviously an heirloom, and I packed it into my pack in the hopes that - one day - I'd be able to track down this Armond Beluelle.
As I stepped back out into the brilliant sunshine, I resolved that - under no circumstances - would I wander into a cave until after I'd been to Balmora. So far I'd been pretty damn' lucky but that big Nord had come uncomfortable close to cracking open my skull and I would, thank you very much, like to see my next birthday (and a fair few more after that). So then, no more caverns for a while thank you very much. With that resolution firmly in mind, I set off along the road.
It was much later in the day, around the Twelfth Hour, when I arrived there. After passing an Imperial garrison, I walked down a valley until I came to an obelisk. Upon it, written in Daedric characters, was the name "Balmora". I crossed two little bridges that spanned a fairly energetic river and, giving the silt-strider a very wide berth, I entered the town. The architecture was strange but not unlovely: squat and curved buildings built of some greyish-green stone. A high wall, built of the same stone, encircled the city; although I did notice that there was no fee to enter the city, nor any form of city gate.
Shops lined the broad, open square that I found myself in - along with a couple of Guild Halls. I could see the Shield and Sword of the Fighter's Guild and the All-Seeing Eye of the Mages. Four other shops, flying banners I didn't recognise, also lined the square. One showed a strange animal bearing a pack and, on a whim, I entered. The shop was run by a Cathay-Raht by the name of Ra'Virr. It welcomed me cheerfully enough, and urged me to look at its collection of Daedric weapons.
When I looked, they proved to be standard weapons with a summoning enchantment. Ra'Virr didn't seem put out when I mentioned this, instead urging me to consider purchasing a tent. That seemed a far more useful deal and, after bartering a good deal of my stuff with the Khajiit, I left his shop with a tent and four Septims from my bartered goods, along with directions to the South Wall Cornerclub. One thing he said worried me.
"Ra'Virr hears that many people have seen an Orcish knight clad in strange armour near Hlormaren. Ra'Virr hears that this dark knight has killed many travellers." Strangely clad knights that go around killing unwary travellers are generally bad news - they have a tendency to belong to unsavoury cults.
I crossed the river into Labour Town, the name given to the poorer district on the eastern side of the River Odai, and made my way back to the Cornerclub. Upstairs, a florid faced Man seemed extremely agitated when I asked where I could find Caius Cosades, but he calmed down when I told him I had a package to be delivered. "Cosades rents a bed-and-basket� here in Labour Town. If you go back downstairs and out of the door, turn right and head up the stairs. Head left down the street and you'll find Caius Cosades' place right at the end, past the public forge."
Thanking Bacola Closcius, I then enquired about renting a room in the Cornerclub. After a bit of discussion, I agreed to take a small room on the first floor at a cost of forty-five Drakes for the next five nights. Taking the key, I ventured into the room. It was small but well lit, with a bed, table, and a small chest at the end of the bed. I quickly discovered that the room key also opened the chest. Unpacking a number of the items I'd gathered, I put them into the chest, locked it, locked my room and set out to speak to Caius Cosades. After all, all I had to do was deliver the package and then I was free to pursue my own career and make a life for myself here on Vvardenfell. Do you ever wonder if the Gods get a big laugh out of our certainty about what the future holds?
I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the squalid hole I met the elderly Imperial Caius Cosades in. Bare-chested, he stood in a room that was little larger than the one I'd rented at the Cornerclub; except that there were empty bottles and discarded clothes strewn about the floor and the bed was a ruin - looking as though the sleeper had been afflicted with violent nightmares. Over everything was a sickly sweet smell that permeated the room. As I stared at the chaotic environment, the elderly Imperial snapped, "You lost? Or is there something I can do for you?"
I looked into the bleary, red-rimmed eyes of the Imperial, asking, "Are you Caius Cosades?"
"I am, what of it young lady?" as he spoke, I saw something that caused me to revise my opinion of the man. Bleary and red-rimmed as his blue eyes were, there was a spark in them that spoke of a fierce intelligence. I got the feeling that there was very little this Man missed and I felt as though I'd just stepped into a room where, unaccountably, there was a very dangerous animal.
"I have this package for you," I replied, extending the wax-paper wrapped documents." Taking them from me, he looked at the (thankfully) unbroken seal, and asked me to wait while he read them through. Turning his back on me, he tore open the package and started to read while I stood there in uncomfortable silence. Finally, making a soft sound in his throat, he turned to look at me.
"You are Sudhendra Vahl," he said after studying me for a while. I kept quiet, simply nodding my head - I know a rhetorical question when I hear one. "Very well," he continued, "by order of the Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh, I hereby induct you into the Blades with the rank of Novice."
I was stunned, the Blades are not even supposed to be real - a myth told in dark alleys where sedition was planned by paranoid minds. But, unless the old man was joking with me, they were all too real and I had managed to get myself entangled in their shadowy web. Somehow, I got the feeling that, whatever else he was, Caius Cosades was not big on practical jokes. What followed next was the most bewildering hour I've ever experienced: in that short time Caius Cosades gave me a list of other Blade operatives I could contact if the need arose, briefed me on the political and religious situation here in Morrowind Province, told me about the factions and guilds I could expect to encounter here on Vvardenfell, and generally scared the heck out of me with a tale of strange goings-on on the island. Finally, he gave me a deeply appraising look and said, "Here are two hundred Drakes, if I were you, I'd go out and get a bit of seasoning so I won't have to worry too much when I send you out on missions."
That stung, more than a little. True, I'd never been the adventurous sort and I was relatively unskilled in magic, and unarmed combat, and the finer points of using an axe (or any other weapon for that matter), and I had very little by way of backwoods survival skills, and... seems as though the Man had a point. Didn't make his comment any less hurtful though. His advice was to "join a Guild or two, or do some freelance work", and then come back and see him when I felt ready to take orders from him.
"What if I'm never ready to serve the Emperor?" I thought as, my head reeling from the sudden load of new information I'd acquired I stepped outside. Still in something of a daze, I wandered down a nearby flight of stairs and found myself outside the Bank of Vvardenfell. On a sudden whim, I stepped inside and, with a very sheepish air, opened up a bank account for myself with five hundred Septims - a sizeable chunk of my current money but the very minimum they'd consider for opening an account.
