Elo Aran

Journaling my blind roleplay through The Elder Scrolls 3: Morrowind.

[elo-aran]

On Vivec

5th of Hearthfire,

So I finally laid eyes on the holy city. I’ve got to hand it to the tyrant-king; his will keeps a firm hold on this place, though it leaves little room to breathe. On the outside it boasts and looms, all stone and monuments to its own glory. Inside, people suffocate under its weight. Divided by race and creed, kept in line by their divine mandate. Funny thing is, I think I’m finally starting to understand Morrowind. Turns out it fits neatly inside one city.

At least Caius will have something to gnaw on. The information came easy. People were ready to talk, and ready to settle old favors. Whatever Caius did for them, it stuck. Easy or not, it was a reminder of why Argonians like Huleeya keep their heads down, and why inconveniencing an Imperial bureaucrat comes naturally to me. Mehra’s a different story, I think she’s in trouble. Made Caius make more sense though. Think I finally get what game he’s playing. Loves Morrowind. Loves the Empire too. That contradiction seems to be the point. Their worries are the same, and it might cost Mehra her head. Ordinators are closing in on her. Heretical doubts. Friends already in hiding. If anything goes wrong, she’ll leave a message. Amaya. Seems I don’t get to keep that to myself.

Temple’s hand is all over this. Too tight. You don’t hunt prophecies like this unless they matter. Way I see it, Tribunal took power and forced their truth across the land. Ashlanders rebelled, grew desperate, and now cling to their old tales of old generals returning from Oblivion to save them. Same old story. Can’t say what’s real. Only know it’s not their holy truth.

I pity the fools caught in this. And apparently, I’m first in line. Hate that I want to know more. Like I need to make my life any harder. Soon I’ll be catching up to Mehra. But running? Some Imperial woman actually tried to sell me a ticket to Anvil. Funny thing is, I’ve got coin for a change. Irony’s having a laugh, as usual. Bet a blades agent’s waiting on the ship to deliver my head to the Emperor. I’d save him a trip. No, I’ll pass what I’ve got to Caius and keep my head down for a little. Go back to training and Guild work. Time to leave this city for a while. Too much politics.

[elo-aran]

3rd of Hearthfire,

Thirty two. Guess I made it this far. And I get to celebrate under clear skies without chains. Spent the whole day walking around lake Amaya. Sun on the water, quiet on the roads and a bottle of brandy I’ve been saving up. Woke up sweating this morning though. A tall man with a golden mask greeting the dead and leading me amongst them. Tried to shake it, but it’s hard to enjoy a birthday when you keep seeing dead men walking. Still, the lake helped. Just like old times at Rumare, although today the water had to soothe the mind instead of my father’s discipline. Strange I haven’t thought of them in a long time, and not of the warm light on the rice paddies or the calls of the creatures that calmed me back then.

Anyway. I got here by helping an old pilgrim, Nevrassa, find the Fields of Kummu on my walk along the Odai. Woman asked all sorts of questions that left me uneasy. Must be why I’m so damned sentimental right now. I wonder if my mother walked these shores before she left me at Rumare’s. Funny thing, how I check every tomb for her and my name. Aran. Means nothing, except that it ties me here; the land of ash and salt. That old phrase came back to me. Learned it from a merchant’s son when I was eighteen and Vvardenfell first opened its borders. We sat on the crates all night, and talked like fools while pissed on cheap wine. Never learned his name but I remember our hands brushing. Didn’t mention it. Still, a warm memory.

It’s strange how things change. Weeks ago, I thought I’d be set free today. Some things don’t work out the way you expect. Still traced The Lady in the sky like I used to carve her stars into the cell wall. Habit kept me sane all those years; that doesn’t have to change.

