Journal of a Wanderer - Semi-Hardcore Morrowind Playthrough

[Neriad13]

7th Heartfire, Balmora, South Wall Cornerclub

In the end, despite all my precautions, my careful planning, my days of training, I failed. I couldn’t bring the murderer to justice. I couldn’t help Uryne. When I confronted him, he brushed off my questions as though they were nothing, tossing the blame on a local Argonian with a laugh. He was cruel and haughty towards me, spitting on my shoes as I entered the cornerclub and spewing his hatred for outlanders into the stale air. We got into a heated argument which left him snarling at me and a host of angry stares on my back.

Forgetting reason, forsaking everything I’d come to depend on, in my rage I struck him first and his friends were on me in an instant. They came so close to killing me within seconds. Filled with regret nearly the moment I let my sword fly, I frantically cast the spell I’d bought at the Mages’ Guild and found myself in a bloody heap in the courtyard of the Dunmer temple. I don’t know how many bones I’ve broken, how much blood I’ve lost or if my nose will ever return to its original shape. Those are questions I’d prefer not to dwell on.

Whimpering, I healed myself until I was well enough to move and knocked on the long-unused door of Hlaalo Manor. Uryne was there in an instant, worry lining her features. We sat in the empty, dusty front hall together and I told her my tale, apologizing again and again that I’d been unable to do a thing at all. She smiled gently and said that it was all right. As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, we talked, about anything and everything that popped into our heads. She talked a lot about Almsivi and how they’d helped her to get through this tough time. I smiled and nodded, glad to hear that she’d been given even a small modicum of comfort.

When the stars came out, I slipped into the shadows and scurried home. I’ve got to get out of here before the Cammona Tong finds me and does something even worse in retribution. I’ve decided to rise early and take a stilt strider out with the dawn. I wish that I didn’t have to leave under such circumstances, that I didn’t have to run without saying goodbye. But I want no one else implicated in this and no harm to come to anyone who’s helped me.

However, foolhardy as it is, I can’t help but smile at the small way that I did succeed at sticking it to the Cammona Tong. Before confronting Thanelen Velas, I did a bit of creeping in the Council Club’s basement and managed to lift an entire crate of no doubt illegally smuggled Cyrodiilian brandy and carry it right through their front door. Whether they know it or not (and this causes me to laugh aloud, drawing odd looks from my guildmates), they’re funding the escape of the very criminal they’re hunting.

 

[Neriad13]

8th Heartfire, Tel Branora, Sethan’s Tradehouse

I feel like I’m a world away already and I haven’t even reached my destination yet. The site of a sorceress’ tower is indeed a peculiar place. I don’t think anyone builds with clay, beams or stone here, excepting the small conclave of fishermen in the bay – everything is made from winding vines and bulbous trunks, shaped with who knows what kind of twisted magic. I’m writing from an inn that’s made from the hollowed-out inside of some overgrown plant. It’s all twisting staircases, circular corners and roots that hang down from the ceiling at just the right height for me to bump into repeatedly, much to the quiet amusement of the publican. The floors are quite a culprit as well, seeing as how they’re so ridged and uneven. It’s certainly an interesting place to fritter a night away, though I doubt very much that I would like to spend much time in a place such as this. All the buildings form odd shapes that catch the wind in bizarre ways to make eerie sounds that echo down through the floors. I’m fairly certain that there’s a massive opening in the plant somewhere far above my head which is making a right racket with the wind flying through it. No, I definitely can’t say how well I’ll be sleeping tonight.

But, most happily, I’ve already got a great start on my thieving career in Telvanni lands. Wanting to stretch my legs a bit after the voyage all the way from Vivec, I took to a little exploring in the Tradehouse’s basement. I wasn’t expecting much. I was just in the mood to play with locks and poke at doors. If I actually found something good, well, all the better. I found a glass battleaxe in a set of drawers. It wasn’t even behind a lock or a trap. I just pulled the desk open and there it was, gleaming like an emerald in the dusky half-light. It’s the most valuable thing I’ve found in Morrowind thus far.

And now I have no idea where I’ll even sell the thing. But that’s for the future to worry about. For now, the only thing I can do is see if I can’t get some shut eye as the wind makes ghoulish sounds in warped plant forms that were never meant to exist.

 

[Neriad13]

11th Heartfire Sadrith Mora, Gateway Inn

I’m beyond glad to have finally made it. And beyond tired, though I just slept the entire night away. The amount of trouble I ended up going through to make it this far was far greater than I’d ever thought it would be – and all because of one winged menace. It had to be one of the stupidest things I’d ever had the luck to get into.