The day, already very strange, took a sudden left-turn into downright weird. As I left the bank clutching my statement, a tall, cloaked Dunmer rushed up to me. "Salvor knows you, yes he does," he gasped excitedly, grabbing my sleeve. "Salvor knows you seek the clothing that belonged... to them!"
"Them who?" I asked, trying to shake off his grip. I have an instinctive distrust of any being other than a Khajiit that speaks of themselves in the third person - their stairs frequently fail to reach the top floor.
"THEM," he exclaimed, as though that explained anything. "The Alliance, the Silent Ten," he continued, "You seek their clothing. Yes, yes, Salvor knows you have the right to claim the Dunmeri clothing. Seek it, seek it and you'll find your destiny at the Dren Plantation and Venim Manor."
"Excuse me," a voice said as a heavily armour hand descended onto Salvor's shoulder, "but is this man bothering you Lady?" I've never been so happy to see a guard, even one clad in such strange armour, in my life.
Before either of us could do anything, Salvor had broken free of the guard's hold on him and scampered away towards a short alleyway. Stopping at the mouth of the alley, the Dunmer turned and yelled at us, "Salvor knows tall people. Be warned, Salvor knows some very tall people indeed." With that incomprehensible warning, he scooted off down the alley with the guard in hot pursuit.
I spent the rest of the day, such as it was, engaged in disposing of some of the items I'd gathered so far in my travels. As the sun set, three hundred and sixty-four Drakes richer than when I'd started, I returned to the South Wall Cornerclub and collapsed, exhausted, into bed.
"These agents, Alynu Aralen, Sathasa Nerothren, Fothyna Herothran, and Alveleg, are probably hiding in the hills to the north of the mine. Be wary Associate," Eydis warned, "they're sure to have posted a lookout."
I wondered what, or who, a 'Telvanni' is as I walked slowly around to the Guild of Mages. Once inside, I made my way down to the inevitable Guild-Guide who, for twelve Drakes, transported me to a town called Caldera, or as close to the mines as I could get.
Let me state, for the record, that I was immediately and completely shaken out of my depression by the realisation of what I'd just done. I hate the teleportation service rather more than anything else in the Grey Maybe. That strange buzzing sensation as your body is ripped apart into tiny and unknowable particles, sent streaming through the Void to be reassembled in some other place. Where you inevitably arrive with a deep and utter sense of confusion and the feeling that your stomach is travelling overland to catch up with you. I rarely use the service and have to fight down an overwhelming urge to check that I have the right number of everything, attached in all the proper places, every time that I do.
Scampering off the teleportation disk, I took several deep breaths to calm myself before looking around. The Guild-Guide looked at me with some amusement but said nothing: two elderly Dunmer stood at the other end of the room watching me - I guess to see if I'd suddenly implode, or something would drop off, or something. When nothing overly amusing happened, one of them gestured for me to join him.
"My name is Folms Mirel," he said, pleasantly enough. "I'm looking for someone to assist me in a little research. Would you be interested outlander?"
In response to my query as to what would be involved, he gave me a genuinely happy smile and said, "many years ago, when this land was known as Resdayn, our ancestors built a series of forts. Using a technique that we're only just rediscovering, they created a number of chambers - known as Propylon Chambers - which could be used to travel from one fort to another.
"As you can imagine, such a technique would be extremely useful to understand. I've been studying the chambers for many years and believe I can create a Master Index: a key, if you will, that will allow travel between any of these Propylon Chambers. However, to do so, I need the individual Propylon Indexes. I am willing to pay five hundred Septims for each and every Index you can bring me."
"And where will I find these indexes?" I asked.
"Ah, that I can also help you with," Folms Mirel said happily. "The first one is right here in Caldera. It is the Hlormaren Index and is property of Irgola the Pawnbroker to be exact. Obtain it from him and bring it to me. I will pay you the agreed sum. And, while you're doing that, I'll research the location of the remaining Indexes. Agreed?"
It seemed a simple enough task, and we entered into an agreement. However, it would have to wait for a while - the day wasn't getting any younger and I had a nest of spies to locate. Folms Mirel was kind enough to provide me with accurate directions to the mine and, with a fairly light step; I headed out of the guild.
Caldera was a typical Imperial town, like Seyda Neen of Pelagiad, only more so. Officious looking guards stamped about in their armoured finery while, around them, the ordinary citizens trod a wide berth as they undertook their daily tasks. I was at the northern end of an elongated square. The eastern side of the square was lined with a mixture of shops and housing. On the western side, dominating the town from its vantage point on the hill was a massive stone structure. Too grand to be a simple garrison or fort, it reminded me of the large Imperial residences so beloved of Nobles in Cyrodiil Province.
I shrugged. Standing gawping like a tourist wasn't getting the job done so, whistling a jaunty tune, I headed off into the wilderness.
My first indication that I was getting close was the arrow that zipped past my head. With a muffled curse, I dived behind a nearby rock and peered out. The next arrows sparked as it bounced skywards - it had impacted against my hideout and missed my head by a couple of inches. I did get a chance, however, to see a Bosmeri archer fitting another arrow into his bow. I was in somewhat of a difficult position: the archer could move around and get a clear shot at me while I was effectively pinned down.
Hmmm, if he wanted a clear shot, he'd have to move over there - towards the bridge. And that would bring him nicely into my line of fire. And fire it was too: as the Wood Elf darted into position, I extended my hands and chanted the words of my trusty fire-ball spell. There was a muffled scream as the fireball wrapped itself around the archer, but I wanted to waste no time. Leaping from concealment, I raced over and drove the point of my sword into the Bosmeri's throat, silencing him. The impact of the fireball had knocked the bow from his hand, and I appropriated it for my own use - after all, I couldn't be reliant on a sword all the time and a ranged weapon that didn't involve the expenditure of magicka would definitely come in handy. All I needed now were some arrows...
The other three spies were strung out in the Ashunammu caves, making them fairly easy targets for me to pick off one by one. Sticking to the shadows and using contact magic� wherever possible, I made my way down inside the chambers and tunnels of the cave until I'd dealt with all of them. Not that I'd escape unscathed, thank you very much. One of them had been a little quicker on the uptake than the others and had managed to skewer me quite efficiently. Using strips torn from their clothing, I was able to make a passable dressing for the wound and the restore health potion quickly stopped the bleeding and closed up the lesion. I was, however, feeling a little woozy from blood loss and shock and desperately needed to get some rest and recuperation. The hammocks slung up in Ashunammu looked extremely inviting...
