Each event is preceded by prophecy, but without the event, there is no hero.
In the waning years before the end of the third era of Tamriel, a prisoner was born on an uncertain day, from uncertain parents. To most, she was ignorant of the role she was to play in that country's coming history.
"They have taken you from the Cyrodiil prison, first by carriage, then by boat. To east and to Morrowind. Fear not, for you shall be watched. You shall be chosen... "
16th of Last Seed, 3rd Era, Year 427
..."Wake up!"....
The lady from Cyrodiil squinted her eyes. Someone was peering at her through the gloom.
"Wake up!" said the voice. The voice of a Dunmer, for sure. "Why are you here?" asked the voice. "Are you with us?"
The smell of rotted wood permeated the air. The lady felt a gentle rocking as she got up off the floor. She wrinkled her face. Was she on a boat?
"That's right, stand up," said the voice. And now that she was standing, the lady could see she had been spoken to by a Dunmer. "You were dreaming," he said in a gravelly voice. "What's your name?"
"Joan. Of Cyrodiil," said she.
"Well, not even last night's storms could wake you," he replied. "I heard them say landfall was made last night." He was standing before her without a shirt on, Joan could see. "We've reached Morrowind, I'm sure and certain they will let us go."
"Who ... shall let us go?" Joan was bleary.
"Quiet. Here comes the guard."
An Imperial soldier was approaching from somewhere up deck. Joan could hear his footsteps clonking along. He made his way down a set of stairs on the far side of the boat, and toward the Dunmer and Joan.
"This is where you get off," said the Imperial with a regal sort of voice. "Now. Come with me."
Joan hesitated, trying to remember what happened. Why she was .... here ... on this boat. And not on the boat with the others. The others from Cyrodiil.
"You'd better do what they say," warned the Dunmer with no shirt.
"Hoy there," Joan called to the guard. "Have I been placed into some manner of custody?"
"You'd better do what they say," warned the Dunmer with no shirt, for the second time.
So Joan did. She followed the Imperial through the ship's dim lower hull. Noticed hammocks, crates, and barrels. She then walked cautiously up the ship's ladder, giving one last look back to the far alcove, where she'd awoken a few moments ago. Finally, she moved through the ship's mid-deck hold, which was brighter and a tad more pleasant than its lower section. Candles, and places to eat.
"Get yourself up on deck and lets keep this as civil as possible," the Imperial growled.
"Yessir," Joan answered. "Ehm. Perhaps this is a case of mistaken identity," she spoke to the Imperial, but didn't dare look at him. She said a quick prayer to superior powers before climbing upon the ship's upper deck.
mid-afternoon
Unsure what had happened, Joan was expecting she was about to walk from the ship's inside straight into some sort witch hunt. She'd walk on deck, and be surrounded by accusers, or some such. Because that's the way she felt, at the moment. Things were not right. She was in some sort of trouble, perhaps. Had to be mistaken identity, though. Had to be.
But this was not the case. Her fears would be allayed.
"This is where they want you," said a man, a Redguard, who was standing ondeck. "Head down to the dock and into the census office."
At this point, Joan noticed three things at once.
1). She was not under any sort of arrest. This was obvious, since she was not bound.
2). She was not about to be accused of anything.
3). She had made it to Vvardenfell.
Joan had boarded the wrong boat, for sure. But she had also successfully made it to her destination, somehow. The weather was balmy. She could see gigantic mushroom trees standing way off in the distance. Finally, the silt strider standing off to the side of whatever town she was in made this area no mistake. Only one place on Tamriel could support those types of flora.
"But what has happened to the others? Where are the rest of my priory?" she asked.
"Let's go," said the Redguard impatiently, ignoring her concerns. "Move it along."
She began to move off the boat. Onto a small bridge, which led to a dock, which led to a Tudor-styled building. So this was Vvardenfell, but the town she was in had Imperial influence. A second guard greeted her as she neared him. Unlike the others so far, he seemed pleasant, maybe even pleased to see Joan.
"You finally arrived but our records don't show from where," he said.
"Cyrodiil. Cheydinhal, as a fact of matter. I am Joan from Cheydinhal."
"Great," the guard said in his pleasant voice. "I'm sure you'll fit right in. Now follow me up to the office."
Joan did so, slowly. If the others did not make it, did this mean her quest within Vvardenfell would not be granted?
"Head on in," said the guard, and so Joan of Cheydinhal did so. It was not as though she really had any choice in the matter.
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https://i.imgur.com/rvZmAin.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/4Cq2zPM.jpg
Welcome to Vvardenfell, Nerevarine Joan!
Looks like we're about to witness what was going on with Joan before the events of Cyrodiil, that is, before she was called the Joan of Arkay.
Aww neat, it is Joan before the Akray? Is she going to do the Nine Divines questline in the game?
Great beginning. Will Joan be reunited with her priory tour group? Will Joan bring down the Tribunal like a house of cards in hurricane? Stay tuned for the answers to these and other questions as Joan of Cyrodiil travels the island of Vvardenfell.
"But really, I got on the wrong ship, I tell you."
"Yeah, yeah. That's what they all say. Move it along."
Fixed the numerous spelling errors in that opening tale. I wrote that a couple months ago, and just posted yesterday without having my glasses on!
Yes, that is Joan before she became associated with Arkay. In 2013 after I bought all the DLC on Xbox, the first question I asked is "what is the REAL reason she gets Battlehorn Castle for free?" And eventually the answer came--she already has some Fame from whatever she's about to do in Morrowind.
Rosa: yes, she'll be doing anything "goody" in this game. So Imperial Cult, Imperial Knights... the sky's open for Joanie. And I'm going to write it all up.
macole: Ha ha yeah, that is true about there being a long 'line' of of others going through that Census Office. "Whatever... move along....." We'll see more of that in the next update.
Funny thing about this game is I don't know what's to come. Some of my characters on Xbox did Fighters Guild and Mages Guild already, and some of the Imperial stuff, but I barely have touched any of the Houses. So I'm sort of blind (which is a good thing).
Joan of Cheydinhal walks into Seyda Neen's Census and Excise Office building, where she finds herself in a warm and somewhat dark room full of rugs and wall-hangings. A hearth had been lit in a far corner. Inside this office are a couple of others: an older gentleman, and yet another guard.
"Ah yes!" the older man's voice squeaks. "We've been expecting you."
"Have you?" Joan wonders why.
"You'll have to be recorded before you are officially released. We'll need some information. There are a few ways we can do this and the choice.... is... yours."
Blessed man. Joan of Cheydinal is finally able to tell somebody why she had come to Vvardenfell, and how it seemed things had gone terribly wrong.
She had been a student and a squire-in-training, as well as an acolyte for the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal. Joan had received some training in the skills of swordplay, and use of a shield. She had also expanded into magical schooling. By the age of 13 she had had a virtuous childhood, and was talented in a variety of arts and magics, as well as combat. Her youth had been a busy one. As she neared the age of 18, Joan's ultimate goal was to become a full-fledged paladin. A holy knight in service of the Nine. She seemed to be most interested specifically with Arkay.
Part of her regimented training was to go off to the province of her choice. Here she'd engage in 'holy work', whatever it may be. She and a group of others were going to travel to Morrowind. Last thing she remembers was falling asleep on the boat they'd all boarded, back in Anvil. What is all this talk of being a prisoner? She does not know.
"Very good," the census officer says, not committing himself to her past. To him, she's just another citizen, moving into Vvardenfell. "The letter we received said you were born under a certain sign," he says. "And what would that be?"
"I am of the Ritual," answers Joan. "Trained in the arts restoring oneself, and of ridding the evils of undead, especially."
"Interesting. Now before I stamp these papers, make sure this information is correct."
Joan of Cheydinhal reads her census documents a few moments, and nods. "I suppose this shall do."
"Very well," he said, dipping his stamp in hot wax, and then placing its mark upon her immigration papers.
"Maybe 'tis the Nine's way to have guided me here," Joan speaks to no one in particular. "And perhaps there is a reason."
"Show your papers to the captain to gain your release," the census taker says impatiently.
Joan realizes she's not alone. There are plenty of others behind her, waiting their turn to also file into the census office, and continue onto the mainland. Others of all types and races. Joan scans their faces, but none of them are familiar. None of them are the fellow acolytes or priests from her chapel.
She presses ahead, moving out of the census office, and into another quarters. Here she speaks to one final man. An Imperial. "First let me take your identification papers," he tells her. "Thank you. Word of your arrival has only reached me yesterday."
"It has?"
"I am Sellus Gravius. But my background is not important. I am here to welcome you to Morrowind."
"Are you now? And you know of my coming? Well, these are good things," she muses.
"I don't know why you're here," he admits. "Or why you were released from prison and shipped here."
"Eh, no sir," Joan interrupts shyly. "I was never in prison, of this I am sure."
"But your Authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself," he tells her, shrugging, as if to say she was in the right place, whatever her past may have been. "And I don't need to know any more than that. When you leave this office, you are a free ... err.. woman. But before you go, I have instructions about your duties. Instructions from the Emperor."
Sellus Gravius gives Joan the package which would begin the changes, which would cause a new destiny to unfold in the future of Morrowind. Joan is told to head to a town called Balmora, where she'd bring the package to a man named Caius Cosades. From there, she'd be told what to do next.
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Note: at the very end, Sellus's dialog only includes speaking to a male. "you are a free man..." so I changed that.
Oh wow - how did I miss this?! Joan has gone to Morrowind!! <applause>
I love that Joan of Arkay Cheydinhal is a paladin in training rather than a prisoner. In any case she is now a free... woman. Time to go do some good!
Aw, thanks for your kind words, all three of you.
Rosa: While I am gaming with goody Joan, I also switch off between Ana Khannda and Hera Ticch, both of whom are displaying occasional acts of Evilness. In this way, my gaming diet is both balanced, and nutritious. *lips licks, I mean licks lips*
Lena: I'll be writing up the entire Morrowind Main Quest, almost 20 entire years after the rest of the gaming world. It'll pretty much be a blind effort for me, and everyone tells me MW's MQ is really outstanding, so I'm looking forward to it. The Joan who appears in these stories is a younger, greener, less experienced Joan who appears sometimes in Oblivion screenshots. Again, she's the one who received Battlehorn Castle in my gameworld, so the question is Why did she get such a grandiose place to live? How did she get it??? Well, that's two questions.
I know you have expressed interest in Morrowind as well. Your current PC should run this game, I think, with or without upgraded card.
Lopov: Yes, it occurred to me that all of our characters, Ninmenda for you, along with your Brother Haryon, my Ana Khannda, Igodah Go^Pe, Armand Hammer, Yor Azzizmyne, Sir Galraad.... I mean, the list goes on and on, all of them had to start here. In a roleplay sense, it's definitely easier to explain them all deboarding a ship than getting rescued by the Emperor, right?
Anyway, today's update is really short. Some of these are shorties, which is nice from my perspective. In fact, my comments to y'all are already longer than today's update! Grab a mug to drink if you wish, maybe some popcorn, but by the time it's warmed and microwaved, you'll probably already be done!
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Last Seed 16, 3rd Era, Year 427
Day: 2
Joan of Arkay spends most of this day walking outside of Seyda Neen. Like many impoverished adventurers before and after, hither and yon, her first task is to earn money, so she can hopefully improve her gear. And this means performing menial tasks. Seyda Neen hasn't got any job openings for a smith, the lighthouse already has its keeper, so Joan's only current option is to briefly become a gatherer, and a hunter of nuisance creatures. Picking ingredients such as leaves and mushrooms, and killing the occasional rat, mudcrab, or kwama forager.
She had received extensive training in swordplay back home, but had never actually done any adventuring before, not on her own, anyway. So each new nuisance creature she fought was a new set of lessons to learn. How should she slash at the mudcrab's chitin armor? Or was it better to stab? Little things like this, which seemed inconsequential during her training, seemed to matter a lot here in the real world.
However, this sort of ignoble combat does bring in more than one might expect. By the end of the day Joan returns to Seyda Neen's Tradehouse, and earns a total of 55 gold from the various mushrooms, leaves, and flowers she'd picked. With this money she buys herself a shield made of iron, and a pair of matching iron gauntlets, as well. Not bad for a day's work.
The previous night she also did find a place to stay. In the cellar of the Census office was a bedroll she could sleep upon for free. So she does so now, wondering if she'll ever get homesick. So far, she hasn't found any sweetrolls to eat, nor pints of milk to wash them down with.
Joan is a poor working stiff doing all the grunt work. Mudcrabs! Ugly creatures!
Yeah, I know what you all mean... grunt work is grunt work, and I feel a tad impatient to get into the meat of the game. Fortunately mudcrabs & other nuisance creatures aren't as bad as I've heard. I've read so many accounts of getting killed by "that first mudcrab in Seyda Neen", yet over many characters I've rolled, it hasn't been that bad. As long as the character uses a weapon or spell from their Major Skills, and their Fatigue is near full, these beasties don't stand much chance.
Crap. I am posting this next update out of order, I think. The nuisance creature one should come after this one I'm about to post. Oh well. From here on, they will be in order, or should be.
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Last Seed 16, 3rd Era, Year 427
Day 1
Seyda Neen is a small but busy place. Joan needs to learn what sort of facilities the village contains: places to stay, places to buy and sell, and so on. Several Imperial guards stroll the place's middle area. A wood elf wearing proper common clothes steps around and near to Joan. And so is somebody who looks to be a red-haired Nord.
A perfect Imperial-influenced setting, in other words. Composed, and cosmopolitan.
"What assistance do you need?" asks an elder Altmer.
Perfect. "My name is Joan of Cyrodiil, and I do possess some wonders about this village before me. Might there be a place one, such as myself, might consider rest?"
"I haven't seen your Breton face before," says the Altmer. "Would you like a little advice? Or are you looking for someone in particular?"
"A place to stay, seems upmost."
"Get food and sundries from Arrille's Tradehouse," says the Altmer. "That's where you'll find anyone who offers training. Not much else in the way of services in this damp little squat."
"I see. Your assistance has been most helpful," Joan smiles nervously. Apparently there is no place to stay, here in Seyda Neen. "And you are?"
"I am Eldafire, commoner," said the Altmer.
And so it is that Eldafire the commoner was the first person Joan of Arkay meets, once free of the Census Office, here in Vvardenfell.
Mid Afternoon
Joan walks into Arrielle's Tradehouse. As she does so, she has the look of any ordinary peasant. Shabby clothes. A bag hanging from her back, which hasn't got much inside. On her person she carries these things...
an iron daggar
a cotton, tan-colored shirt
trousers of burlap cover her legs
a pair of shoes, noting special
one loaf of bread
She also carries the package for the man in Balmora named Caius, whoever he may be. She has 87 gold pieces, and a magical healing ring.
First order of business is to upgrade her weapon, and Arrille has a rather broad selection. Joan spends 20 gold on an iron shortsword. She also buys a pair of fur boots (10 gold) and replaces her tan trousers with some greaves of iron (44). After these purchases she has just 11 gold to her name. Would this be enough to make it to Balmora?
She spends the rest of the day moseying around Seyda Neen. Speaking to its residents, as any good holy knight-in-training should do.
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https://i.imgur.com/4Cq2zPM.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/UEV5x5s.jpg
Notes: She discovered that the magical ring she'd found earlier belonged to the town's wood elf, whose name was Fargoth, and gave this to him. Some of my characters keep the ring, others like Joan do the 'right' thing, and give it back to its rightful owner.
Lighthouse Scene is a wonderful screenshot!
Good luck to Joan on her way to Balmora.
Gracias Lopov. I'll just go ahead and post the next update, kind of eager for some action!
Last Seed 18, 3rd Era, Year 427
Day: 3
On the third day of her stay within Seyda Neen, Joan discovers Addamasartus. This is a cave just outside the village. She heads there, then walks into the cave saying "Hallo?" She's then surprised to find herself attacked by a fearsome female bandit wielding a blade! Joan is not ready for this sort of melee. She backs out of the cave, after taking minor damage to her person.
Back in Seyda Neen, one of the guards informs her that the cave is not an area of any sort of good will. It's not a serviceable place where ores get mined, then carted off for smelting. No, it's dangerous in there, not a good place for a peasant, or an acolyte such as herself!
... But then the guard stops, and takes note of Joan's attire. A day ago she'd been walking around carrying nothing but common clothes and a cheap knife. Now she is wearing actual armor pieces.
"What can you say about the dwellers in the cave outside of town?" Joan asks the guard. "I made my way within, yet was caused an affront by one of its residents."
"If someone attacks you first, you have the right to defend yourself," the guard answers. "If someone DOESN'T attack you first, you're going to break the law if you attack him. Or her."
"Sha'nt be any concern," Joan says to the guard. "I am a devout follower of the Nine, as well as the law."
The guard also informs Joan that the cave, known as Addamasartus, has been a haven for skooma suppliers, and is rumored to contain prisoners. "If you want to improve a skill you're terrible at," the guard also says, "it's worth paying for a little training, just to get you started. Sure, you can teach yourself, but it can be slow and frustrating."
Not a problem for Joan. She had been well-trained with shortswords and shields, and theoretically preferred blunt weapons against undead. These were the tools of her arsenal, and she'd not be trying to expand her knowledge.
Joan bids the guard farewell. Immediately, she then heads back to Addamasartus.
-------
Late Morning
She casts a shield spell she had learned as a child, before reentering the cave. She draws her sword of iron. And walks inside.
"You will suffer greatly!" screams the same Dunmer lady. This lady draws her knife, and right away begins attacking Joan with it. Fortunately for Joan, the lady is not very good. She keeps missing the Breton as she slashes and thrusts. Joan is successful at this, and starts to cause some injuries to the Dunmer.
"Might ye have will to persuade thyself from retribution," Joan says. "There might you find thyself not at the end of mine!"
"Arrgh!"
Joan manages to block a couple more swings, and then decides to cast a fire spell. She touches the Dunmer, fire erupting upon the lady's body. but the lady doesn't fall. At the same time, Joan quickly realizes that dark elves are often resistant to fire. In the future she'll probably need a frost spell, instead. But for now, her fire spell does a good amount of damage.
"You n'waah!!!!"
The slashing continues, and after another 20 seconds or so, the Dunmer says...
"There is no escape!"
... before falling to her death.
Sudden silence. Joan of Cyrodiil checks the lady's condition. Casts a healing spell upon herself, and loots the dead elf's body. She finds a key, and a small amount of gold.
Unfortunately, this is as far as she's able to make headway within Addamasartus. The next enemy she faces, a magic-user, nearly ends Joan's life right then and there, with one of his spells of destruction.
Joan of Cheydinhal heads back outside the cave, where it's raining. She is able to heal her wounds, and spends the rest of the day gathering more ingredients.
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https://i.imgur.com/untvTao.jpg
Regroup and live to fight another day. Or just live another day. Them snooty mages.
This n'wah killed her first target on Vvardenfell. There'll be plenty more, I assume.
It's now off to Balmora or does Joan plan another trip to Addamasartus?
Uh oh, Joan ventured into a bandit cave! They caused her an affront! At least they do not follow you in this game, so she was able to make her escape.
Joan goes back to do some righteous smiting!
There is no escape!
Apparently so!
It sounds like Joan and Blood Raven could have themselves a nice, quaint, Old-Tyme conversation!
Um, I don't have any pictures for y'all in this update. Youll just have to bear with it.
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20 Last Seed (Day 5) early morning
"You n'wah!"
Joan of Cheydinhal has better luck as she invades Addamasartus for the second time. She had run from the magic-using, snooty elf a couple days ago, but now she is back, and ready to take him down.
At some point over the past couple days, Joan realized that all she has to do to defeat this magic-using snooty mage is wait.
Now, back in the cave, the snoot throws a spell at her. Some sort of drain spell, probably, or maybe a weakness spell. Joan sidesteps, allowing his magic to crash harmlessly into one of the cave's rocky walls. The snoot throws another spell. Joan sidesteps again.
In Cyrodiil, over the past couple years, many advanced users of magic had been learning how to recreate their own magicka, often in real-time. This had taken a lot of research and a lot of patience. But the Mages Guild seemed to be mastering this, and rumor had it a few outlaw wizards back in her home province were doing so, as well. Only those born under the Atronach were permanently cursed from regenerating their own mana. Joan had not gotten this far in her own magical training, unfortunately. She, like the bloomin' elf before her, could not regenerate her own mana. But this did not seem to matter in Morrowind.
Learning advancements seemed to traveled slow. Many magicians in the land of the Dunmer had not yet learned the skill of magic regeneration, it seemed. They did not seem to know about the magical triumphs going on in Cyrodiil. They were still doing things the old way, relying on rest, relying on potions.
Because of this, Joan realizes all she has to do is wait until the magic-throwing rogue bandit before her uses up all his mana, and then is forced to attack more directly. Within a half-minute or so, this is exactly what he does.
Joan casts her shield spell as the snoot approaches. She then begins slashing and stabbing the man with her iron shortsword.
"Aiigh!!!!"
STAB STAB...*BANG*.... *clink*... parry... The snoot may have had some good spells in his book; in fact, he almost ended her life a couple days ago. But she's the better fighter. Especially now that she had equipped her person with more proper armor pieces. After a couple more days of nuisance creatures and ingredient-gathering, Joan now possesses a cuirass of chitin, as well as pauldrons and gauntlets. The elf cannot cause much damage because of this. So it doesn't take long before the cave-dwelling snoot falls before her, and is downed forever.
One of many small victories to come, indeed.
Joan cautions further into the cave's initial chamber, and arrives to a couple passages. One branches left, and another branches right. She chooses to go left, where there are a flight of wooden stairs, leading upward into darkness. At the top of the stairs Joan finds a penned-off enclosure full of Khajiit. The area is locked, but Joan uses the key she had found two days before to open it.
"Khajiit has no worrrds for you," one of enclosure's inhabitants says.
Joan speaks to the cat, and finds that the rumors were true. There are prisoners being kept here in Addamasartus! Three of them.
"Master was right to disavow us," one of them says. "We are foolish."
Joan identifies herself, then frees them all from their restraints. As she does so, she thinks she feels the grace and glory of the Nine, shining upon her.
She retuns to the intersection she'd found before, and walks down some stairs. Joan turns left, and encounters one final cave-dwelling bandit. This one does not use magic; instead she throws a couple of darts Joan's way. Joan dodges the first, but gets hit by the second, causing her to falter a bit. But she also remembers her military training, and realizes she has two options: rush her opponent directly, or backtrack into a previous room, attempting to corner the dart-throwing bandit. Joan chooses to backtrack.
Joan rushes back to the cave's entry chamber, and closes a door. Meanwhile, the dart-thrower moves fast, and is right there behind her, clamoring to open the door so she can continue to throw her little weapons. Joan does not budge. As the door stands half-open, the Cyrodiilian begins thrusting and slashing with her blade!
"You n'wah!!!" taunts dart-lady.
Half the lady's health is gone as Joan makes her offense. Eventually the door slips open, and the dart-thrower falls back a bit, readying another dart. Joan uses the moment to cast a healing spell, returning her to almost full health.
"Thine past, 'tis full of besmirchments!" Joan calls. "Prepare to remander thine un-divinely ways!"
The dart-thrower seems to have run out of darts. She decides to come at Joan with a small knife. But the fight doesn't last too much longer. "You will suffer ... ooo!"
Joan says a quick prayer as loots the woman's body, only to find a couple of lockpicks. Tools of the dark, and unholy! thinks she. She does not take these, even though there's the possibility she can sell them for gold. Right about now, Joan of Cheydinhal needs some gold. All she has on her person at the moment is 15 pieces. But she refuses to tarnish her persona with these "tools of darkness".
She does find some items deeper into the cave though which are not unholy, and therefore saleable. Magical scrolls and gems. Food and drink and potions. But she also moon sugar! And skooma! ... "Foul brews and integrants, to be consumed by the miscreants of this world!" Joan does not take these.
After an hour or so of rummaging, Joan of Cheydinhal returns to Seyda Neen. Not only has she cleared the village of its local menacing scum, she increases her count of gold, from a meager 15 to a hefty 387. She uses 80 of this to upgrade her cuirass from chitin to ringmail.
Now, she feels she is perhaps more ready, to head to Balmora.
Uh oh, Joan the outlander is not making friends in Addiestrus.
One of the things I really hate about Morrowind is that your mana did not regenerate on its own. It is a system deliberately created to discourage magic users. Like the D&D system of you forgetting your spells every time you cast them.
The cave-dwelling snoot fell before her!
No tools of darkness for Joan!
Joan freed the slaves and got rich in the bargain!
Joan, the liberator of slaves!
She studied well the combat technique of the bloomin' Elf. All she needed, was to wait, and then she could pwn him.
Rosa: Nope, no friends in Addamasartus. I am glad she won't make friends in enemy locations, just because I want my videogame experience to be edgy and dangerous!
I got used to lack of magicka regen after playing Arena for a couple years, but I understand what you're saying. I just wanted to make up some sort of explanation why there's Mana Regeneration in later games (earlier years), but not Arena, Daggerfall, or Morrowind.
Lopov: Yes, that bloomin' elf didn't have a chance once Joan figured things out.
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Last Seed 21 (Day 6), early morning
Joan of Arkay leaves the hamlet of Seyda Neen, heading east toward Pelagiad. It takes but a few hours to reach her destination. The journey goes without incident. No bandits, no hostile creatures. Interesting to Joan, who has heard how dangerous Vvardenfell could be.
She walks into town. First person she speaks to is an Imperial Legion. "The Empire built a little fort here to guard the roads between Vivec, Seyda Neen, Balmora, and points north," he says. "And then some veterans took their mustering-out pay and built themselves some little farms here."
"I see," Joan quips.
"And pretty soon," the Legion continues, "there's a few shops and a tradehouse. It's a pleasant little village. If you didn't know better, you'd think you were in Daggerfall or some other High Rock town."
Joan finds Pelagiad to be much more suitable to the needs of the wandering traveler. Pelagiad has a merchant, a smith, and an inn. The town had been built upon a small hill, with a fully-functional fort to guard it. Joan learns that the Imperial Legion can be joined, which piques her interest.
For 10 gold, she rents a room in Halfway Tavern, the town's lovely inn. She has a meal of crab meat topped with a bit of heather. She spends some time speaking to some of the inn's residents, mostly learning things she already knows. Then she goes to bed.
Early evening
Joan barely falls asleep, before being awoken by a loud noise. She scrambles out of bed, and immediately readies her sword. It seems trouble is afoot!
She can feel the sense of evil, which has suddenly pervaded the inn. "Ordain mine person!" she calls softly. "I inquire upon the graces of Arkay, might these graces assist."
She picks up her shield with her left hand, then opens the door to her room. Up the hall, the Khajiit named Ahnassi seems agitated. He's running for the stairs, but something (or someone) is blocking his way.
"You will die!"
Someone calls out in a gravelly voice! This someone is downstairs from Joan's floor, she thinks. Whomever he is, he does not attack Halfway's other guests, nor do they attack him. This can only mean one thing. Joan of Cheydinhal uses her mind to ready a healing spell, one which will guarantee she'll have a good chance at surviving whatever is to come. She rushes down the steps!
But the intruder is nowhere to be seen. Joan dashes around from room to room, unable to find him. Finally, she determines he must be located in one of the inn's rooms, which is locked. She has Drelasa Ramothran, Halfway's owner, unlock the room's door. *
"Stand away," Joan says to a lady standing nearby. "For you musn't be assalted."
Finally, Joan sees the intruder, standing just inside the room opened by Drelasa. He wears all black, just like somebody from the Dark Brotherhood. How did he get in? Joan thinks. Why are not the guards trying to rid him? ... The intruder throws a knife at her, but misses his shot.
"Come hither!" Joan calls, slicing silver at the man in black. The man in black slices back!
"You will suffer greatly!" he says. Who is he? Why is he attacking only her?
Joan puts up a good offense but after multiple attempts at attack and defense, her health begins to falter. So she jumps over a bed, then readies her mind to heal herself while the intruder rushes towards her. She casts a spell of brilliant star-blue. Though she suffers a few blows from the man as she does so, Joan's health returns to full.
Now the man hasn't got a chance!
"You n'wahhhh!"
"I shall banish ye, miscreant!"
After several more moments of combat, Joan's life energy, her fatigue, also begins to fall. She hasn't got a spell (nor any potions) for this yet, so her only option is to move into another room, and wait a few moments to catch her breath. She winds up zooming downstairs again, closing the door behind her. This causes the intruder a few moments of confusion, for it takes a few moments for him to find her downstairs. By the time he does, Joan is back at it! Both of them begin swinging, while the inn's guests mosey about calmly. Joan is careful not to hit any of them, as she rushes back upstairs again, and back into the same room where the fight had begun.
But Samia, the lady wearing blue, is in this room.
So finally, Joan stomps back toward the stairs. As she moves down them, the intruder meets her halfway.
"Fall before me!" she calls quietly, crashing and bashing the intruder with her shortsword a few more times. Eventually, the man does exactly this, falling down a couple of Halfway's stairs.
"Yooo want somethinnnng?" asks Ahnassi, apparently nonplussed about all the ruckus going on.
Joan of Cheydinhal struggles to catch her breath, wondering what the Nine was that all about?
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https://i.imgur.com/Qoo3oBe.png
https://i.imgur.com/pem5TEN.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/mkhOGbW.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/gIDvnT4.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/Udnrg9S.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/Po5fU8t.jpg
Notes: * I had to use the console to unlock the door, because Joan can't pick locks, nor would she.
Note 2: This fight lasted several in-game hours! Joan went to bed around 7 PM, and the final save I just made is around 11 PM.
Note 3: A lot of my characters will loot the assassin (the man in black) of his Dark Brotherhood armor. This is easy money once the guy has been pwned! Joan chooses not to do so, however. She wants nothing to do with the Evils of the world.
Pelagiad seems welcoming enough to the Knight of Arkay. Well. . . except for the assassin who seems to be out for Joan for some reason.
A tense fight as Joan cleverly uses the tools and terrain available to survive and prevail.
’Both of them begin swinging, while the inn's guests mosey about calmly. Joan is careful not to hit any of them, as she rushes back upstairs again,…’
- - Haha, Joan fights like Jan the Stormcrow!
She barely arrived to Vvardenfell and someone already wants her dead!
I already forgot details but don't these assassins keep coming and coming until you at least do some part of the quest that their attack triggers?
I suspect that Arkay just might ordain Joan's person...
Give that jackanape what for Joan!
The assassin looks like Snake Eyes from GI Joe.
Wow, an assassin that is actually proficient in his trade! I am impressed! Not like those ones in Skyrim then that fall over with a few stabs?
Ah, yes. Those [censored] [censored] Dark Brotherhood assassins. I remember the first time playing Morrowind and one appearing the very first time I rested outside. And because it is such an old game, the loading is super quick, so he just yelled in my face really loudly immediately after the loading finished. I didn't realize until later that that was only because of the Tribunal DLC since I was playing the GOTY Edition. (The werewolves that suddenly appear toward the end of the Bloodmoon DLC were the same way. Quick load screen while sleeping, then several roared REALLY loudly and pierced my eardrums.)
This last playthrough I was doing a few months ago, I was handling the assassins with ease until eventually a duo attacked so damn quickly that I just got stun-locked. I hadn't wanted to go to Mournhold yet so they just kept coming randomly when I rested outside. Annoyed the hell out of me. One day, I'm going to give Helseth what's coming to him. Even though he canonically survives and soon abolishes slavery, just once I want to give him some payback for those assassins.
whoa whoa!
Funny thing is when I played Morrowind on Xbox (and I really got obsessed with this game on Xbox, played for 2 solid years before my disc wouldn't load) only one Assassin would show up. Usually it took a few character levels for this to happen. I seem to think it somewhere between Level 3 and 5.
However, on PC they've been showing up really early in the game. Always Level 1. I'm not sure why this is, when my characters are not really quite ready, yet. I only have 10 mods installed so far, so maybe one of those is the culprit. I have never seen groups of assassins, yet. Maybe this is because none of mine so far have done the Main Quest, though?
Oh those were fun times. Waking up in the middle of the night after just getting off the boat to face the assassins of the Dark Brotherhood is so much fun.
There's a mod Murderous Dreams that I used in the past that delays DB attacks until you reach a certain amount of fame. It kind of simulates non-descript persona until your fame becomes high and wide enough to attract attention. It worked well for me but others have reported problems with it.
Sounds to be the same concept as the onset of the Dragonborn and Dawnguard DLCs in Skyrim. I don't want vampires attacking everything and everyone from level 1! I've got other stuff to do!! Sheesh! And may be I don't even want to play those DLCs, so don't force me.
This makes me smile... all this discussion, yet only one of us (me) is currently playing this game AFAIK!
Today's story is not as exciting, but it's a shortie. According to its date, I wrote it August 15, so I am almost a month behind with the storytelling at this point, compared to where she is in the game.
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Last Seed 22 (Day 7), early evening
Location: Pelagiad
"What's this about?" asks an Imperial Archer as Joan makes her way toward Fort Pelagiad.
Joan spends most of Last Seed 22 getting her gear repaired, and talking to the residents around town. Oddly, nobody wants to discuss last night's assassin, it seems. Indeed, nobody bothers to broach this subject at all as she inquires here and there. Even in Halfway Tavern itself! .. Only later when speaking to a guard does she get any feedback.
"You say you've been attacked by assassins?" asks the guard.
"Just one assassin," answers Joan. "As I attempted rest last night within Halfway Tavern, I heard a loud noise, and immediately perceived the presence of darkness within the inn's confines. A man wearing all black warned me gravely that I would die, then proceeded to press his assault. Oddly, I located him after one rather extensive pursuit, as he was locked within one of Halfway's upper rooms. Which as I shall assume, means the room was rented to him by Drelasa. Since he donned himself in all black, I shall also make the assumption that he traipsed within Halfway donned in familiar clothing, then redressed his personage."
The guard harrumphs. Then continues. "From your description, it sounds like the work of the Dark Brotherhood!"
"Why...No! This cannot be!!"
"I'm not sure who you angered," the guard replies with fear, "but stay away from me."
Joan stands confused, and says nothing. So much for 'Protect and serve, it's what we do.'
"I suppose this should be officially reported, though. Speak to Apelles Marius in Ebonheart about this matter," the guard informs, hoping the lady before him will go away, and he'll be able to then go back to what he's really good at: wandering around the village until it's time for ale and mutton.
"But why would the Brotherhood desire to strike upon me?"
"Scum, ALL of them!" the guard intones angrily. "If they're after you friend, you'd better find yourself some help. Or write a will. Or both."