Down I went the steps of Tel Branora that fateful morning, the heaviness of the glass axe in my pack offset by the spring in my step and the whistle on my lips. I’d decided to sell off a little loot at the local trader before boarding my ship. As I headed downwards, already feeling the cool sea breeze drifting in from the docks nearby, it hit me from behind, knocking me to my knees with a cry. The cliff racer. I wrenched my sword free of its sheath and flailed haphazardly at the beast above me. The details of what happened next are where my memory begins to grow foggy. I hit something hard and bronze that clanged with a sound like a falling cooking pot hitting a hard surface. There was movement and shouting and the air was filled with anger. Something hit me with the force of a cow and then I was falling, tumbling head over heels, catching scarce glimpses of the grassy knoll below.

I don’t know how I could have survived it. I don’t remember how I got back to Sethan’s Tradehouse or how many hours had passed before I was awake. When I did wake up, there was a Breton healer with round, rotund features standing over me, a look of intense concentration lining his shiny forehead. I thanked him warmly and paid him for his services, opting not to ask about what exactly he’d done for me. The moment I could stand without feeling nauseous was the moment that I got out of there.

The sea was thankfully calm and the voyage, mundane. We pulled into harbor as the sun was setting and I sped straight into the Gateway to get my paperwork sorted out. Though I didn’t like the notion of being put on anyone’s books, I liked the thought of offending the local garrison any more than necessary even less. And so, I’m official now. My life is signed away, my name is written in squid ink and the whole deal is sealed with the insignia of House Telvanni.

Thanking the Hospitality Magistrate for his time, I dragged myself down to the other side of town, hoping to find a bed to fall into at Dirty Muriel’s Cornerclub, the Thieves’ Guild chapter that will be my new employer. I was sadly disappointed. The cornerclub is one that doesn’t rent beds. However, I did get to meet everyone there, though their faces are all a sleepy blur and one handshake does feel quite like another in the grand scheme of things.

But one personality that does stick out is that of Big Helende. It was her whom Sugar-Lips had referred me to. I’d known her name and that I was to report to her, but I don’t know what it was that I had been expecting. Quite possibly a sizable Nord housewife.

At any rate, I was proven wrong on all accounts when she turned out to be a towering Altmer. She didn’t look the part of a thief at all. She was all grace and charm and delicate posturing in a twig-thin frame. But she greeted me somewhat coldly and told me that there was a recipe that I’d have to steal from an alchemist. Furthermore, she wanted it delivered directly to a client, a task I’ve never had to do myself before. But I suppose that I will have to prove myself to her before she warms up to me. It’s all part of packing up and settling down in a new locale.

I’ve made my home base in the loft of the Gateway Inn, which seems comfortable enough despite its not-entirely organic origin. Its floor is smooth for a building made out of a plant, there aren’t any weird tunnels or nooks in the ceiling and I have my own desk as well as a dresser and a chest. Though I do wish that it had a proper bed rather than hammock. I hope my back won’t grow to protest the fact.

As for the state of the inn itself…I’ll merely say that it’s interesting. It’s an inn typically reserved for tourists, a repository for sparkling personalities and big wallets. It isn’t a place that I can quite feel at home. At least, not yet, not immediately like I did when first entering South Wall. I’m not sure if I could ever get used to living in a site like this.

And then there’s the slaves. I’d been warned beforehand. I knew how it was around here but I don’t think that it’s possible to ever completely prepare yourself for it. The inn is staffed to the rafters (if it had rafters) with scurrying slaves who are constantly carrying beverages and meals back and forth between high-paying guests, identified by the band of darkly gleaming metal bound around their wrists. They look so tired, but at the very least, not starved. Whenever they pass by me I find myself averting my eyes, wishing them gone, trying to choke down the wave of pity I know is just going to come pouring out of my eyes one of these days. I don’t know how people can do this to their fellows. I really don’t.

 

[Neriad13]

13th Heartfire, Sadrith Mora, Gateway Inn

I’m absolutely furious at Helende, though I can’t ever crack and let her know that. I did the first task she asked of me flawlessly, expediently. I found the recipe within minutes of stepping into the alchemist’s shop and when I stepped out she had no idea that I had taken something. I’d even played the part of the delivery boy for her, handing over my goods to the ungrateful client with a big smile. He told me to get lost the moment the recipe was in his hand. She paid me for the task, of course, but she didn’t have to use me as the public face of the Thieves’ Guild. That’s the last thing I need.

But that isn’t the reason why I’m so angry with her. The first job I could take, seeing as how I’m the greenhorn in this chapter and have yet to prove myself. It was the second job she’d given me that was plain unfair.

There is a client who desires a grandmaster retort, a pricy piece of alchemical equipment that is rarely sold outside small circles of enthusiasts. She’d told me that a certain trader named Berwen was known to own one, if I’d like to get a head start on the project. Nodding enthusiastically, I took the job and headed out.

All day yesterday, I ran about the whole of Sadrith Mora, hunting relentlessly for the trader named Berwen. I poked my head into every nook and corner. I explored every building in the city. I saw bizarre things that I’d never seen before – singing crystals, twisting caverns just beneath the ground, a massive plant with all the shades of an opal. I even tried to fly up to the local Telvanni council member’s quarters, but the potion I’d been using gave out partway and sent me sliding all the way back down in possibly the most embarrassing display I’ve ever put on before high-ranking wizards, of all people.

