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.

Friday, February 11, 2005

Day Fifty: Fresh air in Hla Oad

It is time for me to move on once again. My presence in Hlaalu territory has become a problem; for them, for me, and for Caius. Ahnassi is certainly safe. It will be a long time before the Cammona Tong recovers their operations on the Bitter Coast, if the Thieve's Guild lets that happen at all.

This morning I woke refreshed, if a bit hung over. The early morning mist hung over Pelagiad, softening the outline of the great fortress. The trunks of the great trees stood like pillars, their tops lost in the vaulted grey ceiling of the world. I left early rather than face breakfast at the inn. Preparing in solitude for the tasks of the day. On the shore of Lake Amaya I shot a mudcrab, and used the great shell as a pot to boil the legs.

The morning passed uneventfully. I have grown familiar with the region, and traveled paths seldom trod to arrive unseen at Hla Oad. With the full noonday sun shining down I donned a closed bonemold helm and descended the final hillside. The helm is of Redoran manufacture, and did bring a stare from the Hlaalu guard patrolling the docks. I hoped his curiosity would not drive him to hurriedly investigate as I ducked into Fat Legs Drop-off.

A closed face helmet does not make for a warm welcome, and the trader, Tresteve the Redguard, did not disappoint. His hand fell on a Nordic battle axe as he said "Hail stranger. It would be a courtesy to show yourself." On my previous visit to Hla Oad Tresteve had made it very clear that he would only deal with me at huge profit, he primarily serves the Cammona Tong. We did not part as friends. He was not happy with the helm's visor. When I raised it to reveal myself, and my death's head grin, he was even less happy. I ran my spear through him before he could raise the axe.

I raised the trap door leading to the cavern below and leapt down to the creaking wooden platform below. As my boots thumped wood I roared "For the Thieve's Guild! Honor of the Empire!" The Dunmer woman who served as the Tong's sentinel drew a dagger and charged. Shouts and the sound of running feet echoed through the chamber. I felled her with a whirling swipe of my spear and clattered down the steps.

Had the thugs of the Tong gathered themselves for a rush they would have presented much more of a challenge. It was unfortunate that Arinith was the first to arrive. He deserved a slower death. As it was I was compelled to dispatch him as quickly as possible. When his sword clanged to the stone floor and his hands batted feebly at the shaft of the spear lodged in his neck I gave it a vicious twist that yanked him to his knees. I dislodged him from the point with a boot sole to the face. The last words he heard as he went to his ancestors were "Rabinna has greater worth than you, inner or obvious." The others fell in turn, unremarked.

Perien Aurelie the pawnbroker cowered at the far end of the cavern. As I approached he said "I have no quarrel with your guild."

"I know Perien. And I have no quarrel with you. In fact I am counting on you to maintain the tradehouse. Tresteve is dead, as is every member and sympathizer of the Cammona Tong that has crossed my path. I have sailed the raging gale of death, but now I return to Mournhold. You do business with the Tong I will return for you." I stalked away, hoping the reference to Mournhold would throw some suspicion on the Dark Brotherhood.

I gathered whatever valuables I could find, including yet another cache of armor and weapons, and prepared to transport myself back to my cave. My heart nearly stopped when a familiar hiss erupted in my ear. "Arvil Bren!" My concentration broken, I stuttered the incantation and magica coursed aimlessly around me. Nine-toes emerged from the shadowy recess in which he had secreted himself. "This is indeed a surprise, pleasing or not."

In clipped sentences Nine-toes informed me that Caius, the spymaster of the Blades, had assigned him to find out what was going on in the Bitter Coast. The Cammona Tong's contacts have House Hlaalu in an uproar. There have been rumors that the Empire is somehow responsible, clandestinely intervening in the Tong's war with the Thieve's Guild. "When Caius finds out that there is an accidental truth to that rumor he is not going to be pleased apprentice," my Argonian comrade said. "The Hlaalu guards are on the lookout for spearmen, and they have not forgotten your altercation on the roof at the Council Club. You can't go to Balmora. I will inform Caius and have him meet you at Fort Moonmoth so you can explain yourself."

I had no chance to argue. Nine-toes spun at the sound of the trapdoor banging and disappeared in a flurry of magica. I slammed the visor of my helm shut. The Hlaalu guard saw nothing but a Redoran helm disappearing in the violet swirl of mystic energies as I transported away.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just discovered your story yesterday and already I have read every entry. You are a magnificent writer and really bring the world of Morrowind alive. I look forward to reading new entries as I go through my own Morrowind adventures (I only bought the game recently). Keep up the good work.


P.S.- I am aspiring to become a published author myself.

2:06 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Brilliant, as always !

- Angela

2:30 AM  

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