Joan disagrees with this sentiment. All one needs are the graces hereforth from the Nine, thinks she. "I shall be fine," she says to the guard. "Many thank yous, sire."
She walks uphill to the fort, where she tries to join the Legion. Unfortunately, the legion here in Pelagiad cannot accept her interest. Instead, she must go to a place called Gnisis to join, where ever that may be. She later learns that Gnisis is nowhere close. Meaning Balmora shall hopefully be her next destination.
First rule of Pelagiad, what happens in Pelagiad, stays in Pelagiad.
I see the guards are the same high quality individuals we have come to know and love in every video game. I hear they used to be adventurers like us, until that arrow thing...
Yes, that guard was not very helpful, was he?
Ack! Joan, the guard told you what to do to stop the attacks. Don’t delay, go report the incident to Apelles Marius in Ebonheart. That is unless you like selling the frogman suits for tons of gold.
Nice, Wyrd, she pissed off the Brotherhood, that's what I'm saying! Yes there's always gotta be a reason why they come after us. Damn, that's deep.
Yes, the guards are pretty wooden in this game! Convenient whey we need them, except for sometimes. And also then. Ironically, her luck with guards is about to change...
She will head off to Ebonheart macole, but not now. Joanie feels her calling is in Balmora. (And from my perspective, I want to go there too because that's the mysterious Main Quest which I'm eager to learn about).
Love you all.
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21 Last Seed (Day 9), early afternoon
Location: Fort Moonmoth
"I don't know you. What do you want?"
"Joan of Cheydinhal. I come to you, and to this fort, to inquire on the prospect of joining the Imperial Legion."
Today Joan stands in Fort Moonmoth, an Imperial garrison, located a mile east of Balmora. Joan enters the fort, and speaks to the man who seems to be its commander (for he stands directly in the middle of Moonmoth's lobby). Joan had been told to travel to Fort Darius, so she can join the Legion there. Fort Darius is quite a long ways away, though. So she is here, in Moonmoth, hoping its commander would not be so strict.
"I am Radd Hard-Heart," says Moonmoth's commander. "Master-at-Arms and Knight Protector of the Imperial Legion."
"Yes. Might I inquire about joining? I have been told I do meet the legion's stringent standards for recruitment."
"All the garrisons are presently at full strength," says Hard-Heart. "Except, perhaps, the Deathshead Legion at Fort Darius..."
Well, so much for that attempt. Joan is dismayed by Hard-Heart's words, but does not protest. Does not roll her eyes or stamp her feet. There shalt a time for this quest to be resolved, thinks she, and the Gods have not chosen for that time to be the present.
"Thank you kindly," she says to the commander.
Good news is, Moonmoth also holds a chapter of the Imperial Cult, and Joan does manage to join this instead. Somuris Vunnis, the cult's local chapter head, is impressed by Joan. Joan of Cheydinhal, who has been raised as a devout and fully-versed follower of the Nine Divines. Somuris also notes that Joan is well-spoken and polite, and has some magical resistance. She has been trained at speechcraft, and devotes her magic mostly to the restorative and mystical schools of thought.
There is a cost of 50 drakes for her to join. Most others aspiring become part of the Cult might complain about this, but not Joan. 'Tithing' is what this is called, Joan was already well-familiar with why it was purposeful to tithe to an organization, especially one devoted to good works. Though she hasn't got much, she devotes 50 drakes to Somuris Vunnis. Now she has even less.
"You are now a Layman in the Imperial Cult," says Somuris, handing her a copy of For my Gods and Emperor. "Welcome, Joan of Cheydinhal, to our community...."
Joan allows a rare smile to slip through her stony countenance. She now has places to stay, and things to do. Plenty of things to do, according to Somuris, although he hasn't got anything for her right now. Instead, she'll need to head to Ebonheart to pick up some tasks.
Joan spends the rest of the day and night in Fort Moonmoth, conversing, listening, and learning. The next morning, she decides to ask one of Moonmoth's outdoor guards if he'd like to accompany her to Balmora. *
"'Tis just down the way, as you may know really, since you live here. Might you choose to assist me as I sojourn into town?"
"Very well," the guard says. Two words. Just like that, the guard leaves whatever post he's supposed to be watching over, and begins to follow Joan.
"You can return to Moonmoth at any time you desire," Joan tells him as they begin to walk away. "Surely, you cannot neglect your duties for long..."
... But the guard never does return. Apparently, his posting at Moonmoth was decent, but the prospect of Adventure, Riches, Valor, and possibly Fame are noteworthy, as well.
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https://i.imgur.com/8OCTZBT.jpg, Moonmoth's Commander
https://i.imgur.com/01diQ7O.png Moonmoth's Priest
https://i.imgur.com/sH40zzq.jpg
* Note-- I felt like Joan was wanting somebody to join her, and thankfully, I was able to fulfill this wish. Found a mod called Supreme Follower System which allows us to have ANY NPC in the game become our follower. This can become quite a powerful mod, of course. Imperial soldiers are pretty tough, especially while shadowing Level 1 Joan.
Looks like the Legion is not too keen on Joan. Their loss, the Imperial Cult's gain.
That is a neat mod, that allows you to turn anyone into a follower. It looks like Joan's own personal Army of Light has had its first recruitment.
I think SubRosa has the right of it - the Legion's loss and the Imperial Cult's gain.
Rosa & Paladin Acadian: Mmm hmm that is true about the Legion, they sure are stingy about letting us join. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am always up for a road trip. I love traveling in all these Elder Scrolls games on foot. But Joan is sort of irked.
Lopov: I am looking forward to Imperial Cult quests. Sir Galarad (one of my Xbox characters) did a few Cult quests but Galarad wasn't really a devotee of The Nine like Joan is. He was more of a knight than a Lawful Goodie Paladin. But Joan of Arkay? Joan will have lots to do.
Rosa: That follower mod can break the game if one isn't careful! Army of Light ... I LOVE that!
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25 Last Seed (Day 10)
Location: Balmora
Last Seed 25 is a busy day for Joan, who suddenly has many options. Options to join many factions here in town, that is.
"Dee prey... approaches...."
An Argonian named Hul greets Joan with his harshened voice. All Argonians have raspy voices, but his is particularly chalk-like. It's as though he once lived Bravil, and spent too much time in front of a hookah pipe in some skooma den. Hul tells Joan all about the town's guilds and services. She can try joining one of the guilds, or Balmora's Temple. She can even try joining House Hlaalu, one of Morrowind's Great Houses, if she wants to. Hlaalu is more open to outlanders (like Joan) than the province's other Great Houses, he explains.
... She does not join Hlaalu, but she does join the Fighters Guild and Mages Guild, attaining the rank of Associate in each guild. Due to the training she received during her upbringing, she meets requirements for both. She immediately picks up a quest to kill some cave rats, which have infested the home of Drarayne Thelas, one of Balmora's residents.
Cave ... Rats?
Joan is unsure if she'll do any questing for the Mages Guild, since her past magical training had not been as extensive. But using their facilities to buy potions, scrolls, items, and spell-making could prove invaluable as she delved further into the mainland Vvardenfell's inner portions. Especially nearer to its Red Volcano, which is rumored to be much more dangerous than the places Joan has been so far.
She feels more comfortable around fighters, so here with the Fighters Guild is where she decides to stay in town.
Joan spends several hours getting to know her new guildmates. Before long, it is late in the evening, and she must rest. Tomorrow, she'll see about delivering the package given to her back in Seyda Neen. The package which is supposed to go to a man named Caius.
--------------------------
https://i.imgur.com/8BrsCbt.jpg
De Prey approaches. For a moment I thought Joan was fighting bandits again.
Joan is guilding up. Rats? Why is it always rats?
Package, Caius? What was that? Oh nevermind, there is plenty of shiny stuff to catch my eyes right now. How about those rats?
You are getting me in the mood to fire up my last save of January in Morrowblivion again.
’She immediately picks up a quest to kill some cave rats,’
- - I chuckled with the same observation that SubRosa made. What is it about the FG and rats?
That Joan is more comfortable with the FG than the MG makes sense and seems to suit Joan. Buffy feels exactly the same but in reverse; though she may belong to the FG, she feels at home in the MG.
Cave rats, that's the one with the Pillow Lady isn't it? Balmorans will do anything the defend the purity of their pillows.
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26 Last Seed (Day 11), 3rd Era Year 427
Location: Balmora
Joan spends the morning killing ... rats. Rat killing is Joan of Cheydinhal's first official duty as an Associate of the Fighters Guild. She's become the town's exterminator, apparently. Though such a task might appear to be beneath someone who has just joined one of the most prestigious guilds in Tamriel, this is the very first contract of her career, as an aspiring Knight of Holiness.
Many might complain about this, but not Joan. Whatever and whoever she might become in this strange land full of mushroom trees and gigantic flying creatures which resemble jellyfish, she merely accepts the contract. "We must all commence upon lowly turf from the onset," says she, as she makes her way toward the home of Drarayne Thelas.
Joan enters Drarayne's home and has a chat about the lady's problem: Rats! ... Rats have taken over her bedroom, and her storeroom! Drarayne complains about them nervously, fearing for her life, yet Joan stands vigilant. She enters the Dunmer's bedroom first, deals with the pests in there, then goes upstairs to take care of the ones which have invaded the storage area.
The rats are surprisingly tough! Joan must leave Drarayne's abode once just to heal up, the furry plague she's dealing with are quite vicious. But within an hour, the infestation has been eradicated. Miss Thelas is now free to clean and care for her massive collection of pillows, and Joan can now collect her first legitimate income outside of Cyrodiil.
After this, she begins her quest to find Caius Cosades.
She had been told to head to Balmora's South Wall Cornerclub, located on the east side of town. So she does so, and asks the first person she meets about this fellow named Cosades.
"That old sugar tooth?" asks Sortilde, a Nord lady who seems as though she might dabble in the sugar herself. "I'm not sure where he's living now. But ask Bacola Closetus, the owner... he'll know."
So Joan spends a few minutes looking for this Bacola fellow. Eventually, she finds him upstairs. "Old Caius rents a little bed-and-a-basket just up the hill on the north edge of town," Bacola says. "Go out the front door -- NOT the upper door to the terrace -- then right up the stairs, then left at the top of the stairs, and down to the end of the street." *
Joan wonders if she should be writing this down. Though she is unclear exactly which direction she should start heading for this 'bed-and-basket', she finally finds the hovel owned by Caius, which is all the way up the north side of the avenue. She knocks on the man's door, before walking right in.
Town rat catcher to Knight of Holiness. We all have to start somewhere...
I love the 'bed-and-basket' description.
It is interesting how the Blades are a throughline through the ES games. The Agent of Daggerfall was a Blade, you are one in Morrowind. You become one in Oblivion, and in Skyrim. I cannot remember if you were in the Blades in Arena.
Well Joan is now on a secret mission to find out what this Hat Fat guy knows.
"We must all commence upon lowly turf from the onset," says she,'
- - Well spoken, Joan. Humility better suits a holy knight than hubris.
Given Joan's attitudes, I'd be concerned about whatever 'ugly' favor Asphalt might ask of her as his price for info.
Cosades, a glance at the nightstand tells all one needs to know about how a once a highly respected Blade officer found himself assigned to the island of Vvardenfell.
I never thought of the Character as being a member of the Blades. Not even when he joined the Blades, which usually he didn’t. The Character was always thought of as someone independent, someone so shrouded in the myst and shadows that the Blades don’t even know who he is.
*under construction*
Working with Renee, we've moved Joan's saga from the Morrowind Mischiefs thread in the Older Games forum to its own fanfic thread here.
Congratulations on getting your own fanfic thread, Renee! Looking forward to more adventures of Joan of Arkay!!
It is great to see Joanie come adventuring in the Fan Fic forum. I hope you will bring your other character's tales over here as well.
Yah I decided to move Joan of Arkay's tale here, just because her story was supposed to be simple updates (my character is in X doing X) like I've been writing in Oblivion > General lately. But Joan's tales started with some imagination and fiction right from the getgo.
Have some cake, everyone. Maybe if everybody's munching I won't feel so nervous.
And thank you Acadian for moving all these tales here. Now that the Morrowind Mischiefs thread is bare, maybe I'll start posting my other two characters in MM. Their tales equate to simple updates, you see. My character is in X doing X. At least that's what I tell myself.
This chapter's not so exciting, so you all don't have to comment much if you lack words. Next week is where things start getting more interesting.
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29 Last Seed (Day 14)
Location: Balmora
Last Seed 29 is a day of tethering lines, throwing lures out into the pond, to see if anything snatches them up. Joan busies herself all over town. By the day's end, she has several directions to go.
Eydis Fire-Eye, the Fighters Guild's Guardian and leader, wants Joan to head south toward an eggmine. There, she is to find a couple of egg-poachers, and kill them. Joan accepts the contract, but disagrees silently about the killing part. She wonders if she can -instead- find these poachers, and then discuss their wrongdoings in a peaceful manner. Maybe she can convince them to see the errors of their ways.
"From where do you hail?"
Joan then heads to the Mages Guild. Here she buys a Frostbite spell, which will become more practical against any enemies who are also dark elves. She already has a fire-based spell in her book, but dark elves are resistant to fire. Frostbite costs 60 drakes, leaving her with enough to buy a second spell. Frostbite is also a touch spell, meaning that she'll need to directly contact any enemy she needs to affect. Since there will be times she's going to also try avoiding such direct contact, Joan elicits the help of Estirdalin, the guild's spell-maker, to create a targeted version of her new spell. This new targeted spell costs just 42 gold. It takes a few hours for the elf to create it, and Joan to learn.
It may seem contradictory, an aspiring Knight of Holiness buying up Destruction spells. But here is where her past training lies. Here is where she must continue her magical horizons, if she is to succeed at whatever career she's got forthcoming. To succeed, she must first survive. She puts her faith in The Nine, but those aedra in the sky aren't always able to lend their assistance to mortals. Especially in an immediate sense.
"Adventure lies beyond the cities, friend."
Joan of Cheydinhal is not as good with Destruction spells as she is with Restoration, she knows this. Ultimately she hopes it is Restoration which will become the more developed of these two magical schools, with Mysticism supplementing on occasion.
"I thought I heard something."
By now it is mid-afternoon. Joan has a meal of bread and hackle-lo leaf before heading to the Fighters Guild. Finally, she finds and speaks to Hasphat Antabolis.
"Yes?" asks Hasphat, an Imperial wearing ordinary town clothes. His voice is cultured, his attire is clean.
"I am Joan, of Cheydinhal. I have been tasked with conversing you on the matter of..." she stops, suddenly unsure of what to say. "Ehm, Caius sent me."
"Good day, Joan," Hasphat answers. "So you're with Caius, eh? And Caius wants information? ... Of course, there is a this-and-that involved."
"A 'this-and-that'?"
"I require a favor first," he says, "and then I'll tell you what you want to know."
Joan fidgets a little. Caius had told her this 'favor' might be unpleasant. "Go on."
"There are Dwemer ruins nearby called Arkngthand," he says. "I need you to run over there and find me a little cube with a circular design and some symbols on one side. It's called a Dwemer puzzle box. Bring me back the Dwemer puzzle box and I'll tell you what you want to know."
Joan relaxes. Well this does not have the aura of things vulgar, nor the aura of menace. "You wish for me to locate this box," she says. "And where might these ruins be found?"
...At least he did not ask her anything too punishing. She was thinking she'd have to infiltrate a coven, or perhaps impersonate a spriggan to scare off some unsophisticated villagers!
... But it is nothing so horrid, or so she thinks. She agrees to head off to Arkngthand. She learns the place is located just up the hill from Fort Moonmoth, Not too far of a walk, and not too dangerous either.
By now it is late afternoon. Joan has dinner at Eight Plates before heading to Moonmoth. Since the journey is short and safe, she travels without her Imperial guard companion. Once inside of the fort she rests her hands upon the Imperial Cult's altar. She accepts her blessing for the night. Tomorrow will be another challenging day, thinks she.
Oh, the Puzzle Box. I thought so. Could swear that I passed it by a dozen times before I saw it for what it was
Somehow I doubt those egg-poachers (poached eggs?) are going to be a cooperative as Joan hopes...
Joan is getting frosty in response to local conditions. Looks like she will be prepared for further Dunmer-entanglements.
Ah yes, the puzzle box. I remember this. It takes you to that neat dwarven ruin. https://youtu.be/0utsyWNoupM
A quiet, but productive day in Balmora. Nice that Joan will use her own judgment regarding the egg poachers. Both a touch and ranged frost spell sound prudent. A Dwemer puzzle box! Buffy recently helped a friend find one of those in ESO.
macole-- the Puzzle Box is really easy to miss. I got lucky because I found it almost right away, it was getting to where the box is which confused me.
Rosa-- Poached eggs! Yeah, she is getting a rather frosty response in this town it would seem. Good thing is, she does get some kind words and respect here and there, as people try to be nice and help her acclimate. This sort of stuff doesn't really get written about as much, but it's there.
Lopov-- Arnkngthand will indeed her first Dwemer ruin. In her backstory, she has been to some Ayleid ruins near CHeydinhal such as Belden (edit: Belda), and also a couple forts. But she went with a group of others who were much more experienced. Her focus was to go to places housing undead, conjurers, or foul EVIL necromancers. She would have been young: somewhere between 14 and 17 when all that occurred. Just like the real Joan of Arc.
Acadian -- That sounds fun. So there's a Puzzle Box in the online game as well! I wonder what the significance is. Anyway, yes, Joan is going to try to handle these poachers in her own way. Let's see if she's successful.
30 Last Seed (Day 15) early afternoon
Location: Skulk Egg Mine
"I don't know if I can help, but I'll try!"
Joan arrives to Skulk Egg Mine, located a few miles south of Balmora, with her Imperial guard comrade. The journey goes smoothly and without incident on this pleasantly warm day. Outside the mine, Joan introduces herself to a couple of egg farmers who stand just outside of the mine. They inform her that indeed, a couple of former farmers reside somewhere within: one a male, the other a female. They have proved to be no good, and have caused nothing but trouble as of late.
"Sevilo Othan and Daynila Valus used to work here," says one of the farmers. "Not good people. Could be hiding anywhere within the mine."
Leave it to Stendarr, and leave it to Talos, thinks Joan in so many thoughts. These two Aedra shall guide her path as she calls upon some of their specific qualities: Stendarr for resilience, and Talos for courage. Once inside, she is pleased to see her guard companion lights a torch, so both of them can see better. The mine itself isn't so dark, but the presence of extra illumination makes her feel just a little more confident. Today's contract might not be as easy as fighting rats!
As they walk deeper into the mine, a giant creature lumbers toward them in the darkness! The creature makes a gurgling sound. Its exoskeleton is dark, and it walks on four legs. Joan readies her sword ... but her companion informs her that this creature is nothing to fear. Before them is a kwama worker, which would not attack unless provoked. "Only the foragers attack. And you've already seen a couple of those out in the wilds. Little worm-like menaces, easy to kill!"
Joan puts her sword away.
The pair search the entire first section of the cave, going deep underground. They encounter a dozen workers, several harmless scribs, and finally, a couple hostile foragers. The foragers down here are no tougher than those which crawl upon land, and are easy kills.
They search and they search, but Joan and her guard encounter no poachers. No humanoids at all, in fact.
Hours later
Joan and her guard continue their delve. Eventually they find the Queen's Chamber, which is the mine's deepest portion. In any eggmine, a queen a must thrive. It is the queen who breeds and bears and keeps the eggmine populated. Though she is limited in movement, she can be deadly aggressive, according to the two miners Joan had met several hours before.
Suddenly, something shifts before them in the dark. Shifts, and begins running toward them.
"You n'wah! Now you die!"
The intruders are immediately attacked by Davnila Valas, one of Skulk Mine's two poachers. Davnila (being not much more than a commoner, a former worker of the mine) is unarmored. Lacking any sort of proper weapon, she grabs, then swings her miner's pick at Joan, but the Fighters Guild's newest Associate easily sidesteps the affront. Joan's spirit is abruptly torn. She struggles with her thoughts, and struggles to unsheathe her sword. This is not how she wanted this to go!
"Please. Take one moment to stand down Daynila," she commands, "for we must..."
But before Joan can say much more, her guard steps in. Joan barely has time to attempt to stop him before he's going against their opponent. "Nooo!!!" With just a few swings of his poleaxe, the poacher is fallen.
This is not the way Joan had wanted things to go. Had this woman really needed to fall to her death just now? Perhaps it was my initial calling upon Stendarr and Talos which had apparently caused an aberration of process, thinks she in so many thoughts. Perhaps I shall call upon the personal fortifying aspects of Dibella as I arrive to meet Sevilo.
Sevilo Othan, the second eggpoacher. Joan looks around, checking to see if Sevilo is anywhere near. He is not. So she sheathes her sword, and puts a hand upon the shoulder of her guard. "Sir, might I ask. That you stay within that former section of mine, the one through which we just made passage? For it was my wish to forge an attempt at diplomacy, and pacify each poacher as I may with words."
"As you wish," her guard says, without complaint. He does as he's told, and moves back into the former area of the mine where all the workers and foragers reside.
"Many thanks!" she calls after him, before starting the search for Sevilo.
Earthen walls surround, with occasional flaming sconces to supplement her vision. There are more workers in here. Joan reminds herself that if she does encounter Skulk Mine's queen, she is not to bother her, even if the queen becomes aggressive and attacks. Fighting and killing a queen at Joan's level of proficiency might be darn-well impossible. Plus, it would cause all the mine's friendly workers to turn hostile as well. At least, this is what the outdoor egg farmers had told her.
Here in the Queen's Chamber she finds two initial ways she can go, once she has left the area where Daynila fell to her quick death: left or right. Joan chooses left. It does not take long before she meets Skulk Mine's second egg poacher. Like Daynila, he is Dunmer, and not very happy to see an intruder in his lair. He rushes toward her on sight!
"Sevilo! I am Joan, of the Fighters Guild. Might you and I broach upon the subject of--"
But the former eggminer hasn't got time for words. He brandishes his pick, starts swinging it from side to side, and begins a virtual onslaught upon her! He swings and he swings, cutting Joan's armor several times in a matter of seconds, for she cannot effectively block the man's weapon.
Fortunately, the exit to Skulk's entry passages is a wooden door, and it's just nearby. Joan rushes through this door, slamming it behind her. Joan's guard still stands here, and though she could call upon him for help, she chooses to heal herself instead. She then staggers back through the door, fully healed and confident.
Sevilo the poacher seemed satisfied that he'd scared her off, and hadn't bother to follow her through the door. But within a few seconds, she returns. "Give up thine wicked ways!" Joan calls to him, not bothering to pretty up her language with any attempt at negotiation.
Nevertheless, the poacher does not heed her newly-spoken, more aggressive tone of voice. It seems as though he's quite comfortable with his 'wicked ways', and is not of a mind to give them up.
The fight is brutal. Several times, Joan must dodge away from the miner's flailing pick, quaff down a potion or cast her healing spell, before going back at it. Block, swing! Bash! Parry! Several times as the battle commences, Sevilo seems as though he's going to win the fight.
She opens and slams the door one last time. Drinks down a potion which restores her mana, and then readies her Frostbite spell.
Once back inside the Queen's Chamber, she attempts to freeze the poacher with her spell. Fails to cast it, tries again (while Sevilo bangs her shoulder). Finally, the spell works. "Oogh!" the poacher bellies, bending toward the ground as most of his health falters at once. From this point on, Joan feels the battle-call of Talos. Diplomacy is gone, anger overtakes. Her silver blade moves in a flurry of swings, parries, and thrusts. -- This man, he had his chance! -- Finally, Sevilo the egg poacher is done for.
It takes a few hours to return to surface. Back outside, Joan and her guard are surprised to find the sky above starting to lighten. Soon, it will be daylight. Joan of Cheydinhal takes some time to eat and rest with the two farmers they'd initially met. Then, they head back to Balmora. Back in the Fighters Guild, Joan earns 100 gold for her efforts.
"Perhaps my choice of words to pacify Sevilo upon being assaulted were unwise," Joan mutters to herself before rolling into bed. She makes an aside, a promise to herself, and to the Gods, not to give in so firmly to violence. She'll need to try harder with words next time.
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https://i.imgur.com/gdGHggN.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/3QkUg9G.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/6A8REmH.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/aQ6vBCx.jpg
Don't tell me that someone might be skulking inside the Skulk Egg Mine?
Leave it to Stendarr, and leave it to Talos
This is a great phrase!
"You n'wah! Now you die!"
That will be the skulkers then...
Poor Joan is learning that the skulkers are not so easily reasoned with. Methinks that this will only be solved with the might of Talos, rather than the mercy of Stendarr.
No more poached eggs for those two. More like scrambled...
Those two poachers seemed very determined to commit suicide by Holy Knight. That Joan wrestles with being forced to kill them shows the spirit of a noble soul. One that is still learning when to wield words and when to wield steel. Nicely done!
Hey everyone, good to see you. I had a death in my family this week and it's been tough. Today I got back into some gaming just because I'm a gaming addict, and after over a week of not gaming I was starting to suffer... my mind was beginning to feel a little too neurotic. I think I saw an imp today as I went to Safeway to buy groceries. Wait, was it an imp? Maybe it was a scamp. Whatever it was, I made sure to steer clear of it.
I miss you father. My father was never a videogame addict like I am, but it's mostly because he did not grow up with gaming. I think if he had, he definitely would have adored the Elder Scrolls.
1 Heartfire (Day 17), 5 a.m.
Joan Marie of Cheydinhal rises early. She pays a young maiden to assist as she dons her suit of armor. She and her guard then leave the Fighters Guild. Outside, it's a warm and rainy morning.
Today shall be a big day for both of them. Today, they head to Arkngthand, to find the mysterious puzzle box described by Hasphat Antabolis. Joan has heard Arkngthand is a rather large Dwemer ruin, and she has no idea what to expect. Neither does her guard. Will the place be filled with working traps and contraptions as the rumors and legends suggest? Joan's guard guesses the answer is "yes", coming to this conclusion only because others have said the rumors, the legends, are true. But he has never actually been inside such a place.
Back in Cyrodiil, Joan had explored just a couple Ayleid ruins: Belda, and Kemen, but she'd done so with a group of others. Both of these ruins were within a day's walk from Cheydinhal, and since they were located on Cyrodiil's Heartland plains, both were easy to approach, while keeping wary of enemies. Most other ruins near to Cheydinhal were simply too dangerous for young Joan to explore on her own. Caves located deep within forest, or Imperial forts inhabited by actual daedra, and so on. She'd only gone to Belda and Kemen for training purposes, learning from others much more experienced.
But now, she's by herself. Sure, she travels in the company of an Imperial soldier, but Joan has decided it shall be her who'll be spearheading the actual exploration into Arkngthand. It shall be her who risks whatever lurks within this supposedly formidable Dwemer lair.
Joan and her guard walk past the Balmora's gigantic silt strider, leaving the town behind. Next, they turn east. The sky above is a dark gray blanket overhead. Joan feels the rain driving down her face, despite the chain helmet she's been wearing lately.
They walk toward Fort Moonmoth. There's a fork in the road here, and they take the left tine of this fork, heading past this location.
"At any time," Joan tells her guard, pointing toward the fort where she had convinced him to follow her a few days ago, "you may proceed and return to your post."
The guard says nothing. So they continue walking, while the sky continues drizzling.
"Very well. But do not let me assist with any possible neglections of thy duties, sir. I know others of your faction might very well and eventually step up to position within your garrison," Joan says as the road they walk upon begins to climb upwards. "I must inform you however that to follow me is to follow into a path of uncertainty. For I do have my beliefs. But my beliefs are my callings. And my callings are to possibly right the wrongs of malignity. Of heinousness, of malice, and of menace. Have you seen fit to follow? Or not follow? These decisions are to be yours at any time, forthcoming."
"By all means," the guard finally says, leaving Joan to wonder which facet of her sermon he refers to.
Mid Morning
After an hour of walking, the pair of travelers come to a bridge. Joan consults her journal, trying to see if she's headed in the right direction. Sure enough, she is. The bridge before them is apparently Dwemer technology. It is large, sturdy, and dully-golden in color. Amazingly, it has suffered hardly any signs of aging over the years and decades. As they walk across it, their footfalls echo softly and metallically. Across the bridge and off to the right the hill continues to climb steeply. Joan thinks she can see the outline of Arkngthand up there. One of its towers looms in the gloom, thinks she. A cliff racer, large and predatory, flies in the distance.
As they continue to cross the bridge, Joan and her guard are attacked by a man, a bandit, who rushes toward them! The bandit had apparently been schooled in magic, for he casts some sort of spell right away. He then brandishes some sort of weapon. He seems confident that he's in the right. Like this is his bridge, and nobody is to ever cross it alive.
"Surrender now, and I might let you live!" says the guard as he readies his poleaxe. Without hesitation, Joan's guard bustles straight toward the bandit while the bandit (whoever he is) summons a skeleton. The guard is faster than Joan; he reaches the bandit and his summon before she does. But Joan's guard makes the mistake of attacking the skeleton first, instead of attacking the bandit.
"Arkay! I call upon ye!" Joan shouts as she closes in, hoping Arkay will somehow hear her, and prepare the enemy's soul for its coming retribution. For this time, there shall be no point in negotiating words. The magical bandit before them shall fall, of this she is sure. She unsheathes her sword while preparing her mind for a possible healing spell.
But the battle is over quickly.* The guard chooses his stance, then thrusts and swings his polearm, destroying the man's summon and then skewering the man. Just like that. Within ten seconds it's all over, leaving Joan without much to do, once again. Though his swift tactics and hostile barraging impress her, Joan finds herself (once again) dissatisfied by the encounter. Might there have been some other way to resolve what had just occurred, here upon this bridge of golden metal?
The pair continue to the other side of the bridge, and make a right turn where the second hill starts. All the while, Arkngthand imposes itself before them. Once they reach its exterior avenue it is time to change strategy. Joan consults her journal. She then finds the special crank which opens the door to the ruins, and turns it. This causes a circular orb of metal located a few dozen feet away to begin grinding and rotating. Joan and her guard walk toward the rotating orb, and step inside. Here, they find a door.
"I shall handle whatever may twitch within," Joan informs her guard as they enter. Her voice is true and steady, which is not entirely how she feels. Once they are inside, she says more. "If you do not mind, my preference is that you might stand watch," she says as she points to the ruin's dim golden floor. "That you may stand watch, and protect against any menaces who might invade from up here. That they will not be making any assaults, as I surreptitiously search for this aforementioned puzzle box."
"As you wish."
As stated, Joan has no idea what to expect as she begins her delve. If the place is full of the Dwemer automatons she'd heard about in her studies, the guard could then be fetched for assistance. But if it's merely inhabited by typical humanoid enemies, she thinks perhaps she can persuade any of these to hopefully see things her way. Perhaps persuade them, and guide them toward righteousness.
Arkngthand's interior twists and falls deep into the mountain below. Joan of Cheydinhal, given the name Joan Marie at birth, walks deeper into golden-colored darkness.
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https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Arkngthand
https://i.imgur.com/bQ50lli.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/7MIqtfB.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/aHf9Z28.jpg -- (I love the intricacy)
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* Note: Whenever we fight this bandit on the bridge, whose name is Snowy Granius, he literally kicks my characters' asses if they don't come prepared. I've had a couple low-level characters (such as Ana Khannda, my Dunmer archer lady) retreat from the guy. However, Joan's guard is quite a toughie. Though he slew Snowy in a matter of seconds, I promise in the next chapters Joan will be more on her own.
Joan is laying down some tenets to live by. The Joan Doctrine.
Looks like unlike Arnhem, this was not a bridge too far.
Joan plumbs the depths alone now. If I remember Arkinthingergardy, she's not going to find anyone she can talk to at all. But plenty to smite nonetheless!
Joan’s guard is neither communicative nor reassuring in his manner, . . . yet, he seems to swing that polearm pretty effectively.
I’m with SubRosa in suspecting that the optimistic knight’s attempts at verbal negotiation shall not find purchase in this dungeon.
The guard stole the show for me in this episode, I must admit. "Whatever you say, lady, as long as I don't have to man my post!"
Ooh - you left us hanging off a cliff! She goes into the ruin and...
Morrowind guards; stoic pillars of strength, light on conversation, quick with the polearm.
I remember that name - Snowy Granius - now that you mentioned it.
Nice references to some locations from Cyrodiil.
It's good that Joan brought some help to Arkngthand.
Good luck with finding that puzzle box.
Hey thanks you all, I really appreciate it. Have some cake. Do we have any comments or questions tonight? Yes, you in the first row...
SubRosa: Joan plumbs the depths alone now. If I remember Arkinthingergardy, she's not going to find anyone she can talk to at all. But plenty to smite nonetheless!
This is very true. Not a whole lot of talking, but plenty of smiting will carry on. Yes, you, sir over in the second row.
Acadian: Joan’s guard is neither communicative nor reassuring in his manner, . . . yet, he seems to swing that polearm pretty effectively.
I like the 'not communicative' part most of all. See, this is due to Joan being a youngster, on her own. It's not easy for her, trying to learn as she goes. She also is very cheery, very talkative (yet serious) as she talks to a lot of people. I'm always using Admire (Speech option) as she speaks to shopkeepers, guild-mates, random town-goers, and so on.
Despite this, she has problems once she begins to get closer to people. She does not know how to address her guard properly, does not even know his name! So their relationship is pretty odd right now.
Anybody want some water? Yes, miss. You with the blonde hair.
Lena Wolf: The guard stole the show for me in this episode, I must admit. "Whatever you say, lady, as long as I don't have to man my post!"
Ha ha yes there's some humor there, right? He doesn't know what to say about her long-winded lectures, but as long as he gets to play Adventurer, that's a good thing.
macole: Oh, Morrowind’s guards: Stoic pillars of power, Light banter, quick sword. Sorry, I'm not a Haiku guy
No, this is great! *audience applauds* Maybe Joan should befriend an Ordinator so you can write a poem about one of them! *laughter*
Lopov: Good luck with finding that puzzle box.
Yeah... luck. My gosh this quest was hard. Yet also NOT really that hard.
1 Heartfire (Day 17), 9 a.m.
Arkngthand
Deeper down a steep rampart she goes, as the ruin around her occasionally squeaks and groans. Joan feels herself going rigid as she moves slowly downward into Arkngthand. As a supposed Novice for the Blades, she assumes she is to be vigilant. To walk in representation (somehow) for the Emperor himself, and all the Elder Council members.