When I awoke, I sat up and surveyed my surroundings. Then I examined my wound - the rest and the potion had done wonders; there wasn't even a scar to show where I'd been stabbed. My resting period seemed to have wrought other changes too; my pack seemed lighter than it had the day before and I seemed much more energetic than I had for quite some time. (Indeed, as the day wore on, I realised I was getting fatigued less often).
A thorough search of Ashunammu revealed enough victuals to prepare a relatively acceptable meal but little else of any consequence: a few cheap weapons and a very small sum of golden coins. I took a couple of the weapons to sell on and a bundle of twenty steel-shafted arrows for my own use, but the majority of the stuff was far too bulky for me to be carrying around. Cutting across the hills, I followed a much more direct path back to Caldera.
After allowing a few moments for my stomach to walk from Caldera to Balmora, I stepped off the transportation dais and made my way up from the lower levels of the Mages Guild and over to the Guildhall. Eydis seemed very pleased that I'd dealt with the Telvanni agents and gave me four hundred Drakes as a reward. In addition to that, and more importantly as far as I was concerned, she also promoted me to the rank of Apprentice.
"I have another job for you, Sudhendra," she said. "This one requires a delicate touch. I need you to acquire a codebook from a lady named Sottilde, who can be found at the South Wall Cornerclub. I don't care what it takes, but my client must get that book."
It was pretty obvious that I couldn't go in, sword swinging. Firstly that would get me in far more trouble than any book was worth. Secondly, if I created a bloodbath in the South Wall Cornerclub, where would I use as a base of operations? I thought of several options as I walked over the bridge and to the club. It occurred to me that I have a fair bit of clink and that bribery often makes a suitable substitute for brute force.
"I really can't give you the book," Sottilde said for the third time as I casually placed another fifty Septims on the growing pile.
"I'm sure I'll be very grateful," I said softly, adding another hundred to the pile. With a quick, nervous look around, Sottilde made the money vanish and palmed the book to me. Placing it out of sight in my satchel, I took the time to speak to Sottilde, trying to set her at ease. It worked rather better than I expected. It turns out that the South Wall is the base of operations for the Thieves Guild in Balmora! She also intimated that, for a member in good standing, a bounty could be removed if one knew the right people to speak to and had some cash to cover the expenses. That was a titbit that would be very handy - I didn't intend to get into trouble with the authorities, but it always pays to have a back up plan. Accordingly, I spoke to a Khajiiti named Sugar-Lips Hasabi. After a bit of back and forth, it agreed that I was eligible to join the Thieves Guild and gave me the charming sounding rank of Toad.
Let me stress that it wasn't my intention to do more with my membership in the Ancient Guild of Thieves than to have a backup plan in case I ran into a problem with the authorities. However, you know what they say about the best laid plans of Men and Mer, don't you?
Eydis was delighted and, for a fraction of a second, I was sure that I saw her smile. It might have been a sudden gas attack though. Nonetheless, she gave me fifty Septims as a payment for recovering the codebook - about a quarter of what I'd paid for it. And that phrase "recovering the codebook"? Hadn't she told me that it was for a client who needed access to the code used by the guild? So, what was all this about recovering it? I assumed that I'd misunderstood the original instructions given to me and left it at that. Eydis wasn't going to leave it at that, though. She had yet another task for me.
"There is a woman in Suran, name of Helviane Desele. She owes our client two hundred Drakes, and our client wants it recovered as quickly as possible."
"And you want me to go there and get it?" I interjected. She nodded tightly, so I said that I'd take the commission and headed on out of the Guildhouse. "Desele"? Where had I heard that name before?
Checking my map, I saw that it was a very long walk from here to Suran - much further than I'd be willing to walk today. However, according to the map, there was a silt-strider route between Balmora and Suran. I was slightly less than enthusiastic about riding what looked like a giant flea, especially when I found out that I'd actually be riding inside the creature. But it was either walk, or pay twenty-two Drakes and get there a lot quicker. Not really a contest. Right here and now, I'll say that - despite my reservations - the journey was delightful. I could see all of the scenery around me as we swayed from side to side in a particularly restful manner. In fact, it was only the fact that the journey was relatively quick that prevented me from going to sleep. All too soon, we arrived in Suran.
"Where can I find Helviane Desele?" I asked the Drover, and got a strange look in reply. Still, he did give me directions: down from the port and it's the first building on the right. The buildings in Suran were of the same construction and material as those in Balmora, so I guessed that whatever rules went there also went here.
I stopped outside the building, slightly worried by the red-paper lantern hanging over the doorway and the sign swinging in the breeze - Desele's House of Earthly Delights. It was about then that the Drake dropped, that drunken sot in Seyda Neen had said something about Desele's House of Earthly Delights in Suran, and how I should visit it if I was ever there. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to get accustomed to the gloom; unfortunately my nose and ears didn't get that luxury. Three musicians were playing a thin, discordant tune (they certainly weren't worthy of the sobriquet 'Bard'): I recognised the drum that was beating out the erratic rhythm but the other two instruments were totally alien. And a sharp, sickly smell filled the atmosphere, vying with the smell of beer, brandy, and other less identifiable liquors. It was the same scent that had permeated the small room owned by Caius Cosades. Across the back wall were three raised platforms - in front of which stood half-a-dozen inebriated and wildly cheering Men. The reason for their cheers and catcalls was the three naked women - a Nord, a Redguard, and a Breton - that were swaying energetically to the 'tune' played by the musicians.
My next surprise was the two women behind the bar - or, more accurately, the woman and female Khajiiti behind the bar. Both were topless and seemed totally unconcerned by the ogling looks they were getting from their patrons. As I stood there, confused, one of the dancers stepped off her stage and sauntered into the crowd. Within seconds, she'd taken the arm of a large Nord and was leading him, still stark naked, up the stairs at the back of the room. I'm pretty certain a sum of money changed hands. Meanwhile, a thin Imperial female stepped out of an alcove and took the Redguard's place and started dancing. I'm not na�ve, and I knew exactly what was going on here but I was still shocked and confused that such a place would be so open about what it did.