[bargu]

“You had a disturbing dream. You can only recall one point. A tall figure with a golden mask led you among the dead as through a wedding celebration. You heard many voices, but no lips moved. You strained to breathe, but your chest didn’t move. The tall figure spoke with each figure as he passed among them, laughing and joking, as if they were alive, but they made no reply. You tried to cry out, but without breath, your tongue fluttered in vain.” ~Disturbing dream, The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind _________________________ Nerevarine’s (Aedron) first nightmare. (Damn, I love that game..) Art made by me, please do not copy. Deviantart

[elo-aran]

On the road to Arkngthand

So Hasphat says, ‘you want answers, you fetch me a Dwemer puzzle cube.’ From Arkngthand, of all places. You know, that ruin that’s been glaring down on Balmora? Turns out I finally get to see it up close.

[elo-aran]

Banter with Nine-Toes

After talking to Caius, Elo decides to buy some more Mazte at the South Wall and bring it to Toes. He heads in and holds the bottles up high; “thirsty?” “Not doing much else,” Toes says. Elo tells him about the Guild job before they move on about Caius:

Elo: "So I drag myself to Caius, yeah? First thing out the old man's mouth is, 'are you here to finally discuss your orders, Elo Aran?' Like I haven't been running his subordinates' chores for two weeks. Calls me green and says I look it."

Toes: "You do look it, beeko. There's no denying that."

Elo: "Guess so. Called me eager for pressing on anyway. Damn right I am. I needed answers."

Toes: "Did you get any?"

Elo: "No, not really. Nothing useful at least. Another errand. Two cults to sniff out, and apparently impressing him with history lessons later. 'No point in being part of history if you're too ignorant to understand it.'"

Toes: "Ha. Sounds like him alright."

Toes: "He's fine. Sour. A worrier. But he knows his job. Lets us handle ours without breathing down our necks."

Elo: "Wonder when I'll get that treatment. Slapped two hundred drakes in my hand too. Like I can't take care of myself. Living on Imperial Charity now."

Toes: "Quit your whining. Drink. Empire's not so bad, kept the peace and quiet for centuries."

Elo: "Right. You're right on that at least. And I'll drink to that. What is this anyway? Better than that swamp water ale they peddle in the Imperial City."

Toes: "Mazte, beeko. Fermented saltrice. Beer, but done proper. Now, these cults of yours. Spill, maybe I can help."

Elo: "Two of them. Nerevarine cult, and something called the Sixth House. Caius wants me to ask Haspat Antabolis at the Guild."

Toes: "Nerevarine cult's just a bunch of Ashlanders, mostly. They're our enemies. They'd be glad to see us gone from Vvardenfell, preferably dead. But truth is, they're just a few suborn barbarians. Really, they just want to be left alone."

Elo: "Doesn't sound friendly."

Toes: "Sixth House though... I've heard next to nothing, just whispers and vague rumors. But something is different recently. There's always people with secrets around here. Smugglers, syndicates, Daedric cults, but lately folk seem to be a little uneasy. Like there's a new player on the board, and nobody knows much about him, and nobody wants to get caught with their guard down."

Elo: "So much for 'quiet for centuries.'"

Toes: "Not anymore, no. Maybe that's why they've got me stuck charting swamps and rivers. Maybe it's bigger than smuggling. Maybe... they're planning on moving Legions through here, if it all goes bad."

Elo: "Ah well friend, not our burden. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing. Best they keep their secrets."

Toes: "I'll drink to that, beeko."

[igorlevchenko-blog]

Morrowind: Personages Of Ald'ruhn.