She tries to call upon her Nine as she walks quietly downward, but cannot quite say the words this time. Truth is, at this point she is no more than a devout, but somewhat confused young woman. ... The fright she feels as she steps deeper into the ruins causes her to slow her pace. But she does not stop altogether. Determined she is, for whatever is to come.
She finally calls quietly upon Stendarr, and calls upon Arkay. Stendarr for resilience, and Arkay for what's likely to come, assuming any humans or elves inhabit the ruin. Assuming if such folks do inhabit the ruins, that they'll choose not to hear what she has to say.
The acolyte takes some time to have a good look at what's below. She then continues to motion down the lage spiral of earth below her. This spiral is just wide enough for one person to walk upon. It hasn't got any rails to guard from falling. One misstep into darkness and she will not be leaving this place. Ever.
She stops and looks again. There's a large chamber below, and it's got some sort of light source illuminating. Bright and orange. The spiraled path she's on continues to a stone landing. To her left is what appears to be a very structured set of stories, open to the middle, obviously built by the Dwemer. Impressive. Joan takes a moment to take it all in.
But ... something is moving! Not a contraption, and not an automaton. It's an ordinary man, or woman. He or she is quite some distance away. Joan freezes, trying not to alert the person before her. Despite the distance between them, the person below immediately notices somebody is here in Arkngthand. Somebody who does not belong!
It's a man. He brandishes his weapon, says something, and begins running toward the landing. Whatever it was he said, Joan could not hear. He was too far away.
Joan waves her arms about, not raising her shortsword. "Please, do not fear!" she calls as she tries to make her face look friendly. "I come toward you on the condition of neutrality, that we might drop our weapons, and..."
But the man (a Redguard) does not bother to listen. It takes him several seconds to figure out how to get where to Joan is, and then the fight is on! ... Joan swings and blocks, the man slashes and parries. clash! clish! crash! He's got a blade of some sort. Joan wonders if the Gods see any of this, as she hits the bandit twice, swings down low but misses, and her aggressor quickly gains the upper hand. *SMASH* She blocks a thrust across her shield, then another! These bashes and blows begin to wear at her as she cannot get a swing to he man in return. Joan's health seriously wanes. And how long have they been fighting? A half-minute or so?
"I've got you now!" the bandit says smartly.
Fortunately, her magical powers are at their zenith. The Redguard swings, but misses, and then loses his balance. Joan uses the moment to make a hasty retreat, back up the huge spiral walkway, back to a slightly plateaued area where she can stand and focus, and cast a healing spell. Joan knows she can just continue running upward to her guard if she has to. But this does not need to happen. She feels she's now able to finish the battle herself. Back to full strength, she stands her ground.
"Your time has come, Breton!" her opponent says calmly as he closes the gap between them quickly.
Joan Marie says nothing. Instead, she remembers her training, and positions herself so that she's right near the edge of the walkway. Her feet go into a wide stance. She raises her shield. The man swings his weapon and connects...
"Rawr!"
But then he makes one huge mistake, and it's a fatal one. Unlike Joan, he does not keep a good watch of his feet! His stance is narrow, and his right boot is planted literally next to nothingness. He and Joan are warring on a large but narrow pathway, high above the chamber below. It's only a matter of time before he loses track of where his feet are, and falls to his death, twenty feet below.
"NO!"
The Redguard's loses his balance, and falls into the abyss. A second later, she hears his body crash upon stone! ... Joan only has seconds to gather her thoughts and catch her breath, before a second man hears the ruckus above, and comes running for Joan. Again, she attempts to speak some Truth to this second enemy, "Give up thine wicked ways!", who of course ignores her words.
This time, Joan is ready for him. She does not sheathe her weapon. She slashes and cuts, and manages to perform the same progression of events with this second enemy as she did the first. She chooses her stance, then lets the man attack hysterically, all while using her own body to rotate toward the wall. This causes the man to swivel inwards, toward the void. His feet step outward ... toward the edge of the path! But just as he's about to slip and fall, Joan thrusts with her blade, and downs him first.
These moments are the first ones which herald important changes to come. The adrenaline, it moves through her body. Her heart pounds wildly. Her muscles tense with vigor. Joan is sure she feels the vigilance of Stendarr, calling to her now, while Arkay takes his time to commence the circle of life into death. For the two miscreants she'd just fought? They have chosen their path into darkness. Arkay, he transcends this darkness to some degree. How far the souls of the men who fought her shall fall? And it's all for naught.
"For naught, they have chosen their path all for naught," she sputters in wonder.
For the rest of her delve into Arkngthand, Joan feels a mixture of caution and confidence as she encounters more enemies. All of them, thankfully humans or elves. Nords, Dunmer, and so on. Men and women of reason, one would think. Though she tries a few more times to convince with her voice, none of Arkngthand's bandits heed her words. None are persuaded to give up their "wicked ways."
Turns out, Arkngthand is a large place, much larger than Joan had anticipated. There are multiple rooms, multiple corridors, multiple intersections. It's easy to get lost in here. She does so, a few times.
So where is this Dwemer Puzzle Box? Hours go by as she searches. After several encounters, Joan decides it's time for her guard to join her.
After much exploring, they eventually comes to a quandary; an area which seems as though it's the location they seek. In one of the ruins' many directions to go, they find themselves in a chamber with a broken bridge. Molten hot lava bubbles and bursts from the depths of Nirn, and all of this activity lies beneath the broken bridge. The chamber they're in is a virtual furnace of heat.
Joan tries to find a way around the lava by grasping the chamber's walls, but nearly slips into the burning mantle below. It is only through a combination of grasping and scrambling that she is able to make her way back to safety, avoiding the fiery liquid below.
"Let us return to Balmora," Joan tells her guard. After so much time underground, she realizes their supplies are running thin. It also would not hurt to sell a few things she's found, and buy a few assorted sundries and potions.
"As you wish," says the guard.
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https://i.imgur.com/eoIQ8T8.jpg
Dangit. I thought I had pics of that huge chamber they were in. Grr... Well I'll post 'em if I can find them.
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Note: Joan ascended to Level 2! I put +2 points in Agility, +4 points in Endurance, and +5 points in Speed. Since she wears a few heavy armor pieces, she walks pretty slow, so Speed is really needed.
Note 2:: It took 6 (SIX) days before we found the Puzzle Box. In fact it's easy to find, but the way to find it is not so obvious. This will be described next chapter.
Joan journeys deep down into the depths. The dwarves delved too greedily and too deep. You know what they awoke in the darkness of Khazad-dum Arkenthingmajig... shadow and flame.
I see that just as in Star Wars, OSHA does not exist in Tamriel. Oh the number of safety violations...
Uh oh, a bandit. I forgot that there were bandits in here. I thought it was all dwarven robots. I am starting to remember it. I think this is the one with half a dozen interconnected levels? It was a bit of a maze if I recall. I have gone in there more than once, and then left after forgetting to get the puzzle box. Because I was in there for so long I eventually forgot why I was there to begin with, aside from just clearing the place.
Looks like that Redguard forgot that no matter where you are, there you are. Too bad Joanie did not have the Fus Ro Dah shout...
How far the souls of the men who fought her shall fall?
This was a truly glorious line!
Looks like Joanie is going to need to buy a Levitate spell to get past that lava. Ironically enough, Morrowind January will probably be venturing into Arknthingygard soon herself. While Literary January has been fighting against a fire/lava elemental in the scene I have been writing for the past week or so. She is getting really sick and tired of magma.
I say kill them all and let Akray sort them out...
Great job of blending the picture of what Joan is seeing with what she is feeling as she descends into Arkngthand. The result is that we totally share the apprehension of the devout young woman.
Still the optimistic knight, her efforts at a diplomatic negotiation with the Redguard she encounters are for naught. And it seems the additional bandits she encounters are no more receptive.
Aww, a dead end with lava for now. I smiled at her guard’s comment. I’m beginning to like him – he’s very low maintenance and undemanding, yes?
Six days, yeah that sounds about right.
SubRosa-- Yes Arkngthand is a huge place. Very confusing. I am glad it's not packed with robots and traps, honestly we're not ready for anything like that.
I assumed we'd have to search all over to find the Puzzle Box thingie, when in fact it is easy to find. I keep saying that, don't I? Well, it's easy to find, while being hard to find. Me, being a long-time player of these sort of games assumed Beth hid the thing in the most convoluted way possible. Not true. It's nothing but a mind-[censored].
Acadian-- Even though I wrote all this, I wonder how long the 'diplomatic negotiation' stuff lasts. I am six chapters behind her actual story with these finished chapters. There's so much editing and managing behind the scenes, I actually don't remember. Her guard is fun & funny to write. I like the fact that he's low-maintenance. Also, if he gets killed at some point (unlikely right now) I don't have to worry much about a Named NPC being gone from my game forever. Eventually, another guard will quietly show up at Moonmoth.
macole-- I wonder if there's ever been a thread called "How long did it take you to find the blasted Puzzle Box?" and if six days is average. There should be a poll.
2 through 6 Heartfire (Days 18 through 21)
Arkngthand part II
Over the course of several days, Joan of Arkay is uncertain what to do about the final room she'd found in Arkngthand. Full of hot lava it was, with a broken bridge to somehow cross. And the broken bridge? It was supposed to transport folks safely over the floor full of hot lava.
She eventually learns this room (and all the chambers and corridors directly to it) were named Heaven's Gallery. Not such an apt name; it does not seem such a heavenly place to her. But Joan figures it must be the location where the puzzle box is located, it has to be. For it seems she has looked everywhere else.
The box must be there. But how will she get deeper into Heaven's Gallery?
Joan has several pondering sessions between Heartfire 2 and Heartfire 4, as she travels this way and that. After leaving the underground lair on the second day, she spends the rest of Heartfire 2 resting in Fort Moonmoth, and then two more days in Balmora. Here she sells several Dwemer coins and gems which Arkngthand's bandits had stashed away. She uses her newfound earnings to buy several potions which resist fire, a couple more which shall fortify her health, and one which will allow her to walk on water. These potions are quite an expense. Joan has no idea if the water-walking potion will allow her to instead walk across lava. If she chooses to try this, she'll need to do so with much caution.
Finally, she buys a 'Hoptoad' scroll from Galbedir, the Balmora Mages Guild enchanter. The scroll has a spell which will allow her to jump far into the air, and then float like a netch for quite a few seconds. It will also slow her falls, promises the colorfully-robed Galbedir. Buying the scroll is quite a setback at 124 drakes, and it takes Joan some time before she makes this final purchase.
Heartfire 4
Once back inside Heaven's Gallery, she tells her guard to wait behind, and in fact leaves him far away from the room full of lava. This way, he won't get tempted to try helping her if there's any problem, hidden enemies, and so on. Helping her, then slipping and burning quickly to his demise.
She makes her way back to the gallery's final hellish chamber, fiery waters of Nirn boiling below! The broken bridge is before her again, and unfortunately, nobody has bothered to fix it. Joan of Arkay hems and haws a bit as she tries to decide: Jump across via the magic of her expensive scroll, or walk on magma via potions? Scroll? Or potions? ... She finally chooses the scroll.
"O-la ... O-mah mah... Ga-ga O-la-la..." she reads aloud. And it works!
Amazingly, it works. She feels an odd combination of magic envelop her person, clouding her vision briefly purple. She then shudders, before giving a good leap across the end of the broken bridge like a light-footed rogue. Not only is she able to traverse the bridge with ease and competence, but the magic within the scroll does something to her weight as well, allowing her to stay suspended in midair for seconds at a time.
It's an eerie, yet wonder-filled moment for her. She can't help but float around a few seconds, this way and that, the bridge's surface a couple meters below, the heat from the chamber's magma falling almost to nil! Finally, she lands. The full weight of her armor, shortsword, and gear returns. A long, hollowed-out section of cave-rock is before her, which eventually bends to the left. She begins to walk. Occasionally, she passes by one of the Dwemer's odd cylinders of light. These cylinders glow, even without the help of fire or magic! How had the dwarves achieved this? Joan muses.
"You will die where you stand," somebody with a particular northbound accent says calmly.
It's a nord, who has somehow been living here in this section of Heaven's Gallery for however long. How had he managed to get across that bridge? ... The nord hasn't got any armor, but he's carrying a BIG axe. He comes after Joan, who does not bother to try convincing him not to.
"Yarrgh!"
Though she puts up a good fight, his axe deals a lot of damage with just two connects. Joan must quickly backtrack, cast her healing spell, and then return to the safety of the previous chamber.
She rushes back to the broken bridge, and risks a jump across. But by now the scroll's magic has completely worn off, and she's not any sort of an acrobat. So she falls several meters, landing momentarily right into the molten hot magma! There's a moment of pure panic; she must dash across to safety, which amounts to a smidge of bare earth beneath her boots. Just inches from her feet is the lava.
The acolyte is momentarily safe, so she quickly looks into her pack, and downs several potions, including the one which is supposed to allow water-walking.
Suddenly, Joan hears a splash! The nord with the BIG axe had really lost his wits it seems, and had tried to jump across the bridge as well. Like Joan, he's carrying too much weight, and also hasn't got the speed or agility to make it across. Unlike her though, he merely stands in the pool of lava once he lands. His priority is to kill her, not save himself from damage. It is only two or three seconds before he burns to a smelly, boiling crisp.
Joan of Arkay heaves a sigh, before cautions a couple steps over the gallery's hot liquid. Not a good idea. Her boots immediately sink into the mix. Water-walking potions apparently do not work over lava. Time for another potion of healing.
She makes her way carefully back to the chamber's initial causeway, running at full speed across an area where there's no land to step upon. Finally she is safe. But she also hasn't got any more special Hoptoad scrolls, which means there's no current way to get across that collapsed bridge. This necessitates yet another trip to and from Balmora. More Dwemer coins sold, and one more eerie jump across. Joan is hopeful.
Yet after all these trips back and forth, items sold and bought, jumps across the bridge, and hours of exploring, the puzzle box is still nowhere to be found.
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https://i.imgur.com/7ioPPPv.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/fsuuZAU.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/uwpzKaL.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/FCgPPaw.jpg
What a frightening adventure, dancing with lava! It occurred to me not until Joan was midair on her first traverse of the lava, how's she gonna get back across? Fortunately the suicide-by-lava Nord encouraged her back across. Hopefully, when she returned, it was with back up scrolls. No puzzle box.
Why do supervillains always put their lairs in active volcanoes, full of lava? Seems like bad Feng Shui.
Yikes! Nord with an axe and hot lava below! Stendarr's Mercy!
Did the Nord actually do that in the game? It would be hilarious if he did run into the lava.
Still no puzzle box! This is turning out to be a frustrating adventure for Joan.
Errata: I referred to Joan as Joan of Arkay toward the end there. That's a mistake. Caused by habit. I meant to write Joan of Cyrodiil or Joan of Cheydinhal so go by that.
Writing is hard. It really is harder than it seems, sometimes. Doesn't matter how many times I edit, there's always stuff which makes me go Argh!! And now that I'm putting this into FF I'm trying to really get these tales mistake-free. But they will never be, right? There's always stuff I consider to be flaws.
But yeah, she's not supposed to be singularly devoted to Arkay yet. So that's some mistakes I made along the way.
8 Heartfire (Day 24)
The Dwemer Puzzle Box
It takes six days (six!) before Joan finds the Dwemer Puzzle Box. And when she finally does find it, she realizes she never needed to bother jumping over broken bridges, risking her life rushing through burning hot fluid, and confronting most of the dozen or so bandits she’d dealt with. To find the box, all she had to do was pay more attention to how the very first, massive Dwemer chamber was laid out.
In fact, the very first bandit she’d faced could have potentially shown her the way. He had run toward her down a nondescript, winding ramp of stone, rushing headstrong from an upper floor which Joan could not figure how to reach. After much head-storming, she finally sees the ramp. It's been literally right in front of her all this time! She walks quickly up its narrow path. Walks into the room which had been out of her grasp for days. Susses her new location. Takes a few steps into yet another corridor, and finds herself in a final cell carved of stone. In here, she deals with one last bandit, who she fights without her guard's assistance. Once the bandit is a-lay on the floor, fallen dead from Joan's shortsword, she finally finds the box.
And where does she find it? Sitting on a shelf made of typical dwarven metal along with a few miscellaneous scraps of material. Out in the open. Not even hidden in a locked chest!
Joan Marie removes both her gauntlets. Picks the puzzle box up. Tilts it within her hands this way and that, while making quiet noises which (for her) are akin to the foulmouthed curses of a drunken sailor. All those days. She can see the box is ornate, obviously crafted with patience and care. But why on Nirn had Hasphat asked her to locate the blasted thing? What importance could it possibly have for him? Obviously, there’s a reason he had her seek the box, what could it possibly be?
Well, now that she’s got it, Joan wastes no time walking back to Balmora with her guard, so she can do nothing else but deliver the thing to Hasphat Antabolis.
"So," Hasphat starts, "have you done that little favor I asked?"
The moment is a grand one. Done! … Done she is with the creaks and groans of that large Dwemer ruin, seeking to retrieve an item which seems to have no significance, other than possibly an artistic one. "You wished for me to procure this?" Joan reveals the box to Hasphat from under a scarf, then gives it to him. “Gladly, it is now in your possession.” Perhaps he’ll do the same exact thing as whomever placed the box in Arkngthand so long ago. Perhaps he’ll put it upon some shelf. Maybe show it off to all his townie friends for awhile. Maybe forget about it entirely after a week or two.
"Perfect! Just what I was looking for,” he gushes. “Just let me take this Dwemer puzzle box, and then I'll tell you what Caius will want to know about the Sixth House." He lowers his voice. "And about the Nerevarine," he says in a near whisper. As he does so, he hands her a small stack of pages. “Take these to Caius, if you please.”
Joan gives him a brief, tense smile before heading off to bed. Tomorrow, she'll be ready to speak again to Caius Cosades, supposed top marshal for the Blades here in town. After she does so, Hasphat promises he will give her a key the next time she speaks to him. This key is supposed to open some locked-up portions of Arkngthand, says he.
Wondrous. By the curses of daedra, she’ll be headed back to those bloody ruins again at some point. Forsooth! ... Forsooth!
I am not surprised it took Joan that long to find the box. Most of the times I have done that quest I have walked right past it numerous times. It is like a chameleon box, it blends in perfectly with its surroundings. And I also usually missed that ramp and the upper floor. The last time I did it was a few weeks ago, and January had to use a levitate spell to get up there. Only then did I see the ramp.
I love the idea of the puzzle box being put on a shelf and forgotten. Then in a thousand years some other adventurer will have to brave the ruins of Balmora to retrieve it as part of the quest they are on!
Oh no, I hope nobody stole the sweetrolls!
Joan of Cyrodiil does work for her. At least until she earns another, more divine appellation.
Joan has inspired me to do the Imperial Cult questline in Morroblibivion. So January might be following some of Joan's footsteps.
So the bloody puzzle box is finally found! And given to Asphalt. Whew. The ESO puzzle box quest is totally different except for its dwemer connection and location in a dwemer dungeon.
"Get Sharn gra-Muzgob to tell you what she knows about the Nerevarine. Uh. Sharn’s an orc, with green skin,"
- - Caius, I think the 'gra' in her name kinda gave all that away, leaving simply your gift for stating the obvious. Lol.
Another Fighters Guild contract. This time to eradicate some Telvanni rats from a mine. Wonder if they know magic?
I agree, Rosa. The way the devs hid not just the box, but colored the ramp as well so that it's not so obvious, is what I must really take a lesson from in the future. I assume other quests in this game will use such convoluted measures to hide stuff, which the later games do not suffer ... erm.... were created from.
-- Nice, so Jan does use Levitation.
-- I think I may have made a little mistake when I said the box has been placed in Arkantarkin and forgotten. Wasn't the box stolen, and therefore put into the ruin more recently? On the other hand, that was Joan's set of thoughts, not mine.
-- Sweetrolls are something Joanie misses from Cyrodiil.
Ah, so there's another puzzle box quest in Elder Scrolls Online!!! I really need to play that game again, Acadian. Maybe I'll focus more on quests if I do, since Lopov is in Skyrim now, I won't get tempted to just go adventuring with him & Shonta.
--In fact, I did not write up the Telvanni agents in the mine, because it's sort of all the same as before. I'm going to pick and choose the adventuring I write up, as we'll see in a few...
--I will continue Joan's story until Xmas. But then I'm going to take a break from Morrowind and switch to Laprima in Skyrim. So these next two or three chapters will be it for 2021.
Merry Xmas, y'all, and Festivus for the rest of us.
12 Heartfire (Day 28), early morning
Andrano's Tomb
It took Joan and her guard a day to travel from Balmora to Caldera, another day to travel to Caldera's mines (eliminating the Telvanni threat there) and a final day to return to Balmora for much-needed payment. The Telvanni agents who resided within the cave were tough. If Joan hadn't plundered the mine with her guard, there is no way she could have survived.
She meets lots of people as she travels, and engages in plenty of useful conversation. As she makes her social rounds, Joan gets into the habit of always saying something optimistic, cheery, and encouraging to those whom she meets.* Most of the townsfolk she speaks to appreciate her words, only occasionally do they not.
Now, back in Balmora, she is ready to seek whatever notions Sharn gra-Muzgob, the Mages Guild's orc wizard, has to share.
"No. No interruptions!" the orc says upon first meet. "How many times! ... Oh."
"Are you Sharn gra-Muzgob?" Joan suppresses a smile as the scatter-brained orc gives her full attention.
"You are one of Caius's associates?" Sharn asks, not yet answering Joan's question.
"I am," she says quietly, in an effort to keep their conversation secret from other guild members. "And I am here to discuss some potential arrangements from Caius."
"That is a different matter," Sharn says, apparently still scattered in thought. Unlike Joan, Sharn does not speak softly. "Caius and I have a very satisfactory arrangement, and I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, if you will complete a little errand for me."
Ah, here it is. "Why sure, an errand, and what sort of errand have we in mind?"
"The errand is very simple. I need the skull of Llevule Andrano."
Joan grimaces at this. A skull this time, not an ornate, golden puzzle box. Now why on Nirn could an orc working within the Mages Guild need her to retrieve the cranium from somebody who is known to be a from local, noble family?
"You'll find the skull in Andrano Ancestral Tomb. But take care not to upset the natives. The Dunmer have some peculiar primitive prejudices against necromancy, and take grave objection to unauthorized tomb visits."
Oh my, thinks Joan Marie, the emerging Blade. -- Dunmer natives? ... Necromancers? .. Tomb visits? -- Though she is not totally proficient against undead at this point, she has had some training. "I do possess a doublet of complimentary magics to turn spectrals, zombies, and fiends," she tells the orc. "Though I haven't the skillset of a master priest or cleric. As such may be, you are in luck." She pauses a moment, consulting with herself. "For I do wish to sojourn, then suss out this set of ruins."
... She decides this firmly and quickly, surprising herself a little. But she's always had a curiosity concerning undead tombs, once risking a visit into Cheydinhal's Undercroft while unattended, and at the age of fourteen. "Where are we to go?" Locating then removing a skull from some submerged, perilous location is not something she's entirely keen on, especially after she learns that Llevule Andrano was some sort of evil enchanter. But otherwise, she is curious about what sort of animated un-life might reside within the ruins of Morrowind? Are they as weak and near-harmless as the ghosts she encountered within Cheydinhal's Chapel of Arkay? ... Slow-moving ghosts which were merely beings to be wary of?
She leanrs that Andrano's tomb is south of Pelagiad, which is just a day's travel on foot.
Sharn gives Joan an enchanted blade, and also some advice. "Some spirits are immune to normal weapons. Here, take this old shortsword. And maybe these old scrolls will come in handy."
The shortsword packs a variety of magic which Joan cannot identify. The orc also hands her four scrolls: two with the power to heal its caster, and two which deal fire damage. Joan is tempted to sell the latter scrolls; money is always something in short supply so far. But then she notices they have an area effect, which means more than one enemy can be affected if she casts and aims properly. Against undead, fire can be a good thing.
She changes her mind about selling the scrolls.
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15 Heartfire (Day 31)
A day of travel and a day of getting situated in Pelagiad. Finally, Joan feels she is ready for Andrano's Ancestral Tomb. She walks to the place with her trusty Imperial guard, but initially has him wait outside. No need for him to go rushing about, mucking things up.
Once within the tomb she focuses Blessed Touch in her mind; magic from the Conjuration school. This is one of the spells she had learned after a couple years of training. Its purpose is to cause the un-living to turn away from the spell-caster in fear. Even though she has practised this spell many times in the past, and had even used it on a few ghosts underneath Cheydinhal's chapel, she experiences that sodden tinge of worry. That the spell will not work. Whichever ghost or skeleton or bonewalker (as she learns Morrowind's zombies are properly referred as) she touches will not flee.
"I remain resolute with thy graces."
Her footfalls echo softly down Andrano's first set of stairs, while arcane noises and seeming voices of the unseen surround and swell. At the staircase's bottom lies a man. A Dunmer. A former adventurer, perhaps. He died at some point in the recent past, his shield still clutched within his hand.
"I draw upon the graces of Arkay," she says as she readies Blessed Word, which is a targeted version of Blessed Touch. The tomb is lit here and there by magical torches, but lighting is still rather dim. Joan makes a mental note--she will need to buy a Light spell as soon as she can afford one. She remembers that an Altmer back in Caldera's--
Suddenly, an ancestral ghost comes into view! Joan is surprised. The ghost's fascia is so pale, she barely notices it until its cursed visage is right in front of her.
"Gather the presence of Arkay, esprit!"
She touches the ghost, feeling its chilling essence, even through her gauntlets. As the spell passes from her fingertips, she is surprised to see it works! ... It works! ... The ancestral menace before her begins to move away. Joan Marie stands in awe, then realizes she's just possibly made a mistake by letting her guard down. But there are no other enemies nearby. So from this moment, she has a few moments to plan ahead. The acolyte unsheaths her sword, the same sword given to her by the orc back in Balmora. Then, she begins counting.
... twenty ... twenty-one... twenty-two... ....
She counts to thirty in her mind, knowing that the spell's effect has halted by now. She then waits until the damned returns to try fighting her properly. This time, she does not cast another spell; to do so would mean a waste of limited magical resources. Instead, she uses the sword. It only takes two swings before the ghost's spirit perishes. Whatever powers the sword possesses, it is definitely powerful. However, Joan knows the spirit will not stay gone forever. After several days it would reanimate. Has something to do with the way magic works within Ancestral Tombs.
She drinks a cheap potion to regain some of her lost health. Oh yes, she has come prepared with potions, as well.
Before her are several urns, some of which no doubt could contain small amouns of wealth. Joan Marie of Cheydinhal does not disturb these, even out of any sort of curiosity. The deceased should retain whatever belongings they possessed upon death, after all. To remove these would be to place a possible curse upon oneself.
She walks slowly and comes to an intersection, turning left. The corridor she's in curves around. The mystical, imperceptible voices she continues to hear seem disturbed by her presence. They increase their volume as she strides forward. This is truly a place of the occult.
She hears footsteps, and readies her spell again. The corridor makes a sharp right turn, and continues down a second set of stairs. But immediately to her right is a door. The door is not locked, so she opens it cautiously. Inside is a skeleton. An ordinary bag of bones, creaking this way and that. Joan touches it with her spell, and watches as it runs off deeper into the tomb. Again, she counts to thirty. When the skeleton returns, this time Joan readies an iron mace. She smacks and pummels the thing until its tendons fall apart.
Maces are perhaps better when dealing with zombies and skeletons, she'd decided not long ago. Though she's not as skilled with blunt weapons, and it will take some time (months, maybe years) for her to become as effective with them, it's become her goal to start trying new things. She cleans her second new weapon off carefully, before delving deeper.
It takes several more hours, and the final assistance of her guard, before she finds Andrano's skull. Joan breathes sighs of relief, knowing one more task has been completed. After returning to Pelagiad and spending the night there, she meets a strange Dunmer in the street who babbles on about things Joan cannot yet comprehend.
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https://i.imgur.com/1rvWkrN.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/mUg8uxc.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/R7egToX.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/Gr3T9Ny.png
https://i.imgur.com/ZxYyNGT.jpg -- (Looks like she turned the thing, while her guard runs after to take it down)
https://i.imgur.com/EiKcIZ9.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/fBwWyGs.jpg
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Notes -- * Joan has Speechcraft as a Major, and I've been selecting Admire a lot as she speaks with shopkeepers, guildmates, random townsfolk, and so on. This skill can be brutal to those who aren't trained as she is, those who spam Speechcraft who haven't got this as a Major skill will quickly find a lot of NPCs hate their character! But with Joan, she mostly does well with words.
With January's current run in Morroblivion, she created a Fortify Personality spell that gives her a +70 bonus for 10 seconds. It does wonders in dialogue. Even if she has to cast it every time she talks to someone.
Skulls and puzzle boxes. I don't think they ever do explain why the various NPCs want these macguffins.
take grave objection to unauthorized tomb visits
I really, really hope the pun there was intentional!
I figured out something in my recent forays into Morrowind/Morroblivion. When you start the game in Seyda Neen, the first thing you should do is head north out of town. You will "meet" the guy with the scrolls of Icarian Flight. He always has an Iron Sparksword. Since it is magic, you can use it to fight ghosts in the nearby tombs.
It is good to see that Joan remains resolute in they graces. January is doing the Imperial Cult quests - my first time ever - thanks you Joan's inspiration. She might do the Imperial Legion quests too. That would make for a good Paladin type, I think.
I never liked the versions of Turn Undead where they run away. You just have to chase them down to kill them. I prefer when Turning means doing damage/destroying all the undead in the area. That is laying down the smack of Arkay!
It sounds like Joan found one of the Sleepers. They are creepy, know that there are people like them just lurking around, possibly anywhere.
Off to Andrano’s tomb!
’Joan is tempted to sell the latter scrolls; money is always something in short supply so far.’
- - I think the below may be part of the above problem:
’Before her are several urns, some of which no doubt could contain small amouns of wealth. Joan Marie of Cheydinhal does not disturb these, even out of any sort of curiosity. The deceased should retain whatever belongings they possessed upon death, after all.’
- - Just teasing. Joan’s sentiment is quite noble.
You did a good job of describing Joan’s progress through the tomb.
And with skull in hand, Joan is mission complete for this ‘favor’.
I have yet to catch up on everything, but it was really great to see that hostile Nord fall to his doom. His frost resistance didn't really help him in that situation. Just like others, it took me a long time to find the puzzle box, my first character who did this quest, was sure that there must be some other area in Arkngthand that we keep missing, so we were desperately looking for doors that'd take us to another cell.
Oh, I totally forgot about those dreams as you begin having as you progress through the MQ. It was neat to include them in the story.
I really hope that you push the MQ with Joanie to the end, even if it'll take years. It's been a long time since I did it (with Haryon) and I'd like to read about it through eyes of another.
With January's current run in Morroblivion, she created a Fortify Personality spell that gives her a +70 bonus for 10 seconds. It does wonders in dialogue.
I'm sure it does, Miss Rosa! ... Personality / Speech can be brutal in this game without some buffs, more brutal than weapon-swing dice-rolls or spells failing to cast. I've had two or three characters so far who want to invest in the in-game Charm spell (whatever it's called) which is hugely expensive. And only those who actually have Speech as a Major should engage in Admire like Joanie does. Otherwise, everyone will hate the character after awhile. As clunky as it is, the Disposition mini-game in OB is a life-saver compared to the way MW does it.
On the other hand, I never thought to look into Fortify Personality. That's what I like about these games; there are more than one way to skin a cat durzog.
-- Getting that sparksword (and the Slowfall scrolls) from that Icarian Flight dude is indeed what some of mine have done. Depending on the character, they'll either sell this loot or keep it.
-- I am glad to hear Joan/me have inspired January/you. Right now my gaming is far ahead of my storytelling. Where I've last seen her is Ebonheart, where Joan specifically walked with her guard so she can start doing the Good Works the Imperial Cult offer, as well as make some more consistent drakes. Plus, Joan has a sadness about all the killing she's been involved in. She knows she's going to engage in more (as she believes this is her calling) but it will also be nice to do some non-hostile quests as well.
macole: We can edit our own journal, is that what you're saying? ... I do not do this. I write these stories as I'm gaming, and then edit them once or twice afterwards. I do also have a habit of keeping separate Notepad pages on my auxiliary (non-gaming) computer. I have to, with so many characters to keep track of.
I play the original version of Skyrim. I've put too much into Oldrim to suddenly switch to SE, then deal with months of learning curves all over again! But yeah, I'm really eager for some Skyrim writing. Laprima's tale will involve more imagination than Joan's I think, but it's hard to say. I just know her story should be somewhat different.
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20 Heartfire (Day 36), 3rd Era, Year 427
Hla Oad
The air is warm and the sun's getting low. Over the past few days, Joan and her guard decide they'd like to get to know the southwest portion of Vvardenfell more thoroughly. Learn its terrain, and walk its roads. To do so, they've taken a longer way back to Balmora.
During the days of Heartfire 16 until Heartfire 18, they move from Pelagiad to Seyda Neen. They then approach the tiny Bitter Coast fishing village known as Hla Oad, which they reach on Heartfire 20. Here they spend the rest of the day, chatting and moseying. Hla Oad is Joan's first experience with true Vvardenfellian poverty.
She had grown up an orphan, but a well-cultured, well-trained, well-educated orphan. Up until now, she had only read about Morrowind's more-impoverished areas in books. Reading, of course, is not the same as experiencing.
Everyone in Hla Oad lives in wooden shacks, which frequently appear to be in various states of disrepair. There are no grand, two-story tudors. No pompous displays of paint and decor. No vistas, and no braggarts. But, to be poor does not necessarily mean to be starving. Nobody in Hla Oad (excepting the local Ordinator, perhaps) seems to have any money, yet everyone is well-fed. The village's residents live off the saltwater, which is always a short walk away. Drakes may be few, but fishes and other aquatic forms of sustenance are always plentiful.
As Joan and her guard get to know the place's residents, they eventually hear rumors of a darker side, as well. The nearby coast is known to be a place where illegal smuggling sometimes pervades. The Camonna Tong, Morrowind's most organized criminal element, is also mentioned once or twice. Joan decides she'll keep her eyes watchful after she hears this, as she has read the Tong can occasionally be hostile to outlanders.
Despite these shortcomings, and despite its lack of development, Hla Oad does have charm. Its peoples are rough-talking, tough-living salt-of-Nirn types. Paupers and laborers. Most of them converse with Joan freely on a range of regional subjects. This is one place she thinks she'll not soon forget.