At the end of the day, as the shops all shut their doors and people turned in for the evening, I stumbled back to the inn, exhausted and defeated. I slumped onto a stool at the bar and was caught by the inn’s resident chattermouth as soon as he sighted me. I believe he was hurting for conversation, as he’d probably already talked out every other person who’s rooming here. I don’t even know what he was going on about. Most of it was gossip about people I’d never heard of before, people he’d met in his exciting travels in his luxuriant trip around the area. Eventually he moved on to the topic of the cheery wood elf shopkeep in Tel Mora, who he’d had so much fun flirting with. And so it all came out. Berwen does not live here, but in Tel Mora. Very funny that Helende didn’t think to mention that. Hilarious, in fact. I feel so stupid now, though I well know that it wasn’t my fault that I’d just gotten here a few days ago and gotten hopelessly turned around. I guess I’ll sail for the island as soon as I get dressed. I’ve delayed long enough as it is. She’ll doubtlessly be pleased as punch when I come back from a simple task three days after the fact.

Truth be told, I haven’t been here long, but I’m beginning to hate Sadrith Mora. My guildmates aren’t as open as they were back in Balmora, all the Telvanni mages are relentlessly unfriendly to strangers, the Mages’ Guild crew don’t seem to be much better, I’m besieged by effervescent tourists whenever I walk down the stairs and slave labor seems to be the order of the day.

I walked through the city’s slave market yesterday. There were a row of people in cages made of pods hanging from a tree, quietly sitting in their prisons, awaiting their turn at being sold. It was right next to the entrance of the Telvanni Council Chamber entrance, entirely unavoidable if one had come to do business with the Telvanni. I put my head down and walked right on by.

I wonder if I could ever become hardened to the plight of slaves in Morrowind – if I could ever forget about them and just go about my daily tasks in peace. It would be an easier state of things, to not care so much when I’m unable to do a thing. To get rid of the burden on my heart that grows heavier whenever I see one of them. I may end up like that someday, a heartless thief with an eye for the shiny and nothing else. But I wonder if I’d still be myself if that were to ever happen.

 

[Neriad13]

14th Heartfire, Sadrith Mora, Gateway Inn

I retrieved the goods in what was possibly the most creative way I’ve ever endeavored to do so – I bought them. Or rather, I traded for them. It all started with a master mortar and pestle that I’d lifted from an alchemist and had been unable to find a buyer for. The thing was too valuable to sell, if I wanted a fair price for it. I’d decided to haul it along to Tel Mora, to see if I couldn’t find an interested buyer there. And so we came to an agreement – the mortar and pestle for the retort. It’s money I would have liked to have seen in my pocket, but truth be told, the retort was situated in a difficult location and I didn’t relish swiping it while the shopkeeper was inevitably watching. But at least I am glad to have found a use for that mortar and pestle.

However, this doesn’t mean that I let Berwen off without leaving the store with a bit more of her merchandise than she’d planned. I managed to lift quite a fine enchanted blade before departing, though it wasn’t easy.

As it turns out, she had even bigger problems than me when I first arrived there. There was a monster she’d cornered on the second floor, a diseased beast that drove away customers and threatened to sicken anyone who drew near him. I don’t know what I was thinking when I walked up those stairs, my poisoned blade shaking in my unsteady hand. I’d left all my throwing knives in Sadrith Mora, not expecting to end up in a fight.

The second he saw me, he charged. He was pale and thin, missing a great many teeth and was balding in peculiar patterns. He didn’t look like a monster to me – merely a starved, sickly man who could do with a bowl of warm broth and a long bed rest. And then I saw his eyes – red-rimmed, filled with animal rage, not a speck of sanity left in them. Terrified, I struck, jabbing at him frantically, artlessly. He fell as the poison of my blade overwhelmed him, as sickly and weak as he had looked. I covered in sweat by the time it was over. I’d come away with a few scratches and bruises, but I don’t think that I’ve caught whatever it was that he had. I feel well enough and my skin isn’t peeling off as his was.

At any rate, I claimed my illicit reward, made my trade and headed back to the ship. Helende paid me a pittance for the retort, barely a tenth of its worth. I was too tired to bother with her and just accepted it as a gracious underling. As I was walking out the door, she called after me, asking that I hire a wizard from the Mages’ Guild to guard the cornerclub from the Cammona Tong. Grumbling, I made a stop there before heading home and was greeted with just as much disdain as before. In payment for their services, they asked that I get them three pieces of raw ebony, the Emperor’s metal as they damn well know.

I have no idea where I’m supposed to get that around here. Perhaps, if I walk far enough outside of town, I’ll come upon a mine with a dark corridor to hide in while I steal goods from the Emperor himself.