And that wasn't my last surprise in this place either. That came when I addressed the Breton behind the bar - who I'd guessed was Helviane Desele - about the debt.
"What debt would that be Dunmer?" she fairly spat. As I tried to explain, she overrode me, saying, "that's just peachy that is. The Camorra Tong can't get their protection money out of me, so they send in their stooges the Fighter's Guild to do it for them. You want the "debt" paid? Pay it yourself."
Well, that put a bit of a crimp in my plans, Desele wouldn't pay the money, and in fact she point blank refused to even discuss it with me any more. I couldn't go wading in with sword and spell: that would only bring down the wrath of the local guards. Assuming, that is, I survived the wrath of the bar's patrons. If what she said was true, then I couldn't blame her for not wanting to pay protection money. Catching the eye of the Khajiit, I ordered myself a tisane and found a quiet corner to sit and think. After fighting off the advances of a few amorous, and very drunken, patrons, I spotted my chance when the Redguard came back down the stairs and stepped into the alcove.
"Might I ask you a few questions?" I said, sitting in a vacant chair near the alcove. Once I'd convinced her that I wasn't going to moralise, she agreed to speak with me. It turned out to be a very interesting conversation. Rumi told me that the Camorra Tong is the local equivalent of the Thieves Guild and that there is a great deal of animosity between the two. So much so, in fact, that most of the island's inhabitants are waiting for the inevitable war between them. Rumi also told me that it was fairly common knowledge that the Guild of Fighters is being paid by the Camorra Tong to strong-arm people who won't deal with them. She also intimated that there were rumours that there might be a deeper involvement between the Fighters Guild and the Camorra Tong - although she was unwilling to tell me what they were.
I also gathered a few other interesting things to ponder on as I made my way back to Balmora. Rumi had told me of a strange Orcish knight near a place called 'The Shrine of Kummu'. He'd attacked some travellers, and I wondered if this was the same knight that was supposed to be roaming the Bitter Coast, or another one. If it was another one, it meant that there were probably quite a few more than just two. Something else she told me was that there was an Orcish knight to the south of Suran. Only this one had been there for quite a lot longer than the red-armoured knight near the shrine. She described him as a 'madman' - which didn't fill me with much confidence.
I returned to the South Wall and went to my room, where I sat on the bed for quite a long time. I wasn't happy about the connection between the Camorra Tong and the Fighter's Guild - this was just the sort of thing that got people trapped into choosing one side or another. And that sort of grief I really didn't need. I also regretted my hasty decision to enter into partnership with the Guild of Thieves. Again, if they were getting set for a battle against the local thieves, they'd expect me to step in on their behalf. More grief I didn't need. Pleasant though my life was becoming as I settled down in Balmora, I could see that there was trouble ahead - the sort of trouble that got people dead, or very powerful and important people well pissed off at you. The time might be fast approaching when relocation could be in order. I resolved to think about that later.
The following morning I was up bright and early, selling off some stuff to raise two hundred Septims for Helviane Desele: a couple of scrolls I didn't think I'd need, a tattered copy of 'The Alchemist's Formulary'; and a couple of iron swords. All in all, I managed to raise two hundred and seventeen Septims with my various sales. Marching into the Guildhall, I went up to Eydis Fire-Eye and dropped the money contemptuously onto the table, "there's your debt money" I said, making sure she could hear the quotation marks around the word "debt".
"And that's your share," she replied obliviously, separating out twenty five-Septim pieces and sliding them back across the table to me. "Now, if you're at all interested, I have a bounty that needs to be collected. The person is here in Balmora, in a house across the river. You can't mistake the house, it's the only one with a tower, and the bounty is two hundred and fifty Septims."
"And what's the catch?" I asked quizzically.
"Ah, well, the bounty is on one Dura gra-Bol."
"Oh great," I muttered as I gathered up the necessary papers. "A bleeding Orc."
I've met a few Orcs in the past, and a more dour and taciturn race of people you're unlikely to meet on the face of Nirn. They have some very strange ideas and even stranger religious practices, and almost no sense of humour whatsoever. In fact, the only reason you find so many of them throughout the Empire is that they are superbly skilled warriors. And therein lay the nub of my problem: this Dura gra-Bol would probably outweigh me by several hundred pounds and be skilled in more weapons techniques than I even knew existed. Damn', time for me to be sneaky.
I paid a visit to the local alchemist, a rather snooty High Elf by the name of Nelcarya. For a sizeable financial consideration, she provided me with two phials. One contained a potent potion that would make me blend into the background for a while. The other a particularly vile poison called Spike. Nasty stuff, it caused partial blindness and paralysis. Making sure I was unobserved, I poured the venom onto the blade my old iron sword before crossing the river and entering gra-Bol's house. The instant I shut the door, I uncapped the chameleon potion and drank deeply.
"Who there?" the huge Orc rumbled as it thundered down the stairs, dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. As soon as it had its back to me, I stabbed it hard and deep with the sword. It let out a fearsome yell and whirled around, waving it's hand back and forth through the space I'd been occupying. The reason it didn't find me was that I'd ducked and sprinted up a few stairs the instant I'd driven the blade into the Orc's muscular shoulder.
"Gone kill you very dead," it rumbled slowly. "Don't know you who, but you dead soon." I seriously doubted that: the Orc's voice was starting to slur and its movements were slowing down. In addition, it was blinking its eyes and peering around in a manner that indicated it was having difficulty seeing. Now, before my potion wore off, was the time to strike.
I stood there panting, looking down at the corpse of the slowly cooling Orc, the Spike-envenomed blade jutting from its chest where I'd planted it a few moments before. Even with the poison coursing through its veins, it had been one hell of a fighter. As I thought back on the frantic exchange of blows, my knees buckled and I sank to the floor in a state of exhaustion - ignoring the hammering on the door.
"Minute," I managed to gasp as the hammering became a positive fusillade of blows. Dragging myself wearily to my feet, I opened the door to discover two very aggrieved looking guards. I handed them the bounty paperwork, which made them look slightly less unhappy. Before they dragged the body away, I quickly stripped it of the axe it carried and helped myself to the fifty Septims in its purse. Leaving them to struggle as they took it away, I closed the door behind them as quickly as I could. I was starting to recover, and an intriguing idea had just crossed through my mind.