But there is one facet of local society which piques of unexpected predicament.
Here in Hla Oad, there is nowhere for travellers to stay!
No inn! ... No hostel! ... Not even a place to truly trade, well not at first, anyways. No temple or chapel to worship within, which for a devout Heartlands Cyrodiilian like herself seems shocking and bizarre. Before the Imperials had colonized Seyda Neen, Joan thinks that initial hamlet must also once have been in a similar state.
She finally finds a man, a Redguard, whose name is Trasteve. Trasteve barters a few things with her; mostly food. But he dwells within one of Hla Oad's shacks, which he calls Fatleg's Drop Off. Trasteve basically runs the locale's only trading shop, yet he has never bothered to hang any sort of sign on the front of his door. He's not exactly advertizing Fatleg as any sort of business, which strikes Joan as odd.
"Well, perhaps he does not wish to attract strife," she reasons to her guard. "Where active commerce commences, there are drakes. And where there are drakes, there is the possibility of thievery, or banditry. Hla Oad has just one Ordinator to keep regulatings, after all."
"You don't say?"
After trading goods, Joan spends a couple hours talking to Hla's residents. Is there any official place she can stay? No there is not. However, she eventually learns there's a bedroll she can sleep upon, but it's located under the stars, with no awning to keep the rain away. "I have be-fore slept within weather," she assures them, wondering if she should offer some gold. "My well-being, 'tis not of mightly concern, nor cause for seceded attribution."
She says these things to possibly display some humility; she is not to be mistaken for some disrespectful outlander. But the truth is, Hla Oad is a place where nobody has bothered to erect a simple inn, or simple hostel. A facet of piqued and unexpected predicament for Joan of Cyrodiil.
As she strolls to the outdoor bedroll, her guard entertains a few of the village's residents with stories of their recent exploits. Just a few weeks ago, he was once a steady sentry at Fort Moonmoth, yet now he's had his horizons widely broadened, thanks to Joan Marie of Cyrodiil. The sun goes down, and night draws in.
She says a silent prayer, and gets tucked upon the bedroll. Night and stars draw overhead. Tomorrow they'll head off to Caldera, and after another day or two, Balmora. There, she'll gladly deliver the skull wanted by Sharn gra-Muzgob, Balmora's Mages Guild orc. Filching the thing from Andrano's tomb has weighed an onus on her mind these past few days. Perhaps the skull had even influenced her dreams the other night, when she'd had an unsettling nightmare she can't exactly remember. Llevule Andrano's skull. His solid, yet fragile skull. How exactly had she gotten convinced into fetching it?
Thankfully, Joan herself does not carry the wretched thing, instead it's her guard who totes it all the way back to town. She has a few silent words with her makers, before falling off to sleep.
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https://i.imgur.com/QtpHkkB.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/njbvvpv.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/1HZqOT7.jpg
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NOTES
* I added the bedroll myself, along with a bunch of other bedrolls and containers in key places. Morrowind Addtions.esp is my first MW mod.
Joan is taking the long way back to Balmora, up the coast, that is. From her perspective she wants to get to know the land. From my perspective, I want to see her gain more experience. Really eager to get to Level 4.
The interesting about traveling with a guard in this game is their dialog choices change, depending where they are. If the guard is somewhere in wilderness, he will only have half the dialog topics compared to if he's in Caldera, for instance. As static as the text dialog can be in this game (every single NPC in the world having the exact same thing to say about the Nerevarine for instance) at least her guard's contracting and expanding topics are interesting.
~~~
I think there are also little rats running around Hla Oad. Not like the big ones that attack you everywhere else in the game. These ones just scurry around under foot. But that might be Gnarr Mok. I get those two places confused.
January felt the same consternation over the lack of a motel the first time she visited the place as well.
What an interesting look into life in a small, isolated village in Vvardenfel.
I see Joan's guard companion is becoming quite the conversationalist.
Well, the good news is she learned quite a bit, had a chance to relax, and it didn't rain on her sleeping bag.
I enjoyed your description of a simple life in Hla Oad, this was actually the focus of this story. It also brings back some memories as one of my characters, probably Haryon, came to Hla Oad and tried to sleep in there, only to find out like Joan, that you can't sleep there.
Nice screenie too.
Rats? Gosh I can't say I've seen little rats in any of these villages. Wonder if that's a mod. If so, I want it.
I've had MW characters in the past who don't care about breaking into peoples' homes. We can basically sleep in almost anybody's home in this game, that's not Joan though. Perhaps in the future, she will Speech-up somebody whom she likes, and then I can RP she gets a place to stay for the night. Or I can just add more bedrolls. That works too.
I really enjoyed writing that one, Acadian. Not sure why, since nothing really happens. It's just inspriation, I guess. Sometimes those sort of stories turn out just as immersive as the more-action-packed ones.
Yes that moment when all those NPCs were clustered around Joan's guard made me chuckle. He was in the middle of that small crowd. It was almost like he was entertaining them with his stories of woe.
Nice, macole, that is awesome! How do you write into an html file though?
I have two computers: one for gaming, and one for everything else. I usually type on the second computer (the 'everything else' one) as I'm gaming, although sometimes I will also type up material outside of gaming. That usually works if I'm trying to tell the imagination part of a character's story.
Danke, Lopov. Maybe Joan will eventually cross paths with Haryon, especially once she gets to the Imperial Cult in Ebonheart. We should do a co-write.
25 Heartfire (Day 41), early morning
The Skull of Andrano
Location: Balmora Fighters Guild
Sleep, sleep and more sleep. After all their travels, and all their adventures, sleep is first on the list. Let Dibella and Mara do their respective, restorative works.
Joan awakes the next morning, and heads to Eight Plates. Here she has a meal of saltice and kwama eggs. Vvardenfellian cuisine at its best; it's taken some getting used to. Oh, how she misses Cyrodiil. If Joan ever finds a locale which serves all homeland meals: corn, meat, potatoes and (by glory) sweetrolls, she thinks she might just stay there awhile.
She eats slowly. Her nerves are frazzled after so much travel, her muscles ache after so many days. Encounters with bandits, encounters with aggressive creatures she had only read about in treatises and field manuals. Fights and strategies. Improper sleeping conditions, improper living conditions. All of this has worn at her. Wouldn't it be nice to take a day of rest, and respite?
She finishes her meal, and then begins to wonder which day it is. Heartfire 25 is the date, of this she is sure, but which actual day of the week is it?
She muses over this for awhile. If it's Sundas, she'd like to spend some time in worship, just as she would back home. Problem is, there are no weekly types of calendars to be found in Morrowind. The nearest place for her to worship is Fort Moonmoth, which is roughly two miles away, and she hasn't got the will to go anywhere out of town.
She does have a list of chores, though. First on her list is the Fighters Guild. Time to get rid of this dreaded skull. She leaves Eight Plates, then walks down the avenue. Turns left, where the guild is located. Once inside, she delivers the Skull of Llevule Andrano to Sharn gra-Muzgob.
"Strength is a virtue, friend," says the orc. "Welcome."
"I have made my return, healer. Please, gratify the gods by ... ehm... claiming this skull of Llevule for your own." Over the past few days, she has grown leery of carrying what was once the topmost bone structure within an Andrano family member's head. Within that bone structure decisions were made, perceptions collected, dreams and loves and disappointments realized. ... *Urk!* ... "Have I now meet thy query, Sharn?" Even if it was her guard who mostly toted the thing, just having it nearby it all those miles caused Joan Marie discomfort.
The orc healer smiles. "Very good," she says. "I'll just take that skull from you. Thank you."
"Delighted."
"Now. As I promised, I'll answer your questions on the Nerevarine cult. Go ahead."
Hmm. It is now Joan realizes she hasn't got a clue what sort of question she'd like to ask. She ponders for a few moments, while the orc does something with a bit of powder on a small table.
First there is the subject of the Nerevar, who Joan assumes is the focus of the Nerevarine cult. Joan has heard by now that the Nerevar was a Chimer (precursor to the Dunmer race), who lived long ago in the First Era. The Nerevar is expected to return to the land of Morrowind at some point, Joan has heard many people say. There is some disagreement if the Nerevar is supposed to be one of the gods, and if he should be recognized in such a way. Followers of the cult were also known not to agree that the Tribunal, the three gods recognized by many Vvardenfell's Ashlanders, should be recognized as gods.
Joan tells the orc all of these things. Then, she takes out her quill, expecting to do a bit of writing. "So, have you anything to say regarding my current knowledge of the Nerevarine cult?"
The orc takes a sip of something from a tan pitcher, before replying. "The Ashlander cult believes the long-dead Nerevar will be reborn to honor ancient promises to the tribes."
Joan adds some ink upon her quill, and begins scratching notes into her journal.
"According to legend, the prophesied Nerevarine will cast down the false gods of the Tribunal Temple, restore the traditional ancestor worship practiced by the Ashlanders, and drive all outlanders from Morrowind."
"By the Nine!" ...scratch, scratch, scratch
"Yes," the orc continues. "Both Temple and the Empire outlawed the cult, but it persists among the Ashlanders, who care little for Imperial or Temple law."
Though she says nothing, Joan Marie silently decides she disagrees with this. An entire belief system of devotion being outlawed? But why? There must be more to this.
"Take this copy of my notes on the topic for Caius."
"You have a copy for me?" She has a copy for her? Joan stops scribbling notes.
"Fight well!" says the orc.
Back to Joan the virtuous walker.
https://youtu.be/JXuqJ4c1dxE?t=59
I love how Joan is concerned about using a short blade because its associated with rogues. Only respectable weapons for her! Which is actually kind of a real thing, given that IRL the sword was the weapon of aristocracy, like knights and samurai, while the peasants used things like spears.
I bet it is at least a day that ends in "das".
Finally Joan gets a chance to catch up on her rest, and even close out a couple tasks.
I share SubRosa's interest in Joan's view of short swords. Though they can be superb in a disciplined tight formation (as practiced by the Romans), they are less than ideal for a lone knight where she can typically expect more room to exploit a longer reach than short swords provide.
I like Joan's interpretation of the note, but there has been another stranger in the land of the Dunmer, right?
Looks like Caius still hasn't found a shirt. No wonder that he doesn't know which day it is, his brain is definitely addled through skooma.
Lol at the video. It's been a long time since I've seen that movie.
Yes, very true about swords being weapons of the royals, while spears were more for the peasants & serfs. I recently read that bit about short swords being used often by "charlatans and thieves" somewhere, maybe even in one of Bethesda's in-game books. All the sudden I've begun to feel this urge for her to try new things. It's another cliché that maces are used by clerics and holy types, and for her to switch from a Major to a Minor skill just like that is really brutal at this point. But it's what she wants. And from my perspective, the uphill challenge (finding trainers and such) is sort of fun. Especially when she hits!
Hmm, I am not sure if there's another stranger in this land, Lopov. Haven't gotten that far into the story yet.
I wonder if I should add a shirt to Caius in the Construction Set, right?
Well it's appreciated for y'all to stick with Joan's story (or any of these stories) week after week. Inspiration comes as people read & leave comments. That's why we post in public forums. Because WE already know what happens. So that's why we share.
Joan's story will continue in a few months. Take care.
Just caught up on this! It's fun to see the Morrowind main quest through new eyes, and Joan brings an endearing fish-out-of-water quality. One thing I really like is how Joan acts like a real person, but the world around her functions exactly like the game world--complete with questionable pathfinding AI that doesn't know when it's outmatched. But Joan remains, unflappable and determined to bring the light of the Nine to those who listen.
Though at this point, she might need CHIM to make that happen.
Awesome, glad to read your insights, Clavier. You really are supportive.
Joan's story was supposed to be a mere set of updates (my character is in X doing Y and is about to go to Z) but right away I began with the fiction. Can't help it! I wrote a new Joanie just the other day, but it's a shortie. I don't want to put too much energy into her story, not the hours I spilled into Laprima.
So I'm going to try to make most of her stories shorter. Maybe 2 or 3 hours of writing, an hour of editing, which translates into 5 to 10 minutes of reading. In comparison, each Laprima was (phew) maybe 6 to 8 hours of writing, editing, and that's not even including the quests & dialog I hand-wrote!
I keep forgetting what CHIM is. Ah, that is the controversial explanation added to explain some changes, mostly in Oblivion? That's what I'm getting from the UESP Lore article in CHIM with just a quick glance.
Aw thanks. Really, a few hours is nothing compared to some other writers here who spend months, putting their material through several drafts, having others proofread their story, and so on.
I'll continue Joan probably in June. My daughter's about to finish her first year of college and I'm just trying to be more outdoorsy and social during this month of May.
Hey amigos, Renee G here. I wanted to play some Fallout 3 this weekend so I could finish the next Vicious tale, but it's been overcast/rainy all weekend. For me, this means Elder Scrolls instead of Fallout. Which is fine. I have a few new Joans which have been sitting since April & May.
This first one's a shortie. Nothing spectacular. Let's see here...
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Chapter XXI: Ebonheart
"Hello, Joan of Cyrodiil," says a Redguard. "My name is Kaye, and I'm in charge of the volunteer shrine sergeants for the cult. Are you ready for your first shrine sergeant assignment?"
Joan had arrived to Ebonheart the day before. Ebonheart, an Imperial town, and perhaps the most prosperous one in Morrowind. She spent the night in the town's inn to get some rest, and today has decided to begin her career as a Layman of Ebonheart's Imperial Cult.
Finding the place was rather difficult. First, she had to navigate yet another set of random, confusing streets and causeways, asking directions of people she'd only just met. Good thing she's lately been in the habit of becoming more social. Not once did anybody tell her to 'get lost' or say 'I don't trust you enough to talk about that'. Once she narrowed down which building the cult is in, actually finding its quarters was like navigating a maze.
Finally, the door to the place, which is located in a tight outdoor alcove, far away from any sort of civilian traipses. Odd, for an institution which is supposedly devoted to Good Works. Joan feels as though she's just established how to get to some sort of covert operation or business. Morag Tong or Dark Brotherhood, or some such.
Her first task seems to have nothing to do with Good Works. She is to find a bowl made of limeware, which disappeared from the cult's shrine sometime in the past. But there's a clinch: The bowl went missing after being in the company of a high elf named Caryarel.
"I see," Joan says to Kaye. "And what sort of notions have been discerned, concerning this 'Caryarel'? Might there be some reason why he's seemingly branded a thief?"
Caryarel had come to the Imperial Cult weakened by swamp fever. Kaye surmises the elf probably lives somewhere on the Bitter Coast, maybe in one of its fishing villages. But that's the best Kaye can do, so far as information. "Try asking around among the high elves," he suggests. "I believe there are several serving in the Hawkmoth Legion Garrison here in Ebonheart."
So begins Joan's first Imperial Cult quest. Go fetch this limeware bowl. Well hey, at least she's not being tasked to bring back somebody's skull.
She also receives a request from Iulus Truptor, one of the cult's savants, who tells Joan she'll need to gather money from the Skyrim Mission. "Bring me 100 gold if you can," Iulus tells her.
So she gets right to it. Spends a couple hours finding the mission, and another couple talking up its residents (who are all Nords) for donations. Altogether she is able to gather 35 drakes' worth of tithes from every mission member except its Primate, whose name is Heidmir. Immediately, this man takes a dislike to her, and she can tell none of her words will be able to change this. Not right now, anyway.
In all, there isn't much else for her to do in town. After spending three days in Ebonheart, Joan gets the urge to move on. When she receives a request to head to Peligiad and deliver a potion to a farmer, she returns to walking the road with her guard.
Before heading out, she places a small parcel of gold upon the cult's altar to receive her daily blessing. As she does so, she senses the many planes of existence which surround and intertwine with her own.
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NOTES: I am in the habit of saving during particular moments, such as, if my character opens a door, casts a fortify spell, and so. In Joan's game whenever Joan receives a blessing, I use that moment sort of like a checkpoint to save her game! .. Perhaps this is a nod back to those early console games such as the first Tomb Raider, which only allowed us to save if we found a floating green gem.
There is so much Morrowind stuff going on right now, it tempts me to go back again. I recently did January in Morroblivion party due to inspiration from this story. I even did the Imperial Cult questline with her because of Joan's adventures.
I feel for Joan. Navigating the labyrinth of interior corridors and towers of Ebonheart is a chore. Finding specific individuals can be a nightmare. Jan eventually used Levitate to fly in and out of the Cult section.
Jan had so much money at the point I started the Cult quests that she did not bother fundraising. She just gave the Cult her own money.
Whenever I see the title "Primate" I cannot help but think of that word's biological meaning, and I keep thinking they are referring to a monkey, or gorilla, or human.
This should be interesting. It's been a long, long time since I touched the Imperial Cult, like the first year I played Morrowind back in 2002 or '03. I remember nothing, so when you mentioned the limeware bowl my thought went straight to to one in the Census Office.
Welcome back to Joan as she continues her Morrowind travels and travails. I'm with SubRosa about primates. I'd hate to work hard in a church only to rise to the lofty title of Primate. Heck, I had that title nailed the moment I was born. Joan will probably be happy to be back on the road instead of confined in Ebonheart.
Primate is an oddly named rank, isn't it? I know it's used in some Christian denominations, but I'm not clear as to why.
Regardless, the Imperial Cult's probably a good place for Joan, even if she does find some of the tasks to be a bit on the drab side. For her sake, I hope she gets a mark/recall spell, or at least a divine intervention spell. Getting to Ebonheart can be very inconvenient without those.
It is 4:27 in the morning and I'm already up and about. Yesterday was really gross and hot. We were at my mom's. I virtually bribed her to turn the A/C on. Partially so I could sit inside and edit today's story. Today (and tomorrow) will be more perfect weather. It'll be harder for me to concentrate on Elder Scrolls since it'll also be sunny, so I'll post this next tale early.
@ Clavier: Yes, Primate is perhaps one of those terms which had more than one meaning back in the days of real guilds, but now we only know of the one meaning. Makes it sound like there's an ape in the Imperial Cult. Too early for a Google search, but Dictionary.com says 1. Ecclesiastical. an archbishop or bishop ranking first among the bishops of a province or country.
She's happy being in the cult though, perfect for her roleplay, so far.
@ Acadian: Thanks! Last week's tale was just a warm-up. I'll try to put more effort into her future write-ups, although I can also promise most of these stories will be on the shorter side. A couple days ago I was recompiling all my old Oblivion stories, so that they're all stored & cataloged on my new computer: Kahree, Sarah Phimm, even some early Joan writings. It's amazing how long some of those tales were!
macole: Wow, I didn't even know there's a limeware bowl in the Census office! I wonder if Joan could simply steal that one! 🥷 Kidding. It was more fun heading up to confront Caryarel directly. Plus, Joan would rather die in a storm full of cliff racers before she'd commit any sort of crime.
SubRosa: Morrowind's a fun game, and I feel like I am two decades behind the rest of y'all since I didn't start playing until the summer of 2018.
6 Frost Fall (Day 52), early evening
Chapter XXII: Ebonheart II
Joan returns to Ebonheart with a pouch full of marshmarrow, which she is to deliver to one of the Imperial Cult's members. The day is fair and warm and dry. Despite her journey, she takes immediate time to stroll about Ebonheart, occasionally conversing with the locals. It is in this way that she meets a knight wearing shiny armor. "Think it'll rain?" the knight asks.
Joan (being a newly loquacious sort) speaks to this man on a couple of topics, and learns he is the one who she is supposed to speak to about a current, unusual subject which she had experienced firsthand in Pelagiad. It’s not every day which somebody gets attacked by an actual Dark Brotherhood assassin. And Joan wants to know why it happened to her. She's a virtual newcomer to the province after all. Why would an assassin target her?
"What's this about the Dark Brotherhood?" asks Apelles Marius, the knight in shining armor, who also happens to be a superior member of the Imperial Legion here in Ebonheart. "You say you've been attacked by them? The fact that you're standing here seems to suggest otherwise."
Is this a joke? "I can only attest to what has occurred to me personally, sir," Joan replies calmly, feeling a little surprised that the shiny knight before her only expresses doubt. "A Dark Brother associate somehow chose to locate me within Pelagiad, and as I attempted to literally lay my head within Halfway Tavern. I was assaulted, yet managed to defeat the intruder."
Apelles scratches his chin. "Perhaps you have been attacked," he begins, pondering the thought. "That's bad business. I don't know who it is that wants you dead, and I don't want to know."
"Gracious, milord. Well, I thank ye for considering my tale, at the very least."
The Cyrodiilian says these words, while also wondering. Why even bother to adorn oneself within such shiny, sturdy gear, in full supposed representation of the Empire, yet so blatantly choose the path of a coward?
"Dark Brotherhood activity here on Vvardenfell has been almost unheard of," Apelles continues. "But I know they have a large contingent back on the mainland."
"Well, yes, of course," Joan answers. "I was raised in Cyrodiil, and spent my youth in Cheydinhal. There were rumors that the Brotherhood resided somewhere within my very home town," she says with a shudder, thinking back to one particular house. "What other facets might pertain toward their discovery here in Vvardenfell?"
"Yes, they’re rumored to be in Mournhold itself, actually," says Apelles. "If you're feeling particularly suicidal, you can check it out for yourself. Of course, it's not easy to get there these days. Because of the blight."
"The blight?" She'd already heard a few things about blight disease here in Morrowind, but it never did hurt to learn whatever more she could.
Apelles Marius tells Joan a few things about Mournhold, and why it is thought the Brotherhood have been sighted there. Now that she knows blighted creatures inhabit the place, she's not too keen to get there anytime soon.
Joan thanks Apelles for his information, and says something pleasantly forthcoming to brighten the man's day.
"With me? Thanks!"
Upon returning to the Ebonheart chapter of the Imperial Cult Joan delivers five examples of marshmarrow to Synnolian Tunifus. She is rewarded with a healing potion, and a mortar and pestle (which she'll probably never use).
"Speak to me again when you are ready for another healer quest," says the monk. "And goodness! I was so busy, I almost forgot. Have you checked your advancement in the Imperial Cult?"
"Advancement? Why, no, I have not."
"As you serve Mara and the Nine," says Synnolian, "so you shall rise in rank. Congratulations, Joan of Cyrodiil. You have been promoted to Novice."
Though these titles and advancements ultimately have little meaning for her, it is nice to know she's making some sort of difference in her strange new home. Even if, for now, this 'difference' is made through collecting random ingredients, random monies, and fetching objects which have gone missing. Speaking of which, she's off to the Bitter Coast next. There's a bowl made of limeware somewhere out there, which needs to return to its proper home.
---------------------
Notes: Joan ascended to Level 5 during this session! I put +3 into Strength (39 now), +2 into Agility (36), and +2 into Personality (42). ST, because she's been learning to repair her own gear, and also has been using a mace instead of a shortsword. PER, because that's her job, to talk to people. And AG because... well... it sucks getting hit & losing balance all the time.
Was thinking about the title Primate. . . . Were I ever to rise in the church to a lofty title, I'd much rather be called Optimus Prime.
That knight didn't seem too knightly beyond his shiny armor. Who would want Joan assassinated? Surely it couldn't be from collecting marshmellows and kitchenware for questgivers?
Jane has some marshmellows, how nice! Oh wait, those are those... other things. Oh well, you make the best with what you have.
I see the Imperial Guards are as much help in Morrowind as they are anywhere else. It looks like Joan will have to take matters into her own hands if she wants to resolve this issue with the Dark Brotherhood.
The Imp Cult may have her doing step and fetch quests. But at least its not rats, like in the Fighters Guild.
@Acadian: The best part of that title is when you get to say https://youtu.be/oG2Xro3v9Sg
How about https://yt3.ggpht.com/a/AGF-l7-rKsDNG8CWEHiHpYmcJYkJDBrC6NaeuweR2g=s900-c-k-c0xffffffff-no-rj-mo, Acadian? Then you'd get to be a giant robot which walks around and smashes stuff. Rawr!
And Yeah, what good are those Imperials? Dark Brotherhood make them flinch? Fer crissakes.
13 Frost Fall (Day 59), 3rd Era, Year 427
Caryarel
On Frost Fall 13 they approach the village of Gnaar Mok, which is a fishing port, similar in size to Hla Oad. It has taken three days to get here from Seyda Neen. As they enter the town, Joan relaxes. No more bandits, no more nix hounds, and no more cliff racers to watch for.
But this doesn't mean she won’t need to prepare a strategy.
Joan is by nature a shy person. A quiet person. She just as easily could’ve become a custodian of books, or an administrator of personnel, if she did not also possess her range of talents, skills and spells (not to mention her devotion to the Aedra). But this does not mean she cannot learn to become more loquacious. Over the past few weeks she'd been practicing her abilities to simply speak to the others she interacted with. Studying social cues, maintaining the right amount of eye contact, attempting to boost their confidence in her, and so on.
So it is on Frost Fall 13, as she approaches the village of Gnaar Mok, she begins to look forward to her meeting with Caryahel, the Altmer who is suspected of stealing a bowl made of limeware. And here’s the strategy: Joan's investigation into this matter should begin not with Caryarel himself, but with all the other people living in Gnaar Mok. Try to get their opinions of the elf, first and foremost. This is Joan's plan, at least.
Things do not always go as planned, of course. The very first person she meets as she steps into the village’s common area is an Altmer, who walks directly toward her. "My patience is limited," he says smugly. The Altmer is tall, and wears nice clothes.
"I am here in regards of the Imperial Cult sir, and come from the town of Ebonheart. I have been sent to speak to Caryarel. Might you know of him?"
The elf looks at her with nothing but hatred. "Yes, I was treated for swamp fever at the Imperial Chapels in Ebonheart," he says with smarm. "But I don't know anything about a Chapel Limeware Bowl. So go away. And leave me alone!"
"Ah, but there has forthwith been no mention about the bowl," Joan of Cyrodiil says smartly. Her turn to be smug. “It is you who have broached the subject. Might we then also assume it is you who might have some insight, pertaining to the Ebonheart cult’s missing bowl?”
Stalemate. The elf refuses to discuss the matter further. Joan's plan, her original plan, was to speak to Gnaar Mok's peoples first, get their opinions and thoughts on Caryarel, and maybe then find the elf's home, confront him there. She hadn't expected to quickly find him, walking about.
A Dunmer female walks by, and Joan decides she'd like to speak to her. "Morning, madam. I am Joan of Cyrodiil. Might I take a few moments of your time?"
"I'm Nadene Rotheran," says the Dunmer. "Never seen you here before. First time in Gnaar Mok?"
"It is my first time here, yes."
"Let me give you a little advice," says Nadene. "We aren't used to visitors here, and we don't like what we aren't used to. So don't be surprised if people don't like answering a lot of questions. But you seem an okay sort."
The Laywoman smiles briefly. "Well, many thanks to you, Nadene."
Joan spends a few moments chatting with Nadene. About her life, her background, what it's been like growing up in this remote fishing village, and so on. She then makes one attempt at flattery toward the Dunmer and is surprised to hear her words reciprocated with a smile.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Nadene says. Nadene then divulges as much information as she can about Caryarel, pointing Joan to the shack where the high elf lives.
"Many thanks," says Joan to the Dunmer, before turning to her guard. "I shall take my leave of you sir," she tells him. She says this because she's suddenly unsure whether what she's about to do is considered legal, or not.
"Stay out of trouble and you won't get hurt," the guard answers.
She walks to the shack pointed out by Nadene, which of course, is locked. And it becomes a major ordeal just to get inside.
After all is said and done, Joan Marie cannot help but wonder what all the fuss was about. The bowl she finally retrieves is not one made of any sort of precious metal, nor has it got any particular enchantment, Aedric or otherwise.
"Perhaps there is some value of sentiment," she tells her guard, as both of them later struggle to find a proper place to rest.
-----------------------------------------
https://i.imgur.com/puojhcX.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/U1tOTHl.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/kFQy9QM.jpg -- Normally we'd never fight one of these giant gas bags, they're just so peaceful! 🎪 But netches can be aggressive when they're breeting, and the villagers wanted somebody to do something about them. Guess who this 'somebody' was?
----------------------------------------
Notes: I had to cheat a bit to finish this quest, which was pretty distracting, and I didn't feel like writing it all up. That's why today's story just sort of *ends*! ... Since Joan is no thief, I used the console to Unlock the high elf's door, then RP'd that her guard was able to take authority here, and demand the elf open his shack.
As usual, finding the limeware bowl was tricky, despite the fact that his shack is very small. Always the last place we look...
Putting the guard to use was a good move for Joan. Not everyone is a thief or a alteration mage, so those who aren't have to find other ways, Strong arming Caryarel to open the door is classic
.
I never understood the significance of the limeware bowls either.
Well, that quest wasn't too painful for Joan or her guard. Nice to see her practicing her speechcraft, since that seems to generally be her first and preferred approach to things.
Joan has been putting points in Speechcraft I see. Hopefully it will pay off with her religious vocation.
Oops, Joan's plans have instantly gone awry. But Caryahel seems to have given the game away with his slip of the tongue about the bowl.
So Joan got it the old fashioned way. She stole it! In so much as stealing something back from a thief is stealing. Recovering then.
That breeding Netch is actually part of a quest. I think it might be from the Fighters Guild questline? Or maybe it was the Imperial Legion one. I forget.
I remember this quest!
Good to see that Joan had more luck with Morrowind's bizarro "persuasion" system than I did. Oblivion's was odd, but at least you had some control over the outcome. Likewise, happy to see that she's a bit nonplussed about there being so much fuss over a bowl.
Gnaar Mok was an odd place. There was a lot going on there for being such an out-of-the-way town. Even more (seemed) to be going on if you got the place mixed up with Hla Oad (like I did, on more than one occasion).
That's the wonderful thing about being on PC, macole. One of the first things I sensed Joan wanting was somebody to travel with, and I quickly found a mod to support this. Initially she chose a guard for protection. I did not know there'd also be some "pretend roleplay" moments as well.
I did the same Limeware Bowl quest 2 or 3 years ago with Sir Galarad on Xbox. No guard can follow us without mods, but this was okay, since we can still bash locks in the vanilla game. Galarad simply smashed his way in! But it would feel incorrect for do-gooder Joan to do it like this.
I love Speechcraft, Acadian. Speechcraft is like clickbait for me in this game. I love clicking Persuasion and then Admire with NPC after NPC in Joan's world. She's at the point where over half the time, she gets positive results. But we also have to be careful, because some people immediately take a dislike to Joan. If Disposition gets below 40 as she's Speeching with them, that becomes a slippery slope downward with some NPCs.
Thank you, dear Rosa. I appreciate your words, because the Nine are very important to my pious go-getter. She is all about those Nine. ♥
No, not stole! Recovered. There that's better.
I can totally see Hauk getting into it with those floating balloons with tentacles, Lena. 🦄 But wow, the entire town of Gnaar Mok got involved. That's so awesome Hauk got the credit anyway!
Exactly, Clavier, in Oblivion we've definitely got more control over Speech as we try to influence people. OB allows the greater possibilities of roleplay because of this, imo. We can make people hate us, but we can also just as easily make them like us.
In ES3, it's easiest to make them hate us. Speech is harder in Morrowind, but I liken this to the fact that it's a harsher place overall. You know, like if we go into some countries here on Earth for instance, there are some places which we'd possibly be treated with disrespect, suspicion, etc, by most of its residents.
Hla Oad and Gnaar Mok are really similar, this is true. 👍
13 Frost Fall (Day 59), 3rd Era, Year 427
The Imperial Legion
Location: Gnisis
"We could use a few recruits here in the Deathshead Legion garrison. See General Darius."
An orc clad in armor tells Joan this, and this orc is the first person she meets in the town of Gnisis. Finally, she can attempt to join the Imperial Legion, which she has been wanting to do for months now. Ironically, she’d been sent to this town by one of her Imperial Cult superiors to collect some sort of special muck. She had completely forgotten that Gnisis is the town where the legion can be joined.
"Many thanks for your time. And where might I inquire in regards to joining?"
The orc repeats what he just said – "We could use a few recruits here in the Deathshead Legion garrison. See General Darius, " – causing Joan a moment of embarrassment.
"I do apologize. It has been a rough journey," she explains to the orc. "Fetid onslaughts of bandits, and strange creatures do inhabit the countryside…"
Indeed. Joan and her guard spent several days traveling from Gnaar Mok to Gnisis, facing enemy after enemy head-on. Joan's guard had a silver sword which broke while fighting a bandit. And Joan herself stretched the limit of her magics as she'd struggled to heal herself, and find places to rest in the middle of nowhere. Her supply of potions and food had waned quite a bit as well.
On top of this, she and her guard (the same guard she had ‘recruited’ from Fort Moonmoth) had not been getting along. After many weeks of close quarters and open travel, occasionally she’d try to converse or inquire or compliment, and he would snap at her. "I haven't got all day, you know," he’d say occasionally. Another favorite quip: “What is it now?”
"I do appreciate all that you’ve done, as you’ve maintained unbidden duty concerning my pursuits,” she finally tells him, as both of them wander into Gnisis's outdoor market. “But now, as we’ve re-entered upright society, I must impart one final request. Sir? You are freed of my companionship. Have you have found your fortune along the way?" she asks. "You have. As well, you have conquered. You have engaged your adventures. And righted wrongs. And now, I bid you farewell."
There. It is done. Err...
"Many apologies for leading you astray from your post back at Moonmoth."
"Good bye," her guard says. Just two words. And now it is done.
Within an hour she locates General Darius, who oddly does not stay within Deathshead Garrison; she finds him in the lowest floor of Madach Tradehouse, which seems to be Gnisis’s all-purpose networking hub. Why does Darius live here, and not the town’s proper fort? Perhaps he has stationed himself in the Tradehouse for some sort of strategic reason.
Honestly, I don't want to join a legion called "Deathshead". Sounds kind of sus, considering other military units that have shared that same name.
Maybe it is time for Joan to go beyond having a guard shadow her? I guess it is. Maybe she should learn some summoning spells if she wants someone else to help in a fight?
I think Joan might find the Vabdas quest a little more to her liking than it first appears. As I recall, there is an opportunity to do some good there. More than just killing some rats or re-stealing recovering kitchenware.
Joan get to Gnisis and lets her guard go. Was he a Legion guard? If so, he seems rather weak in the speechcraft department.
And that orc Legionaire seems a bit short in that department as well since he offers no info on General Darius of a locational nature. But she finds him nonetheless.
Interesting reflections as Joan shares her assessments of the Imperial Cult and Fighters Guild – hoping the Legion is an improvement.
