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.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Day 141: The search begins

I rose before dawn. I wasn't sleeping anyway. I did not know for sure if the note was meant to lure me into a trap or leave me disturbed with my guard down. I am also afraid for my dear Ahnassi. I should never have settled in Pelagiad and exposed her to this danger.

I stepped out into the darkened streets. I was not simply escaping the confines of the house, though I had been waiting to go for some time. My weapons were honed to their keenest edge, and I brewed some fresh restorative potions. But what I was waiting for was the changing of the guard. Many of the guards would have breakfast at the Halfway before taking their posts. They know me well enough. I could talk to them.

"Dark Brotherhood? Scum, all of them. If they are after you you had better get some help. Or make a will..."

"What? Taken Ahnassi? Right here in Pelagiad? Why would they take her? The Dark Brotherhood don't kidnap, they kill. I'm so sorry Arvil, I didn't mean..."

"It's you they want? Whatever for? They don't operate on Vvardenfell, at least they haven't..."

Their reactions, their words; it was all meaningless chatter to me. Until someone said "What about Apelles Matius? He just arrived from Cyrodiil to inspect the defenses at Ebonheart. He has experience with the Dark Brotherhood." That was all I needed. I left my untouched breakfast cooling on the plate. I ran to the house and quickly gathered arms and armor, then teleported to the temple in Vivec City. The haze of magica still swirled about me and I did not feel quite completely solid when I was again running, casting my levitation spell as I leapt over the western battlement of the courtyard of the High Fane. I alit on the Ebonheart road without breaking stride. Somehow running myself to exhaustion helped clear my head.

I arrived in Ebonheart with no idea how to proceed. The huge castle loomed before me; two castles really, joined by a high bridge. Before the castle itself I entered a great plaza, over which a mighty statue of an Imperial dragon loomed. My breathless flight had cleared my head; cleared it enough that I regretted my haste. Had the Dark Brotherhood been arrayed in the plaza I was prepared; armed to the teeth, stinking of sweat, hair blown wildly. For gathering information in a Ducal court I was completely out of place.

Fortunately as I began asking for directions to an inn of some sort I met a Redguard. Though somewhat smoothed around the edges by life in the center of Imperial might in Vvardenfell his warrior heritage lurked close beneath the surface and he was not put off by my wildness. I checked in to the inn, gathered my wits and my civility about me, and ventured back out into the castle courts.

It took the day, a day I was loathe to waste on bureaucracy, but I eventually was allowed to meet with Apelles Matius. My patience was worn, and I leapt to the point far too quickly.

"I call no man liar, especially a man bearing the staff of a Mage Guild Wizard," he responded, "but there must be a mistake. If the Dark Brotherhood wanted your death it would be someone else reporting the crime. You would be dead."

I swallowed; to clear my throat, and my impatience. I opened the exquisite robe I had donned for the day, revealing the black chain tunic I wore underneath. From my pouch I drew the black hood of an assassin, still stained with his blood. "The Dark Brotherhood has sent as many of their members to their deaths as they are willing to do. Now they have taken...something dear to me. I must travel to Mournhold, they think to die in their trap. They may be right, or they may be wrong. Either way there will be death."

The general looked me in the eye as he fingered the black mask. "Again no offense, but only a fool would put his head in their noose. It must be something of great value they have taken from you." He turned to pace the battlements, inviting me to join him with a tilt of his head. The sun gleamed off of his polished silver armor. "There are no ships to the mainland. Because of the blight my inspection trip here would have been a permanent assignment, but I brought with me a powerful mage, Asciene Rane. She can teleport you to Mournhold. Meet her tomorrow morning in the antechambers of the Grand Council. Good luck."

Again I face a sleepless night. Is Ebonheart the path to the trap, or have I already entered the jaws? I cannot be slain. If I die Ahnassi will be of no value to them. For her sake I must prevail.


Anonymous Enix said...

Jolly good show! Late but worth the wait. Had you a horse, I would say, "Ride on, save thine love!". But since there are no horses in Vvardenfell, I say, "Dash headlong into the jaws of death, for a man never knows if they'll close!"

12:21 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

thank you ! Very enjoyable! Not too scary (yet) !

- angela

4:12 AM  
Blogger frootat31 said...

Excellent journal entry as always. Now the plot thickens and our Arvil is out to save his kitty. You've captured his worry and concern very well. Great job.

6:13 AM  
Anonymous talkkno said...

hmm does this mean you aare going to complte the tribual before the regluer mq main quest? Good sorty really ups the alredy uplifting supense.

2:30 PM  

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