[elo-aran]

30th of Last Seed,

Got ‘em. All three. Not sure whether to feel proud or just call it necessary. Three more names to the list, my little ledger of moral ambiguity. And, if it wasn’t for Sjorvar showing me some sword tricks, it probably would’ve been mine on there instead. Headed to Eydis with the news right away. She was very.. pleased. She’s a cold woman, the way she speaks of the dead. That’s her trade I suppose. And me? I’m just the tool. Handed me four hundred drakes for a job well done. So, went around town to take care of some things before ending up here in the South Wall. Should really haul my ass to Caius soon. Spent two weeks ‘training’ on this island, mostly running errands for everyone else. Still, learned a thing or two from it; if by “thing” you mean diving into cursed underwater temples, chasing hounds that eat daggers for breakfast, and retrieving deranged bubble mages, on top of trying not to lose my mind. I’ve proven I won’t drop dead immediately. Still, I have this nagging feeling Caius isn’t done testing me, probably saving the actual fun for later. Still can’t shake how odd my release is. Keep enjoying walking around in freedom, but I’m sure another Blade is waiting for me if I wander too far. At least I’m not entirely clueless about how the Empire works, though I still don’t know anything worth knowing, if you ask me. Best lay off the Mazte for now and haul myself over. I’ll save a little for Toes and stop by later, if I survive the interrogation.

[elo-aran]

28th of Last Seed,

It’s barely been a couple of weeks, but the past feels like a distant dream, and I was just coasting along. Bribing guards, watching doors, flipping coins. All bad tosses. And I ended up with the smell of mildew, stale bread, and any tattered tome I could get my hands on. Last few days shook me awake, and Ald’ruhn doesn’t let a man drift back to sleep. Hard not to stare at the carapaces, halls, and the ghost gate looming overhead. Harder still when even my own people ask what I’m doing here. Guess I never belonged anywhere. Told the census it’s Aran instead of Garrana, thinking it might mean something, open doors maybe. Foolish, childish dreams. Never even met them. Don’t even know if they’re alive. Name doesn’t mean much, still… can’t help but think about them. My mistake, reading those books too well. “Do not grieve for the dead. Take shelter in their arms, and …” Yes, yes, very moving. And yet, I went and talked to a priest. Can’t believe I did that. Odd, that.

And then there was Ienas, making me wonder if I should’ve just minded my own business. Landed a job here on arrival, to collect a debt from him. Figured it’d be easy enough to shake out some coin of him and leave. But he had that look, like he’d been trying to hold something together for far too long. And the way he made it sound pretty; I caught it right away, a story I used myself once. False ease and polish. Made me pause. Then I saw that book lying open on the floor, tipped me off, just read it myself. He’s without them too. Recent. Couldn’t just take his coin and leave. Couldn’t do it, granted him a small mercy. Took out the brandy from the smugglers I was saving for next week. Hard times. He took it. Then he took everything he owed and gave it to me. Hero of the day, in my own deluded mind. 

[elo-aran]

“Do not grieve for the dead. Take shelter in their arms, and pay heed to their words.” - The Doors of the Spirit

[miraculan-draws]

Nerevarine With Ordinator Helmet (based on that one Osmar Schindler)

[elo-aran]

26th of Last Seed,

And a stupid plan it was. Been a few days now. Had my reasons. Was hunting those four for days. Well I found them. What was I thinking? Chasing drakes, that’s what. Prison must’ve knocked the sense right out of me. Alvaleg’s dead. Easy, he was alone. The rest’s all together, all teeth. I barely got out with my skin. Hauled my ass back to Balmora, to Caius, tail between my legs. Didn’t tell him much ‘cept I’m with the Guild now. Need more training. He didn’t argue, gave me new names instead. Surane Leoriane in Caldera, mage. Sjorvar, who I met while out hunting, seems alright. Master at arms. And Gildan, in Ald’ruhn, a nightblade. There’s Guild there too, run by one Precius Mercius. High-rank work only, but Caius trusts him. For what it’s worth.

Not sure I trust Caius though. Not sure about his skooma habit either. Could be just that. Could be an act. “Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing,” all-right. Been giving the Imperials too much faith because I know their ways. But knowing where the knife’s coming from doesn’t mean you won’t bleed. Just means you’ll watch ‘em wipe the blade after. Still, can’t shake the thought; Emperor sets me loose, no answers. Why me? Too many questions. Can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it.