Even though I was contemplating leaving Balmora for less politically charged climes, I might need a base of operations until I got settled somewhere. I knew Balmora, I knew its alleyways and shops, and the town was well connected for travel. Unless I intended to pay for a room at whatever inn happened to be nearby whenever I wished to rest, a permanent location would be ideal. And, lo and behold, here was a perfectly serviceable residence. If I couldn't find a key for the front door, I could always ward the place until I could get the lock replaced. It made sense on so many levels.
A quick search of the place revealed its few charms. There was a bed in a small alcove downstairs, by the stairs. A small table stood near the head of the bed while, at the other end, stood a rough wooden chest. It was inside this chest that I found some clothing that had belonged to Dura gra-Bol, seventy-five Septims, and a key to the front door. On the other side of the stairs was another alcove: into here was crammed a large chest of drawers and a roughly crafted, but functional, set of shelves. Up the stairs, and there was a door that led out onto a balcony type thing overlooking the Odai. Another two short flights of stairs led up to a storage area, containing two large crates, several wooden barrels, and a couple of wicker baskets with lids. It was never going to win an award for being an ideal home, but it had plenty of storage and a place to sleep: what more could a girl ask for?
I spent an hour, or so, moving my stuff out of the South Wall Cornerclub and into my new residence before making my way to the Fighters Guildhall. Eydis paid me the bounty on Dura gra-Bol, and then promoted me to the rank of Journeyman. Then she dropped the hammer: she had no more work for me. Rather dismissively, she suggested that I speak with the Guild Stewards in Ald'ruhn, Sadrith Mora, or Vivec City. Actually, that was fine by me, so not into having to deal with the Camorra Tong problem within the Guild. I wondered if any of the other members (there are usually a couple of Guild members in the Guildhouse at any one time) could give me some hints. Obviously, asking Eydis Fire-Eye was out of the question.
I finally found just the person I wanted, a trainer by the name of Hasphat Antabolis. His suggestion was carefully couched, but it was pretty plain that he knew what was happening in the guild and, more importantly, wasn't too happy about it.
"Yeah, sure, I can make a recommendation," he said when I asked him. "Try Hrundi in Sadrith Mora, or Percius Mercius over in Ald'ruhn. They're good people, if you know what I mean?" I knew exactly what he meant or, at least, I thought I did. Thanking him profusely, I made my way out of the Guildhall.
Before I went anywhere, I had a little trading to do. Returning to Dura's house, I collected together some items and went to town. The excess weaponry I'd collected fetched four hundred and forty-one Septims from the Bosmeri weapons-dealer Meldor. And the oversize clothing that had belonged to Dura gra-Bol? That fetched me one hundred and sixteen Septims from a general merchant named Clagius Clanler. With quite a bit of clink in my pocket, I went to the Mages Guildhouse and had myself sent to Ald'ruhn.
After my stomach had caught up with me, I wandered down the halls of the Guildhouse; nodding to the people I passed. This place seemed a trifle busier than the Mages Guild in Balmora. I was in for a real treat.
"Interested in translocation spells?" a tall, stately woman asked. "I have several pre-keyed translocation spells for sale." I wondered if these were that same things as the Void-Walk spells I knew about from the mainland. A few questions quickly confirmed that they were. Void-Walk spells were great things, especially the ones with a predetermined location on them. They cost next to no magicka to cast, never fail when you need them, in fact the only downside was that they were very, very expensive. I explained to Delas Mrania that I was interested, but couldn't possibly afford one.
"Oh, but these are very cheap muthsera," she protested. "Since there are only a few locations on Vvardenfell, the spells aren't that difficult to learn and I can sell them to you quite cheaply. How does a thousand and fifty Septims sound?"
It sounded very interesting. I'd discovered that bartering never harms your cause: you can usually sneak a few extra Drakes onto the cost of what you're selling, or off what you're buying. After dickering for a while, we settled on a price of a thousand and fourteen Septims for a translocation spell that would send me to Balmora. Now I had the wherewithal to return to my adopted residence from anywhere on the island, at any time I wished to do so.
"Are you Percius Mercius?" I asked the squat and muscular Imperial I found in the lower level of the strange shell that passed for buildings in Ald'ruhn. "Hasphat Antabolis suggested that I should speak to you." And speak we did, of many things. Firstly, Mercius told me that he had no tasks suitable for a Journeyman, and then we started to talk about the Guild I'd affiliated myself with. It turns out that Percius Mercius used to be the Chief Steward of the Fighters Guild, but not any longer. His place had been usurped by Sjorring Hard-Heart and, according to Mercius at least, the Nord had been issuing some very odd orders and taking the Guild in some very unusual directions of late. Although he didn't come right out and say it, I guessed that Percius Mercius was referring to the Camorra Tong situation.
He also mentioned that some travellers had seen a dark Orcish knight east of a fort named Berandas. From what he's been able to gather, this knight is spying on a town called Gnisis. Okay, I could accept one knight travelling between this Shrine of Kummu place and the Bitter Coast: but this third sighting meant that there was definitely more than one of them. His last comment was by way of a piece of advice - he suggested that I go to Sadrith Mora and speak to Hrundi in the Guildhouse in Wolverine Hall. He was, according to the Imperial, a good man who knows the value of the old traditions of the Guild.
I crossed the dusty track that passed for a road in Ald'ruhn and once more gave myself to the tender mercies of the Mages Guild's Guide service: allowing them to transport me to this Wolverine Hall place. I've been in a number of Mages Guildhalls and, even in separate provinces; they all shared one thing in common. And that is a certain sense of opulence: Balmora had it and even dusty Ald'ruhn had it. But not here, here the Mages Guildhall seemed to consist of one very crowded room in the Imperial style. That was distinctly odd. What was even odder was that when I left the Mages Guild there was a small Imperial shrine on the same floor and, one floor down, the Fighters Guildhall occupied another small area.
I mentioned this to Hrundi, the Guild Steward: a tall and impressively tattooed Nord clad in studded leather armour. "Aye," he said, shaking his head. "'Tis an unusual situation all right. However, Sadrith Mora is a fairly unique place an' we're only just tolerated here lassie - an' only that provided we stick to the rules."
