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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.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

54:Lady of Maar Gan

Mathis Delobar was indeed in the Rothan family tomb. I found him this morning. The entry door was blocked by a drift of ash, leaving the trader trapped on the entry stairs with his train of pack guar. He was, of course, well supplied, so he was in no great distress, and if worse came to worst he would have used an intervention scroll to escape. He did not want to abandon his guar. Obviously he is a stronger man than I. The stench of guar that wafted out when I pulled open the door would have long since had me teleporting out of there. He promised to hire some locals to clean up the tomb and led his train towards Maar Gan.

I considered going on to Ald-ruhn, but opted to take the silt strider instead. Sharn's potions took care of the lingering effects of the sujamma, but I still felt a little unsettled. I ate a light meal at the tradehouse while I waited for the silt strider to arrive. As it turned out coming back here was the perfect thing to do.

When the strider arrived I headed to the port to see when the caravaner expected to leave. The schedule has become very irregular as storms and monsters have gotten more and more frequent. Maar Gan, like most Redoran settlements, lies on a flat area of ashland plains, so the strider port consists of a towering narrow ramp reaching up to the height of the great insects. As I approached I could see passengers coming down the ramp, led by a Dunmer woman. Her beauty and regal air complemented the rich red jacket she wore, and identified her as a member of the Redoran council.

Somehow I let myself be distracted, and barely ducked in time as a miner's pick whistled over my head. Reflexes honed to a keen edge by the dangers of Morrowind took over, and a sweep of the stormsword sheared the unarmored attacker in two. My first chance to meet Lady Brara Morvayn, Mistress of Maar Gan, came over the bloody corpse of one of her subjects sprawled in the dust.

She looked at one of the guards. "There is good reason he has not been disarmed?" she asked archly, motioning towards the stormsword still dripping blood as it hung loosely in my grasp.

"Arvil Bren is an Oathman of House Redoran and is well respected here my Lady," he responded.

Another added "I saw everything my Lady. Assi attacked him, unprovoked. The Oathman defended himself."

"Assi Serimilk has been a loyal follower of the house for centuries," mused the councilwoman. "Why would she be attacking you in the street?"

Unfortunately I knew the answer. "As my sword struck home my Lady she was shouting 'sleepers awaken'; a familiar curse; the Sixth House cult."

A senior member of the guard had arrived. "Sixth House cult? Assi? Hard to believe," she said.

As is often the case in a group of people a decision was reached unspoken and we all started drifting towards the north, except for a couple of guards who began making arrangements of the body. I was pulled along, though I really had no idea where we were going until we arrived at a hut close to the tradehouse. A guard rattled the door. "Locked," he said.

"This is her house?" I asked. More than one voice confirmed that it was. I cast my unlocking spell and we went inside.

The hut was small, sparsely furnished but serviceable. The guards efficiently rifled through baskets and urns laden with routine household goods. "Looks like she didn't really plan her attack," said the captain as she bent over an open chest. She lifted out a steel axe. "I've seen you fight. I'd have brought this instead of that pick. Actually I'd have brought the whole shift of the guards."

Lady Morvayn raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like we should be glad you are a member of the house Arvil Bren," she said.

"His guild also provides healers and wizards to support the defense of Maar Gan, my Lady."

"Your guild?" she asked.

"Yes, my Lady. I am also the Archmage of the Mage's Guild."

"I don't see any evidence of the cult here," the captain said.

"Surprising," I agreed. "I expected to find the place full of red candles, at least."

"Red candles?" echoed the councilwoman.

"Red candles. I've been in a few Sixth House bases. They burn red candles to Dagoth Ur."

A deep concern flared on her face, but I don't know what it was about. My own concern is that someone who showed no sign of being a member of the sixth house could suddenly turn to wild unplanned violence, as if possessed.

The rest of the day was spent discussing the defense of Maar Gan. Lady Morvayn balanced carefully between my role as an Oathman of our house and my position as Archmage. She is a skilled leader. I hope she is as impressed with me as I am with her.

2 Comments:

Anonymous mikekearn said...

I love the way you bring everything to life in your story, it makes everything seems far more real than the game itself. Another superb work of art.

1:46 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

mikekearn speaks for all your readers - thank you for continuing to write such a brilliant journal, Arvil Bren !!

- Angela

12:37 PM  

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