Regardless, Caius had one more name for me. Elone, down in Seyda Neen. First one to extend a rope when I washed up here, wrote me down directions to Balmora. Figured I owed her. Can’t leave a debt like that. Turns out she needed some help too. Looking for one Calcius Pontanian. Went missing in some grotto, Nimawia. Said I’d take a look. Went diving around to try and find him. Water was warm, reminded me of Rumare in summer. Got a bit distracted by it apparently because I walked into the wrong damn hole. Smugglers found me, first one came at me with an axe. I was bare-arsed but still held on to my sword. Put him down, the other three too. Guess they thought a naked man’s an easy steal. Guess I’m better with a blade than I thought. Smugglers were sitting on a pile: weapons, armor, pearls and slaves. I took what I could and set those poor bastards free. Said to seek them out later, guess they felt indebted. No need.

Walked out of that shop seven hundred and fifty drakes heavier. Swear I checked that purse twice just to be sure. Nearly laughed in the poor merchant’s face. Maybe luck’s finally done spitting in my face. Day after, I found the real Nimawia, flooded through. Calicius was there, talking nonsense about bubble-language and pearls growing in his gut. Strange sort. Dragged him back to Elone, where he dropped more pearls in my hands. Guess when it rains, it pours. Debt’s paid, and I’m back in Balmora with a purse that sings when I walk. Time to gear up and head for Ald’ruhn. Still got unfinished business with those other three. Maybe they’re not as safe as I thought they were.

[elo-aran]

21st of Last Seed,

I ended up staying with Toes that night. Not like I planned it, but he’s got a roof. Went out to the South Wall and got more Mazte. Went out and got drunk too. Let a few things slip, but nothing serious. Man can drink, I’ll give him that. And standing on his balcony later, I realized I hadn’t felt that free in years.

Next morning I dragged myself over to my new employer. Fighters Guild. Eydis Fire-Eye runs the place, and she gave me the kind of look usually followed by, “don’t touch anything.” I enrolled and she pointed me toward the supply chest, but I’m not in the habit of taking what I haven’t earned anymore. Fasile said it was fine, part of the deal, so I took a few things. First job was clearing rats out of an old woman’s house. She’s hoarding pillows for reasons beyond me, but the rats didn’t care. Second job was egg poachers. Did it. Didn’t like it. Not as different from the rats as I’d hoped.

Then another new contract from Eydis. Four Telvanni agents in Caldera. Four. I’m starting to wonder if I’m just murder for hire now, another sellsword who thinks too much about it. They’re not just common thieves either; they’re tied to the mess at the ebony mine. Missing guards, stolen ore, escaped slaves. Eydis gave me their names. Alvaleg, a Bosmer. Alynu Aralen, ex-Fighters Guild, which could be trouble. Fothyna Herothran and Sathasa Nerothren, both Dunmer. All thieves guild. A merry little band.

Spent my hard-earned coin on more bonemold and managed to rouse a bow for only nine drakes. Smith’s name’s Thorek, got it right this time. If I’m going to do this, I’ll do it at a distance. Took it outside the city that afternoon and shook the dust off. Not deer this time. These ones might shoot back, and I’m not exactly thrilled about the upgrade.

Well, the day passed and I made my way to Caldera. Imperial town, rich off the ebony mines. Managed to find the fanciest room yet. Currently enjoying some berries and eggs. Money’s run out again. Tomorrow I go looking for those four. I hate that I have to kill them. I hate that it’s not self-defense. Went around town and nobody knew anything. Same at the mine. I’ll get some sleep and in the morning I’ll go out and find them. Here’s to hoping I come back. Stupid plan. Stupider odds.