 

[Neriad13]

16th Heartfire, Sadrith Mora, Gateway Inn

“And what is it that we have learned today children?” I can hear the dull voice of my old schoolteacher intoning in the back of my head. “Don’t thieve from sorcerers.” I grumble aloud, as another lightening bolt of pain shoots down my spine. It wasn’t as intense as the last one, so that must be a good sign. But the mysterious welt on my jaw is still there and now oozing opaque blue fluid, which is in all probability is a bad thing.

Of course I’d needed that final soulgem, hadn’t I? I just had to have the last one on the shelf, though I’d already gotten all the others without detection. Ah, but I’d been confident that I could escape. I had a goodly supply of Almsivi Intervention scrolls, which have always served me well in the past. With just one spell, I’d be whisked away to safety, laughing at having outwitted my unwitting victims.

I hadn’t counted on the paralysis spell. With a twitch of the mage’s fingers, I was frozen in position, unable to scream as the two of them gave me the beating (or rather, frying) of a lifetime.

And though I’m not as physically bad off as I was before, now my pockets are terrifyingly light and I’ve got to pull in a good haul tonight if I wish to keep on paying rent and eating.

As its turns out, the shops and homes of wizards do contain a great many items of considerable value, but should I get caught even once, the price may well end up being my head. It’s daring, dangerous work and I’ll not make the mistake of getting hopelessly greedy again.

 

[Neriad13]

19th Heartfire, Ebonheart, The Six Fishes

It’s so funny to think that I just up and left for the capitol of Morrowind on the thinnest of whims this morning. But I do feel better for it. Tonight I dine on freshly-baked bread, a Western delicacy that I’d come to gravely miss in Sadrith Mora. Tonight, I’ll sleep in a proper bed, in a building whose walls aren’t alive and whose floors don’t endeavor to trip me up with every step. Today I walked on solid Imperial stone and tomorrow I’ll leave Vvardenfell completely. Or at least, I hope I will.

I’ve heard it said that passage to the mainland is hard to come by, but that there is a wizard who is willing to do it, if only I can find her in the morning. I’m not overly fond of long-distance teleportation. Who can say if I’ll arrive in one piece when I’m flying through the air in millions of particles over hundreds of miles? But if there isn’t any other way, then I suppose that it’s worth bearing it and hoping fervently that I’ll make it there whole.

Gods, I had no idea how badly I’d needed a break. I had no clue how refreshing I’d find the salty sea air or the stench of fish. Helende will probably be furious. But that I can deal with. She knows that I ought to be doing my job, that a definite task was set for me. And now I’m leagues away with the chore left undone and she hasn’t the faintest idea of where I’ve vanished to. It makes me laugh to think about it, but I won’t lie that I quake a little when I remember that I have to return eventually. It’ll have to be with a pack full of ebony, from somewhere. And a purse full of septims.

The last bit won’t be so hard to come by, as far as I can see. Over the days I’ve spent in Telvanni country, I’ve managed to burgle a small array of obscenely valuable items – priceless soulgems filled with the spirits of monsters, the glass axe that’s been sitting in the chest in my room ever since I arrived in Sadrith Mora - but haven’t managed to find a buyer for them. I’ve heard tell that Mournhold is a rich and ritzy city, ripe with opportunity and just maybe, proper clients. Truly, I’d be thoroughly relieved to finally be rid of them, as the longer I hoard illicit items, the more likely it is that their presence will be discovered and reported to the authorities. Money isn’t so easily tracked as objects and I feel much happier with heavier pockets than a weighty pack.

 

[Neriad13]

21st Heartfire, Mournhold, Great Bazaar

I felt like such a bumpkin when I arrived, clad in my weathered chitin and repeatedly-patched rags, gawking in amazement at everything that moved. I thought everyone was staring at me as I passed by, kicking the dirt of Vvardenfell off my feet.

Worst of all, the place I ended up appearing was none other than the Royal Palace itself. I slipped through crowds of courtiers colored like flowers, clouds of delicate perfume, laughter like chiming bells before I finally made it outside into the fresh air. The sky was gloriously blue and the palace garden betrayed strange and wondrous varieties of plants, the likes of which I’d never seen before.

The marketplace was no disappointment either. The shops are astonishingly well-appointed and I made thousands upon thousands of septims in the sale of my wares. Of course, I’ve already spent a great deal of it – an armorsmith I’ve become friendly with was selling a few pieces of glass armor at a good price, which I’d managed to bargain down even further, though it still wasn’t cheap. There’s one glass pauldron that I’d still like to purchase before departing as well, but alas, I lack the funds currently and I’d rather not steal something that I’d be using daily myself. But the pieces I do have are splendid. I can’t stop staring at them in awe, turning them this way and that to see how the light changes their color. It’s like wearing a sheet of emerald or peridot, but much lighter than stone.