She gets her wish of joining the Legion only to be handed a rather questionable quest. It’ll be interesting to she what she encounters at widow Vabdas’ farm.
Playing Morrowind can be a lot like real life sometimes, in the sense that it's really hard to find a good job that you can tolerate. And it seems like Joan's run into this as well. Predictably, each faction lets her down in a unique way. It's also good to see Joan's particular critiques. Caius does seem pretty sketchy (though maybe that's, realistically speaking, inevitable for spies).
I'm still enjoying the way you incorporate the stilted in-game dialogue. Highlights how odd a lot of it actually sounds.
It's never been clear to me exactly how the Empire organizes its legions. Probably something Bethesda never put serious thought into. Like saying the Deathshead Legion is in Gnisis makes it sound like it's more of a garrison, given that Gnisis isn't that big of a town. Do we then assume that Balmora, Pelagiad, Ald'ruhn, Ebonheart, and Sadrith Mora all have legions of their own? I'm probably overthinking this.
Plus, I just like Gnisis. It's one of the game's more distinct towns.
That's true. Deathshead Garrison. What a name! Yeah, let's get right to the point, here.
Oh no, Rosa. No conjuring for Joanie! Foul, smelly, dead things! One of my other characters, Hera Tyych, is quite the conjurer. Conjuring undead is pretty much her default "answer" to most enemies she comes across. ... Joan sees conjuring as an act of Eeeeeeeeevil though.
YES, the Vabdas quest is SO AWESOME! I really am pleased by how it turns out. ⚔ We'll get to it in a minute.
Yes, Acadian, he was a Legion Guard. Actually Joan usually has a pretty good Disposition to guards. Those two just spent too much time together. In a way, it's just like real people who get on each others nerves after awhile.
I loved writing assessment of all the guilds and factions she's a part of. Really enjoyed that part.
Joan of Cyrodiil is just hard to please, Clavier!
Thanks (in regards to the in-game dialog). I mostly use use the standard dialog found in the game for this story. For other stories (like Laprima) I write half the dialog into in-game quests.
Yes, Gnisis is a nice off-the-way town. Very clean. No ash storms. All the facilities we'd ever need, pretty much. 👁🗨 Yes, you are right, the Empire is being very heavy-handed into this part of the world.
Well you know, there is a certain mod out there that allows you to summon animals, rather than undead or daedra...
Sure, I'll take a look at that mod, hon. And if you know of anything which modifies body morphing, too. Joan's supposed to be a B-cup at most. Yet another Lara Croft syndrome with her...
I hope this next chapter isn't too long. I was about to break it up as I was editing last night. But that would disturb the flow.
Chapter XXV: The Plight of Widow Vabdas
22 Frost Fall (Day 68)
Joan had yearned for her chance to join the Legion. And now that she's in, she’s finding the organization’s first assignment for her to be questionable. Find a recently widowed lady named Vabdas, and convince the widow to give up her land.
Before signing on as a new recruit, she’d had a few ideas for what might become her first task. Maybe she’d be stationed at Fort Darius for a while. Maybe she’d be told to keep a night’s watch of the town for a week. In her most dramatic fantasies, maybe she’d be sent off to rescue some poor hostage. Or go on a mission to cure a village of sickened natives. – But being demanded to force some poor lady from her land? – Not at all what she expected.
Fortunately for Joan, there's a story (an explanation) as to why Vabdas had recently been widowed. The lady tells her tale to Joan Marie, a devotee who is always ready to listen.
Apparently, the reason why her husband, whose name is Mansilamar, died has something to do with an eggmine, located right here in Gnisis. The widow suggests that the answer to Mansilamar's death might somehow free her from General Darius's greedy land-grab. "Go to the eggmine," she says in a trembling voice, "and find the truth."
“I shall do so,” Joan promises. “Your plight shall come to redemption.”
With these words, she heads off to locate the Gnisis Eggmine, with her new guard companion in tow.
Well, Joan’s speechcraft fails to assuage the now-dead orc. Good thing she has her mace and new guard as backups.
Ahah, so Lugrub was not a credit to the Legion at all!
Oh yes, a water breathing spell is a must going forward!
Nice resolution Joan makes to work within the imperfect Legion to improve it. And finally, with a bit of help from Julianos, Joan’s speechcraft comes through and she convinces Darius of the righteousness of her course.
A welcome thought indeed to realize that Joan is more likely to change the Legion than the other way around.
This is one heck of an assignment for a new recruit... Hauk had to do it as well just a couple of weeks ago (before I got stuck in the moors of Morthal). I was fully expecting him to have words with the Orc, but chance would have it that just as he entered, the kwamas took a dislike to the Orc and he was busy fighting them off! So Hauk spoke to the ghost first. Then of course the Orc had to go anyway... Problem is, in the heat of the battle the kwama queen got killed, and that wasn't good news. General Darius was not amused. However, he didn't blame Hauk for it (and it was all the Orc's fault anyway ).
Yeah, those shock spells are something else!
And on an unrelated subject: has Joan considered wearing a bra?
Running a widow off her her land sure does not sound like an auspicious beginning to one's career.
Your plight shall come to redemption.”
Blood Raven could not have said it better.
Things sure are getting exciting in the mine. Methinks that combative orc was up to some no good, and linked to the death of Mr. Vabdas.
I thought it was a appropriate that Joan Marie was centering herself by thinking of Akray, right before the ghost of Vabdas spoke to her. Yikes, now she has to learn to swim?
Definitely learn that water breathing spell Joanie!
Hopefully Joan's ideals will indeed improve things in the Legion. So far at least, she has saved the widow from an unscrupulous land grab.
Nothing quite like bounding into a new job, filled with joy and optimism, only to find that your first assignment is on the shady side.
But, fortunately, Joan's willing to go the extra mile. Morrowind isn't a place where you can take things at face value, so her determination means she can get to the truth of things. As such, she's made Gnisis a slightly better place and removed an element of corruption within the legion.
Though I still have a vague hunch that Darius is annoyed that the whole thing was exposed, since he'd much rather just take the land. Hard to trust the head of an organization that uses the death's head as a symbol.
I really must say, it's been great to have several of us writing during these days here at Chorrol. I love it. In Bethesda's old forums, for a while there were a bunch of writers there too, in the Oblivion > Spoilers section. Every week, there'd be new material to read. It got to the point during fall and winter of 2013 that there were so many ppl writing in that section, I'd often fall behind!
@Acadian-- Yes indeed, I like the idea of Joan making changes within this new organization she has joined. Trying to make some differences, at least. This is one of the great things about the open-ended nature of Bethesda games; we can take what we get out of them in different ways, all according to whichever character is doing the quests.
Like I said a couple weeks ago, my previous guy who did the same exact quest was more of a noble knight who was in it more for the money. Sir Galarad felt little for the widow's plight. Yes, he did help her, but he was also wondering what sort of compensation he'd receive.
@Lena Wolf -- Wow, Hauk sure got lucky then! Yes, those kwama warriors are horrible. I wonder why they'd attack Lugrub at all; wouldn't they all be in the same faction, or at least factions which are compatible? Weird.
So if the queen gets killed, this affects the quest as well, and Darius is not happy about this. Such a different experience Hauk had, compared to Joan.
Chapter XXVI -- Advancements and Accomplishments
24 Frost Fall to 30 Frost Fall (Days 70 to 76)
Joan is fully prepared to travel back to Ebonheart so she can deliver the five examples of muck she had collected for Synnolian Tunifus. But she can't just leave Gnisis. There's too much here for her to do.
It's not just that there's much to do; each new task she is given demands action, immediate action. After avenging the death of Mansilimar Vabdas, she is sent back into the same eggmine, so she can cure its queen of blight disease. She accomplishes this easily. Next quest, she and her guard travel to a small ashlander camp to the west, where they rescue a hostage. The hostage's name is Madura Seran. After Madura is found in the camp's main yurt, Joan and her guard must defeat the three rogues who'd captured her. And once this is done, they must then escort Madura back to Ald Velothi.
As she accomplishes each task, her rank also rises. She goes from Recruit to Spearman to Trooper. She also attains a breastplate set made of Imperial-quality steel, which she wears most proudly.
"So, you got Medura Seran out of the camp, and in one piece," says General Darius. "Good work, Joan of Cheydinhal."
"Most dutifully, sir."
It seems nobody else in the Legion is capable of the things Joan, a virtual newcomer into Gnisis society, is able to accomplish. Why might this be? she asks herself. Could it be they are all too fearful of results gone awry?
As Joan Marie moves from one task to the next, completing each one with success, her reputation in the town of Gnisis quickly spreads. Pretty soon half the people she speaks to want to thank her for one or more of the recent things she has done.
And it is perhaps due to this frequent praise that Joan takes up a rather odd habit: she begins walking about Gnisis barefoot. She does this first to give her feet a rest; most of the time they are encased within boots, you see. Pretty soon though, her habit of un-shoeing herself takes on a more altruistic meaning. The people of town begin to assume she's going shoeless as a sign of humility. And Joan does not disagree with this.
It's this habit which forges her story into the books of time, and it's this habit which others, other crusader-types that is, shall follow in the years, decades, and eras to come.
Her next order is to learn what happened to an orc by the name of Ragash gra-Shuzgob, a tax collector who'd gone missing. Ragash was last seen heading off to a tower here in town called Arvs-Drelen, and it's Joan's task to try finding what occurred to the orc, if anything.
But this time, the task is not easy. She is able to locate Ragash the tax-collector simply enough; the orc is found locked (but otherwise unguarded) in the basement of Arvs-Drelen tower! ... Joan is able to free Ragash from captivity. From here, things don't go as well, as her next idea was to head back into the tower, so she can have a few words with Baladas Demnevanni, the tower's supposed owner.
And it is back inside that Joan and her new guard encounter a foe which they cannot defeat. In the tower's second floor they do not meet Baladas, instead they come across what seems to be his minion: a daedroth! -- This beast is a formidable one indeed. They tried to fight the damned thing, only to find themselves quickly losing the skirmish. Sadly, Joan's new guard fell to his death as he blindly tried to defeat it. But Joan herself was not so exuberant in doing so.
During her younger days back in Cheydinhal, as she received pre-military training, one of the facets she'd learned was to make sure to pick your battles wisely. Do not continue those fights which cannot be won. It's more important to step aside from melee on Day One, one of her instructors had told her a year or two earlier, so you can come back later to defeat your enemy on Day Two, Day Three, or even Day Eight-Five.
It's something she steadfastedly realizes is true, now that she's out 'in the field'.
Over the past few weeks and then months, from her first day arriving poor and wretched to Seyda Neen, she'd been questioning her plight. Why had she been boarded onto that ship (apparently the wrong ship), why had she gotten separated from her friends, and why had she been assumed as some sort of prisoner once she'd made it to Morrowind? Most of all, why had one of the first people she'd met in Seyda Neen sent her to a strange man in Balmora, who'd then assigned her to one of the most coveted factions in all Tamriel?
And over the past few weeks and then months, she'd begun to believe and sense she indeed has some sort of calling here in Vvardenfell. It'd been more of a feeling at first, this idea that she'd been chosen, for whatever sort of reason. But over time, this feeling was seeming to become more of a reality. More of an everyday assumption for her. Because of this, Joan is now not so keen on wasting her own life, just to gain knowledge about why the tax-collector had been imprisoned. Her guard? It had been his own choice, to take on the demon itself while she fled. Pick your battles, her instructors had warned her. At times like these, she can definitely see why.
Still, she finds the lack of action from other legionnaires here in town to be daunting. She mentions everything which occurred to General Darius. The tax-collector she'd found in lockup, the highly-dangerous 'pet' being kept apparently by Baladas Demnevanni, and she mentions these things expecting Darius to send his entire platoon into the Velothi tower.
"If we all mount an affront within Arvs-Drelen as one, we can possibly defeat the abomination, as one. Then we shall face Baladas ourselves, and bring the evildoer to truer justice."
But Darius does nothing, and this is despite losing one of his own. Since Joan hasn't got the rank to order his troops around, she is forced to heed, forced to move on.
Her next assignment is even more compelling. Apparently, somebody within the Gnisis Barracks, one of General Darius's own troops, is involved with the Cult of Talos. The general, for whatever reason, is not happy about this. Not so much because he does not believe in Talos as a god; it seems he's upset because there have been rumors of some sort of conspiracy, associated with.
Over a day or two, the Legion's newest recruit is able to speak to many Barracks' members, eventually getting some good information from Oritius Maro, one of its residents. Eventually she narrows down a suspected name: Arius Rulician. After more prodding, she finds Arius hiding in the Gnisis Barracks cellar, where a small shrine to Talos had been erected. Tries to speak to the man, but he refuses to acknowledge her words. She then discovers a note in a small chest, also inside the cellar. The note was signed by Oritius, and in this note was one very outrageous threat.
-- ...When Uriel Septim VII comes to visit Vvardenfell, he should be killed to put a strong man back on the throne of Tamriel... --
Finding this note caused immediate complications, Joan was attacked by Arius on the spot! For the first time in a long time, she was forced into a fight without the assistance of a guard. She also could not just leave the cellar -- Arius managed to block her way out -- she was trapped! Despite this, she was able to defeat her assailant by (1) striking the man repeatedly with her Daggar of Judgement, causing his strength and life force to fail. As he succumbed to the weight of his own gear (moving slower and slower about the cellar) she then (2) switched to her simple iron mace, bashing the man until his life fell further. Finally, she was able to blast and sizzle him with her spell of Holy Light.
The entire time, she called to Arius, begging him to give up. Chances are he'd merely be imprisoned for the threats levied by the cult. Could he not see the wrongdoings of his own ways?
... But some men of his sort of stature, they sometimes do not heed, even as they wear the sworn colors of the Empire. As Joan stabbed, slashed, and then bashed Arius Rulician to oblivion, all she could otherwise do was ask for mercy. And since he refused this, it was ultimately his loss.
...Joan of Cyrodiil, often known as Joan of Cheydinhal to those who knew her more specifically, prayed once again to Arkay as her attacker bled out before her. Things, they could have turned out differently, if just a little bit of common sense had prevailed. "May Arkay direct thy path towards whichever further judgements," she said to Arius.
Back in front of Darius, Joan worried she'd possibly be charged with a crime. She had just killed a fellow member of the Legion, after all. But the general was unbothered by this. He immediately ordered her to confront and kill Oritius as well, since it was he who had penned the assassination note. This time, Joan did not wish to fight the man by herself. This time, she'd try to convince Oritius to "give up thy wicked ways." Turn himself in. At best, he would at least rot away in a cell for some length of time. But it was he who had chosen his own unruly path.
But again, the situation quickly turned dire, as the Oritius Maro immediately attacked as she entered Gnisis Barracks. And again, it was his loss. Joan quickly gained the sympathy of several Legion troopers, who knew what was happening by now, and helped take down Uriel's assassination-plotter right away.
"Now the traitors are dead," says Darius after all is done, and Joan had returned to the general. "It saddens me that this could happen to men under my command. We all swore to serve the Emperor, no matter what happens. You've earned my gratitude, Joan of Cyrodiil. Long live Uriel Septim!"
Joan (once again) wished it had not come to this, but what can she do? Some folks, their stubbornness, their pride, their own misgiven decisions, are also their ultimate dooms.
A lot had happened, and all within a quick matter of days. "I've got something else for you, if you're interested," General Darius said, dangling yet another carrot in front of his newest guar.
But after a week in Gnisis, and a chance to rise in rank from Agent to Champion, Joan decides she's had enough. There's been a slew of accomplishments here in town: one redemption, two rescues, two overturned traitors, and one of her own compatriots, fallen in the line of duty. Joan finds she longs to get back to the southwestern areas of Vvardenfell, turf she's more familiar with. She decides not to speak to Darius for any more work. Not only has she grown tiresome of the town, but she's also not being paid for all these Good Works. She needs to get back south, and her supply of drakes is dwindling.
She takes the silt strider, first to Seyda Neen, and then to Vivec. From Vivec, she walks to the town of Ebonheart, so she can earn some money from the yucky muck she'd collected, and from the bowl made of limeware she'd retrieved. By the time she gets to Ebonheart, she's got just 17 gold to her name.
-------------------------------------------
Notes:
1). Most of my latter 'crusader' type characters: Dyan phor a'Cauz, Lord Haaf-Mersey and so on, also tend to go about town barefoot. In my head-canon, all of this starts with Joanie.
2). Getting the guards to make that final attack on Oritius meant quickly running up to a couple guards, and then using the follower mod I've got to make them Follow her. Otherwise, they all stand around going "durr"... while she does all the work.
Wow, the things they give newbies to do. This quest dealing with the triators Arius Rulician and Oritius Maro was interesting. I admit I only ever did the first few Legion quests and I didn't remember dealing with traitors to the empire, at all. Thanks.
The Barefoot Crusader!
That Joan’s speechcraft is leveling up slowly is perhaps good. After all, she is getting plenty of opportunities to bash sense into or life out of her opponents – hence leveling up her combat skill. She has risen to Champion based on her deeds in Gnisis but clearly the Legion has not paced her pay accordingly as she still must rely on rummaging for missing kitchenware and muck to earn coin.
It looks like Joan is getting things done in the Legion.
The Barefoot Contessa Paladin. That reminds me of the old TV show Kung Fu, whose monk protagonist also usually went barefoot everywhere.
Uh oh. Just when it looked like Joan was on a roll, fate intervened with a giant crocodile monster. RIP to her faithful guard. That is one of the reasons I do not use companions. You cannot control them, especially when you want to make a tactical retreat.
A traitorous plot uncovered, and dealt with. Joan is making quite a reputation. But not making bank! She just needs to explore some of those smuggler hideouts. They have boxes and boxes filled with expensive potions.
My profile picture is actually a piece of art I commissioned for Daria in Morrowind.
There's already a thread with it (and another artwork) here: http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=8299
It's funny how Joan's journey in some ways reflects the TES concept of mantling. She didn't really belong in Vvardenfell, but through grit and talent she makes it belong to her. "Walk like them until they must walk like you", as Nu-Hatta said.
Which is particularly illustrative in the case of the Legion, since she's very much doing what the Legion should be doing, but isn't.
I seemed to remember that Dyan also used to walk around bare foot, so now we know, who served as her inspiration.
That name Demnevanni (that sounds like some Albanian surname to me ) brings up some memories, but since none of mine have done the Imperial Legion questline, he must also be involved in some other quest(s).
Clever to retreat from the battle and (perhaps) come back later at some point.
Joan of Cheydinhal did a lot of good things at Gnisis. I'd say that it's now time to rest her feet, but knowing her, she's not someone that can rest for long.
Hey I love you all. It's really hot outside everywhere right now. That's why I'm indoors about to edit the next Joan story. How's everybody doing?
Chapter XXVII -- Return to Ebonheart
Date not recorded
Joan returns to Ebonheart on a typical warm Morrowind day and quickly recruits a new guard. First trooper she sees, she speaks to. “Would you like to leave the safety of Ebonheart, abandon the comfort of your easy command post, and truly see the world beyond, all for sake and vigilance of the Nine?” “For the Nine? Yes!” is his answer.
They have a meal of bread and mudcrab-cakes, they spend the night in Six Fishes. The next morning they rush right over to Ebonheart's chapter of the Imperial Cult, where Joan finally makes a bit of coin. 500 gold of it, in fact.
"Thank you for retrieving that Chapel Limeware Bowl." Kaye (the Cult's Shrine Sergeant) pays her well, for her help in retrieving an item of kitchenware which is neither rare, nor magical.
"Graces to the Nine," Joan says to Kaye.
She also receives a very special gift from Kaye, a rather rare piece of jewelry called the Maran Amulet. Now here is one mightily-powerful instrument she can use as she travels. The amulet is a four-effect item, which boosts the wearer's abilities to speak and persuade, as well as her talents with healing, Mysticism, and turning undead. It's nice to be recognized, but spectacular to receive some compensation. For all the wonderful and challenging things she'd accomplished up in Gnisis, she hadn't earned a drake. Not that Joan bothers or complains, of course.
The next person she speaks to isn't so gracious, or kind.
"Have you reached your goal of 100 gold in donations from the Skyrim mission?" asks Iulus Truptor, the Cult's savant.
Joan reports that she has not made their goal. Heidir, the mission's man-in-charge, refused to donate.
"You're not trying hard enough, Joan of Cyrodiil," Iulus scolds. "We are disappointed in you.”
Joan makes no reply. She can see the man's got more to say.
"But it's your decision. Perhaps you should take some time off and decide whether your talents and temperaments are suited for fund-raising."
"I shall try harder," she tells him.
Despite these mixed results, her rank within the chapel rises from Novice to Initiate. It is Kaye the Redguard who bestows this title upon her. Kaye also gives Joan her next quest.
"A Bosmer named Nedhelas in Caldera says his house is haunted by a ghost," he tells her. Kaye explains that she'll need to head to Caldera, and suggests fighting it with either a silver weapon, or a magical one (information she’s known since childhood). The sergeant then gives her an additional 200 drakes, so she can go buy a suitable weapon.
As if the Initiate he speaks to has never sparred with ghosts before. "It shall be done," she tells him.
She's then off to Caldera. As she leaves Ebonheart the next day, she looks forward to using her special new amulet, if and when needed.
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The chapter above is a shortie, not all that interesting like the last few. Don't feel like you need to comment, folks; it's merely an old-fashioned update like we used to write in the Today threads. Next chapter should be more involved.
I might be wrong in remembering this but I think that Haryon never bothered to perform any tasks for this savant, simply because of his arrogance.
Joan of Cheydinhal the Ghost Buster!
Testimony to Joan's improving speechcraft is how readily she recruits a new guard-companion. Wow, that'll be boosted even more with her new amulet. Who knew recovering kitchenware could be so profitable?
A ghost pestering a Bosmer? Can't have that. Joan gonna get a silver sword for her guard?
Joan has recruited another Red Shirt for the cause.
I guess Joan has work to do in the prosperity gospel field. Good for her. I don't think Talos is hurting for septims.
When there's something strange, in Caldera? Who you gonna call?
Joan of Arkay!
Heh, I remember trying to get alms from the Skyrim Mission. As I recall, one of the guards was randomly generous. At least the IC seems to appreciate Joan's work.
Yeah I remember being able to collect 100 drakes from the Skyrim Mission when I played the game on Xbox, no problem at all. That was with a knight character. He had about the same Speech skill Joan has now. But ... Maybe it's because he was Imperial he was able to get this done! (Joan is Breton).
Chapter XXVIII -- Vivec Informants
5 Sun's Dusk (Day 82)
Level: 7
Reputation: 3
Back in Balmora. As usual, there is plenty to do. Gear to repair, food and potions to stock upon, spells to get made, and most of all, there's a strange man to speak to, a man who lives across town. Last time Joan'd seen him, this man advised her to do some traveling. See more of the world of Vvardenfell, find a few pursuits to follow, and gain as much experience as she could before returning again. She had taken his advice. Now that she'd done so, she feels a bit torn about whatever could come next.
As a supposed up-and-coming member of Uriel Septim's Blades, what role was she was to play within the strange man's supposed organization?
Sun's Dusk, 3E427
My name is Caius Cosades, and I am a skooma addict.
For several years I've served my Emperor as a spy, and eventually have risen to the level of Grand Spymaster of the Blades. The espionage branch of the Emperor's personal guard is intentionally not well-known, and so far I've worked in relative obscurity, with a small but effective force of operatives, in the outlying provinces.
While working in Vvardenfell, I've taken up skooma use as a cover. At first, it was entirely effective; the small doses I actually used were not debilitating in any way. I had not anticipated, however, that the drug would be so very persuasive. I didn't realize that skooma has a mind of its own, and it slowly insinuates itself into your very being, until your life is no longer separable from that next
1). Addhiranirr, a Khajiit Thieves Guild agent.
2). Huleeya, a Morag Tong Argonian and assassin.
3). Mehra Milo, a priestess at Vivec's Tribunal temple.
Nice to see a scene from the POV of Caius. I could have sworn I have read that letter before. Maybe it was from the same glargg post you linked to? Wow, that was a blast from the past.
Caius has gotten so "in character' that he has become the character he was intending to use as a cover. For good and bad.
I love how perterbed Joanie is by Caius' unashamed half-nakedness! Why my stars and garters, how shocking!
To be honest, all three of those organizations seem rather nefarious.
Wow, a story from Caius' perspectivie.
Nice touch to include a reference to glargg.
I wonder if she'll really bring him some shirt.
Time to find more about the 6th House...
Having never played TES III, it was fun to learn a bit more of this Caius character in his own words.
And Joan ‘Get that man a shirt!’ of Arkay returns! Another task that will this time take her to Vivec City and even provides some advance pay.
He's not Caius anymore if he wears a shirt. That's just how he rolls, and Joan needs to accept it.
Interesting getting Caius's perspective on the whole thing. Joan's pragmatic enough to not always wear the Legion uniform, but not quite pragmatic enough to be comfortable dealing with the Thieves Guild and the Morag Tong. Wonder how she'll manage with them...
SubRosa -- glargg made Caius into an Oblivion character long ago, and oh yeah, I did borrow his work. I hope this is okay! I got to know the guy well when we were all posting (gulp) a decade ago. I have a feeling he'd be okay with it.
Everything in Elder Scrolls III, all the organizations, have an aura of nefariousness, right?
Lopov -- You wonder if my busy go-getting Crusader chick will buy a top for Caius eh? Is she not already busy enough? Hee ha. That whole sub-plot is just like Kahreem trying to get the Gray Fox to remove his stupid cowl.
And yeah, I kind of get what the Nerevar is all about, after stumbling across dozens of unintentional spoilers over the years, but the Sixth House remains truly ... shrouded in mystery...
Acadian -- No kidding. I thought you had played Morrowind in the past, but maybe I'm getting mixed up with some other game from that era. Maybe it was Baldur's Gate ...
macole -- I agree (about when glargg made Caius into the Hero of Kvatch). Back in the day I apparently never mentioned how brilliant his roleplay with Caius was, not publicly anyway. A bunch of us were writing back then, which was fun.
WellTemperedClavier -- My game is days and weeks ahead of the story by now. Vivec Informants is quite an unexpectedly ... uh... dangerous quest. Some very tense moments occur for sure.
Chapter XXIX -- Nar gro-Shagramph
8 Sun's Dusk (Day 85)
"Not a lot of pretty ladies around here."
Back in Ebonheart's Imperial Chapel, Joan receives the Stendarran Belt from Kaye, for cleansing the haunted house of Nedhelas up in Caldera. Obtaining this unique piece of apparel means fortifying aspects of her abilities with combat, specifically as she'll attack with maces and clubs. Since she's gotten interested in blunt-type weapons over the past few weeks, this belt is one she's going to keep.
For delivering five samples of black anther to Synnolian, she receives a book called The Four Suitors of Benitah, which she'll hopefully have time to read, some day. She had been quite the bookworm in her youth. But as a young adult, as each day passes on to the next, and as she finds herself in perilous circumstances more and more often, she's found reading for the sake of immersing herself into adventure, imagination, and fantasy to be somewhat of a moot point. As each day passes on to the next, her actual life has become a constant fantasy, filled with adventure, as she never knows what sort of imaginative situation the Gods will place her into next.
Joan is also promoted to Acolyte.
The next quest from Kaye is really interesting. "Not long ago we drove a coven of witches from the old Daeddric ruins of Ashalmawia. However, one witch escaped - a Dark Elf named Thelsa Dral."
Joan nods grimly. Begins scribbling notes in her journal.
"But just recently, egg miners from nearby Asha-Ahhe Egg Mine have complained the mine is cursed!" Kaye then suggests, of course, that somebody take care of this. He even gives this 'somebody' full authority to kill the witch, if necessary.
She is to head to the village of Khuul, which is somewhere on the northwest coast of Vvardenfell, and then travel by foot to the mine. Kaye's directions are a bit vague, but he does know that Thelsa can summon bonewalkers, and so he warns her of this.
"Bonewalkers sha'n't be of any grand concern," Joan replies calmly, thinking of the arsenal of spells she's got which can turn or harm undead. "May Arkay guide these miscreants toward true light." She had learned two of these spells when she was just sixteen.
Finally, two unexpected things happen:
1). Kaye gives Joan 300 drakes to help her on her way. Very much appreciated, and
2). Iulus Truptor, the primate who'd gotten sniffy with her after she failed to bring in money from Ebonheart's Skyrim Mission, asks her to collect 100 drakes from Ebonheart's Argonian Mission.
So Joan might be turning into a blunt instrument? Or at least start using one?
I love how her real life has soured her on reading adventure fiction. Hard to beat her own experiences!
So Joan did not just take 100 drakes from what Kaye gave her, and hand it straight to Iulus for his task? When January did all those fundraisers, she just paid for it all with her own money.
I love that she continues to show her humility by walking barefoot.
So Joan is on a jewelry recovery mission. At least it isn't rats.
I like that she is fortifying her charisma and speechin' skills. I started doing that a long time ago in Oblivion, since I could never make much sense of that game's persuasion wheel mini-game.
Congrats to Joan for solving this one without having to kill anyone.
Joan is progressing nicely as the barefoot knight! I see she is building up her bone-smashing blunt weapons skills to back up her impressive speechcraft. Nice job talking that orc into submission. Anything to get rid of that funny talking fighters guild woman!
If Joan ever gets her hands on a bottle of Telvanni Bug Musk, watch out! There will be no stopping her.
Navigating Vivec is never easy. Joan's quite patient for putting up with it with so little fuss. Though Vivec's less of a pain than Morrowind's persuasion system...
Also, good job on doing what an Imperial does best: talking one's way to victory. Joan figured out how to guilt Nar into handing over the ring, which is a good use of that "Voice of the Emperor" perk. Probably also good for Joan's personal sense of morality, too. Though keen on justice, she never seemed terribly fond of killing folks, and Nar's sins are pretty minor in the grand scheme of things.
My goodness. Woke up about an hour ago. Window's been open all night since it's summer, but right now it's actually cold in my room. 59 degrees! No wonder I slept really well.
~-~-~-~
SubRosa -- Yes, that part when she talks about having trouble keeping up with book-reading. That's something Jim Morrison said in an interview, how he grew up reading & writing poetry and was quite an avid reader, but as The Doors became popular his entire life became a book. Same line of thought applies here for my character. Uh.. not that she's going to become a maniacal rock star.
I remember you saying that Jan'd use her own money to pay off the Alms for Poor quests! Clever.
"Congrats to Joan for accomplishing this without having to kill anyone" -- Yes absolutely! It is also possible to do the Juicedaw Ring quest (and other quests of this nature) by using Speech to Taunt the person we're talking to. If successful, then WE get attacked, which causes the Ordinators or Legion to come to our rescue if they're around. If they aren't around, we still have legal recourse to fight back.
~-~-~-~-~
Acadian-- The whole barefoot thing began long ago with Dyan phor a'Cauz, a TES4 character who did Knights of the Nine. She'd wear and carry the most expensive, top-grade armor she could loot or buy; at Level 5 or 6 for instance, she had the only example of Elven armor cuirass in her gameworld. But when she was in town, especially on Sundas, she'd wear rucksack clothes and dressed like a peasant without shoes. She would spend all day in chapels too, I mean, literally in real-time she would sit in chapel all day, while I ... did other things like surfed Beth's forums.
It was something neat which caused her game to feel very unique. Of course, this is something important for those of us who have a lot of people we're gaming with.
Anything to get rid of that funny talking fighters guild woman-- Ha ha glad you see the humor here!
~-~-~-~
Lena -- Yes...there's the famous quip from pissed-off NPCs in Oblivion: Stop.... TALKING!!!
Lena & macole-- WHOA Fortify Personality 40 points!!! I had no idea. All this time I've been looking for scrolls, heck, even the actual Charm spell for certain characters. Problem is scrolls are hard to find, and Charm is really expensive.
As much as I play these games, I don't know everything about them. Not that Joan'll ever drink something like this, but I have other characters who certainly would.
~-~-~-~-~
WellTemperedClavier -- Ain't that the truth (about Vivec). It's taken me a long time to begin learning how those cantons are arranged. I'm finally at the point where I can navigate the Foreign District, Hlaalu, Redoran, and Arena without consulting the map. I use shadows on the ground to figure out which direction to go. In other words, if it's morning, and my character's shadow's on the left, he or she is headed north.
But it has taken literal years to get to this point.
Joan's not an Impie though, she is Breton!
I am running out of stories to post. Been busy these last few weeks and all that. But fortunately I've got another Joan almost ready to go.
Chapter XXX -- Huleeya
15 Sun's Dusk, (Day 92), late afternoon
Need some information about an Argoninan? Who better to ask than somebody who's a descendant of Black Marsh? That's how Joan finds out about Huleeya, one of the three members she is to speak to on Caius's list. Huleeya is found in the Black Shalk Cornerclub, which is located in the Foreign Quarter's Lower Waistworks section.
She dresses herself in a tan cotton blouse and her new gray skirt. She heads to the club.
But as things go, it takes her a while to get there. The shy maiden-crusader from Cheydinhal frequently finds herself distracted into conversations as she walks, speaking to merchants, speaking to lollygaggers, and so on. As things go, she often ends each set of verbal exchanges with a compliment. Or some sort of pleasant notions, which are meant to brighten someone's day. Usually with positive results.
"Yes, that's better," Raig the Redguard, a fellow Fighters Guild member. "I've love to!"
"You noticed?" Rolasa Oren blushes, her greenish-blue face coloring aqua. "Yes, Joan of the Fighters Guild, it's true."
But then there are those who aren't so happy to hear her compliments, and who aren't necessarily pleased about her generalized positive observations.
"We're watching you... scum!" warns an ordinator.
"What pretty words, Holy Knight," a robe-wearing pauper says curtly. "And how artlessly self-serving."
By the time she gets to Black Shalk, several hours have passed, and mostly she's been indoors. The sun has probably gone down. Joan realizes she's about to walk into Morag Tong territory, where assassins can discuss their latest executions casually and freely. For the Tong is legal in Morrowind. Legal, and also necessary by some.
This is no matter to her. Into the club she walks. Icy stares greet her as she steps into the cornerclub. Gossip and banter come to an abrupt halt. Now is one of those times Joan Marie from Cyrodiil feels most like an Outlander. Her brown eyes move from one set of red eyes to the next. It's a tense moment.
Then finally ... "You may speak," says a nearby elf wearing rough yet elaborate clothes.
"Greetings Dunmer, my name is Joan," she begins. "Of the Fighters Guild."
"Get out of our way, n'wah," the rough-looking elf growls. He holds a flagon full of some sort of drink, which he places upon the table before him rather begrudgingly. "We got issues with this filthy lizard here."