[elo-aran]

19th of Last Seed,

Yesterday’s rain bought me a day to think. Also gave me the bright idea to make a plan, though planning’s a fancy word for guessing what comes next. My ‘trainers’ go by Nine-Toes, Rithleen, and Tyermaillin. Rithleen and Tyermaillin have this way of making you feel like you wandered into the wrong room. Nine-Toes at least looks you in the eye. Asked me to follow some ‘nix hound’ tracks and kill the beast. Simple, if you skip the part where the hound tries to chew your leg off. On that note, the dagger I nabbed gave out, blunt blade snapped clean. Went to the local smith, Thorvald or Thormund or whatever his name was. Close enough. Was eyeing on an iron sword, but he talked me into laying down extra coin for a longsword. Said he’d show me how to use it, guess I must’ve looked like I needed the help. Alright, offense sorted.

Took a look at the rags I bought back in Seyda Neen, frayed edges, muddy, and more than a few bite marks. Seems everything in this land tests its teeth on strangers. Ended up at some Bosmer’s shop, Meldor, I think, who convinced me I needed “real” protection. Walked out with a pair of bonemold boots. Sly little man. Still, better the boots take the bites than me.

Couldn’t afford more than that, so I took what I had and went on with my chore. Better luck this time; found the hound quick and put it down quicker with the new kit. Guess I’m not completely useless after all. Handed Toes his dagger back, got another in return, and somehow that turned into a seat at his table. Talked guilds, coin, and power. Knows this land, and the people pulling the strings. At some point he pulled out a bottle, Mazte, I think. Strong stuff, and he can drink more than anyone I’ve met, but I felt it after two cups. First time in years, really. He says Fighters Guild is the way to go for work. I might just take his advice.

[elo-aran]

18th of Last Seed,

When the guards wake you before dawn, it’s never for fresh bread rolls. Dragged out of my cell without a word, and hauled east like cargo. Thought I was headed for a meet with Arkay, or the chains of some Dunmer slaver.

Didn’t matter in the end, instead I get a barrage of Imperial bureaucrats proclaiming me a free man. Just like that? ‘Course not. Last one of them I faced was one Sellus Gravius. And that’s when the real weird started, and I’ve seen some weird.

Man starts talking about how his Majestic Highness Uriel Septim VII wanted me out here. Says he signed off on my release personally, like the man’d recognize me in a crowd or something. Maybe he would, maybe the Empire’s got a ledger of every poor sod they’ve ever hauled in. Wouldn’t put it past them. Either way, he wanted me to find some Caius Cosades in a nearby town.

And find him I did. Place smelled like a skooma den because it was. Caius himself looked like he’d been wrung out and left to dry in the sun. Handed him the package, and just like that, his whole manner flipped. Starts in with the questions, most importantly whether I was “willing to serve the Emperor and the Empire of Tamriel.” Really? Like I had a choice. Sure, I could’ve walked out, but when the whole damn Empire’s breathing down your neck, you play along. Guess they figured I owed them. Guess I should’ve been worried about Imperial slavers in the end.

And, I guess dreams really do come true, I’m a novice Blade now. Someone pour the brandy. Tried to look like I knew what my new spymaster was on about, nodded along like I knew exactly what the Blades are. Truth is I’ve got no idea what I’m doing. Every job he sends me on through these so called ‘Blades trainers’ just makes me feel like a bigger fool. Still, I suppose it’s better than having a prison guard breathing down my neck every hour. Took to wandering around this town too. Balmora. Looks nothing like the Imperial City, feels nothing like Cyrodiil. Different air, different stone, even the rain smells foreign.

But there are comforts if you know where to look. This diary, for one. A rented bed, of all things. Rain’s coming down today, so I’ve traded ‘training’ for sitting in this little room. Strange thing is, it doesn’t feel like a cell.

One more thing: Something’s been sticking to me since the ship, and I figure if I write it down, maybe it’ll stop. Dreamed just before we docked. Red sky, heavy as iron. Strange symbols floating like smoke. A woman’s voice, but not a woman’s voice, not really, saying: “They have taken you from the Imperial City’s prison, first by carriage and now by boat, to the east, to Morrowind. Fear not, for I am watchful. You have been chosen.” Probably fear festering in my brain. Still, it felt real enough to leave a weight in my chest.