The thieving here has proven to be great so far as well – perhaps too good for me, in fact. I did a little exploring last night after the sun had set and found a museum of precious artifacts just across the street. I peeked inside and had a chat with the museum curator, who somehow read my mind and warned me that stealing here would most definitely be a death sentence. Gulping, I nodded and casually had a look around. The item that caught my eye was a piece called “Stendarr’s Hammer” – a massive hunk of enchanted iron that must only be able to be wielded by a god. Its value is almost beyond worth. I wanted it badly. My hands were shaking from the intense desire. But there were too many guards around and the steal would be one of the riskiest ones I’d ever tried. In the end, I threw up my hands and gave up on it. The wizard in the crafters’ hall next door had a perfectly serviceable haul anyway and I netted a good amount of gold last night. Perhaps someday…when my fear doesn’t get the better of me.

But for now, the air is sweet, I’ve a soft patch of grass to sit on and a tree to laze under. The sound of the market lulls me to sleep and my new suit of clothes is silken on my tortured skin.

I wonder how it would be to steal from a goddess. I’ve heard tell that the immortal Lady Almalexia lives here in Mournhold, shut away from the public eye. It would probably be unwise, though it is tempting, if only to say that I’ve taken from Almsivi themselves.

 

[bulbaquil]

Not sure how Sjad feels about you stealing something that rightly belongs to Stendarr...

 

[Neriad13]

Not sure how Sjad feels about you stealing something that rightly belongs to Stendarr...

But wouldn't you want to use it to smash the skulls of your enemies, Sjadbek? Imagine it - the might of Stendarr himself in your hands! That thing's doing nothing but gathering dust in a museum right now, when it could be meting out RIGHTEOUS JUSTICE! How much would you pay me for it?

 

[bulbaquil]

But wouldn't you want to use it to smash the skulls of your enemies, Sjadbek? Imagine it - the might of Stendarr himself in your hands! That thing's doing nothing but gathering dust in a museum right now, when it could be meting out RIGHTEOUS JUSTICE! How much would you pay me for it?

Hmm... that's true, but on the other hand Sjad won't even be born for another 186-ish years after the events of Morrowind. That being said, Dunmer are Mer and have longer lifespans...

 

[Neriad13]

Hmm... that's true, but on the other hand Sjad won't even be born for another 186-ish years after the events of Morrowind. That being said, Dunmer are Mer and have longer lifespans...

Maybe I'll meet you someday in Skyrim for a trade then. It gives me plenty of time to work up the courage to steal it.

 

[Neriad13]

6th Frost Fall, Mournhold, Godsreach

I’ve never felt so peaceful before as I have right at this moment. And it’s odd, seeing as how much trouble has befallen me and how little I have. There’s one septim, my entire fortune, in my pocket. I take it out once in a while, flipping it over my fingers playfully, watching it glimmer in the day’s waning light. I don’t have enough to pay for a room tonight and I have no idea what it is that I’ll be eating. Furthermore, all my armor is locked behind an unassailable door, as I lack both lockpicks and funds to rent the room.

But here in the garden, amid the sweet scents and sounds, in the greatest city in Morrowind, I find myself free of worry. My life is my own again after two grueling weeks underground and I’ve never thought freedom so precious or the air so fresh.

It all began with the burglary of a dagger. It had belonged to a dead man, along with quite a bit of gold and a fine set of silverware. I saw its value and wanting it, drew it from its resting place in the night. But the widow was napping nearby – her dreams were disturbed and her sleep, shallow. At the noise of the lock clicking open, she awoke and screamed bloody murder for the theft of the precious heirloom. Afraid, I seized my penultimate Scroll of Almsivi Intervention and vanished in a blast of light. I thought I’d escaped. I landed before Almalexia’s temple and let out a sigh of relief for how close that had been. Chuckling a little, I began to head home, my treasures in tow.

That was when I saw the guard running straight at me. Terror filled my heart and I ran for it, darting into the shadows of the temple, trying to see if I couldn’t find a quieter method of breathing. More guards joined in the chase and I was able to outpace them easily, as their heavy armor clanged and clanked as they raced after me. It was a merry chase and the excitement was curiously invigorating. I thought that I could run forever and they’d never catch me.

And then I realized that I could never escape. The walls of Mournhold loom high above the ground and my only exit out of the city was straight through the palace guard barracks. I was doomed whatever I did, wherever I hid. I was clearly in deep trouble now and would not get off lightly.

My head began to feel light and my vision blurred with tears. I slowed down, falling to my knees in the garden of Almalexia. I could hear the clanging footsteps of the law after me and shook with fear. A gentle breeze swayed the branches of the garden’s trees and brought the scent of flowers to my nose.

