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, August 23, 2005

32: Indecision

Wisdom's test is trying me. I am in a tradehouse in Suran, a city that I do not like. I am headed into the region of Molag Amur, the most inhospitable terrain in all of Vvardenfell. I cannot sleep. Zabamund said that Nibani holds the wisdom of the tribe, and she gave me the solution to part of the puzzling verse. I set off to find the wise women of the other tribes, but as I walked today I was plagued by regrets.

Where is the Cavern of the Incarnate? If it is on Azura's Coast the nearest tribe would be the Erabenimsun so I am headed towards their camp. But is it the wisdom of the Wise Woman that I need? The eye of the needle, the skin of the pearl, the teeth of the wind; these are landmarks. The lore handed down by the wise women may very well name these places, but I wish I had told Zabamund the verse. Nibani knows the history of the tribe, but the hunters would know the landmarks. And if the Cavern of the Incarnate is in Urshilaku territory then I am wasting my time.

After all the preparation I made for this trek it will be a sore disappointment if it is not necessary. The Zainab and Ahemmusa tribes are camped deep in Telvanni territory. That was the main concern that guided my actions. My first thought was that I would not be welcomed in Telvanni territory, but then I realized that was not true. The opportunity to kill me would be more than happily received by the Telvanni wizards.

Rather than fight the entire Great House I would choose to go unnoticed, or at least unidentified, so I left the distinctive staff of the Archmage behind. In fact my intention is to travel as a barbarian rather than a mage at all. My light armor of rare volcanic metals and hardened glass is not shrouded in robes, and I have never been seen in this exotic attire. I have abandoned my preference for open faced helms and gone behind a mask of gleaming Dwemer metal. The longsword at my hip is a barely familiar weapon. I left home confident that I was not recognizable, but immediately made a mistake.

Before setting off again into the wilderness I wanted to check in with my guild stewards, so I left Pelagiad by teleporting to the temple courtyard in Balmora. It was encouraging walking down the familiar street to the guild hall without being recognized. I was passing the fighter's guild hall, which is right next door to my own, when it suddenly dawned on me that the Telvanni would likely be watching the hall. Even if they didn't recognize me as the Archmage the distinctive glass armor and Dwemer helm would no doubt be noted. And when it turned up again in Telvanni territory that would be noted as well, and I would likely be questioned.

I walked past the hall, going on to the Southwall Cornerclub, den of the local thieves. Habasi, the Khajiit who heads up the gang is a friend, and a close associate of my mate Ahnassi. She could be counted on to help. She sent a messenger to the guild hall to set things up. I met with Ranis in the small house left at my disposal by Caius Cosades. I was safely inside before Ranis ever left the guild hall, and I teleported myself out after our meeting, using an intervention spell that delivered me to Fort Moonmoth. Anyone who followed the guild steward into the poorest quarter of Balmora will no doubt be wondering why, but they won't be connecting me to the guild.

So my morning went, and I am confident that no one recognized the Archmage, and no one followed the beginnings of my journey. I waited near the ruins of Arkngthand and watched the great bridge over the Foyada Mamaca after I had crossed to be sure. I am well disguised, at least in that I have no doubts. If only I could put the nagging feeling that I am on a fool's errand to rest as easily.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Doing a series of things that do not make sense to the doer but realizing that it could lead to something. That is part of reality that the writer is bringing out well.

6:44 AM  

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