It was then that I learned that Caius Cosades' briefing hadn't been as exhaustive as I'd imagined. For a start, he'd mentioned the Great Houses that ruled Morrowind province and named them: Hlaalu, Redoran, Indoril, and Dres. He hadn't said a single thing about Great House Telvanni and Hrundi quickly filled in the gaps in my knowledge.
"The Telvanni Mage-Lords pretty much rule in this corner o' the Province. They're canny, wise, awful dangerous to cross, live well nigh forever, and hate foreigners wi' a passion: us Imperial 'invaders' most a' all. We live under a wee set o' fairly restrictive rules: provided we stay in Wolverine Hall and dinnae mess wi' them, they dinnae mess wi' us."
So that was what 'Telvanni' were: xenophobic Mages with incredible life spans. And to think, I'd come over this side of the island to get away from the dangers of West Gash. Listening to Hrundi, it soon became apparent that what he knew was hearsay: none of it came from firsthand experience. As he explained, he'd arrived at Wolverine Hall six years ago and had been into Sadrith Mora precisely six times - although he said that it would be an experience for me to do so. I wondered uneasily what he meant by that. Naturally, our conversation turned to my budding career in the Fighters Guild.
"I have a wee job for you lassie," Hrundi said. "It's not one I'd normally give to a Journeyman, but it's very important an' the only one I have available. I need ye to go to a place called Nchurdamz: a Dwemer ruin way down the coast from here. There you'll need tae find a lassie named Larienna Macrina and give her any assistance she needs."
"Larienna Macrina?" I asked. "An Imperial?"
"Aye," he said, "a Knight Errand o' the Legion. D'ye have a problem wi' that?"
"Not really," I said with a sigh. "I'm just not a big fan of the Legion, or Imperials for that matter." And that was understating it. I wanted nothing to do with the Legions, or Imperials in general. So far, every bad thing in my life that had happened had an Imperial involved. And it had been the Legion's town guards that had beaten me so enthusiastically and got me consigned to prison. They were so not my favourite people. Still, needs must, and I told Hrundi that I accepted the job. He suggested that I go to the Mages Guild and get myself sent to Vivec City and, from there, get a boat to a place called Molag Mar. It was a fairly brisk walk from there to the ruins.
I took his advice, first taking the Guild guide service to Vivec City (a place I really must explore thoroughly one of these days) and getting a boat to Molag Mar. Molag Mar turned out to be a miniature Vivec City at the end of a small inlet: posed between the lushness of the Ascadian Isles and the desolation of the Molag Amur. Unfortunately for me, it was into the desolation of the Molag Amur that I now had to head. Pausing to buy a wrap to go around my mouth (a fashion I'd seen in Ald'ruhn and which now made sense to me), I set off.
There's little to report of my journey through the afternoon, except for one thing. During the late part of the afternoon, before I pitched my tent, I came to the top of a rocky ridge. The path went on a short way before splitting: one branch headed off in the direction I wanted, the other headed towards a large collection of cyclopean buildings. There were each constructed, as far as I could tell, from a single piece of a dark purplish stone that had been hewn as though by a gigantic axe. Tall towers with strange devices on top, tall and harshly hewed walls, bizarre circular buildings supporting domed roofs on thick pillars. The whole thing made me giddy - not a one of the angles seemed to be normal, and there were thick pools of shadow where there should have been sunshine. Even more disconcerting were the aura of extreme age and the intense feeling of coldness I got from the place. I was glad the path I needed led away from the place, I had no desire to go any closer than I already was.
I headed off at speed, spurred on by the feeling that I was being observed by a vast and alien intelligence that wasn't particularly friendly. So intense was the feeling that I soon found myself running pell-mell down the path until, fair exhausted, I collapsed by the side of the road. It was getting dark and I felt I had put enough distance betwixt me and that damnably distressing building for me to be able to rest easily. A little way off the path was a small rocky hollow, and it was here that I pitched my tent and made camp for the night.
I won't pretend that I had a pleasant night: that building featured in a nightmare that woke me in the misty pre-dawn hours, damp with sweat. Quite what the nightmare was I couldn't recall, but I did have a fleeting recollection of running down bizarrely angled corridors away from some indefinable danger. Things weren't helped by the discovery of a set of oddly shaped footprints in the dewy grass outside my tent - footprints that started and stopped in the middle of the damp patch without any visible connecting footprints. Perhaps I'd been overly optimistic when I thought that I was far enough away from the building...
As you can imagine, it didn't take me long to pack my belongings away and move on a step. Which was a good thing really since I'd covered a very little distance before I saw the unmistakable towers of a Dwemer ruin. Unslinging my axe from my pack, I made my way up the slope towards them, quite excited. I'd only been close to a Dwemer building once before, up in Hammerfell, and that had been very enthusiastically guarded by the Legion. Now I was about to get far closer to one than most members of the Empire ever do. (The Empire tends to be a little obsessive about these ruins for reasons that escape the general populace).
Anyway, there was quite a brisk fire burning near the ruin, and a tall, white-haired woman sat beside it - evidently cooking something with which to break her fast. "Ahoy the fire," I called politely, "are you Larienna Macrina?"
"I am," she said, surging to her feet and grasping the hilt of her sword. "Who wishes to know?"
"I am Journeyman Sudhendra Vahl," I called back. "Hrundi, of the Sadrith Mora Fighters Guild asked that I should join you."
"You made good time," she said, visibly relaxing. "Come, join me in a bite to eat and I'll tell you why we're here."
Larienna had made a thick pottage of some unidentifiable meat and local vegetables, and she gave me a very generous portion in a hefty ceramic bowl. My contribution was two loaves of bread (slightly stale I'm sorry to relate) and some Comberry tisane that I reheated. As we tucked into this substantial repast, the Knight Errand told me of her mission.
"We're here in search of the great beast known as Hrelvesuu," she said. "It has attacked several travellers in this area and I was despatched, along with two Troopers, to track it down and deal with it." She fetched a sigh, and then continued, "it attacked us from ambush near Almurbalarammi, killing my compatriots before fleeing here. I sent for help, and then followed it. It's trapped inside, but I need someone to watch my back while I scour the ruins for it.
"That's where you come in," she said, adding, "I'd hoped for someone with more experience, meaning no offence, but I'm sure we'll make an excellent team. Oh, and by the by, I have some skill in restorative magic and so can heal you at need. Remember, however, I'm no Cleric and casting the spell will weaken me. Well, are you ready?"