Joan wonders why he tells her this; it's not like she's announced why she is here. Maybe the elf assumes that she (as a member of the guild) is here to do something about Huleeya? ... Otherwise, she is able to ignore the elf's insult, for she seems to be in the right place. "Yes, an Argonian by the name of Huleeya. Might he be present and perhaps nearby?"
"His kind aren't welcome here," rough-look grumbles. "He belongs in the swamp with the rest of them."
"Now, now. We all have a right to gather colloquially, do we not?" She smiles, despite insult number two being strewn about. "I do thank ye kindly, elf. May those who look over and above us all shine upon thy path."
"Goodness, Joan. What can I say?" the rough-looking customer says, apparently stunned.
The Cheydinhalian smiles again, briefly and grimly. She then raises her hands and makes a gesture, causing the room to fill with light and radiance. It's a rather bold move. The Black Shalk is rather dim, not just with a lack of ambient light sources, but also in spirit. There's a certain darkness which hangs in the air, akin to doom and desperation. Joan feels she must challenge this.
The club is filled with patrons, mostly Dunmer. There is just one Argonian in the room, which makes finding the 'filthy lizard' a cinch.
"Tell your friends about this place," greets the bartender as Joan walks by. This man is nicer than the one she'd just spoke to, maybe he's impressed by her possibly-errant display of magic. Joan rents a room from him, orders a yam, and gets into a bit of small-talk about Huleeya. Finally, she speaks to the Argonian.
I like how ‘the shy maiden-crusader from Cheydinhal’ chats with locals trying to spread some good cheer. As she discovers, it oft works. And those who don’t appreciate her kind intentions. . . well, jerks will be jerks the worlds over.
A dark Morag Tong bar – what could go wrong here? For those not able to summon a weapon, carrying a dagger when traveling inconspicuously is most prudent it sure was good that Joan had one. Even though she just met her scaled contact, she naturally feels obliged to save his tail while saving herself.
And a productive conversation the two finally have!
Lollygaggers? Lollygaggers! No lollygaggin'! (At least that is what the Skyrim guards always say. I think it was the ones from Skyrim.)
"We're watching you... scum!" warns an ordinator.
They say that to everyone!
Uh oh, looks like a ill-tempered Tong swit, in need of a swat.
Well, Joanie tried playing nice. But some people you cannot be nice to. It is the paradox of tolerance.
Joan acquits herself well, at least well enough to get Huleeya away safe and sound. Good thing she knows those healing spells.
But in the end she gets the goods from the Argonian, and learns something new about Morrowind and its people.
I know I've mentioned this before, but I still love how you showcase the sheer oddness of the game's interactions. The way that Joan charms the xenophobic Dark Elf is a great example. From hostility to "Goodness, what can I say?" in a few well-chosen words.
Plus, it's fun to see how she rationalizes the odd events around her. The tong thugs can't follow her because Morrowind doesn't let NPCs go from one cell to another, even in pursuit, but in her mind, it's because they know it's too risky. There's a whole other layer to this story if you're familiar with the game's mechanics.
I laughed each time that you mentioned the immobile barkeep.
Quite a tense story, I already forgot that we get attacked by thugs during this quest.
Hey it's good to see all these stories here at Chorrol. These times are golden, right?
Well illl keep it breif .... I'll keep it brief.
@Lopov-- It was very tense! In fact the scene in the Cornerclub reminds me of the scene you made for Vicious's game. I had to react quickly in both situations. I would say Joan's experience was edgier, mostly because she had to wait for Huleeya.
Which actually was unnecessary. All she had to do was leave the club, and the filthy lizard would follow her. But I didn't know this at the time!
@WellTemperedClavier -- Some of the conversations in my stories are definitely odd, especially from your point of view as a newcomer. 🎆Because sometimes I'll literally write what they say, along with what my character says. This has been a long-standing habit which began when making Oblivion stories years ago. And as you may know, they've got some really bizarre conversations in that game!
Chapter XXXI -- Mehra Milo
17 Sun's Dusk (Day 94)
Location: Vivec, Foreign Quarter, Fighters Guild
As she begins this day, Joan is noticeably less cheerful, definitely less optimistic. Being attacked in public, amongst a roomful of city-dwelling roustabouts, but then having nobody come to your aid once you've escaped and gathered your wits can do that to a person. What'd happened was no common barroom brawl, no, it was a fight to the death, right in the middle of a city teeming with thousands.
And it happened here, in the Foreign District, somewhere below her feet.
She cannot get over this. If yesterday's incident at the Black Shalk had occurred down in Cyrodiil, her assailants would've been confronted by the law in no time. Arrested, possibly thrown in jail, possibly beaten by guards until dead or unconscious. She'd seen this first-hand, outside of Cheydinhal's Newlands Lodge. Any bit of a ruckus which became physical, and into the tavern those townie guards went. Didn't matter if Newlands was a dark elf bar or not, there was simply no fooling around when it came to assaults and fighting.
At times, it was uncanny how quickly those guards would react; it was as if they somehow knew.
Well, Joan of Cyrodiil is certainly longer in Cyrodiil. From now on, it'd be eyes wide open, with a guarded mind and shielded heart, at least while she's here in Vivec. Caius's assignment was supposed to be a mundane trip to gather information, or so she'd assumed. It wasn't supposed be dangerous (or so she'd assumed).
"Speak traveller!"
As she awakes on Sun's Dusk 17 and begins planning her day, she scoffs the idea of going shoeless. Maybe in some small village this might be okay, and they'd adored her 'show of humility' up in Gnisis. But after what happened yesterday in the Cornerclub, her views of the big, complicated city of Vivec have changed. This is her second visit the city so far. One thing is true: nobody cares much about an Outlander, dressed down like a commoner, asking questions about sensitive subjects.
"Thankfully, I sha'n't be traipsing toward the Black Shalk today..."
Her next subject to interview is Mehra Milo, a priestess of Vivec's Hall of Wisdom. Joan is to head south to the Temple Compound, where Mehra dwells.
She thinks of bringing her guard along, but after re-reading the note Caius'd given her, she decides against this. Apparently, speaking too much about Mehra in public is not recommended, lest she attract the wrong sort of attention. It would make even less sense if Joan showed with what could appear as an extra show of force, one which is out-of-place deep in Dunmer territory.
So ... no guard. Which means extra prayers to Dibella and Julianos, of course. She also makes a trip to the smith across from the guild. Here she buys herself a cuirass made of glued-together insect exoskeletons called 'chitin', which is a native material commonly worn here in Morrowind.
"I shall still appear as an Outlander, this I cannot deny."
But it's better than appearing as an Imperial-sponsored lackey. Or so she hopes.
Mid-Morning
"I can see by your outfit that your affairs have prospered," a Dunmer resident tells Joan as she makes her way through the canton of Redoran. The elf is dressed in dark clothes, and has an air of quiescence about him.
"Many thanks, squire." Seems her choice of apparel was a good thing. "And how fares thee on this blustery day?"
"Have you heard about the new secret cult, the Sixth House?" the resident then asks, rather bluntly.
"By glory, it is by chance that I certainly have."
Now this is odd. Huleeya the Morag Tong Argonian couldn't tell her anything about the Sixth House, yet here she was being offered information from a random town-goer. How could this be? -- Though it's broad daylight and other Vivec residents were around and about, Joan cannot help but feel as if she's suddenly being watched.
"They say they sit around in caves, cutting off pieces of their own flesh and eatin' it! It's that corprus disease," says the Dunmer. "Makes the flesh grow wild and crazy. Cut a piece off, and another piece grows back, bigger and better. Guards say, 'We're looking into it.' ... Right. That makes me feel better."
"Well. That should cause a prospective apprentice to think twice about signing for enrollment," the Cheydinhalian jokes.
"Safe travels, sera." The elf wearing dark clothes walks away.
Strange.
Mid-day
Vivec's Tribunal Temple Compound is an exceptionally-bizarre place to visit for a first-timer from Cyrodiil. It's got an open-air plateau, statues of figures she cannot identify, and a particular 'feel' which causes her to stop and wonder. Oddest of all, an entire portion of what seems to be the temple floats high above the plaza! Joan Marie of Cheydinhal finds herself awed. She's got her Nine, and has no desire to begin revering the gods worshipped by the Dunmer. But look at what their set of beliefs have inspired!
Nice nod to the telephathic abilities of the guards in Oblivion.
I love that the random NPC is a better source of information than some of the regular ones that are part of the quest!
Looks like it might be time to head over to Jobasha's Rare Books, back in the Foreign Quarter.
I very much like how Joan considers and adjusts her appearance and presentation carefully based on mission and tactical considerations. Like wearing a Daria bug hat cuirass.
More subterfuge it seems, but at least Joan is more prepared today to defend herself.
"And how fares thee on this blustery day?"
- - Skillfully and efficiently done, sharing with us that that it is a blustery day via dialogue rather than describing the weather via narrative.
And now, off to hunt down a heretical book.
Morrowind does have a way of hardening the visitor, and it looks like it's finally happening to Joan, at least a little bit. The province is definitely one where you have to watch out for yourself (not that Cyrodiil is devoid of such areas, *cough cough* Bravil *cough*).
On the plus side, she is making progress. Wonder what she'll think about the whole Nerevarine thing as she gets more involved?
Life's been busy, and sometimes we gotta attend to these events, right? Daughter's back in college, basically. But besides all of that, the final part of Vivec Informants took an incredible amount of time.
@SubRosa: Not just a random NPC, but one of the random NPCs which I added to Vivec's outdoor cantons. I don't know how to make quests or dialog yet for Morrowind, nor am I interested in learning at the moment. So that was pretty bizarre.
@Acadian: My characters (some of them) are concerned about what others think. Hera Tyych for instance is part of Morag Tong, which is similar to Dark Brotherhood. Whenever she's on a writ to assissinate her next target, my gosh does she put a lot of thought into changing clothes, wearing helmets, and so on. It's quite a lot of fun from my perspective.
And yes, blustery! It's Sun's Dusk after all!
@WellTemperedClavier: You said it, man. Vvardenfell can really harden an Outlander. No silly Cyrodiilic conversations to chuckle over, no goofy faces behind those counters, and Joan (who was practically an adult when she was a child) is finding herself growing up even faster.
I appreciate everyone's attention. Next chapter should be up in a few...
Chapter XXXII -- Vivec Informants III: Addhiranirr
18 Sun's Dusk (Day 95), early morning
The final tryst on Caius's list is with Addhiranirr, a Khajiit Thieves Guild operative who supposedly dwells in St. Olms Canton. She'd already been to St. Olms a few days ago, yet was unable to locate this particular cat-person, nor was she able to even find the Thieves Guild.
"Good morning!"
"How are you today?"
She breaks her night's fast on the 18th day of Sun's Dusk with a meal of kwama eggs and saltice. Today she'll need to look for Addhiranirr again, this time focusing on any sort of cornerclub which resides within the canton. One thing’s for sure, if the Thieves Guild is nestled somewhere in Vivec, they aren’t going to be in the habit of advertising their location. But the nefarious organizations of Vvardenfell seem to be in the habit of residing within these so-called cornerclubs.
She dons a new, second cuirass made of boiled leather (which she'd bought the day before) and decides to wear boots. She puts the Imperial gauntlets she'd worn the day before into her personal Fighters Guild chest, again fearing she’ll be noticed by the wrong person perhaps, if she’s wearing anything Imperial-made. She grabs her Daggar of Judgment and her cheap iron mace, and also her bagful of potions. Off she goes.
Starting down one of the long Foreign Quarter ramps, Joan remembers the dream she'd had the night before. In it, she'd been approached by an ominous gold-masked figure. The figure tried to cast some sort of magic, but the rest was vague. That was all she could recall. But it's the overall feeling of the dream which now catches her attention. It was not a good one.
She walks briskly, then she slows.
Something is wrong.
She rounds the corner to the left, walks halfway across the canton's second tier, and begins down one of its lower ramps.
"Haaaa!"
Somebody's rushing toward her, up the ramp from below! ... Whoever it is, he catches Joan off-guard. Again, this is the metropolis of Vivec. Who would expect to be attacked right here in the city?! She can see he’s an elf, a Dunmer who draws his weapon. Her first instinct is to fall back, which is a good choice in such a situation, because you never know who's about to trounce. It doesn't appear the elf wears any armor at all. But still, is her opponent some sort of grand master of weaponry? ... Best not to find out the wrong way.
Luckily for her there's an Ordinator nearby. -- "Halt right there, scum!" he calls, rounding the corner at full gallop, golden armor clanking. Joan sidesteps to the right to let the guard by, and though she readies her blade, the fight is over within three seconds, - "Ugh!" - with her adversary falling to a quick death.
The Ordinator sheaths his weapon, then turns to her. "If you're here for trouble," he says with his gravelly voice, "you'll get more than you bar-gained for."
Joan is too stunned to reply. The guard continues his patrol, as if nothing just happened. As he walks away, the Cheydinhalian tentatively decides to loot the prowler's body. Because at the moment, she's only got 36 gold to her name. If her attacker had anything of value, every little bit helps. Oddly, he hadn't been wearing any clothes or armor (he'd attacked wearing underclothes!) but he'd been wearing a helmet made of rare orcish material upon his head, which Joan quickly removes, and puts in her rucksack.
She continues on toward St. Olms, questions arise. Who was the elf who'd just surprised her? And did he have anything to do with Caius’s quest for information?
I think one of the points of a Thieves Guild is that outsiders are unable to find it...
Now Joanie is thinking right. Forget the libraries, check the speakeasies.
Now that was interesting. Someone just attacked her on the street. I do not think that has ever happened in any of my games.
Addhiranirr has a wonderfully obtuse way of speaking.
And Joanie gets the Census and Excise agent to shoo himself away (everyone always wants them gone, don't they?) and gets the goods from Addie. Smugglers now smuggling... who knows what from the Sixth House. That sounds nefarious.
I see you're doing it the hard way, Renee - and gosh, Vivec is hard! Completely infuriating! I think I got about where you are now in the main quest when I tried playing Morrowind years ago, then I spent days and days and days of actual real time getting lost in Vivec... Never mind finding what I was looking for, but just figuring out where I was! That and the walls of text for dialogue was what killed that game for me back then. I am taking it easy with Vivec now that Hauk is doing Morroblivion, I don't want to get lost again quite as badly... Good thing he isn't doing the main quest. At least not very far in, although he did get just that assignment from Caius the other day... We'll see. Perhaps I'll just follow Joan around.
Attacked by a Dunmer in his skivvies with a helmet. . . well, I suppose that’s no worse than being attacked by some dude in the loo wearing a giant rat head. Regardless, the Dumbner successfully commits suicide by Ordinator.
Joan finds her elusive feline target and, after the obligatory favor, gets the cat to spill some beans.
’The thief also tells Joan that smuggling is big business here in Vvardenfell. The Imperials have outlawed the trading of illicit substances such as skooma and moon sugar, but also non-lethal items and materials such as ebony, Dwemer artifacts, exotic weapons and armor, and (sadly) slaves. Because of these limits, smuggling has become more prolific...’
- - Some things never change, regardless of time or place. Making something illegal is a superb way to enrich the black marketeers that inhabit every civilization.
Poor Joan. She doesn't yet know that the only way to get an Ordinator's attention is to wear their armor. Granted, it's probably not the attention she would want, but it is a pretty reliable means.
Finding anything or anyone in Vivec ends up taking forever. But she managed the situation reasonably well. I always liked how Morrowind justified the massive presence of smugglers by having them be pawns of the Sixth House. Shows how it spreads like a cancer within Dunmer society.
Of course, if she'd been searching around St. Delyn, she might've gotten a much closer encounter with the Sixth House...
Ah yes, fond memories of Vivec City. I’ll go back there someday.
Eventually after years, I got use to the layout. Open cantons would have made Vivec City much better. Always want to try one of those mods but didn’t cause I heard they need a beast of a PC.
Why didn’t the agent find Addhiranirr? Because, as you said it's the smell. Like a dead skunk in the middle of the road it stinks to high heaven. No one goes down there unless they have too.
I'm nervous about reading today's comments for some reason I think I know what's coming.
@macole: I've memorized the layout of ALL the cantons by now, by golly we back 'n' forthed them so many times. After a while, I finally figured out where all the ferrymen are. 🚣♀️ They help a lot with cutting down travel time.
Yes an Open Canton sort of mod for Vivec sounds scary. Open Cities for Oblivion works well, but the open city mod I used for Skyrim messed up my game for a while. So ... let's stick with closed cantons. I honestly don't mind.
That's clever what you say about the sewers. Never thought of it that way.
--------------------
@Clavier: Very true, it can take all day (in-game) if we have to go to a canton, and then go back all the way because we forgot something. And it is REALLY easy for me to forget stuff.
The Sixth House is a huge mystery for me, since it's my first time playing the main quest!
----------------------
@ Acadian: Ha ha, that's true! At least there aren't any mouse costumes in MW.
Yes sir, what the Imperials have done has only made things worse. I especially get sad about the slaves part. Their life is hard enough, but being smuggled into a strange land makes things even worse.
----------------
Lena: Mm hmm I hear ya. It definitely takes a lot of patience, discipline even, for me to figure out this game sometimes. In a way, I don't mind the challenges, but I definitely would have written some things different if I were a dev.
The text walls don't really bother me, what I was really surprised about is the way the game's dialogs have so much cut 'n' paste! That's something I'm missing from latter games: each named NPC in OB and Skyrim might not have as many topics as MW, but they've all got their own unique dialog. Even generic NPCs have a long list of random sayings. In Morrowind, hundreds of people have the exact same responses.
That's great Hauk is in Morroblivion.
Chapter XXXIII: The Apprentice Returns
The middle-aged Grand Spymaster awoke early. Had a sip of room-temperature (day-old) sujamma, and reached for his pipe. His skooma pipe, that is, until he physically stopped himself. -- Urk! -- This was a bad thing, his frequent use of the drug, and it was only getting worse. First thing in the morning... was this how it was going to be for the rest of his days?
Partially it was a good way to stave off boredom, partially he’d begun quietly using the stuff to keep from standing out. Lots of folks used the stuff here on the east side, you see. But as days turned to weeks which turned to months, the demons he had heard of all his life in an academic sort of way became more an everyday reality.
On the other hand, it was difficult for him to spend so much time waiting for word from Cyrodiil. It was the sort of thing which could drive a lesser, more impatient man bonkers. Moon sugar products definitely did fill up those hours.
But Caius Cosades knew he could not maintain his illicit needs and habits forever. His stocky frame and magnificent health, amassed through decades of hypertrophic discipline, would eventually diminish if he kept this lifestyle going. He had a lot going for him physically of course, and to some extent he could continue as he was for a while..
Caius decided he had to come up with some other ways to fill his time during his current stint as an Emperor’s Blade-hiding-in-plain-sight.
He increased his reading, and began spending more hours outside his hovel. He wandered the streets east of the river, watching its residents, speaking to the class of Balmora’s inhabitants he felt safest amongst, learning local lore. Turns out, he could keep himself freer from his addiction just by maintaining these habits. Even though it was not part of his assignment, he also began to spend more time just listening to chatter in the streets.
There were plenty of provincial tales to be told, which in turn kept the aging Blade amused for hours on end. An example happened just a couple years prior, according to one of Caius’s neighbors.
The Fighters Guild was sometimes contracted to get rid of rats here in town, and usually the task was given to those who’d just joined the guild. Well in one of these instances, two members had purposely been given the same extermination job: one an apprentice, the other a veteran of the guild.
The apprentice, a young man, was eager to prove himself. He strode off immediately to find the invasive rodent. The veteran, a middle-aged Nord, complained the assignment was far beneath him; he should at least be given guard duty. But eventually he complied with the task. Both guild members discovered the location of the giant rat, but by the time they had, a third party (a Khajiit who had nothing to do with the guild) had been the one to rid it!
Another of Caius’s recent habits was people-watching. He’d spend hours sitting on his stoop, watching the comings and goings of Balmora’s residents. Lately he’d been noticing a red-haired Breton on his side of the river. As days passed, he saw her more and more often. She’d be gone a few days, then he’d see her milling about. She had fair skin and strikingly brilliant crimson hair. It was obvious to him (and to others on the east side) she was a newcomer to town.
Eventually he learned her name from a chapman who lived nearby: Hera Tyych. The chapman also informed Caius that Hera was rumored to be a member of Morag Tong.
One day Caius spotted Hera, and decided to follow her, see where it was she headed to. Her destination happened to be the home of Balyn Omarel, who Caius later learned had recently gone missing. Again and again Hera, who was known to be an assassin, would return to Balmora, spending her nights in the home of a man who’d abruptly disappeared. Talk about putting two and two together, eh?
It was anecdotes like this which kept Cosades occupied for brief moments at a time. He'd pore over these notions for hours, thinking of this and that, keeping his mind active...
But, news from Vivec was about to arrive. As the month of Sun's Dusk headed toward Evening star, he began to get the sense the apprentice would soon return.
Unfortunately, Caius has found that going undercover as a drug addict, tends to just make you a drug addict.
Hypertrophic - now you have me looking up words.
You have me smiling at Caius reminiscing over the exploits of Kavon the Mighty, Fox, Willow, and J'dash Ratslayer...
For a moment I wondered if that red-haired Breton might be Blood Raven. But no, it is Hera Tyych! That is a name I have not heard in a while.
And Joan comes back older, wiser, and harder than before.
I too believe I heard about Balmora's latest ratcapades.
I see shoeless Joan's teasing of the shirtless Caius comes full circle.
Hmm, I wonder if Caius' assessment of Joan's more subdued demeanor is accurate?
Loved the POV section with Caius. I love how Morrowind was able to create such an intriguing character with very little in the way of exposition. He's an old spy with a drug problem (maybe) who also happens to have fantastic abs. I'd always envisioned him as someone who was effectively addicted to skooma, but whose biochemistry had reached some level of equilibrium with it (how long this equilibrium lasts is another question entirely).
Appreciate the reference to the rat job! Though you might want to have Caius recall that the Khajiit who killed the rat was actually the guy who hired the guild in the first place. Another example of how shoddy the guild has become.
Good seeing his appraisal of Joan. She's become much more skilled in navigating Morrowind, and that sort of thing will show. But like always, Joan has to match her cover story, which means more time doing guild work.
Awesome, Clavier. I like blending character worlds sometimes; it just makes the story feel broader. I've probably had everyone here at Chorrol (and some folks from Beth's forums when they were open) in my stories in some small way here and there. Some facts got muddled that's true, but this can happen when tales are passed along over time.
Ha ha glad you caught the "shoeless" and "shirtless" bit there, Acadian! ... After the story was posted I realized I hadn't pointed that out, but maybe it's actually better that the references are subtle.
Joan (as she appears in Oblivion) is quite demure and steadfast. She's no longer a shy maiden trying to be chatty as she appears some earlier chapters of this story. I imagine that when she gets to Cyrodiil some 7 years later, she's a much different person.
I had to look up hypertrophic myself. I needed a word which describes somebody who has built up some muscles, but I didn't want to say "muscled" because I'd already used that word, and I didn't want to say "stacked" because that sounds too modern Earth-times. Too dude-ish. "Bro, you are stacked!" That just doesn't work in high fantasy.
Yes, Hera's my assassin character. I don't know enough about Branwen's exploits to write them up. But remember I did write up when January came to Megaton that one time, because you had some pictures which definitely had her passing through. Her armor is so wild, something nobody would miss.
Um, this next story is sort of lower inspiration, maybe a 5 out of 10 on the Inspiration meter. Not my best. But it does continue my Main Quest lady's development. And I've been slipping lately with the "weekly" stories, so here goes.
Chapter XXXIV -- The Snowy Crown
18 Sun's Dusk (Day 95), early morning
https://hosting.photobucket.com/images/ad208/xenaclone/(edited)_GRP1gAI.png.html
”During the career of any warrior, any magician, any paladin, any knight-in-training, there comes that moment when he or she begins to break away the plight of the novice, and enters the domain of the skillful. From that moment, these individuals can only continue to hone on toward mastery….”
These were the words of one of Joan’s instructors back home, and they came to the young Blade as she found herself striking down the giant creature before her, a mighty two-legged kagouti, just outside the town of Caldera … with just two strikes. After doing so she looked to her guard (who’d come rushing over to help) his sword of silver raised in mid-swing.
“Ehm. I suppose I handled that one,” she mutters, surprised.
The sudden shift of Joan’s stint as an outlanding crusader here in Vvardenfell began not at that moment, but two days earlier, after she entered the Mages Guild of Balmora. She’d just been paid by Caius for her efforts down in Vivec. Endowed with nearly 500 drakes, it was time to find somewhere to meaningfully spend it! She’d gone into the guild with the intent of having a new spell written by Estirdalin, one which would enhance her healing abilities slowly over time.
… But let’s just say she got a little distracted...
… Distracted by a shiny, golden mace sold by Galbedir, Balmora’s enchanter. The shiny, golden mace cost just over 400 gold; quite an expenditure for someone constantly struggling with coin. It was made of Dwarven metal, meaning it was more effective than her cheaper iron piece. It was guaranteed to do more damage. But it also could magically affect her enemies with frost damage, and quite a lot of it.
“Your opponents will not stand a chance against this!” Galbedir, a cultured Bosmer who'd probably never seen actual combat outside of guild sparring, promised. The weapon Joan Marie just bought is a very rare piece called the Snowy Crown. And it entirely changed her efforts at combat.
Over the past couple months she’d been using the short blades (knives, daggars, scabbards…) less and less, switching instead to an iron mace, which she purchased for just 35 drakes. Her new weapon was heavy and unwieldy, and she found she needed to build her strength just to effectively use it. It was quite an awkward and difficult diversion for her, to tell the honest truth. But she’d had a reason for the switch.
Short blades were the weapons of “rogues, thieves, and charlatans”, or so she’d concluded after encountering several bandits who preferred them. They were the weapons used by those who “dwelt within darkness, eschewing the light”.
Maces, on the other hand, were big and bold; they could be banged past the thickest of armor, smashed into skeletons, and wielded upon wastrels. Maces were the weapons of clerics: those who blended a mixture of healing and fighting skills. And though she herself was not specifically trained in the ways of the cleric, it was just before heading into Andrano Ancestral Tomb to retrieve that ghastly skull that the inspiration to switch weapon types came to her.
As stated, it hadn’t been an easy switch. During her youth she’d been trained at blades because they were lightweight, requiring agility rather than pure strength, and back then she was still developing her form. After changing to blunt-type weapons, she found herself struggling against many encounters. Swinging but not always connecting, unable to take her opponents down, and that sort of thing. She needed to become more vigorous; she needed to build her fortitude and tenacity.
Joan started by giving small amounts of money to Fighters Guild trainers: 60 drakes, 75 drakes, whatever she could spare for a few hours of lessons here and there. She also began repairing her own weapons and armor pieces. Instead of giving her hard-earned gold to armorers, she purchased time to use their forges. And though she was not so good at fixing her own gear at first, over time her efforts had the side-effect of making her stronger.
Her adolescent form was becoming hardened, yet still maintained enough pliability so that she remained flexible and adept during her attempts at melee. Slowly, fight after fight, and Joan did find herself getting better at blunt weaponry.
And now, she has the Snowy Crown. Which she in fact feels a bit conflicted about.
Because it’s a weapon which is magically-enhanced, but not by the Gods themselves. The Snowy Crown is not like her Daggar of Judgement, which affects its enemies through those abilities governed by Stendarr: the abilities of an enemy’s strength, and his or her efforts to maintain endurance. This is initially a point of contention for Joan, the Blades’ newest Journeyman. How can she justify using a weapon which causes harm which is not filtered through the causes of Goodness against Evil?
But after actually using her new golden weapon during the next couple fights, striking her enemies down before her traveling guard even has time to react. After experiencing the prowess of what it means to be headed toward true mastery-at-arms, while those she encounters flail and fall before her. Well… her final answer on whether to continue using her new Snowy Crown? It is definite, it is clear.
"I shall strike this one down!" she says to her guard confidently, as the brigand they see up the road grabs his halberd in an attempt at intimidation and murder. This brigand, who'd been a smuggler before deciding to try his hand at highway robbery, has just twenty-six seconds to live.
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https://i.imgur.com/grzA9TG.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/dom3Urr.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/tqvc6Jt.jpg -- Notice the x5 to Personality. That's from all those successful Speech attempts. 👭
A wonderful depiction of Joan’s journey to master her new mace. I agree that ultimately, it will suit and serve her well. Plenty of hard work to get there but Joan’s not afraid of paying her dues. I suspect Stendarr would agree that it is the nature of the wielder, not the nature of the enchantment that sanctifies the weapon. It looks like adding to her healing repertoire will require at least another paycheck and a lack of shopping distractions.
Cool, Joan took down that Kagouti on her own. It looks like she might be outgrowing the need for a guard to accompany her?
I love that she gave up on the short blades because she did not want to be associated with the ruffians who often use them. It is like when you wear leather or fur armor in Skyrim and the guards comment that you are wearing the armor of a brigand (at least with the Guard Comments mod I have).
And the mace if of course the classic cleric's weapon indeed!
I can hear the theme from Rocky playing in the background as Joan toughens up to use her new mace.
But the Snowy Crown is filtered through the causes of Goodness against Evil. The arm of the wielder is the filter and Joan of Arkay is Goodness personified.
Ooh, switching weapon types! That can be a pretty big step in Morrowind, but it sounds like she has the grit and the resources to pull it off. Blunt weapons do seem to fit her a lot better than short blades.
I liked some of her doubt regarding the Snowy Crown. While Morrowind has tempered her in many ways, it hasn't changed who she is. The Divines and the Empire still come first for her, and this will be reflected in her actions. Still, since she's helping the Divines and the Empire, a slightly dubious magical weapon is probably not too big of a deal.
Snowy Crown looks great and seems like a fitting weapon for Joan Marie of Cheydinhal.
I like the implementation of the story behind the weapon after bringing down that kagouti. Her surprise after bringing it down, seems genuine.
We've had some lovely fall weather this year, no later summer totally-humid nonsense. 🍁How is everybody this weekend?
Hope you don't mind if I do the multi-quote thing. Just makes it easier for me sometimes.
Chapter XXXV -- The Month of Evening Star
"Take this friend. I think everyone should read this leaflet. It has important information on it."
The man, a Redguard wearing typical festive clothes, handed a folded paper to Joan. "And what might this page entail?" she asked.
"It has important information on it," the man repeated. "Something must be done."
"Many thanks, squire. Might your path be shone by rays of the enlightened."
"Goodness, Joan of Cyrodiil, what can I say?"
The Redguard walked away, leaving Joan wondering for a moment. What has she got in her hands? What was just given to her? -- At the time, she was in a public place, in Vivec's Foreign Quarter matter of fact. Maybe it was better to find somewhere quieter to read it. Also, Vivec had become a place where she no longer felt entirely comfortable or safe, not even in public places. Had someone been watching their brief encounter?
When she finally returned to her Fighters Guild room, she closed the door. because guilds were not exactly known for their privacy. Here is what the note said.
1). Rescue a priest named Jocien Ancois from a far-off place called the Erabenimsun Camp. The priest had been captured at some point. Supposedly the camp where he'd been taken can be found in the wastelands of Molag Amur, somewhere in the east portion of Vvardenfell. Since this quest is a rescue, Joan feels she must respond to it first.
2). Go to Vas, which is a Velothi tower on the Sheogorad island, way to the north of Morrowind. Once she is there, she is to rid the necromancers inside.
Vampires! It looks like someone ought to take a bite out of crime here...
It sounds like an odd glitch in the game erm, I mean the Hand of Justice, came through to help Joan smite the evildoers in the mine.
Joanie is rich! See, Justice does pay.
Joan Marie has not eschewed the charm when she talks to Caius I see.
Looks like Joan has a lot of work ahead. A kidnapping, necromancers, and some intelligence gathering.
Is that a vampiric nod to our own DE I noted after Joan read her mysterious missive?
Joan has certainly been profiting from her questing.
’She was also rewarded with a Septim Ring, a mystical item which can be used to boost her abilities with blunt-style weaponry and persuading others.’
- - Nice synergy implied here. After all, blunt weapons are a superb way to persuade others in their own right.
And Joan is relying on her guard much less now – looks like spending much of her gold on training is paying off.
So Shoeless Joan visits Shirtless Caius again to impress him with her assiduousness and receive new tasking.
With a dance card freshly refilled with a variety of quests, Joan seems ready to sally forth once again.
… “, gold pieces that is”. Now why do we need to clarify the bit about gold coins? Hours later… Ohhh!!
Joan's gone from not being sure where to go, to going all across western Vvardenfell, from Khuul to Vivec and everywhere in-between.
And, as tends to happen in Morrowind, she's made a decent amount of scratch doing all that. I guess life on the road does cut down on expenses. No taxes, utility bills, etc. She even has enough to actually wear an outfit she likes.
Anyway, she's back on the job with Caius (loved the bit about him doing exercises, you figure a guy in as good shape as him must have a great routine). Getting closer and closer to the real source of all the troubles here. And, maybe, getting a lead on the vampire threat as well. Finding them can be pretty darn tough, as I recall, but they're out there.
Don't worry, I'm not planning on saturating the forums. I'll continue with Joan's tale until sometime in December, maybe take a break, and then I'll switch to Laprima fuller-time before Xmas. Meanwhile, I want to write a few Laprimas quietly during all the time, getting ahead of the story just like you true fan-fictioners do.
Let's have some questions and comments.
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Yes it is nice when we finally begin to break the monetary barrier, SubRosa Florens. That's one of the parts I love about RPGs. We can look back at where our people were, remember the days when they were poorer and weaker, and so on.
And like I said, I have no idea why the wicked witch and her cohorts did not continue to attack. I actually wanted them to! Was all jazzed up for a rumble.
Joan appreciates your compliment.
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Chapter XXXVI -- Jocien Ancois, part I
On the day of 7 and the previous month of Sun's Dusk, Jocien Ancois was apparently captured. Removed from his post. Jocien, a Breton priest who'd been helping a remote village of ashlanders get accustomed to 'Imperial culture and virtues', had somehow been reported as missing. Was he actually taken somewhere, though? Was the man even still alive?
He'd been sent to a place called Erabenimsun Camp (sent by the Imperials) and had arrived some days prior to the 7th. A few days later, and he was nowhere to be seen. Somebody needed to find out where he'd been taken, or if the priest was still around at all. Who would get tasked with such a quest, to go searching for some individual in the middle of nowhere?
