16th Last Seed, Arrille’s Tradehouse, Seyda Neen, Vvardenfell
I feel sick. Nothing I eat here seems to sit right with me and the alcohol probably didn’t help either, though it did feel good going down and it had been a long time since I’d had a fire brewing in my belly.
But more importantly, I feel sick at heart, cut loose to be lost in a foreign wilderness, with no home to go back to. I haven’t the faintest idea of what I’m going to do. I don’t know a thing about Morrowind, my pockets are empty and the thick stench of the swamp soaks into everything here.
Though I wouldn’t turn around for the world. No, I think I’ve caused quite enough trouble in Cyrodiil to last for several human lifetimes. Truthfully, I breathed a sigh of relief when the barred prison carriage passed the border, leaving the people who’d have reason to poison me in my sleep far behind the comfortable confines of the Imperial seat’s limit.
But the niggling question still remains – now that I’m free to begin anew…what should I do? I have no connections, no friends, next to no money (the Census and Excise Office handed me a pittance to get me to a city called Balmora). I’ve been handed a package to deliver to a man I’ve never met in my life and told to obey him “as I would the Emperor Himself.” Which is funny, as I have a bad history concerning the Emperor’s laws. And, for that matter, keeping my nose out of things in which they probably shouldn’t be in the first place. Of course I had to read the damn package first – though it was all in code and I couldn’t make heads nor tails out of it – and only then read the accompanying note threatening and warning me off from doing so. That has certainly done nothing for my stomach issues.
I don’t think I’ve gotten used to the feeling of being on dry land again. I can still feel the boards of the ship heaving on the dark sea beneath me, still feel the dankness of the hold pressing in around me. The scent of body odor and my own seasick vomit still wafts up to my nose from time to time. It could be my imagination or it might just be the clinging odors of my old, threadbare, too-much-traveled clothes, stuffed in a bag at my feet. I probably ought to find a place to dispose of them before someone complains. I know that Altmer who owns the place wasn’t too pleased to see me walking through the door in them.
17th Last Seed, Seyda Neen, Vvardenfell
I’m such an idiot. You’d think after everything I’d been through, that I’d be able to possibly, maybe, improbably learn something from my mistakes. Apparently that’s not the case. Thinking to build up a little capitol before departing this dung-hole, I decided to do a little freelance thieving. It had been so long since I’d snuck about with sticky fingers. It was exhilarating. I passed in and out of houses like a ghost, stuffing valuables down my shirt, popping locks with ease. I hadn’t had a bad haul either – the lighthouse keeper’s chest had yielded a lovely steel dagger and as it turns out, a snivelly little local elf had an extremely well-stocked booze cupboard. But I had to have more. I had to try out the biggest houses in town, though guards patrolled directly in front of them. I’d gotten drunk with my success. I pushed myself harder and harder, confident in my skills, overjoyed to be working at them again. I was caught fiddling with a lock. The guard demanded my stolen goods. I clutched my new dagger and the precious haul of booze. I was certain I could outrun him. I’d done this a thousand times, after all. I’d come through so much worse than this before.
I ran for it – and the guard’s sword slashed my ribcage before I could even gallop five steps. I’ve gotten horribly rusty and weak. Incarceration does that to a person. My confidence was so foolish.
The lady who lives across the street helped me out – patched me up and fed me some strange bitter-sweetish sort of porridge (I shall not ask). I couldn’t pay her enough for her services, though I gave her my entire supply of money. It’ll just have to be an outstanding debt, my first, but probably not my last, seeing as how things are going.
And now I’m really in trouble. All I have are the bloodstained clothes on my back and the package for the man named Caius Cosades. I’m a thousand times worse off than I was before and sick to my empty stomach. I don’t even have the money for a stilt-strider to Balmora anymore.
There’s only one thing I can do now, now that I’ve been pushed off the ledge and have hit the rocky shoals at full force, unarmed and lacking even the rudimentary tools of my trade.
Thieve some more.
18th Last Seed, Seyda Neen, Vvardenfell
I feel quite a bit better now. I spent a fairly comfortable night in a local, thankfully absent fisherman’s shack, sleeping in his gently swaying hammock. I made a hearty dinner out of his food supplies and did the same for breakfast. Sure, eating mysterious dried meats and eggs with the oddest texture I’ve ever seen hasn’t done much for my stomach issues, but it did fill me up, which is the main issue here. I still have enough food for a day or two to spare as well. What I’ll be eating afterwards remains to be seen.
I cleaned the place out entirely too, though I felt badly about stripping the man’s little makeshift table of even his knife and fork. I want to sell every little thing that I possibly can. Maybe if I just keep stealing old bottles and plates and crude flatware, the combined weight of their tiny worth will buy me a ticket out of this hole.