Not even in the slightest, I thought as I once more unslung my axe. However, the only way to avoid stinging remarks like 'I was hoping for someone with more experience' is to actually get out there and get the experience. Nodding to her, I led the way to the strange circular portal then evidently led into the building. She stepped forward and pressed several of the carvings on the door, causing it to dilate open with a thunderous crashing noise. Although I'd feigned disinterested, I'd made careful note of how she'd opened the door - just in case I needed to open one for myself.
There was a puff of slightly stale air as the door opened, but nothing untoward happened. Pausing, I put my hand on my axe and chanted, "Sino exsisto lux lucis", causing my axe to glimmer with an eldritch light. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing as, with more than a little trepidation, I led the way down the metal steps into the ruins of Nchurdamz.
I barely had time to see that we'd stepped into a cavernous and well lit room before we were attacked by a strange creature - which was quickly reinforced by a couple of others. It looked like an oval on six legs but, as my axe hammered into it, it made a distinctly metallic sound. The creature wobbled slightly, but continued to rear up on its back two legs and slash at me with the front two. My axe clove into it for a second time, and there was a distinct spark and quite a loud bang as the thing bounced sideways and crashed into the wall. Its legs quivered oddly for a moment, and then it lay still.
Larienna Macrina had dealt with one of the other spider-creatures and, together, we turned on the last. As Larienna's sword pushed the thing to one side, it met the flat sweep of my axe coming hard from the other. Again there was a loud "popping" noise and a flash of light - this time accompanied by a very disagreeable smell. "'Ware behind," the soldier called, pivoting to face something behind me. I dived forward, hearing the unpleasant hiss of displaced air as a blade slashed through the spot I'd been standing in. Rolling, I came to my feet...
Larienna was hacking frantically at a golden-coloured ball that seemed to be moving of its own volition. Reading my axe, I stepped in: just as the ball split along the seams. As it opened like some strange flower, a metallic "head" and "torso" rose from the sphere. It had no "hands", one arm ended on a strange confusion of metal parts and the other arm ended in a flat, circular shield. This it used to shove Larienna out of the way, the other arm slashing out as a blade somehow grew from the odd collection of metal at the end. Seeing that it was momentarily occupied, I reared back and hit the thing as hard as I could with my axe.
It pivoted on its base with frightening speed and, even though I could discern nothing that remotely looked like a pair of eyes, I got the distinct impression it was looking at me. That was when Larienna's flat-bladed gladius cracked against its torso. As it started to turn towards her, I swung my axe in a flat and deadly arc. Metal crumpled and the head sprang off the neck and crashed to the floor a few paces away. The device spun erratically on the spot for a second or two, then seemed to deflate: like an inflated pig-bladder that's been punctured.
"What," I panted, "the frell was that?"
"The Empire calls them 'animalcules'," Larienna replied as I stepped up to examine one of the spider things. "Those are 'Type I'," she continued, before gesturing to the cracked and broken sphere, "and that's a 'Type II'."
"How many types are there?" I asked, scraping up a thick goo that had leaked from the animalcule into one of my collection phials.
"The Empire has identified three types," she replied. "There seem to be more Type Ones in the ruins in Vvardenfell than anything else. You sometimes get several Type Twos, the third Type is quite a bit rarer."
"Would it look something like a heavily armoured Man carrying a big club?" I asked warily.
"Exactly like..." she paused, seeing my eyes widen. "Oh." The club proved to be very hard indeed, studded metal in a sphere that was extended in the same way as the blade on the Type II animalcule. I can attest to the force it hits with, even through my armour, I felt a rib (or two) crack. Hauling the iron dagger from the top of my boot, I leapt on to the back of the thing as it ponderously turned to attack Macrina. "Die, bastard thing," I hissed, repeatedly driving the dagger into a thin joint between the nape if it's "neck" and the "head". "Dammit, why won't you die?"
"Sudhendra, be..." I guess that Larienna's next word was going to be "careful" but it was a fraction too late to warn me. The battered seam suddenly gave, and the dagger-blade slid into something that had all the resistance of warm butter. Several things happened so quickly that they seemed to all happen at once. There was a loud crackling noise, I was thrown off the back of the animalcule with considerable force, the dagger I'd been wielding flew off in another direction, and the mock-Man staggered a few steps before toppling like a cut tree.
"Ouch!" I exclaimed, pulling myself into a sitting position. "No, like, seriously, ouch." Larienna rushed over to me, frantically asking after my well-being. I assured her I was mostly undamaged and that what damage I had sustained could be repaired with a draught of a healing potion. This proved, thankfully, to be true and I was up and about in a few seconds. My poor dagger, the one that had been with me since I took it from the Census building eight days ago, hadn't fared quite so well. The blade was distorted, almost bent backwards on itself, and looked suspiciously melted.
I squatted beside the thing I'd "killed". The back of the head, rather than being punctured inward by my dagger, seemed to have been blown outward by some powerful force. Very carefully, I peeled back a piece of plate as best as I could, only to have it snap off in my hand. Inside the skull (for want of a better word) was a spongy honeycomb of blue material. Even as I reached to touch it, it liquefied and ran out onto the floor where it quickly evaporated: making a ghastly stench as it did so. Any further examination of the artificial Man would have to wait - Larienna was urging me on, saying that we had to find Hrelvesuu.
Tucking the shard of metal into my pack as a memento, I followed Larienna Macrina through the ruins. It was a strange experience: the ruins looked as though they'd been abandoned only recently yet, here and there, were hints of the great antiquity of the items. Stranger still were the odd devices that huffed and puffed in some of the rooms, performing some long-forgotten function even after untold years. Oddest of all were the lights that lined the walls. Made of a crystalline substance, they contained two metal filaments shaped like pyramids. These almost, but not quite, met in the middle of the tube: between them burned a brilliant light that existed without a flame. Or, as I found when I tentatively touched one, generating any form of heat.
At last, we came to a circular locked door, from behind which a strange clicking sound could be heard. I checked the door carefully for traps and was relieved to discover none. The lock, although complex, proved to be little problem for me, obediently clicking open on the second try. As the door swung into the room, I saw a great scaled shape.