This messy situation became Joan's next assignment of course, given to her by Radd Hard-Heart of Fort Moonmoth's Imperial Legion. And who better to take up the cause?
Finding the camp is not easy. Molag Amur (where Erabenimsun is located) is a huge expanse of empty, ashen land, populated by cliff racers, kagouti, and an occasional atronach. Joan makes two attempts into the land. First was with an orc she found loitering outside the canton of Molag Mar. This orc offered his services as a hireling and adventurer, and began following Joan after she paid him a small fee. She and the orc had gotten about halfway to the camp before Joan got attacked by a rat which caused her the blight. Realizing she was about to run out of blight potions it was prudent to return to society, as any good traveler of Vvardenfell should know.
The orc she'd hired is a steady fellow who carries a spear. He is strong and sure, but Joan intuited he might not be worthy against, let's say, a frost atronach or some daedric minions; and she'd already spotted a few of these in the distance as they traversed the ashes. Because of this, she decided to return all the way to Fort Moonmoth via boats and silt striders. She then convinced another guard to leave his post, and take up the much more altruistic plight of rescuing the missing priest.
Safety in numbers.
So now she leads a party of three. Joan's orc hireling carries a spear and wears iron armor; he'd been good with the creatures. The guard uses a sword of silver, with a longbow for backup; chances are he'd be better against any magical beings they encounter.
It takes a couple days of wandering roads which are unfamiliar, with just an occasional signpost to guide her. But since she'd already gotten halfway to the camp the week before, Joan is able to make good time. Her map is vague, the directions she'd been given unreliable, and signposts along the road are uncommon. Because of these factors, Joan relies on shadows on the ground to figure which direction to go. If it's morning for instance, and shadows fall to the left as they walk, this means they're traveling north.
When she finally locates Erabenimsun, literally in the middle of nowhere, Joan is astounded they'd managed to find the place at all.
Joanie is on the case of the mysterious disappearance of Jack Ank. Let's see if like Hercule Poirot, her little brain cells will lead her crack the case.
Joan has a good internal compass, relying on the shadows of the sun to guide her way.
The Who-Brigash?
And it is her Orc Companion who cracks the case. I guess he should have a name now.
Into the ashlands, properly equipped with an orc adventurer, Legion soldier and some blight potions.
A little, but not much info from the first ashlander Joan encounters. Joan's orc hireling, however, has much better luck filling in quite a few details regarding the search for Jocien.
No rest for the weary though after a rough night on the ground and awakening to an ash storm.
There are some nasty things out in the wastes, and Daedra are just the tip of the iceberg! It's a good thing that Joan brought along some help. She's been on Vvardenfell long enough to know that the place doesn't kid around.
Loved the interaction between her and the Ashlander. I always loved the way Morrowind made the Ashlander camps feel really far out there. Visiting one was a commitment, and there was no fast travel to ease the journey. Your story definitely brings that quality across to the reader.
Good thing Joan brought the Orc along, and hopefully she learned a lesson about not underestimating people. Sure, he might not be a good enough combatant to take on an atronach, but he knows how to get around with the Ashlanders.
It's the little touches like the player and NPCs shielding their eyes with their hands during tha ash storms that I miss in the other game. Be strong Joan or that wind will blow you all the way back to Balmora.
Hey, you can miss those "little touches" Macole, Vampire Hunter, I think I'll pass on dust storms in later games!
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Preparing for the uber-baddies is a combination of Joanie's inexperience, Clavier and Acadian in the sense that she sees this giant, flaming being way in the distance and thinks "whoa, I'd better prepare better", but also me with all my RPG experience, going back to the 1980s in high school. 🎲
I had an elf named Simone who was level 20-something. The guy had all this enchanted gear, was unstoppable in combat, yadda yadda. He traveled with a group which was mostly non-elves, and one day when one of their adventures was over, he decided to travel back to his homeland, by himself. And why not? Simone was level 20-something.
He spent the night outdoors, but was ambushed by three dire wolves. Pfft, not a prob. He lost his 'saving throw' (he was surprised), which means the wolves attacked first. Big deal. First roll of dice = double damage. Second wolf bites = TRIPLE damage. Final wolf attacks, and I roll another double.
I Mean, the odds for that sort of thing simply never happened, that combination of dice rolls. And I was in tears. Simone the elf was dead. I couldn't believe it. I had to leave the gaming table.
Joan's game is not 'dead-is-dead', her story continues on into Oblivion so DID is impossible. But it's still my habit to not walk her into extreme danger in the first place.
Thanks for kind comments.
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I'll have to Bing! for Jack Ank, Rosa. Ah, you've lost me! I've got a Facebook page called "Jack Ank Profiles" at best. From there, the search dissolves into Did you mean Jack Black? and other randoms.
Yes, I did name both the orc and her new Imperial Archer in this next story. Who knows how long they'll last, though?
Chapter XXXVII -- Jocien Ancois, part II
9 Morning Star (Day 147), early afternoon
Location: Molag Amur Region
https://hosting.photobucket.com/images/ad208/xenaclone/(edited)_DustStorm.png.html
Joan Marie of the Legion walks with her two comrades, an orc named Jub and an Imperial archer who goes by Stefan, through the wastes of Molag Amur. As they walk, brutal winds of red blow across their faces. It's an ash storm! ... And like many other storms of its type, it doesn't just end in an hour or two, the way rain sometimes does.
They move northwest, away from Erabenimsun Camp. Within a few minutes they come to an intersection of roads. They decide to turn left. The place where Jocien Ancois had been taken is supposed to be somewhere west.
The road begins to crest downward; the storm, it is unrelenting. At some point Joan sees some pale items on the ground. As she nears, she sees a series of three pages, which are somehow not getting blown away. She picks these up, for no other reason than they are out of place, in this otherwise hostile environment.
So the main enemy here was the hostile environment. Joan’s search for the priest transitioned to a search for a ‘better man’ – which she found without too much fuss.
I wonder what the witch women intend to do with their ‘better man’? And does Joan continue to escort her lost swamp lizard to a safer refuge? Regardless, another quest complete by the crusading Joan of Arkay.
Our orc gets a name. Jub. Maybe that is short for Jub gro-Lub?
Ah yes, the trail of pages. I had forgotten about that. That was a nice addition by the devs to help find Jocien.
Cliffracers, and bandits, and wayward Argonians. There is always something happening in the ashlands.
So she is going to trade them a manly Ashlander for the spindly Breton missionary? Looks like Mabrigash is getting the better part of that bargain.
I apologize for the delay. Gonna focus on Joan's story for the next month or so, while also working on some Laprimas, but I won't post Laprima until those are well-done. Writing Joans and Vicious near-weekly is like trying to make journalistic deadlines! ... Laprima's story is more like my imaginary agent & publisher has given me X amount of time. More like writing a novel I guess, ha. 📖
Acadian: you got it. Bad weather can slow us down in Cyrodiil, in the sense that we might not have our usual visibility, but rainstorms are nothing like the deluges of dust which get faced in Vvardenfell. Honestly I hate them; one of the few things I truly hate about the game. And so does Joanie!
Chapter XXXVIII -- Vas
30 Morning Star (Day 168), Year 428
Location: Sheogorad Islands
On the final day of the first month of 428, Joan arrives at Dagon Fel for the first time. She spends the night in the oddly-named 'End of the World' tavern, and doesn’t waste time before starting off to find Vas the next day. Vas is a Velothi tower located on a small inlet, somewhere northwest of Sheogorad's main island.
And why is she being sent to such a remote location? - Because the place is rumored to harbor a powerful necromancer named Daris Adram, and Joan's the only one entrusted to eradicate him!
She leaves The End of the World early the next morning, after a meal of eggs and saltice. It’s a pleasant day outside. Colorful flora everywhere. Sun is shining. Weather is fair. There's a breeze, but it’s not chilly at all, despite coming off the north coast. A betty netch floats pleasantly just outside the village. There’s a paved road which leads away from Dagon Fel. According to the locals, the entire island had been civilized long ago by Nords, and then maintained for centuries by the Dwemer. Which means there should be plenty of tamped-down roads and paths to follow.
Ash storms cannot happen this far away from Red Volcano, visibility's therefore a given. Joan's looking forward to her journey, which she imagines she'll travel without too many setbacks.
Unfortunately, she doesn't get far before she's attacked by a pale, bipedal creature. Whatever it is, it immediately begins throwing spells. She's hit by the very first one; caught by surprise! - Good thing she hasn't gotten too far away from society, yet. She’s able to dodge most of her enemy’s magics while rushing back to Dagon Fel, though she gets pegged by a couple more. Whatever magic's in these spells doesn't affect her strength, magic, or well-being, making her wonder what’s supposed to be going wrong.
The pale monster eventually runs out of mana, then it rushes toward her. The fight becomes brutal! One of the creature's touch-magic spells paralyzes the crusader from Cyrodiil, causing her to fall in the middle of the street. Good thing she's got a potion for this.
To make matters worse, her magical Snowy Crown mace barely seems to make a dent, as she slams her adversary with blow after blow. By now, even a blighted kagouti would've fallen, yet the pale monster continues to pursue. The residents of Dagon Fel do nothing to assist her in battle, not that Joan expects them to. But there are also no guards in town (nor any Ordinators), Joan Marie of the Fighters Guild must defeat the menace on her own!
Time passes enormously quick as Joan and the demonic-looking beast battle, yet it also slows to a crawl. Her health begins to wane. Thinking quick, she manages to zip round a sharp corner, back to The End of the World, ever-so-glad she hadn't gotten too far away. Pushes her way through the tavern's door, struggles to catch her breath.
"Welcome," says Hjortra the Peacock, the tavern's innkeeper. "If you wish to talk, it's really no trouble at all."
The crusader's so focused on healing herself (and quickly!), she barely hears Ms. Peacock. Joan casts a spell which’ll slowly heal her injuries over the next ten seconds, and also quaffs a potion to boost her strength. Uses her Septim Ring to arm herself with offensive magic. After just a few moments inside, out she goes again to fight!
So now she's been healed, but the creature's been heavily injured. A few more swings and bludgeons, and the fight is over. Joan of Cyrodiil finds herself completely exhausted. All this movement and action makes it seem like hours have gone by. A quick glance up at the sun, though, and she realizes it's only half-past mid-morning.
The crusader spends some time looking for somebody she can hire or persuade. But this won't work. Even if there were a guard or an adventurer who’d be willing to follow, there's no way he or she would be able to follow all the way to Vas. Vas is remote, with significant fathoms of water separating it from the main island. Anyone traveling with her would be unable to complete the journey, unless they happened to be really good swimmers.
"Well. I sha'n't traipse the main island on my own," Joan muses quietly, thinking aloud. "Not after nearly succumbing to ... that," she says, looking down at her fallen opponent.
Aye, her opponent. What exactly is that thing? After speaking to a local seafarer, she learns the monster she'd just defeated is called a 'hunger'. Though she'd never seen one before, Joan remembers learning about them down in Cheydinhal. "Hungers! Foul Daedric minions of Boethiah!" she whispers, shuddering involuntarily.
"Good journey to you," answers the seafarer, who seems impressed to have met a real, live adventuring type way up here.
Now that she's battled a hunger, the last thing Joan wants is to be ambushed by a second example somewhere deep in wilderness, where there's no safety door to hide behind. Good thing she'd recently picked up a water-walking spell down in Vivec, looks like she's going to need it!
"Aye, I shall sojourn across the sea." By doing so, she'd avoid whatever nasties the main island of Sheogorad has to offer.
Battles with a hunger, skeletons, bonelords, various other undead, and the dreaded rat will certainly tax your supplies. The wise Morrowind adventurer always carries a, Intervention scroll, just in case.
Leaving the End of the World sounds like a good idea on general principles.
Uh oh, paralyzed by a critter. I am guessing a Hunger maybe?
Joanie wisely retreats and trades space for time to recover and buff herself up.
Round Two! Fight!
The armiger summons an ancestor ghost for a rat? Talk about overkill. But since she is Bouyant, at least she floats...
Ulyne meets the fate of all who have more sand than sense. Joanie is wise - methinks - to withdraw once more and prepare for round two, just as she did against the Hunger.
The good news is that the weather is pleasant and free of ash storms. And that Joan has truly mastered her waterwalking spell. The bad news is. . . well, everything else. Hungry daedra, incompetent help and formidable foes.
Ulyne must have been young. After all, there are bold warriors and there are old warriors. . . but there are no old bold warriors. Joan is blessed with the good sense and self-awareness to perhaps become an old warrior some day.
It will be interesting to see if Joan returns to Vas and, if so, what kind of arrangements she makes to help ensure success.
Dang, Joan's been in Morrowind for close to a year now! How time flies when you're trudging through ash.
I know I've commented on this before, but I still love how you incorporate all of the game's oddities, like NPCs not reacting to a monster in their midst, or using canned dialogue. It adds to the feel of being in a very strange place.
Likewise, marching around the islands means walk on water of some kind is invaluable. I'd forgotten this until I tried playing a character who didn't have any trained alteration. Swimming is not fun. Slaughterfish are even less fun.
Plenty in Morrowind will tell you to retreat from a fight that's above your level, and Joan's clever enough to act on that. The Armiger either wasn't, or didn't have time to. But dedicated crusader that she is, I suspect Joan's only going to get stronger and come back to finish the job.
Hello, how is everyone doing this Xmas season? Today's story will probably be the last one for a while, as I'm going to be needing to take a break as the holidays get nearer.
Chances are I'll continue writing Joan's tale silently, because I'm currently too addicted to Morrowind to just give it up! Not just with Joanie, but also I've still been gaming with two others: Ana Khannda (dark elf archer doing Thieves Guild and Hlaalu) and my new Nordic gal, Fay Daway. She'll probably mostly stick to Mages Guild, maybe I'll put some mod-added quests in for her.
Thanks you all, and here's the final Joan of 2022. Have some cake.
@WellTemperedClavier: Yes, well in Earth time I've been gaming with Joan since spring of 2021, in her world it's been about half a year. Last Seed (when the game begins) is August, I think. And now she's up to Sun's Dawn, which is February. Yup, almost half a year.
Thanks, and yea, that habit of "what they say/do is what goes into the story" sort of goes back to the very first table gaming. I recently learned that when Gary Gygax and his pals began gaming, they'd use https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=gaming+figureines&form=HDRSC2&first=1&tsc=ImageHoverTitle. Whatever the figureine had in their hands is what they'd use in-game. So if a knight-figure visually had a halberd, this is what he'd carry as Gary would roll with him in the game. I'm pretty sure that's how me pals in high school also approached it. I think that's where that comes from The NPC says or does this, and so this is what goes into the story, that is.
In Laprima's tale, and also with my Fallout gal Vicious, it's just a higher-evolved version. I still write mostly what they say, but a lot of time their words are from one of my homemade quests. Although I do also incorporate more imagination here and there. Got to, sometimes!
Yeah, slaughterfish suck! 🦈 And yes, she's going to finish the job, eventually she will. Daris's ass is grass.
@Acadian: it's too bad you never played Morrowind (right?) Then again, it is a very clunky game. It's very awkward to watch your character hit an enemy for instance, and nothing happened because really they missed. I know you've played Baldur's Gate, but that's not really the same. In BG everything is turn-based. In Arena, Daggerfall, and Morrowind though, combat is real-time, yet it also behaves like an old turn-based game. If your character misses during BG, at least you pause the game, and strategize what to do next.
I get the feeling that Ulyne was young, yes. *nods* Probably slightly more experienced than Joan, but perhaps hadn't as much real-world experience. I feel sort of bad (and Joan really feels bad) about how that turned out. Been wondering how that could have been done better. Should have kept the Armiger solely in that initial room for instance, rather than telling her to follow.
Then again, those NPCs often do what they want, anyway. Still though...
@SubRosaFlorens: That's an enjoyable phrase to write, right? "She turned and walked out of The End Of The World." Or walked into it.
I'm also glad you caught that, too. She summoned a ghost to fight a rat! Overkill for sure, but up against some bonelords, her Ancestral Ghost might as well been a paper hat.
@MacoleVampireHunter: Using Intervention scrolls, there's always that mixed feeling of "phew, gotten out of that situation", but also "GRRRRARARA!!!" Like, I just want to b34t some t00nz!
But yes, Joanie is always well-prepared, that's an ingrained habit for sure. I wonder what would happen if Joan and Jandaga met. Joanie's based loosely on Joan of Arc; how would she react if coming upon the Psychedelic Warrior. ☮
Chapter XXXIX - The Calling of Arkay
31 Morning Star (Day 169) to 4 Sun's Dawn (Day 173)
During this time, Joan spends a couple days in Gnisis. She attempts to restock her supply of potions and rations, before giving up and heading off to Ald'ruhn. With over 300 gold in her possession, she's hoping to purchase at least ten potions of healing, magic-restoration, magical-resistance, paralyzation-curing, and so on.
Unfortunately, Gnisis does not have its own Mages Guild, nor is there any sort of magical shop to be found. The chaplain of Fort Darius sells a few items, but they're weaker stuff: potions sold for a bargain, or for cheap. The sort of libations one would quaff after a meager fight with an alit, perhaps.
If she were to be entirely honest though, the crusader from Cyrodiil had become impatient. She'd been bested by a lowlife patron of foulness who dwells within darkness, and now she's in a hurry to get back and defeat him. It took maybe a day for her to realize this, as she shopped and prayed within Gnisis. Once she sees the situation more clearly, she comes to the conclusion that it'd be bad strategy for her to quickly head back to the isle of Vas. Not every foe can be beaten right away. The necromancer known as Daris Adram lives remotely, with little chance of harming innocents. Vas's nearest main Sheogorad inhabitation, Joan notes, happens to be Dagon Fel, whose residents hadn't even heard of Daris. Perhaps it'd be better for her to wait a bit. Gather her wits, before rushing into a series of traps and bad decisions.
She forces herself to slow down. Makes some plans. She decides to walk to Ald'ruhn, where there'd at least be a Mages Guild to visit. She'd also be able to gather all the potions and medicines she could carry, and mostly for free.
Still, Joan finds herself overcome with guilt concerning the death of Ulyne Henim, the Tribunal Armiger she'd literally just met. Henim had been waiting outside of Vas when Joan arrived. They had sparred a bit, comparing each other's fighting styles. They even practiced their methods of warfare on a rabid rat, before stalking into the tower, defeating that skeleton.
Joan's incredibly saddened by this. She feels regret. What could have been done to prevent the Armiger's death? Was she at least partially responsible for Henim's demise?
Maybe it's the fact that things were going so well, at first. Several others had been lost at Joan's side over the past few months: two Imperial guards, one Imperial archer, Jub the orc adventurer, and finally, the Argonian she'd met in Molag Amur, who'd been stranded by that ash storm. All of these folks had willingly followed her, unknowing their fates were soon to come. But for some reason, the crusader cannot get her latest fallen companion out of her mind.
"...And Ulyne, though she attacked with valiance, apparently had not the forethought to temper her assault within the tower, for the menaces of Vas were too great for the both of us to besiege," Joan confessed at one point to Chaplain Ogrul, Fort Darius's priest. "I... found myself choosing to spare myself. Perhaps was this the way of the coward?" she asked the priest, facing the truth head on. "Perhaps. But, it was my presence of mind that one must also divert oneself at such times. To fight another day, as the saying goes."
"Your actions show promise," Ogrul answered, apparently unsure of what to say. Not all big, burly orcs command battlefields, after all. Some of them maintain shrines for the Imperials. Or run their own bookstores. But, maybe due to the average orc's upbringing within Orismer culture (in which such traits as aggression and intimidation are often preferred), sensitive words aren't as likely. "Fight well!"
"I wish to," Joan admitted. "'Tis why I am in such a frenzy to make my return. I feel I must avenge the falling of my short-lived comrade."
Every wager of warfare, when he or she took up whichever oath or cause or calling was placed upon their shoulders, also knew that one of the outcomes of such a cause could possibly be their ultimate demise. When it came to combat, the phrase 'every man for himself' often did apply. Sure, it was pertinent for armies and factions to fight together, to assist one another. But ultimately, each individual also claimed his or her own responsibility, when it came to mistakes and mishaps, such as what just occurred up in Vas. In some cases, things did not go as planned.
Perhaps it was due to this way of thinking that Joan did not experience much remorse when her earlier travelers had lost their lives. The guards she'd persuaded to leave their posts, they'd come with her knowing (it was assumed) they could someday meet their fates. Same went for the orc she'd hired just outside of Molag Mar. He had joined for typical reasons: eager to find gold, adventure, and fame. Yet he'd also fallen, despite referencing all his past accomplishments.
Joan had called for the final rites of each of them, hoping to send them off into the afterlife with dignity. It was the best she could do, considering her faith. But that was all. These others had joined her, they'd fought by her side, they'd eventually succumbed to final destinies. And Joan Marie, former acolyte of Arkay's temple in Cheydinhal? - In each case, she had moved on.
For some reason, the death of Ulyne Henim is different. For some reason, the need for contemplation concerning Ulyne's death is great, is in fact necessary.
Joan licks her wounds, mourns fallen comrades, and begins preparations anew.
I liked Joan's self-reflection through this dark night of the soul, and how of all the Divines, she now turns to Arkay. Now we see the first hints of how she will eventually gain her title "of Arkay".
Crash! Boom! Bam! Joan sends Arkay another soul for the wheel. That was a nice ending.
No, I never did play Morrowind. I started TES with Oblivion in 2007 and quickly joined the BethSoft forums where I learned from all the Morrowelitists that Morrowind the the Three’s gift to gaming and that Oblivion was a dumbed down inferior excuse for a game. Well. . . I was actively playing Oblivion and thought it was a great game. So, naturally, I discounted the Morrowelitists completely.
I loved Joan’s reflections upon those who followed and trusted her but did not return. They were all qualified to make their own choices. I assume a Tribuanal Armiger is not without significant training to bear that title. What seems different in the loss of Ulyne though is that the fatal encounter did not ultimately result in victory. That Joan retreated rather than face the same fate as Ulyne. Such things are good to ponder but I am confident that Joan’s more measured and prudent approach to battles is the wise path. That does not lesson one’s grief for fallen comrades though.
Buffy empathizes well with Joan regarding finding the right ‘fit’ when it comes to a Divine patron. Arkay does indeed seem a good fit for Joan. I like how you punctuate that at the very end with an attack along the road.
You know, it's funny: I actually ended up doing the quest in Vas.
It's surprisingly hard given it's the first quest in its chain, though maybe they assume you've already done some FG quests in Balmora. I couldn't keep Ulyne alive, either, though I didn't exactly feel guilty about it--she charged so far ahead, that there was no way for me to keep her alive.
But this is an interesting moment of introspection for Joan. Her quest on Vvardenfell gave her a certain level of forward momentum, but you can only do that for so long before it catches up with you and you have to actually think about things. She knew combat was part of her vocation, but she might not have reckoned with how it'd affect her farther down the line.
Also interesting how her focus on the Divines changes. Polytheism feels pretty abstract to me, but her development does make sense. Different gods might appeal more at different stages of life.
As for feeling better, the chaplain did his best but his Morrowind-style dialogue just isn't well-suited for consolation, alas.
I already returned to her game a couple weeks ago, now it looks like I am going to be returning to Joanie's story. Let me refresh her latest stats page though, first. Allow me to geek out for a moment, before whatever chapter comes next gets posted.
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Joan of Arkay
Created: May 19, 2013 3:40 PM
Race: Breton (Human)
Gender: F
Age: 19
In-game Birthday: Morningstar 23, Year 409
Level: 14
ST: 16.2
DX: 13.6
IQ: 14.9
Sign: The Ritual (Taurus)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Class: Holy Knight (Morrowind)
Saint (custom, Oblivion)
Major Skills: Block, Heavy Armor, Restoration, Short Blade, Speechcraft
Minor Skills: Athletics, Blunt Weapons, Conjuration, Destruction, Mysticism
Tabletop Skills: Alertness (2), Axe/Mace (2), Charisma (2), Literacy (1), Sword (2), Shield (1), Warrior (2)
Spells:: Detect Life (1), Fire/Frost (1), Heal (0), Light (0), Turn Undead (0), Water Walking (1)
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And here are her latest quests. This should give y'all a look at the inner workings of how I keep track of her life!
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Joan of Arkay QUESTS
Joan is in front of Rayna Drolan's shack. This shack is on the island just north of Sheogorad Isle which is mostly covered in gray-green colored paint. -- So... to get to Vos means to head West Southwest from there. Basically she can water walk there if she's got enough mana. The island with Vos on it is the next one to the east (NOT north).
Follow the steps below (roughly)
2). Go to Vas. Vas is way the [censored] to the north on the large island, so take the boat from Khuul. Speak to "Ulyne Henim". Ulyne is a Buoyant Armiger, whatever that is. Once we find her, kill the necromancers inside Vas. *UPDATE* Ulyne is deceased; this mission is too hard. Joan can do it, but she needs to show up with a lot of potions.
When she goes back into Vas, hopefully the skeleton champions and bonelords won't respawn. They are not toggled to respawn in the CS.
4). Go to Ald-ruhn and find Hassour Zainsubani. Start looking for him in the Ald Skar Inn. Once we find him, find out what he likes "and get him a gift." *DONE* return to Caius
5). Ebonheart > Kaye. Head to Suran, and then to Mount Kand. Trying to find a magical Silver Staff of Shaming.
Anytime). Find 5 corkbulbs for the Ebonheart ingredient guy *DONE*
6). Larrius Varo (Fort Moonmoth) wants Joan to find 5 members of the Camonna Tong. These CT members are bribing a magistrate in Balmora. Not sure what Joan is supposed to do. Speak to them? Convince them to stop bribing? Pwn them? This quest is lowest on her current agenda.
Unrelated: Hasphat Antabolis also gave Joan a key. This key fits a door in Lower Arkngthand, whenever she has time to go there. There is no quest associated with this,
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MAIN QUEST
Find Hassour Zainsubani, somewhere in Ald-ruhn. Caius seems to think this wealthy trader is in the Ald Skar Inn
Find out what Zainsobani likes, and get him a gift. Then you should give him the gift, and see if he will tell you about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult. Then report back to me." *DONE*
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Imperial Legion
Fort Moonmoth -- Nothing from Radd Hart-Heart atm.
Larrius Varro: there are five folks of the Cammona Tong who are bribing a magistrate in Balmora to allow prisoners early freedom. I am not sure what we're supposed to do (kill them?) so Joan can maybe just find them and see what dialog they offer.
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IMPERIAL CULT -- Ebonheart
Kaye Quest: Linus Iulus disappeared, and was last seen leaving Suran headed east. Go to Mount Kand, find the Silver Staff of Shaming, and bring it back to Kaye.
Synnolian Tonifus: wants 5 corkbulbs. Should be easy enough to find.
Iulas Truptor:
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FIGHTERS GUILD --
Ald-ruhn: go to Vas and meet with "Ulyne Henim". Ulyne is a Buoyant Armiger, whatever that is. Once we find her, kill the necromancers inside Vas. Vas can be found on the map; it's way the [censored] to the north on an island. Take a ferry there perhaps. *DONE*
Balmora --
Go to South Wall Cornerclub and get the Code Book from Sartilde.
UPDATE: Sartilde really hates Joan! We can't get information from her about it. Joan has an amulet which fortifies Speech, but she's going to need more than that to make this quest work.
UPDATE 2: the rare book store in Vivec's Foreignt Quarter Waistworks sells Charm scrolls.
Vivec--------
She did not take the next FG quest for Vivec. I think it's the one which has us doing something evil in Seyda Neen.
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RANDOM
Vivec: Two Ordinators in Vivec were killed. The suspect seems to be a sorcerer or vampire. Go to The Office of the Watch in the Hall of Justice to learn more. (Not sure where this hall can be found, the quest doesn't say).
UPDATE: Somebody told Joan there are now seven victims. As much as she wants to help, this is a very advanced quest for her, for now. Wait until Level 10
Vivec: Morani Uvelas says her husband is missing. He is a skooma addict, but Morani thinks he might be infected with corprus. Interestingly, she suspects her husband Danar could be in the Underworks. Could this be where the Sixth House is?
Sadirth Mora -- There is a rumor about a haunted place called South Turret Bed Chamber. Every time the place gets excorcised, the haunting comes right back. The rumor is that a Necromancer is the one behind this.
That one is rather low on her list right now.
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CLIFF RACERS -- Maximus Julii will give Joan 40 drakes for each cliff racer plume she brings him. He can be found wandering outside of Buckmoth Fort (Ald-ruhn area).
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STORAGE
Balmora FG: 202 gold here, along with assorted other clothes, keys, repair hammers, etc.
Ebonheart Imperial Cult: the Cupboard by her bed has several magic items: Belt of Stendarr, Maran Amulet (both of these are not as powerful as her Septim Ring), and a ring which detects keys. The ring could become important at some point.
NOTES
Make a touch version of a Heal spell for her followers.
Chapter XL - Daris Adram
The sorcerer known as Daris Adram dwells within the darkness of Vas, a Velothi tower located on one of the northernmost islands of Sheogorad.
Daris had been living in Vas for nearly a year when the intruder who would upset his sequestered lifestyle was called to make rid of him. Until then, he considered himself lucky to be here; lucky to have been able to ensconce himself in such a remote fortress. Fortress, hmm… such a pertinent noun. Here in his fortress, he could practice his foul magics for as much time as he desired. He could dedicate himself to whatever whims he pleased. Here in Vas, his will and his desire for progress had been furthered, unimpeded.
No one could tell Daris he couldn't do whatever he damn-well pleased. Even House Telvanni, unscrupulously decadent when it came to measures pertaining to willful magics, no longer had control over his experiments! - So, not only had his zest for sorcery improved, but he'd become quite the necromancer as well, surrounding himself with a dozen or so undead minions to ensure his life of secrecy could last for decades.
Daris had somehow arranged to pay for the tower in advance by that point, now all he had to do was move in.
Reluctantly though, he hadn't arrived at Vas alone. The sorcerer had allowed a few other Telvanni associates, those he trusted most, to come along with him. Every marshal needs his denizens, after all. They’d boarded a boat which departed from Sadrith Mora to Dagon Fel, and then paid a local fisherman (who unknowingly became Daris’s first necromantic victim) to take them to Vas. Together, they'd cleared the tower of dust, detritus, and cobwebs. Now it was ready for long-term inhabitation. And though the others who'd joined him were not as devout or despicable as Daris, together they created a sanctuary, one which was even more formidable than similar Velothi structures on the mainland.
And why was Vas more formidable than these others? Vas had a natural barrier; one which guaranteed unexpected guests were few and far between. It was surrounded ... by acres and fathoms of seawater.
Woe to those who'd somehow managed to locate his lair! - The few who'd been unlucky enough to do so, and then had continued inside the structure (curious seafarers and such) quickly found themselves wishing they'd hadn't.
"And someday... I shall rule the world!" Daris exclaimed aloud to his somewhat doubtful cohorts, a week before meeting his demise.
Vas makes me think of the vas deferens.
Daris sounds like someone who belongs in the vas deferens: a real dick.
Bonelord sounds like a porn name.
That is neat that Ulyne can't be reanimated as undead, thanks to Joan of Arkay. She always ends up getting killed in this mission.
"Meet thine doom!" sayeth the ponytail Breton commando!
I liked Joan performing the last rites on even one as despicable as Daris. She is transitioning from Joan of Cheydinhal to Joan of Arkay.
I was wondering what Joan's been up to! Appreciate the synopsis to help us catch up.
Daris does seem like a pretty classical rogue wizard. And Vvardenfell's just chock full of places for their ilk to hide out. I also like how Daris brought along a few companions. Cleaning an abandoned fortress is an intense job, too much for any one wizard, regardless of power.
And it looks like Daris has some unexpected company. I like how the POV switches to Daris for this chapter. Gives an interesting perspective.
Ah, classic problem of the evil overlord: too high and mighty to help their minions, even though doing so would likely lead to a better outcome (for the evil overlord, anyway).
Another triumph for Joan! Funny that, at this point, Daris wasn't even as threatening as she'd been led to believe.
Respect for the dead or just a precaution to keep the dead, dead. It is wise to perform the ritual over the recently departed.
Joan of Arkay has an illustrated Book of the Dead, nice.
Welcome back to Joan. It was fun to see this episode mostly from the perspective of the doomed Daris. As SubRosa said, neat to see Joan transitioning from Joan of Cheydinhal to Joan of Arkay.
Daris was powerful but that power was mostly in his fortress and minions. With his minions defeated, he (thankfully) fell fairly easily to Joan.
Sanctifying Daris’ corpse is a happy confluence of both the right and smart thing to do, as macole pointed out. Sure don’t want anyone bringing him back to (un)life.
"Welcome back to Joan."
Thanks, Acadian! I am happy to return to Joanie. Different style from Laprima, and all that. You may notice I have switched from mostly present-tense to mostly past-tense for this next season of JoA. Which reflects the fact that in the beginning I was mostly writing as I played (Kahreem and some Lady Saga from way back were written in this way as well). But nowadays I'm writing just over half after whatever latest quests & story are done. 📚
Writing from the perspective of an NPC mixes things up a bit, this is true. Daris didn't know what was coming to him. And the fact that he didn't come after Joan, even though she was right below fighting his Dremora Lord, is just a limitation of Morrowind's NPC combat detection. But still, it had to be explained in the story. So I like to imagine he was cowering.
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"It is wise to perform the ritual over the recently departed."
Absolutely. I have no idea if it's possible for a consecrate a corpse in Bethesda's lore; whether devotees of Arkay can do this or not. So that may be a bit of creative licensing.
Actually, UESP has this on their Arkay Lore page: His priests are staunch opponents of necromancy and all forms of the undead, and are empowered to bestow Arkay's blessings which prevent the forceful misuse of a mortal soul.[1] Thus, any body properly buried by a priest observing the proper rituals is protected by Arkay's Law from being raised as undead. ✝
So there we go.
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"I was wondering what Joan's been up to! Appreciate the synopsis to help us catch up"
Hee hee, yeah. The synopsis is my messy notes-to-self as I switch from one character to the next. I wanted to show you all how silly the organizing gets. I'd be lost without those notes, though.
I play Bethesda games seasonally. If it's below 65 degrees F, I get interested in Skyrim, so that's pretty much October thru May. I cannot play a game full of snow if it's actually sunny and hot outside. I used to play Oblivion year-round, but over the past few years I've gotten more addicted to Morrowind. I tend to want to play MW when it's warmer here on Earth (late spring thru early or mid-fall).