18th Last Seed, Balmora, South Wall Cornerclub
Today was a great day – better by far than any day I’ve had since arriving in Morrowind, not to mention the best continuous bit of luck I’ve had in years. I managed to convince the Altmer to buy my mound of junk for a price far greater than its measly worth and toss in a fairly respectable robe to wear into the city to replace my soiled shirt. I ended up with eighty septims total, more than enough to pay off my debt and buy a ride to Balmora. I thumbed my nose at the pit called Seyda Neen and tossed my trash on the ground before hopping onto the town stilt strider. Divines bless me to never return.
The ride to Balmora was much more pleasant than I’d expected. The height of the beast made me nervous at first and the sight of its exposed organs was a little off-putting, but I soon began enjoying the ride. The air was fresher up here and I could lay back, relax and enjoy the view. I saw a bit of the countryside – I traveled through rolling green hills, saw fields of flowers, smiled at minute villages tucked into the grass. The swamp was far behind by the time I pulled into Balmora. It was a surprisingly short ride and I was a little disappointed when the caravaneer poked his massive steed into position at the platform and bade me step out.
It was also raining when I arrived and I was none too pleased at that. But it soon stopped after I did a bit of wandering and the day became as sunny as ever. After a bit of asking around, I located the South Wall Cornerclub to which I had been directed. I chatted a bit with its inhabitants, bought a new set of lockpicks and probes, as well as a few good throwing knives (Divines forbid I shall ever have to use them).
At one point I ran into a Khajiit named Habasi Sugar-Lips. Purring, she noted my purchases and asked if I’d like to join the Thieves’ Guild. I was taken aback – and then honored. I accepted her offer on the spot, gratified to have steady work at last and a definite place in the world. She gave me a job right away and my fingers couldn’t say no.
I was to steal a diamond from an alchemist, a prim, prissy Altmer on the rich side of town. She eyed me disdainfully as I stepped into her shop and took note of the jewels sitting beside her. Those ones plainly weren’t going anywhere, not unless I was prepared to run away with them. And that wasn’t an option, given what had happened last time I’d tried that. The shop’s guard was eyeing me as well, with a certain amount of bored hunger in his eyes.
I tried a different tactic. Beside the alchemist’s bed there was a small chest. Trying to be as still and quiet as possible, I popped the lock. The guard noticed and came bounding after me. Cowering, I hastily shoved my pick into my satchel and made the most innocent face I had.
He didn’t buy it and held out his hand for my fine. Sighing, I handed the money over and let him rifle through my things. When he was satisfied, he turned his back and headed back to his post.
That was when I struck – plunging my hand into the chest when no one was looking and scooping its contents into my bag without a sound. I was sweating profusely. My breathing seemed far too heavy to not be suspicious. But I held it together, walking slowly, calmly from the shop, my visage a picture of serenity. It took everything I had to not run once I’d made it outside. But once I put a little distance between myself and the shop, I laughed aloud and sped back home to the cornerclub with my prize in tow.
I’d gone above and beyond – not merely stolen a diamond, but three. Sugar-Lips accepted one of them, purring, paying me with an invisibility potion before advancing me to the guild rank of “Wet-Behind-the-Ears,” which, strangely enough, is quite preferable to being called “Toad” all the time.
I sold the rest of my bounty and felt fat and rich. The cornerclub’s bed was cushy and soft and I felt myself sinking into it. I knocked back a celebratory bottle of sujamma and then opened my bag to enjoy a filling dinner, only to discover that the jerk had taken all my ill-gotten food supplies.
So, I ended up with a small dinner of bread but a large sense of satisfaction. I’ll definitely get some rest tonight and go on a shopping spree tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll finally be able to score some armor.
Because it’s a definite possibility that I’ll be needing it for my next job. I’m to pickpocket a key from a Hlaalu retainer and know for certain that my fingers aren’t as nimble as they once were.
And still, as I drift off to sleep in the best spot I’ve been in so far, the issue of Cosades nags at me. I know exactly where he lives now. It’s right down the street from my Thieves’ Guild home. I wonder if I’ve passed him on the road. If he knows that I’m meant to be coming. If I can trust him at all.
Like it or not, he’s bound up with my release from the Imperial Prison and I have him, if no one else, to thank for the end of my incarceration. I have so many questions that he might be able to answer, that I’ve been trying to forget with all my might, to shove under a pile of rubble like I’d never seen them. I don’t want to be a part of something big. All I want to do is live and breathe free air. Is that so much to ask?
I’d better stop before I break down any more. I’ve got guild friends to impress, after all. I’ll think about it tomorrow. It’ll all happen tomorrow. Tonight is for drink and cheer.