"Hrelvesuu," Larienna breathed softly, her words accompanied by the soft scrape of her blade being withdrawn from its scabbard. Barging past me, she threw herself at the creature. Licking my lips, I hefted my axe and waded in to join her. With two of us to contend with, the beast - a sort of upright lizard with a massive bony collar - seemed confused as to which of us to deal with first. Since Larienna was the best trained of the two of us, I let her do most of the hard work: keeping the creature distracted and landing the occasional lick of the axe. With a strange, echoing roar, the creature Hrelvesuu collapsed, an unpleasant black ichor seeping from its wounds.
"Well done Sudhendra," Larienna said, extending a hand in the Imperial fashion. I shook it, grinning at her happily. "I couldn't have done this without you, and I'll be making a good report back to the Guild. There are things here that I don't understand, so I'm going to stay here a while and investigate. As a reward, help yourself to anything that takes your fancy - although I do urge you to remember that it's illegal to own or trade in Dwarven artefacts."
There were a couple of things I wanted to investigate that I'd spotted on the way in but hadn't had a chance to do so. As I turned to leave, Larienna said, "listen, I don't know if this is any help, but there's a settlement not far from here called Molag Mar. there's a 'strider service and you can probably get a boat from there too."
Thanking her even though I knew this, I took my leave. Now, to see what I could find. A glowing rock formation that I'd spotted turned out to be a deposit of a strange glassy substance: extremely hard and a brilliant green, it was all I could do to hammer a few shards of it off with my axe. Another room we'd passed turned out to have a massive pit in the centre, in which glowing molten rock bubbled and spat. In here were a number of metal drums, the tops sealed by an ingenious arrangement of wire. I giggled happily, for inside those drums were a number of rubies, a couple of diamonds, and a single glistening sapphire: enough, in other words, to earn me a pleasant sum of money from any alchemist.
As I walked past an overturned shelf, I felt a familiar tugging sensation; the sort of thing associated with a magical object. Protruding from under the shelving was a spear-haft: it took me several minutes to move the heavy metal shelves but I finally freed the spear. It was made of the same golden metal as the animalcules Larienna and I had fought upon entering the ruins, but pitted and marked with signs of great age. There were Dwemer runes cut into the surface (Illkurok) that I couldn't understand. As I examined the spear, the patina of age seemed to fall away from it and, in moments, I was carrying a perfectly new-looking and razor-sharp spear. Considering what I'd just seen and the strange feeling of power coming off the weapon, I decided that I would keep it - even though I have no skill with this type of weapon.
Picking up a couple of the immensely heavy items of Dwemeri tableware, I considered the weight of the pack I was already carrying. Shrugging, I took two of the smaller goblets (one fairly plain and the other ornately decorated) and left behind the bowl, mug, and other items on one of the rusted table. So it was, quite heavily laden, that I made my way back to Molag Mar and conversed with the shipmaster there. It turned out that his deep drafted vessel couldn't get into Sadrith Mora because of all the shallows and shoals there. He did, however, know that there was a vessel sailing regularly from a place called Tel Branora to Sadrith Mora and he offered to get me there - for a price.
Tel Branora seemed to be a tiny fishing village perched on the leading shore of a rocky island. The huts were poor and dilapidated and I really didn't feel that it was worth exploring. So, I got passage on the small craft that would take me to Sadrith Mora, even though we wouldn't dock until dawn the following morning.
So it was bleary eyed and stiff after a most uncomfortable night in the boat, that we arrived at the docks in Sadrith Mora. There I got a most disagreeable surprise.
"You cannot enter Sadrith Mora without the proper paperwork," the guard standing in front of the massive stone door that blocked my access to the town said. "Speak to the Prefect of Hospitality." He instructed, pointing me to a set of stairs heading up into the most bizarre building I've ever seen. The wooden stairs led up to what appeared to be a mushroom, only a mushroom with a circular door set into the side. A little bemused, I climbed the stairs and stepped into the cool interior.
"What can I do for you Outlander?" the tall, well-clad Dunmer said, turning from the desk that stood at the side of the circular room.
"I'm looking for someone called 'The Prefect of Hospitality," I explained. "I need to see him before I can get into Sadrith Mora apparently."
"I am Angaredhel, the Prefect of Hospitality," the Dunmer stated. "And it's true than you need to see me before entering Sadrith Mora - as do all Outlanders. We don't allow non-Telvanni to wander around our town, or deal with our traders unless they've purchased Hospitality Papers. Even then, your movements are restricted: you must return to Wolverine Hall or here, the Gateway Inn, for the night. The papers are twenty-five Septims."
Rather reluctantly, I purchased the papers, although I was happy to discover that one set of papers would cover as many visits to Sadrith Mora as I wanted to make. As Angaredhel took my twenty-five Septims, I'm sure I heard him mutter something about 'at least making some money'. "Is there some problem?" I asked.
"Problem?" he fairly squawked. "I'll say there is a problem. A ghost has haunted the South Turret bedroom. It's been there over a week now, and nothing seems to get rid of it, nothing. I've had cleansing rituals performed, I've had the ghost killed, and still it keeps haunting the turret. I even got Arara Uvulas to take a look, but she couldn't find a reason for the haunting, nor get rid of the spectre. I'm at my wits end, and it's ruining my business: everyone is heading over to Wolverine Hall instead of staying here."
I sympathised with Angaredhel, but really didn't see how this was anything to do with me, nor what I could do. Thanking him for the papers, I made my way back outside and down the circular stairs to the guard. He checked my papers and nodded, swinging open the massive stone door and allowing me into Sadrith Mora. It rapidly became apparent that the 'Gateway Inn' wasn't unique in being grown rather than constructed. There were many more of these mushroom-buildings, and the whole town had a grown, organic look to it. Dominating the town was a massive mushroom, far larger than any of the others, set in isolation on the hill in the middle of the island. It was with a sense of wonder that I walked along the street to the rather bland buildings that made up the Imperial settlement on this island.
Heading into Wolverine Hall, I sold a number of alchemical ingredients to a rather disagreeable fellow by the name of Scelian Plebo. Still, I did get six Cure Common Disease potions and a couple of hundred Septims out of the deal. The dour fellow in the Imperial Shrine hadn't been pleased to see me, Hrundi was.
(c)2005 OverrideB1
On to part 3