Suddenly, I found myself setting my teeth and snarling with rage. If they had to take me, they would get nothing from me – not a septim, not a spoon, not the damn dagger. Seizing the accursed weapon, I thrust it into moist earth, shoveling out a makeshift hole in the garden and hurling my entire haul into it – the mound of gold, the fancy clothes, the silverware and the dagger on top. I tamped it down with my heel, panting heavily, sweat running down my back and spotted a dark form hurtling toward me out of the corner of my eye.

I ran harder than I had all night, charging the gates of the bazaar and hurling myself through them, hoping against hope that I’d run far enough to throw them off the scent of my cache. I saw two figures ahead of me, racing forward with halberds drawn. I felt as though I was falling into a deep pit with an unknown bottom far below. I quaked in terror, remembering all those years in the Imperial Prison, the constant drip of the walls, the skittering of rats over my sleeping toes, the rattle of my own chains, the lusty prisoner in the cell across the hall who sometimes bribed the jailers to move him to my cell, the secret dread of never seeing the sun ever again. I didn’t know if I could survive that once more, if I could bear being locked away. I wanted to flee and keep fleeing, tail between my legs, until the horizon was far behind me. It’s all I’ve ever known how to do.

Sighing, a cool peace coming over me, I closed my eyes, gave up and let myself fall. The walls of the pit rushed by my bewildered eyes and the stench of the dank air flew into my nostrils. I didn’t know where I was going or what would happen and all I had the power to do was trust that I would come through this without breaking my neck on a rocky shore.

Shaking, I put my empty hands up as the shadowed, clanking figures rushed toward me.

I don’t know how long they held me, or where. The High Ordinators questioned me vigorously, asking the same question over and over again with varying degrees of violence. “Where is the Widow Thendas’ dagger?” “Where did you hide it, you filthy s’wit?” When I refused to answer for long enough, one of them socked me in the jaw. It knocked the wind out of me and for a moment I saw stars. But I had enough wits about me to see that in so doing, he had broken the stubborn welt that the Telvanni mages had given me not too long ago and coated his shiny, flawless, blessed gauntlet with opaque blue fluid.

In time, they gave up and I served my sentence of hard labor in the city below the city, mining ebony and adamantium in Old Mournhold. I walked on ancient streets, chained to a group of five or so other prisoners and we mined in the darkness, scarcely remembering what warmth is or knowing when the moons rose.

It was so funny that I should be so close to the very substance that I so needed and be entirely unable to take some of it for myself. But I survived, as I’d trusted that I would. I might say that I began to believe that I was made of sterner stuff than I’d thought, but the truth is that I nearly cried when the jailer unlocked my shackles and handed my personal belongings back to me.

The dagger and the other stolen items were right where I had buried them, undisturbed by the temple gardener. I shook the dirt from the clothes, polished the silverware on my shirt, wiped the dagger on the clean grass and wondered at how so much trouble could possibly come from such a small item. I sold them all today with no difficulty in exchange for the glass pauldron that I’d been wanting. It’s a beautiful as the rest of the pieces and light as a summer’s breeze. It took all my money and left me penniless, but I am nothing if not resourceful.

This is nowhere near as bad as it could be, as I know now and even without a home or means to get one, I am at peace now. There’s always something, somewhere that can help, even if I’m wandering naked in the wilderness with nothing to my name. There’s always help for one who takes it.

Perhaps if I rush, I can make it to the shops before they close and pawn my shoes for a bed tonight. I’ve certainly no shame of running barefoot through the streets of Mournhold.

 

[Neriad13]

8th Frost Fall, Balmora

It feels so great to be home again, big city stink and dirt and all. But then again, it isn’t the buildings that make a place, but the people living inside them. It was wonderful to meet up with old friends again and tell stories, even sordid ones.

I was glad to find out that Hecarinde’s security measures have done a great deal to dissuade Cammona Tong involvement in Guild activities. There was indeed a strike on the South Wall, but when that hammer rose out of the floor and struck a smuggler dead in the face, that was the end of that. It’s never over of course, but it’s that sort of tale that gives a thief hope.

But I haven’t just returned to Balmora for visiting or training with a master of security or selling off the rare, complete set of limeware I’ve stolen to the highest bidder, though I did come here originally to just that. No, in training with Hecarinde, I told him about my problems in the Sadrith Mora branch and he advised that I take a trip to the Caldera Ebony Mine. I may just find the end of my problems there, if I’m careful. I certainly hope so. As the days pass me by, I’m getting more and more frightened of Helsende’s reaction to my long absence. She’ll probably get a huge kick out of finding out that I spent time in jail as well, if she finds out, that is.

 

[Neriad13]

9th Frost Fall, Caldera, Shenk’s Shovel

And just like that, my work is done. I stole ebony from the Caldera Mining Company entirely without incident, though the place was crawling with Hlaalu guards and the eyes of watchful slaves. I wonder if they’ll even miss it, what with the amount of ore flowing from that place. One can hope.

