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, February 08, 2005

Day Forty-seven: Pirate

Now I am a pirate. Unfortunately, other than sleeping on it I have no idea what to do with this ship. I cannot sail her by myself. I know nothing about sailing anyway. She is fully laden with a cargo of illegal ebony, and I would hate to abandon her. Perhaps by morning I will have an idea.

I found the Grytewake at a dock near the mouth of the Odai by following her Nord crew. Their treks through the marsh from a nearby cave were marked by alternating disgruntled complaining with gleeful proclamations of wealth. They made many trips. I hid among the trees and marsh grasses. I would have been happy to leave these smugglers to their work, but I wanted to find out who they were working with. When I saw a group of Dunmer emerge from the cave I listened closely, and confirmed my suspicions. I allowed the Dunmer to pass, although the thousands of gold pieces they carried were bound for Orvas Dren, kingpin of the Cammona Tong. The couriers are not local operatives, no threat to Ahnassi, and no concern of mine.

I even considered waiting for the ship to sail. These Nords do not concern me either. I chose not to for a number of reasons; hundreds of pounds of reasons actually. Ebony. I wanted to find out, if I could, where the Cammona Tong came up with such a shipment of ebony. I owed it to my fellow Blade, Surane Leoriane, to see if this shipment has a link to the Caldera Mines. Searching through the ship's papers has revealed nothing. All I can do is take her the names Thervam Drelas and Ralos Othrenium. Those two were the Tong members left with the Nords. Left to die.

I have nine more deaths on my conscience, but they do not weigh heavily. Smugglers, battle hardened; they chose their lot. For the Nords especially there was likely no better end they would have chosen than to die in battle, though perhaps not this battle. This one they might call unfair. I watched them as they trudged through the swamps lading their cargo. I waited in the darkness near the cave mouth when sunset stopped their efforts; waited listening to the revelry within. I watched as many of the crew staggered drunkenly to their ship. Then I struck.

The first officer was still in the cave, completing the transaction with the Dunmer or just too drunk to return to the ship. Drelas and his Redguard lackey fell defending the door, Othrenium and the Nord officer deep within. There is still loot in the cave, to be sifted from the refuse of the evening's festivities. Given the number of empty bottles killing them may have done them a favor; they would have been miserable in the morning. Those on the ship were easier prey, most having fallen into drunken slumber.

I would guess there are close to three hundred pounds of ebony on board, plus provisions for a long journey. I will have to leave the ship, obviously. I could transport the valuable cargo to my cave, but that would set me further back in my march on Hla Oad. I will decide with the dawn.


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