Arvil Bren's Journal

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Passer, Jan 16, 2005.

  1. Passer

    Passer New Member

    Joined:
    Jan 15, 2005
    Messages:
    18
    Likes Received:
    0
    Trophy Points:
    0
    Ratings:
    +0 / 0 / -0
    I would post this here, but it is already too long and gets longer every day. Well, Monday through Friday anyway...check it out...the link is in my signature...
     
  2. Passer

    Passer New Member

    Joined:
    Jan 15, 2005
    Messages:
    18
    Likes Received:
    0
    Trophy Points:
    0
    Ratings:
    +0 / 0 / -0
    Day One: My arrival in Vvardenfell
    I am Arvil Bren, a wizard of Breton descent. Through an odd chain of events and circumstances I arrived this morning in the province of Morrowind. Though I arrived as a prisoner, I was immediately released upon my arrival here in the port of Seyda Neen. It seems the emperor has plans for me, though how they mesh with my own plans remains to be seen.

    I received my release, and a fair stipend, from one Sellus Gravius, a Knight Errant of the Imperial Legion who is apparently in charge of the local guard contingent. While he was polite he was not overly friendly. It was clear that releasing me was a matter of following orders. He passed on orders for me as well. I am to report to a man named Caius Cosades in the town of Balmora and deliver a package of documents. I have also been instructed that I will receive further orders. While having my freedom unexpectedly returned to me is certainly a blessing, I am not sure that this service to the emperor will suit me well. I remain undecided about following these orders, and for now the documents languish in my pack.

    Even though I am unsure about my desire to serve the emperor, it does seem prudent to ingratiate myself somewhat with the local authorities, and an immediate opportunity to do so presented itself. A Bosmer by the name of Fargoth was the first civilian I encountered this morning as I left the customs house. He is apparently not the most popular fellow with the constabulary, as he immediately complained of weekly shakedowns. Coincidentally I had found the ring that he thought had been stolen, a family heirloom of some sort he claims. He was friendly enough, and certainly expressed his gratitude for the return of his ring, but I feel no overwhelming loyalty to him; and when one of the guards commented on his roguish behavior and requested my assistance I gladly agreed.

    I spent the day establishing myself here in the relative wilderness of Morrowind. I suppose I should not judge the entire province by the small area I have seen, particularly since this area, called the Bitter Coast, does not get high marks from it's own inhabitants. It does offer good hunting, and I dined well on the meat of the local mudcrabs after acquiring a spear at the tradehouse. I also had a run in with some more aquatic local life, known as slaughterfish. Given my limited skill with the spear and my unarmored legs I felt lucky to get safely back on shore. Fortunately the authorities felt inclined to provide somewhat for their latest immigrant and let me rest on a rough pallet in the basement of the customs house.

    I rose at midnight, and on the advice of Hrisskar Flat-Foot climbed to the top of the lighthouse. From this lofty vantage I could see most of the town without being observed myself. As expected this provided me the opportunity to see Fargoth caching his ill-gotten gains in a tree stump in a bog that lies behind the main street's buildings, separating them from the meaner shacks in the poorer part of town. Once he had safely moved on I climbed down from the lighthouse, recovered the booty and reported to Hrisskar. I was well rewarded for my efforts, materially as well as in the goodwill of the guard. Fargoth's ring, while it may be a family heirloom, is not an heirloom of his Bosmer clan as the engraving is in the language of the Altmer. The presence in his stash of a high quality lock-pick suggests that his possession of this item has no more legitimacy than mine, so I will be keeping it for myself.

    On the morrow I shall continue familiarizing myself with the area, and meeting the local folk. I did get detailed directions to this town, Balmora, which is also accessible by taking a silt-strider; a great local beast used for caravan transport. How I will go, or even if I will go, remains to be seen.

    Arvil Bren's Journal