They’re sitting on the table in my room now, gleaming blueish-purple-black in the flickering light of the candle. I’m immensely glad to have them at last, if only to be able to hock them at the Sadrith Mora Mages’ Guild and get that damn wizard that Helsende wants so badly.

But I think that I discovered a bigger prize today in the course of my exploits. It’s rusty and old and no one in his right mind would pay a septim for it, but for someone else, it means everything in the world. It’s the key to the shackles of the Caldera slaves. I found it as I was rifling through the chests and closets of the mine bunkhouse, as several interesting-looking locks caught my eye and I could not turn down the challenge. I turned to leave and there it was – sitting in plain sight on the dining table, right next to the knives and forks. Looking to see if anyone was about, I swept it into my bag with the rest of the haul and hurried out, not wanting to risk arrest with my precious cache of ebony in tow.

I’ll stay here one more night before returning to Balmora. Tomorrow I’ve got a little freelance thievery to do, as the locals would say, seeing as they regard people as property.

 

[bulbaquil]

I’ll stay here one more night before returning to Balmora. Tomorrow I’ve got a little freelance thievery to do, as the locals would say, seeing as they regard people as property.

While Sjadbek may not approve of thievery much, he does approve of slave emancipation. If that is "property theft," then so be it.

 

[Neriad13]

17th Frost Fall, Sadrith Mora

And so, I’m to be heading off again into the unknown. My ship awaits, a morning mist rises from the sea and the cool tide laps at my toes. For the first time ever, I think that I’m happy to be in Sadrith Mora. It’s an odd feeling and one that’s hard to get used to. I was so dreading returning here and now that I’m leaving temporarily for the other side of Vvardenfell, I’m already missing it. But more about that later.

After dragging my feet for days in my old stomping grounds, I finally took a stilt strider and several ships back with my ebony bounty. The sight of the twisted, tortured plant life rising out of the sea in the darkness made me sick to my stomach. I had an uneasy sleep in my familiar hammock in the Gateway and slowly trudged up to Wolverine Hall come morning. The mages were polite enough and praised the purity of the samples I’d brought them.

It was when I darkened the door of Dirty Muriel’s that I got the shock of my life. Helsende was sitting at the bar, eating her breakfast, delicately lifting every grain of saltrice into her mouth as though she were royalty. When she saw me, she dropped her fork and her mouth hung agape in a most unladylike fashion. She’d been deathly worried about me – everyone had. They clustered around me as I stepped in, pressing me for details, information, juicy bits, if there were any. I was thoroughly bewildered. I hadn’t thought that anyone had cared for me here, that I had done anything that mattered.

My weary eyes growing misty, I gave them a weak smile and started talking. There was laughter at my escapades in Mournhold, cheers when I’d buried the goods there, hushed gasps when I’d been caught like a rat in a trap and locked away. I’m sure that Helsende nearly hugged me at that point. I saw her arms move toward me out of the corner of my eye before she sighed and restrained herself.

I went on to recite the news that everyone in Balmora had sent me off with. I talked all about the ebony heist and even, after a few swigs of sujamma, told them about the slaves. They’d all been so grateful, rubbing their wrists once they were free of the shackle and thanking me profusely for their freedom. I’d hauled my heavy hide back to Caldera at about midnight that night, soaked to the bone and freezing, glad beyond words to at last make it into a warm building, but gladder still at what I’d stolen from the mining company.

I was surprised to see glasses being raised to this and drained in toasts. I’m very rarely certain of what someone’s views are on abolition unless I go out and ask, but I was secretly relieved that my loose tongue hadn’t gotten me into trouble this time. Thieving is thieving, as they said and it’s all good.

I spent days just relaxing in Muriel’s, getting to know the people I’d been avoiding, spending the generous bounty I’d earned in robbing an alchemist’s laboratory back in Caldera. An Imperial scout named Fandus, whom I’d always thought looked a little rough around the edges, somehow decided that I needed to know how to defend myself and took it upon himself to teach me.

It was awful. He’d spend hours in the front yard whacking me with a club, yelling at me to keep my shield held high when my arms shook under his blows, causing passers by to sI'm a racist asshole who doesn't understand boundaries, respect, or basic human decency and I need help in my general direction. It was a pathetic display I made, day after day and I hated myself for it. But in the end, I think that I am better for it. My forearms are still sorer than they’ve ever been and I can’t bend my elbows faster than a rusty door hinge can squeak open, but at least now I have a general idea of how not to use my shield merely as a fashion accessory.

As time passed and my money ran low, Helsende took me aside and presented me with my next task. It was to be in Ald’ruhn, in the manor of a prominent Redoran noble. The item in question was a valuable cookbook, a vital tool in a yearly war waged among chefs. I would sabotage one by stealing her work and give another the edge by delivering it to her. I giggled at the ludicrousness of it – a high-risk mission in dangerous Redoran territory where spears must grow thicker than trees and hunger for the blood of thieves as the desert does for water – all for something entirely silly. I told her I was in.

