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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.

Monday, March 27, 2006

33: What did he say?

It was surprisingly easy to see Gothren. It seems that overnight everyone in Tel Aruhn heard that I was coming. It also seems as if they were told to cooperate. A fierce Orc bid me welcome as I walked up from the docks.

"Greetings outlander, may your kills be quick, and many," the heavily armored warrior said.

"Greetings," I replied cautiously.

"You are here to see the Archmagister I assume?"

"Yes. Yes I am." I watched the Orc's scaly hands, but they made no move for the great axe at his belt.

"He can be found in the highest room of the tower." He pointed vaguely upwards. "There is a balcony, and a short flight of steps. I assume you can fly, or levitate."

"Yes. Is that an appropriate entrance for an unannounced visit?"

"You are hardly unannounced, Archmage."

"Well. Thank you then. I'll be off." I took a step backwards as I gathered the deep purple glow of alteration magicka.

"Watch out for the central shaft," he said as a final warning. "It's a long fall."

I floated weightlessly up to the balcony, wondering if I was walking into a trap. Before the spell wore off I drifted higher and inspected the stair. It seemed solid enough. I touched down, gently. I must admit the view was spectacular. It made a certain sense, in a Telvanni sort of way, to have an inaccessable balcony overlooking such a vista.

Telvanni construction just assumes that everyone can fly, apparently. Even inside the high tower there was no access from the ground floor other than the vertical center shaft. I peered over the edge. The distant floor looked about as big around as a septim coin. The shaft was perfectly straight, and featureless. I was glad for the warning; it would have been a nasty fall. I skirted it carefully.

Gothren greeted me from a small chamber around the next corner. On either side of the entry to the chamber towered the animated Daedric armor that is a dremora. There was no way to converse with the Archmagister without being aware of their ominous presense.

We did converse; and converse; and converse. The close little room with the looming guards was exceedingly uncomfortable. And the conversation dragged on. I can see how Gothren came to lead the council. He would commit to absolutely nothing, including not committing. At one point I think he said that he would have to consult the other council members about consulting with the other council members, but my attention was wandering so I can't be sure. I left late in the afternoon, with nothing really gained.

I stood on the high balcony, looking out over the straits and islands of Azura's Coast. I considered the benefits of just turning around, marching into the tower, and fighting Gothren right then and there. I cannot imagine ever getting through the maze of his endless empty words. Eventually I stepped off the balcony into a cacoon of magicka that floated me softly down to the ground, and returned to Sadrith Mora.

Skink gave off the dry hiss that I have learned is Argonian laughter. "We are not surprised Archmage. Gothren is a wary foe at the conference table that can strike without warning when his opponent is lulled by his endless words. Without warning, and without giving offense. It is only natural that one such as he leads the Telvanni, if you can call it leading."

"And if I had attacked him the others would probably refuse to see me, and I would have to fight them all."

"They would be difficult opponents, probably none more difficult than Gothren though."

"I don't want to kill them all Skink. We need them. We need some of them at least. Dunmer magic is...subtle...in ways that even the greatest Breton wizards could miss."

"As would the wisest people of the root." He nodded. "You are looking to the coming darkness."

"Always, my friend; always." Moon and Star weighed heavily in my pouch. I teleported back to Ald-ruhn and retreated to my room.

6 Comments:

Anonymous Ray a.k.a. lorddnomyar said...

Ah-ha! Very good. Though, I feel as if I must state, that I have never completed the main quest. It's... on my to-do list.
Anyway, this chapter was rather good, and I am looking forward to more.

4:38 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I always chose the Telvanni House when playing Morrowind, so I understand the tangled politics of that house. You are doing a great job portraying them.

Keep up the good work!

Nivekclough

1:01 PM  
Anonymous Rex Little said...

It'll be interesting to see how you spin up the process of becoming Telvanni Hortator, Tim. In the actual game it's really pretty dull; "Oh, you want to be Hortator? Sure, no problem, who cares."

1:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Gothren is a fool. His inability to decide what to do eventually causes his death. Pathetic...

6:02 PM  
Anonymous mikekearn said...

It was characters like Gothren that are why I never finished the main quest in Morrowind. At first it's dashing and all, but the game doesn't keep up the feeling like your writing does.

Hopefully Oblivion will be more finish-able, if you'll excuse my word making.

12:09 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I thought only Argonians had scaly hands, but whatever.....
I like the way you portrayed Gothren
I have never finished the main quest, either.

-Noozooroo

3:34 PM  

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