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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, April 17, 2006

39: Return voyage

I was a bit surprised when I awoke this morning to find the Grytewake still moored. After yesterday's long negotiations I had retired to the master's cabin expecting the crew to set sail, but wiser heads prevailed. The dangerous waters of Azura's coast are best navigated in daylight, and there was concern that the night would catch us before we reached the open sea.

So fate, or Azura, had me at the rail as we maneuvered through the narrow passages between rocky islands that connect Vos to the sea. Narrow passages that also provide access to Tel Mora, the tower of Mistress Dratha. A tower where I would apparently be completely unwelcome.

We had not gone far when someone spotted a small boat adrift on the smooth channel waters. We got close enough that a Khajit sailor aloft in the rigging could see down into the tiny craft. He shouted immediately. Lying unconscious between the thwarts was a Dunmer woman. I cast a water walking spell and leapt over the rail with a line. As the crew pulled us alongside I tried to revive the bedraggled occupant, who was burning with fever and mumbling incoherently.

Though I am by no means the healer that Sharn is, I'm not incapable. Once the woman was safely aboard and we were again underway I began my work. Swamp fever is common among fisherfolk; frequently contracted from infected mudcrabs. A simple curative spell seemed to break the fever, and my patient drifted into a more peaceful slumber.

When she awoke I found out that her name is Bitte, and she is indeed a common fisherwoman from Tel Mora. She had set out for Vos in hopes of finding treatment for her fever. She had not intended to end up on a ship rounding the northern coasts of Sheogorad. I asked why she had had to leave Tel Mora, thinking that there would surely be restoratives available in any Telvanni stronghold.

"No," she said, "we have none there. Mistress Dratha does not concern herself much with restorative magicks, and she has long since driven out the Temple."

I knew the Telvanni were not generally devout followers of Temple doctrine, but that surprised me. As I continued to administer healing I questioned this unusual course.

"The Temple would not agree to never send men to Tel Mora, so she told them not to send anyone, and refused them any space," she explained. I was about to explore further when a sailor came into the cabin and accidentally changed the entire direction of the conversation. He called me by name.

"Arvil?" my guest said. "Arvil Bren? A Breton mage! You must be Arvil Bren!"

How could my name raise such alarm? I could not imagine that the trials of the Mage's guild and House Telvanni would be under discussion on the lowest waterfronts. Apparently I was wrong, at least as far as the waterfront of Tel Mora is concerned.

"You are the manling that is coming to destroy us all?" she said with wonder in her voice. "Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not coming to destroy anyone," I said. "Where did you get an idea like that?"

"Mistress Dratha has everyone watching for you. She says you attacked the council chambers in Sadrith Mora and you are coming to destroy us. The guards in Tel Mora are under orders to kill any Breton manling on sight."

We docked in Gnisis and I turned Bitte over to the Temple for recuperation, then went to see Baladas.

"Well, at least you didn't pull up to the docks of Tel Mora playing the trader role," he said with a laugh. "Probably would have had to blow up the entire dock to get away, and lost the Grytewake in the process. Dratha is quite insane in her hatred of men, and I wouldn't doubt that every one of her man hating minions is just hoping some hapless Breton will show up so they can annihilate him."

"How do I approach her then?" I asked.

"Arvil, if you want to be Hortator of the Telvanni you are eventually going to have to face the realities of House Telvanni. You aren't going to even ask for her vote, since you most certainly aren't going to get it. You just need to kill her and move on."

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think Arvil is realizing that killing some Telvanni is inevitable...

-Noozooroo

7:54 AM  
Blogger Mindstroller said...

Yes it would certainly seem so. BUt when you think about it, is it really all that bad?

I never liked the telvanni, i was a Hlaalu through and through.

My oblivion journal is at http://willsyras.blogspot.com

Thanks for letting me advertise!

2:01 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

*pauses from dancing to 'My Humps' to comment*

Another great entry Tim!

-Nivekclough

3:31 PM  
Anonymous mikekearn said...

Hm, I can't wait to see how Arvil "removes" that particular problem.

8:29 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Better to kill then be killed, but I have a little more honor than that, as I am redoran and a member of the Morag Tong assassin's guild and Archmage of the prestiguos Mage's guild and also a member of the Fighter's guild and have vowed to destroy the Theive's guild and Dark Brotherhood.

Valen, your average bosmer with 17535 strength!

3:31 PM  

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