This is the autobiographical journal of Arvil Bren, a somewhat reluctant hero who has been placed on an unknown quest by powers that he barely knows exist. Follow his journey as it is updated daily, Monday through Friday, and enjoy! These are the most recent entries in Arvil Bren's third journal; Politics of the Redoran. His first journal can be found in its entirety here. His second journal, Trail of the Archmage can be found here.

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Day Thirty-seven: Where the heart is

As they saying goes, when a door closes another opens. Tonight I feel as much at home as I have since being thrown into an Imperial prison in the wake of a misguided burglary. The village of Pelagiad could be plunked down in the middle of High Rock somewhere and no one would guess it came from the far reaches of Morrowind. A day that started out so miserable has come to a fine end!

Early this morning I went into Gnaar Mok to visit Wadarkhu. I wanted to thank him for his warning, and I did, but in turn got an even grimmer warning. Wadarkhu has been getting a lot of pressure from the local authorities. The disappearance of a minor coast guard officer has raised the stakes by drawing the Imperial Legion into the mix. The Cammona Tong, with it's connections high in the great house Hlaalu, has laid the blame squarely at Wadarkhu's feet. The Theive's Guild, reknowned for operating with finesse and subterfuge, is beginning to melt under the close Imperial scrutiny, while known members of the Tong walk the streets openly longing for the day the outlanders are driven from Morrowind. It is madness, but it is clear that my activities have done at least as much harm as good.

With a heavy heart I loaded my armor, weapons, and Dwemer artifacts into crates and sunk them under the shack. I picked a few ingredients of known value to leave behind for now, and loaded the rest of my alchemy supplies into sacks. I will be back to reclaim my possessions, probably coming and going rapidly in the night. Gathering the sacks of hides, plants, crystals and other miscellany I transported myself to Balmora. The local alchemists had a field day filling their larders with rare ingredients. The gold in my pouch did little to ease the ache in my chest as my highly prized lab dissipated away.

From Sharn's directions I have a very good idea where the tomb is located, and rather than follow the roads she recommended I set out across the mountains. Some places were too steep to climb, but my levitation boots made them passable. Passable for me. Difficult for anyone trying to follow. I paused frequently, on hilltops, outcrops, and ledges. It gave me opportunities to take down game, but more importantly I carefully scrutinized my backtrail. After a long afternoon winding through and over the hills I descended into Pelagiad, certain that I had not been followed.

What I found when I entered the village was a town straight out of High Rock. The Imperial Fortress dominates the view to the east, and were it not there there would be no village. Soldiers leaving the legion here took land for their mustering out pay and started the village. Their way of life and architecture attracted others, and the village grew. Though there are Dunmer here, they are not the overwhelming majority they are elsewhere, and even most of the Dunmer are not native born. It really is a piece of home.

I checked myself in at the Halfway Tavern, getting a good meal and a room for the night from Drelasa Ramothran. She is a magnificent cook and runs a well stocked bar in the common room downstairs. Though she is a Dunmer her accent gives her away as having come here from somewhere; possibly Cyrodiil or even my own native province of High Rock. As I was enjoying my dinner I surveyed the rest of the patrons. I am comforted to have once again found myself at the informal meeting place of the Thieve's Guild.

While I was unobtrusively studying the locals they were studying me, some with far less subtlety than I was exercising myself. As I finished my meal a striking Khajiit slid into a nearby seat and purred a greeting. Her name is Ahnassi. Even with the attention I have been getting from Ajira, and to some extent Habasi, it had not really occurred to me that a Khajiit woman could have any kind of amorous intention towards me, but as Ahnassi says, we are all outlanders here. A bard struck up a merry tune, and we danced. She commended me for my smooth moves, and when I protested that I was no acrobat, and in fact felt clumsy next to her incredible feline grace she hushed me, saying that if I wasn't I should be. The way she moved, her open affection, my long imprisonment, and the sujamma combined to work some sort of magic. By evening's end I had looked past the soft downy fur and slitted pupils, and was seeing a lovely woman. She pressed, and I promised to visit Pelagiad frequently. I did not tell her that I currently have no place else to call home.

While we danced Ahnassi told me about the others. The music was provided not by an actual bard, but a dashing Dunmer rogue named Nelos Onmar. She was not anxious to introduce the conjurer Samia, a Bosmer. Without offending the woodelf I made clear to Ahnassi my growing preference for women with stripes, and the tension eased from her lithe shoulders. In talking to her there were mentions of extensive time training in secluded monasteries, and I suspect that in unarmed combat Ahnassi would be a startlingly dangerous foe. Samia definitely showed no inclination to cross her, but of course she probably wasn't interested in me to start with. Same with the Cyrodiil, Ladia. While she was charming, she really couldn't have distracted me anyway. The only really difficult moment for Ahnassi came when a red haired Nord woman swept through the room and up the stairs.

"That one is Hrordis", Ahnassi hissed gently in my ear. "My new friend Arvil Bren should stay away from her."

I protested my lack of interest in the Nord woman, but that was not Ahnassi's actual concern. Being the smooth gliding thief that she is, Ahnassi lets no secret go unexplored, and apparently Hrordis is secretly a worshipper of the bad Daedra. Ahnassi has slipped into her room and seen a belt which is inscribed with Daedric runes. Hrordis frosty air made it easy for me to agree to steer clear of her, especially with this beautiful woman purring in my arms as we danced far into the night.


Blogger frootat31 said...

You truly are bringing the world of Morrowind alive, adding those little tidbits of food and culture no one can get by playing the game. I read as often as you post, so keep up the great work!
PS Ever consider professional writing?

9:09 AM  
Blogger Tim said...

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