Perhaps I’ll stay for a bit too. Who knows, the manor might have a host of good loot and I could certainly use the money.

But as I begin to tuck my things away and look back on the warped greenery of Sadrith Mora, I feel homesick already. I’ll be back and soon, I know, no doubt with a tale of some new adventure.

 

[Neriad13]

19th Frost Fall, Ald-ruhn, Ald Skar Inn

I arrived in the midst of a raging dust storm. It was horrible. I’d never felt anything like it. Whatever I did, no matter how firmly I clamped my hand over my mouth and nose, the sand forced its way down my throat, leaving grit on my teeth and me gasping for air. As I stumbled through the square, it blinded me as well, dying everything all shades of brown and red. Thank goodness the Rat in the Pot was dead ahead of the stilt strider platform. I don’t know if I could have made it otherwise.

I must have knocked several pounds of dirt from my boots all over their front doorstep. But the Ald’ruhn Guild branch didn’t seem to mind terribly. They were all perfectly friendly and greeted me warmly, even as I coughed far too many cups of sand into a handkerchief. They commiserated with me on that. Apparently this type of weather is fairly common here and there isn’t a whole lot a person can do about it but move quickly between buildings. That and learn how to breathe dust, that is.

Aengoth the Jeweler, a sprightly Bosmer who’s a head shorter than me, was particularly nice. He shook my hand kindly, said that he’d heard good things about me and that he’d be looking forward to working with me in the future. I said that I’d like that too and meant it. With people like that around, I think I could weather any type of storm.

After the introductions were over, it was back out into the dirt to find a decent place to stay. I staggered through the door of the first inn I found and slammed my dusty money on the counter. I felt much better after I’d gotten myself cleaned up a bit and a good meal in me.

But I can still hear the wind howling outside and beating on the sturdy walls of the inn. I’ve no desire to go out in it again, though the hour is still early and there’s thieving to be done. For tonight, I’ll see if I can’t wait it out. The air is cool and fresh in here, the company isn’t bad and thankfully, I managed to rip off quite a few books from a mage staying in the inn, so there’s no lack of quiet entertainment.

 

[Neriad13]

20th Frost Fall, Ald’ruhn, Ald Skar Inn

The sky was blue and clear all day today and it made me so happy. I took deep breaths of the air just because I could, sucking in all the clean flavor of it that my lungs could possibly hold. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a sky that deeply blue or smelt air that fresh outside of the countryside. I wonder if it’s an aftereffect of dust storms. Perhaps the clouds of dust rage through an area for a time and when they move on, they take all the grunge of the city with them. It’s an odd idea, but I’ve had odder ones. Or maybe I’m just glad that the storm is over and happy to be able to breathe freely again.

At any rate, my work is finished here and it was damn profitable too. The Llethri Manor was wide and cavernous and filled to the brim with treasure. I had a great deal of fun sneaking around oblivious nobles, helping myself to their booze cabinets, their silken clothing and most especially to some sort of ceremonial Redoran helm of immense value. I think I’ll be making a stopover in Mournhold on the way back to Sadrith Mora to sell it. There’s a friendly smith whom I’ve bribed to look the other way who will most certainly give me a good price for it. That and the broken, scratched-up glass dagger that I swiped a while back but have been unable to sell. I’ve made a pet project out of repairing it recently, slowly working it back to a fine sheen with my limited skills to while away the empty time. I think I’ve finally made something decent out of it and I’m proud of my work. It isn’t every day that I take the time to actually create something beautiful. It’s a good feeling, to know that it was you who restored something to its former glory.

 

[Neriad13]

21st Frost Fall, Mournhold, The Winged Guar

The oddest thing happened tonight. I’d arrived in the city just as the market was shutting down, so I decided to spend the night. But my fingers were bored with inactivity, so I chose a house at random to burglarize, to pass the time and fatten my pockets. The family inside greeted me cordially, happy to have a visitor. They told me about their poor daughter, who used to be such a sweet girl before she took to babbling and lost her mind. I commiserated with them sincerely, but thought nothing of it.

At last, I managed to slip away to the basement, where my thieving activity would start, away from too many prying eyes upstairs. The girl spotted me immediately and began shrieking at the top of her lungs that I had to get out, that I couldn’t have it, that none of the thieves could take it from her. It was like a slap across the face or an icy splash of water – how did she know that I had come to rob her? For a moment, I was frightened, but then her parents rushed to her side in an attempt to calm her down.

While they were busy, I set about my task, picking out valuable bottles of brandy from their alcohol cabinet and other choice items. Naturally, I was extremely curious about what she was hiding, but came up with nothing unusual before they caught me pawing through the closet. Things got considerably more dicey then and I was forced to call upon Almsivi once more to pull me out of danger. I puzzled over the situation as I headed back to the inn in the dark. I wouldn’t do well to head back there now, but when I’m next in Mournhold, it is something to continue checking out.