Actually, I did not write what happened to Daris's friends. One of them attacked Joan when she met him, but the other two (two ladies) did not attack. So they're still in Vos. They've got the entire place to themselves.
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"Daris sounds like someone who belongs in the vas deferens: a real dick"
What is vas deferens? *Bing* Oooooh.. sorry I asked!
""Meet thine doom!" sayeth the ponytail Breton commando!"
And the evildoer one-lines his own quip as well: "Some day, I shall rule the world!!"
Alright, well the next chapter's almost ready. It's gonna be a shortie.
Chapter XLI -- The Return to Caius
3 First Seed (Day 201), Year 428
Joan of Cheydinhal, in her threadbare robe and barefoot, definitely makes for the humble penitent.
Poor Joanie is getting caught up in the poetry, but Caius the Abman is having none of it!
Well, Joan is off to the races now! Time to meet the Ashlanders and get the ball really going. I also suspect that Caius is going to drop the bomb on her that she is the Chosen One. Well, at the least the current one.
Like Caius and SubRosa, I took note of Joan’s attire. Not only is the humility becoming on her but it is always nice to give an unassuming impression, then reap the benefits of being underestimated.
Joan is quite a student of literature it seems; Caius is not.
Another promotion. And an upcoming revelation it seems.
Ah, good ol' Caius, worrying about the Nerevarine. I always knew he cared about us. And yeah, Caius never struck me as a "plan" type of guy. I always got the feeling he was more for improvisation.
Figures that Joan would be put off by working with a thief. But maybe her time on Vvardenfell's blunted her to the point she can accept its necessity.
Aw, it's fun to see Joan get excited about the poetry. But dang, Caius did not approve. I suppose duty is a harsh master.
And what's this? Caius is about to let her in on a bit more of what's going on? I can't remember how much he tells the player at this point, but if he starts going into some of the Nerevarine stuff it'll be a lot for Joan to take in.
@SubRosa: I get the feeling this mysterious Main Quest is about to kick in. Thing is, I've gotten enough spoilers over the years (inadvertently while reading old forum posts) to the point that I kind of know some of what's about to come. But since my head is also pretty dain-bramaged, I tend to forget a lot of what I read, which is a GOOD thing. Overall though, I get the sense that there'll be a lot of confusion and mystery, and it all starts with this upcoming chapter.
@Acadian: Morrowind is interesting because dealing with Caius is like following an opposite path, compared to Oblivion & Skyrim's Main Quest, in which we are respectively hailed as Champion, or Dragonborn. 🐉 Of course, Joan could parade around in her Imperial armors, casting Light spells and drawing attention to herself, and there'd be no consequence to this at all. But approaching the story in such a way wouldn't feel right.
The whole 'promotion' thing cracks me up! It's not like she's an overt member of The Blades, receiving accolades in some Grand Hall from some Grand Lord or something, dozens of knights and squires as witnesses. No, she's meeting an aged skooma addict in undercover situations, doing deeds which seem pretty darn shady, at best. "I'm promoting you..." he says. Okay.. but how? Why? ... if nobody else is supposed to know what's going on.
@WellTemperedClavier: Joan has an alignment of Lawful Good, which in Dungeons & Dragons means she's supposed to uphold the law at any cost. In DnD this would translate into her constantly righting wrongs on the spot. But in this case, she's forced to pertain to what she perceives as a greater good. So she can't go off searching for an Ald-ruhn Ordinator screaming "THIEF!!! THIEF!!!" because she's supposed to be following the Emperor's orders for this mysterious mission she's on. Chances are, the Ordinators would simply ignore her warnings, anyway.
That moment when she was trying to explain her thoughts on the books she 'perused' was pretty fun to write. One of those moments when the game does not provide any insight into what our character is thinking, but the story does.
Yes, this next chapter's going to be pretty overwhelming for Joanie. Just you wait.
Chapter XLII -- The Nerevarine Prophecy
"The Emperor and his advisors think you have the appearance of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies. That's why you were pulled out of prison on his Majesty's authority, and sent to me."
Joan Marie shook her head, slowly. Unbelieving.
"So you could satisfy the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies and become the Nerevarine..."
"Become the Nerevarine?"
The elder blade nodded somberly. "Here. This is a decoded copy of the package you gave me when you arrived. Read it later. It should explain everything."
But Joan found herself not satisfied. Perhaps what he was saying was true; perhaps she could read what she'd just been given, and perhaps it would pave what had been quite a few rutted roads within her mind. But the man who could (hopefully) give specific answers to some very specific questions was here, standing before her, right now.
"I... But I do not understand, sire. Why was it decided, to commission me for such lofty title?" She thought for a moment. "Are you thusly arranging that I pretend to play the part..." she gulped, "of the Nerevarine prophet?"
"As you'll see in the decoded message, the Emperor and his counselors say you have the 'appearance'," he said, using his fingers to gesture quotation marks, "of satisfying the conditions of the prophecy."
Joan Marie, newly-realized disciple of Arkay, scratched the nails of her right hand through her hair. Thought back. To the time just before she'd boarded that ship, the schooner which had taken her here to Vvarndenfell. Upon the ship were members of her home chapel; fellow worshippers and acolytes, and even the Chapel of Arkay's deacon. They'd been with her ON the ship when she'd originally boarded, she was sure of it. Yet they weren't around when she'd awakened some time (apparently days) later. The idea had been to travel to Vvardenfell as a group, where holy works would commence. Yet none of them were around to witness her entry into this strange land.
"I'd been called a prisoner," she mused, speaking to herself as though lost in a dream, her eyes glazed and unfocussed. "They had referred to me as such. 'You'd better do what they say'," she recalled that shirtless dark elf, the first person she'd met here in Morrowind, saying. "And I had explained to them that they'd been mistaken. I was not a prisoner! Yet then immediately, I was then set free. So I could locate a mysterious Imperial, an Emperor's Blade by his own admission, who'd been dwelling unobtrusively within a town full of Dunmer."
Had all of that been a ruse? A ruse which would allow her to enter the province of the dark elves and deliver the package without unwanted attention? - Had her fellow chapel brethren also been part of the ruse?
"Do you REALLY satisy the prophecy?" Caius bellowed, nearly causing Joan to jump. "Are you REALLY the prophesied Nerevarine?" The man stepped back, shaking his head, perhaps going through a similar set of thoughts as the demurely-robed maiden before him. "At first, I thought we were just suppopsed to create a persuasive imposter. Now I don't know what to think."
"Nor do I, sire."
"But I am sure of one thing. This is not just primitive superstition, and we will treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands."
"Ah. So this is all the Emperor's doing," Joan realized. "'Twasn't any of yours." Again, the question: why me?
Caius handed her a pouch. Hearing the way the contents within its fabric clinked and clicked, obviously it was full of coin. He then explained that Sul-Matuul and Nibani Macsa, two Ashlanders who lived in a camp called Urshilaku, were the purported heads of the Nerevarine Cult here in Vvardenfell.
"And you wish for me to suss these two, and speak to them, eh?"
"Tell them your story," Caius rasped. "Have them test you against the Nerevarine Prophecies. As heads of the Nerevarine Cult, they can best judge whether you satisy the prophecies."
Joan of Arkay said nothing. Found herself wondering if Caius knew how ridiculously casual he sounded, as he droned the most sobering set of words she'd ever received within her ears.
"When you've spoken to them, report back to me."
Unbelievable.
"Now, I've given you two-hundred drakes for expenses as you travel across the land," Caius intoned. "Make sure you also head to Fort Moonmoth, where you'll be able to pick up a few essential supplies, scrolls and potions and so on."
Finally, Caius handed her the package she'd originally entered Balmora with. Its contents had been coded when she'd first arrived in town, days and weeks and months ago, but now whatever code had been there was supposedly, presently, unscrambled.
Without blame, Joan experienced a desire to unravel and read what she'd just been given, right then and there. But then, she thought different. Because something was tickling within her throat. Though she had tasted wine long ago in the past, she'd never felt temptation for any sort of alcohol. But this could be one of those rare times. Perhaps it'd be a good idea to go for a drink.
"Does the Eight Plates peddle libations?" she asked Cosades, before her mind could temper the words.
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Notes: Joan has gotten really good with Speech over the past few months, in-game. When she actually does meet these two Nerevarine Cult leader folks, I wonder if she'll need to use her words to convince them of her supposed status. Hmm. What a weird quest.
I liked how Morrowind handled the https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheChosenOne. I don't want to spoil anything for you. But it is not as convenient for the Chosen One as it usually is. You might be Chosen in this game, but Fate is not conspiring to make sure you succeed. Not by a longshot. In this game being the Chosen One is less an honor, and more like a doom hanging over your head.
I like her mysterious arrival more and more now. Had her brethern been in on things? Or had they been removed by some divine presence?
If now is not the time for a libation at the public house, I don't know when is! Hopefully Joanie can get used to her new life as not just an Arkayite, but also as the NeverNeverLandVarine.
So now Joan is beginning to realize that she is the chosen one but new questions arise. Chosen by whom, Azura or the Emperor? Are their objectives the same or do they conflict with one and other. I think Joan needs more information. Search the land learn the way of things before committing to action. Choose wisely Joan of Arkay.
Well, I guess that’s one way to tell for sure about this NeverRaven stuff – go get tested in Urshilaku.
I continue to love the delightfully quirky style of writing you use to express Joan’s thoughts. Such as:
’… as he droned the most sobering set of words she'd ever received within her ears.’
and
"Does the Eight Plates peddle libations?"
Yeah, SubRosa, you don't have to tell Joan this. She's already got some of the feelings you speak of. Not doom really, right now she's more confused than pessimistic. Put it this way: she's certainly not anticipating ever being hailed as some sort of champion, as we can expect in Arena, OB, and Skyrim. Rather, it's looking to be sort of the opposite. Like they're telling her to pretend to be some sort of false god.
But this seems to be why Morrowind is considered to be so different from the other Elder Scrolls games, and different from a lot of RPG stories in general. Our 'toon's not some glorified diety, come to save the world for everyone else. Or IS she? Really not sure how it'll play out.
It's a contrast from expecting to save the Emperor from Jagar Tharn's grasp (Arena), or saving Cyrodiil from the minions of Oblivion, for sure. Maybe the reason so many who praise MW's MQ do so because it's different, eh?
Hee hee that's a great web page.
It's gotta be a shock to hear this. Joan's entire life has revolved around her faith in the Nine, and now she finds herself a potentially major figure in an entirely different faith!
Despite the shock, she's still thinking. She's putting things together to figure out some of the oddities of her arrival. Yes, there is a lot going on in Vvardenfell. Like Caius himself says, they need to take this seriously even if they don't believe it per se. The Emperor expects this work to be done. And maybe, just maybe, there's something cosmic going on behind the scenes.
I do not blame Joan for wanting a drink after all that. Whew!
And yeah, going off the plot can definitely be a good thing. I'm curious as to where you'll take Joan with this.
Chapter XLIII – The Oracle
Midnight, 4 First Seed (Day 202), Year 428
https://hosting.photobucket.com/images/ad208/xenaclone/(edited)_Fay_June.2023_2023-06-22_12.10.00.221.png.html
Turns out, Eight Plates didn’t ‘peddle’ any of the ‘libations’ Joan was familiar with from back home. No Surilies, no Tamika’s, not even any beers or ales. No Nordic mead! Perhaps these sorts of brews could be found in Imperial-established towns, such as Ebonheart or Gnisis. Joan wasn’t sure. She was not in the habit of purchasing or consuming alcohol. The only liquor sold by Dulnea Ralaal (the Plates’ proprietor) from Joan's home province was Cyrodiilic Brandy. But the price? 100 drakes per bottle! -- Way too expensive for somebody who was constantly needing to allocate her funds, while attempting to avoid destitution.
Dulnea suggested shein or matze. Either choice could be had for just 10 drakes. “Matze is brewed from rice, and can be found in other provinces, though probably not Cyrodiil,” she said to the plainly-robed Breton before her, “while shein is more of a localized sort of drink, fermented mostly from comberries.”
Thinking it’d be better to show respect toward the locals, Joan Marie bought a mugful of shein. Had a seat. Took her first sip, savoring its bittersweet taste. And another sip. About halfway toward the mug’s last dregs she realized a sort of warmth had crept within her person, as though she was ready to endure anything coming her way. A certain sort of bravery had infused its way into her blood, perhaps.
“No wonder provincial logic tends to favor these brews for combat,” the crusader mused.
But she also noticed her mind, it had blurred a few notches. As though her intellect wasn’t quite as sharp and alert. As though she’d get lost partway through reading one of her studious tomes, unable to comprehend the last paragraph’s streams of words. It wasn’t fully necessary to possess a lot of smarts here in this dim, dark elf bar of course, but still. This sort of drink, shein, would be bad for spellcasting! -- That is what she surmised, right away. Grasping for mana while out in the world somewhere, while being faced down by a gang of brigands, or a giant, flying monster, needing to heal up on-the-fly while magical essences were dwindling!
No, none of that would ever happen, not so long as Joan Marie of Arkay was at the helm. She smiled, unable to efface such jubilant reaction from her thoughts. Was this the reason drunkards always were in such befuddled moods?
"Inebriation...so this is what it is like to be so," the robed woman at Table Six mumbled.
Still, this combination of brave (yet a little dulled) felt just about perfect for someone who was about to unravel the package which contained a bevy of “decoded” material, material which was sounding as though it could change the course of the rest of her life. Joan hadn’t been ready to pore over whatever contents the Emperor’s package contained a half hour ago, but now she thought maybe she could handle them.
But first, she was distracted by a leaflet made of fine parchment, which had been placed at some point, right there on the table before her.
“A Fashion Guild, right here in Balmora?” She took a final swig of her mug. How unusual.
Distracted, she began reading the leaflet, which seemed mostly an advertizement for those who were concerned about improving their apparel. “Come one, come all,” she read quietly. “Are you Forlorn about your Frumpy Frocks? - Grouchy over your Grumpy Garb? Here at the Fashion Guild of Balmora, we can assist!" She unfolded the leaflet further. "Become the Daring Diva, or play the part of the Torrid Tart you have always desired...Flaunt like a Flooz, Strut as Chic. Make him, or her, your curious about this wonderous Vixen of Vogue who Vaunts the Valley of the Odai like no other.”
Joan laughed, actually caught herself in mid-chuckle, before regaining her usual modium of personal manners. Irrationality, be damned. But still... this was the perfect thing to take her mind off her troubles; for she sensed that indeed there would be some things of concern on her immediate horizon. … Nerevarine, ME? … Bah.
She glanced down at the well-worn tan robes she'd bought earlier in the day. This new attire of hers was preowned, purchased from the pawnbroker here in town for just two drakes. She wondered what would happen if she showed up to this Guild of Fashion, wearing such downtrodden apparel. Wondered what sort of requirements its purveyors might ask of prospective new guildmates. The Fighters Guild, for instance, wanted able-bodied, strong individuals, gifted in the arts of most kinds of weaponry. What would the Fashion Guild seeketh? Hmm. Probably a devotion toward Dibella, if any religion was involved. Probably some sort of background in the arts of sewing and cloth-making. If she were a seamstress for instance, that would be something boast about.
“Greetings, Breton.”
It was at this very moment when Joan realized a woman, a Dunmer wearing green, had seated herself on the chair across from her table.
“I can see your countenance is distraught,” said the woman as she pulled back the veil draped across her face. “Perhaps I can help.”
Distraught? - Joan lifted her mug, surprised (maybe a little saddened) to discover she was all out of shein. “Help? In which way?” Not that she’d planned on getting smashed on the brew like some decadent debauchee slated for the gutter, but the crusader realized it wouldn’t hurt to order at least one more mug.
“I am a seer. An oracle, if you will,” said the Dunmer. “Aradirr is my name. I can portend and predict thy future, Breton.”
“Joan. Of Cyrodiil," Joan Marie answered. "And nay. Am afraid I haven’t got interest in that sort of thing." ...And I do not as of now, she thought, need yet another mysterious savant, come to inform me about the praises of the Red Volcano. Several of these folks, these so-called savants, had approached Joan over the last few weeks, walking toward her from the shadows at times, divulging bits of information which made little sense. Initially she’d been interested in what these shady sorts had to say. But mostly, all they’d spouted so far tended toward nonsense.
“No worries, my dear,” said Aradirr. “You’re probably getting all sorts of strange natives, striving toward you at all hours of the night, eh?” It was as though the woman had just read Joan’s thoughts. “Well I promise I am not one of them. For just seven drakes, I can … enlighten your soon-to-be path. Which I sense contains quite a bit of consternation, as I am skilled toward scrying thy aura with accuracy. Not to brag.”
Joan's head was a tad swimmy from the drink she’d imbibed. Perhaps it was this which caused her to answer the woman's request affirmatively.
“Well, alright. Aye,” Joan replied. "Seven drakes?" Joan currently had several hundred stashed away in a Fighters Guild chest. “Aye. Why not take us a glance, then?”
Aradirr the Oracle appeared to be at ease. Relaxed. Scented of cinnamon, perhaps. It was nice to have someone pleasant to talk to, Joan quickly opined. Over the past few months, she'd been practicing her speaking abilities, gabbing frequently with complete strangers. So why not allow the woman to glean whatever sort of future there was to glean?
To know one's future, one must presuppose knowledge of his or her past, as well. So let us begin there. If Aradirr the Oracle got anything wrong, Joan would certainly call her upon it.
“You may pay me when I’m done,” said the seer. “Here, let us locate to one of the Eight Plates' quieter corners.”
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Notes: 1). Shein enhances Endurance yet drains Intelligence, hence the effects Joan experienced above. 😊
2). 'Tis true, WellTemperedClavier, about faiths colliding. Good thing Joan is young (she just turned 19 recently, in the month of Morning Star). If she were some older veteran who'd become more set in her ways, keeping an open mind might be much harder.
The main thing about your participation as a reader of The Saga of Joan of Arkay, WTC, is that you've already done Morrowind's Main Quest! So you must be biting your tongue at everything which is to come.
We wait with baited breath to see how this wondrous Vixen of Vogue who Vaunts the Valley of the Odai overcomes the ordeal of Vvardenfell.
Next time I’m in Balmora I’m going to have to stop by the Fashion Guild. There are some Daring Divas, Torrid Tarts, and Flaunting Floozies back home that are aching to Strut their stuff in Chic attire.
The Eight Plates is seriously lacking in the libating department. https://youtu.be/TnVrop697uU
Well at least they have Matze and Shein for people who aren't billionaires. It looks like Joanie is getting fortified with some Dutch Dunmer Courage.
The Fashion Guild! Somehow I don't think Joan of Arkay is going to be glowing up with the latest styles, given that she usually goes barefoot.
Oh, its a fortune teller. Let's see where this leads.
Sitting in a tavern with a mug of shein is certainly something different for Joan, and I enjoyed her observations about the foreign experience. Absolutely loved the nod to the Fashion Guild of Balmora! Hmm, a savant to mayhaps discern something about this Nevarian stuff.
You know, if someone had informed me that I was going to be taking the role of a long-prophesied hero for a religion I didn't even believe in, I'd probably get some drinks too. It's a very relatable action on Joan's part. Though yeah, as she finds out, Eight Plates isn't the best place to do it.
I also liked the way you tied in alcohol's in-game effects. Fits very well with the tone of the story.
And great Fashion Guild cameo, here! Still spreading the news on the best things to wear. It was very fun to read that.
Okay, I'm not sure how much I trust Aradirr here. Hope Joan's drinking hasn't fogged her brain too much, since I'm not yet sure Aradirr will be truthful. Though in Morrowind, who is? Hope Aradirr isn't a Sixth House agent...
@Vampire Hunter -- Whoever would've thought you too can enter this torrid world of the Fashion Guild! Just so you know, I derived that segue from WellTemperedClavier's Outlanders story, which has a Fashion Guild being built from the ground up.
Yeah, that's true @Florens, about there being a lack of alcoholic choice from our Earthly point of view. 🍷 Whadoya mean you ain't got no beer?
Although Joan's not joining the Guild of Fashion, I imagine she wouldn't last more than five seconds within their doors. With Morrowind's guilds having strict requirements for joining, and all. Good thing she's already way too busy with guilds and quests as it is.
Thanks much, @Paladin. As I game with her seven years later in Elder Scrolls IV: Cyrodiil, Joan does occasionally drink. Usually Surilies or Tamika's and often the cheaper vintages, as she's often broke (or headed that way) in that game, too. 🍷 But the thing is, Joan never 'drinks 'n' delves'. It's always an after-campaign treat for her, and usually in the comfort of some tavern, or in her home: Battlehorn Castle. 🏰
Yes, the Fashion Guild... couldn't resist throwing Quinn Morgendorffer's brainchild into the story.
Thanks, I appreciate it, @Clavier. Indeed, I considered the effects of each 'libation' offered by the Plates, selecting the one which 1). Wasn't too expensive, and 2). wasn't too complicated to write into the story with its effects, and 3). resulted in whatever she'd need to assist her get through this odd moment Caius and the Emperor (supposedly) have thrust upon her.
Aradirr is purely someone I added in. 🧙 She doesn't exist within the gameworld, although she certainly could. But this is what I meant by "I'm going off the rails". All of this is pure imagination, not backed by any in-game events or quests.
Alright next chapter... gosh I hope I can finish it this morning. It's raining really hard outside right now. I got up at 5:18 AM just when all the birds began chirping in our neighborhood. There was some weird 'bird' making weird sounds which freaked me out (turns out it was a young raccoon, running around our back yard). 🦝 All of this added some magic of what's to come.
Chapter XLIV – Consulting the Cards
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Aradirr led Joan to a quiet table, to one of the far corners of the Eight Plates. Which was fine with Joan. Because whatever she had just agreed to, it’d been a hasty, spontaneous decision; partially caused by the fact that she was partially inebriated. If Aradirr had suggested they leave the tavern to go to some hovel over in Labor Town, for instance, that would’ve culled an immediate “sorry, but no,” from the crusader.
“Have you ever heard of Omen cards?” Aradirr asked.
“Hmm.” Omen cards. The term was familiar to Joan. Probably something she’d read in one of her scholarly tomes as a student. But to keep her answer simple she said, “Cannot say I’ve heard of Omen cards, no.”
“So, here we are. Here is my deck.” The oracle opened a book-sized ornate box made of wood, reached into it and brought out a dark-colored cloth. And inside the cloth was indeed a deck of cards. “Well, these are not Omen cards, but they are similar, I suppose. Both sorts of decks can be used as tools of divination."
“I see.” Joan had ordered a second mugful of shein a couple minutes earlier, which was delivered to their table by a young knave.
Aradirr fanned the cards, placing them face up upon the table’s surface so Joan could take them in for a moment. “Have a quick glance upon these.”
Joan could see each card had what looked to be its very own picture, each one painted with striking colors and images. But there were a lot of cards, and at the moment, each one partially covered the next. At the very end of the fanned-out pile lay a card called THE WORLD, which featured a disrobed woman bearing what looked to be a wand in each hand. The woman was centered within what looked to be a circular bough, a wreath made of green leaves.
Joan was fascinated. Out of curiosity, her hand moved towards Aradirr’s deck.
“Oh heh heh, sorry. You may not touch them until I say.”
“Mm. Right.” Joan looked cautiously around at other patrons across the floor. Sitting at tables, conversing amongst themselves. Nobody seemed to be watching Joan and Aradirr. Nobody seemed to notice the veiled, green-frocked Dunmer at Table Twelve, or the Breton wearing shoddy robes sitting across from her. Joan took a sip from her new mug of shein.
“Now, focus on something within your mind, whether this is a question, or a notion, a fixation, or an ideal. Do not reveal to me what it is you are pondering, Joan.”
“Sure. Fair enough, I suppose.” According to Caius, she was not supposed to blab any of this Nerevarine fodder to anyone, anyhow.
“Aye. Keep whatever it is you are considering to yourself. I needn’t know your thoughts.”
This was an easy endeavor for Joan of Arkay, since her mind had been centered upon one exact thing over the past hour or so, until being sidetracked by that silly Fashion Guild pamphlet. “Alright.”
“Now, pick up the cards, and shuffle them.” – When Joan balked at these instructions (she’d apparently never shuffled a deck of cards before) Aradirr the Oracle quickly taught Joan the Crusader how to handle them. “As you shuffle the cards back and forth from hand to hand, keep whatever thoughts you’ve pondered in mind. Focus upon them, dear.”
Joan did exactly this, while clumsily shuffling Aradirr’s deck.
“Splendid. Place the cards upon the table, when you feel thy query has been resolved.”
This caused Joan to stop the awkward, arrhythmic motions of her fingers and hands. “How shall it be known, this .. resolve, as you put it?”
“That, I cannot answer,” Aradirr’s face went momentarily grim. “This is something, well … you just sort of ‘know’, as the moment commences.”
Fine. “Fair enough.” Joan gave the deck another couple of clumsy shufflings before placing the full deck face-down upon the table.
“Now, with thy recessive hand, that is, the hand which is not the one chosen for scribing, cut the deck twice and to thy left.”
Again, the phrase ‘cut the deck’ was a new one for Joan, which meant the oracle had to attempt to physically show the woman wearing the tattered, two-drake-costing robes what she meant. Thing is, she had to do so without actually touching the deck. Apparently, whoever touched the cards last imbued them with whatever personal essence was unseen throughout his or her persona.
Joan cut the deck of cards with her left hand, twice, and to her left.
“Splendid!” Aradirr smiled broadly, her blue cheeks dimpled with satisfaction. She picked up the deck and selected its very top card, which she placed face-down upon the table. She followed this card with six more, all of which were placed face-down.
“This is called the Horseshoe spread, Joan. As you may notice, the cards have been arranged in the shape of a horse's shoe.”
Indeed, the cards had been spaced upon the table like an upside-down U from Joan’s perspective, with the U’s zenith pointing away from her.
“And now, I shall reveal the very first card, which represents past events.”
Aradirr turned the card which was on Joan’s bottom-left so that it was face-up. “This is the https://gfx.tarot.com/images/site/decks/rider/full_size/69.jpg. As mentioned, it portrays whatever happened within the past, which has led to whatever current situation has commenced, Joan. As can be seen, we've got what looks to be somebody who is well-endowed with money, a well-dressed merchant or a land baron perhaps, who is giving away to those in need. In the giver's left hand are a set of scales, which represent fair-mindedness. Weighing of options and such.
"Now, one might assume that it is you who has been in need, judging by the robes you're currently donned within." Aradirr seemed to select these final words carefully, not wanting to possibly offend. "However, your accent is cultured, Joan. I have gathered you are a Heartlander. And obviously educated, by the words you choose and the sentence structures you use. And my feeling is that you are not currently destitute. And not truly in need. That is is you who has in fact been both the giver and the receiver of material possessions. The scales in the merchant's left hand clearly portray this--that you have settled upon fair-minded approach. Considering, and thoughtful behavior. Not rash. Not impulsive or greedy. In any event, a solid background of philanthropy. Alms dispensed most fairly, resulting in a series of material needs met."
Joan, unsure what to say, said exactly nothing. Her new mugful of shein had barely been sipped. But what struck were some of the words Aradirr had chosen: not currently destitute, and a solid background of philanthropy. Though she did not reveal anything of her past to the Dunmer, Joan's upbringing as an orphan who'd been raised under the tutelage of Cheydinhal's Chapel of Arkay was certainly telling. She certainly had been in need at some point, long ago in her past, when whomever her mother was had abandoned her on the chapel's steps.
Still, the Cyrodiilian had doubts. Where exactly was all of this going?
"Next we have https://images.saymedia-content.com/.image/t_share/MTc0MjM5NTM0MTAyODE2MjUy/court-cards-queen-of-cups.jpg, which represents thy immediate present, current situation. As can be seen, here we have a queen in flowing robes, sitting upon her throne, staring intently into what looks to be quite a decorative cup. More like a chalice than a cup, in fact.
"Seems this woman could be you, Joan of Cyrodiil. As cups signify the vessels which often contain water, and water is the symbol for emotion, here we have you, a queen of her domain, who is presently immersed with emotional concerns." Aradirr paused. "Not that you are a queen yourself, per se. Rather, when queens show during a reading, they signify someone who is confidently an adult. Who has outgrown her girlish pursuits, and is now focusing upon what it means to be in command of her life."
"Alright." Hmm.
"Next card represents your immediate future," Aradirr continued. "And here we have https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/94/14/5694142a0db9bcab41aab96e74f02384.jpg." It was the very first card Joan had glanced when the elf fanned the deck face-up minutes ago. "Frankly, I can tell you upfront that here we have one of the most positive cards in the deck.
"When it shows, The World signifies some sort of completion, some sort of outcome which is grand, and final. That, in fact, you shall enter what is to become, in fact, a brand-new world for you. Not that you are about to embark toward Akavir or Black Marsh; The World, as all the Major Arcana cards, is more concerned with an inner state of mind. A new cognitive phase of life. Those who have seen The World as a future card have often returned to me with news of great things, great changes in their lives, usually for the better."
"Well, I must admit this is a good omen," Joan observed. "At least it is not seen that I am about to perish as I journey about..."
"Oh no," Aradirr interrupted. "That is one thing these cards cannot do, Joan. In fact, that is quite a fallacy some irresponsible seers burden their consultees with. They cannot predict whether one shall die, or not die. Rather, the cards can only predict if what shall occur if he or she continues upon his or her present path. Understand?"
Not really, Joan of Cyrodiil thought. But then, "surely," she answered.
"Would you like to continue to see what the next four cards reveal?"
Despite her doubts, Joan decided she would.
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https://i.imgur.com/NasVnco.jpg?1. I understand not everyone believes in this sort of stuff. My experience has been that we divine whatever it is we believe can assist us through life.
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Notes: 1). Though Tarot cards are not canon, Elder Scrolls lore does support what are known as https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Omen, as stated in the article just linked.
Supposedly one of the methods of summoning Omens used by the Supernal Dreamers involved the usage of the Omen Cards. The ornate set of cards was believed to provide aid in calling forth those Daedric spirits.[2]
It’s not too much of a stretch to imagine something similar to our Tarot could possibly exist in Tamriel.
2). I use the https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rider%E2%80%93Waite_Tarot, which is the most generic Tarot deck of cards, I suppose. Rider-Waite is (or was) immensely popular. It was originally drawn up during the 1800s, when seances and mysticsm and other such occult phenomena were suddenly in vogue. Aleister Crowley, the Golden Dawn, and so on. I've got several other decks, including a native American deck and so on. But Rider's got the symbolism I can really glean answers and draw inspirations from.
Whew! I thought the Queen of Cups card coming up meant that Joan was going to become a shein lush.
Okay, just kidding.
Knowing nothing about such readings, I found this episode really interesting. So far things look good for Joan, and I look forward to learning what the remaining cards reveal.
Cool, some Tarot. Deal me in!
Now I am wondering, will this reading be about Joan being the Neveraraine, or about the Fashion Club?
Now I am imagining someone telling Conan to cut the deck, and him pulling out his sword and actually slicing the cards in half!
Neat card reading so far, and quite appropriate to Joan,though possibly the Fashion Club as well. I don't know this layout. I am more familiar with the Celtic Cross. But the Hermit kind of makes me think of Caius. The Three of Swords does not look good. Neither does Temperance reversed. Looks like heartbreak and a bender, as if Joan is about to become a Country music song. Though the Hanged Man does imply that she will indeed hang in there, in spite of her suffering, and perhaps even make it all look easy.
Given how grounded in the game this story is, it would make sense to think about the specific effects of the various drinks. It's a lot to keep track of, but adds to the vibe of the story.
Funny how rain is so good at conjuring a magical feeling. It certainly fits with this chapter. Funnily enough, I actually got my very first Tarot reading from a friend a few months ago (the advice boiled down to "trust your judgment"), so it's nice to see these Omen cards as well.
And yes, Joan is going to be entering a whole new world. She already has, really; Morrowind's a universe unto itself, practically. But she'll soon be going even deeper than the Dunmer will normally go, and completely change everything about the place. It's going to be wild ride. But I think she's just about ready.
Chapter XLV: Considering the Cards
"Excuse me," Joan said to Aradirr. "Might we just take a moment so I may gather my thoughts?"
"As you wish!"
The Breton sipped her drink, ruminating all which had been said by the Dunmer across the table. What exactly was Joan Marie doing, allowing this virtual stranger to engage in what amounted to fortune-telling?
She realized that she'd accepted the seer's card request because it was a way to put off what had been troubling her not long ago. A small chain of events had occurred the moment she ordered her drink, which was why she was sitting here now. For instance, if she hadn't taken those moments to read the Fashion Guild literature which had been placed at her table, perhaps she would've forced herself to pore Cosades's decoded material, instead.
Reading about the guild of Torrid Tarts and Saucy Succubi had caused her to laugh, and appear lighthearted. Which caused Aradirr the Oracle to perhaps feel more welcome to approach the previously-preoccupied woman whose face had been etched with worry. Might I desire a reading of cards to take my mind away from my troubles? Why surely, I would.
Joan took another sip, and noticed: her usually pristine self-centered equilibrium, the balance of her hips, torso, and shoulders, seemed off. Even sitting here upon this chair, she could feel the difference. Maybe it'd been good she'd been interrupted by the elf. She wasn't an experienced drinker. Perhaps she'd be stone-cold drunk by now if she'd continued to slurp her second shein in a row!
Her head still swimmy, she took a few quick moments to consider all which had been said so far by the oracle.
Joan had always been a rather earthbound person, not given to flights of fancy or (let's say) a mage's desire for experimentation. She had exactly four spell-types inscribed within her spellbook for instance, not forty. She'd always been the sort of person who utilizes exactly what she needs. So, not that she was putting any belief into Aradirr's attempts at reading Joan's fortune. But hypothetically speaking (hypothetically speaking), some of what Aradirr revealed did ring some moments of truth.
The card which represented her past, for instance, the Six of Coins. Fact is, Joan had certainly been involved in performing righteous deeds; collecting money for the Imperial Cult so it could eventually assist those in need. She'd done similar acts of kindness back home as well, as part of the congregation of Cheydinhal's Chapel of Arkay.
...And the card which supposedly portrayed her future, The World; the one with the unclothed lady centered inside that wreath of green leaves. What had Aradirr said? ...That, in fact, you shall enter what is to become a brand-new world for you. Something like that. Which was definitely true. If Joan chose to continue the path she was currently striding upon; if she actually DID decide to somehow play the part of a prophet returned to Vvardenfell, certainly it was sounding as though her life would change in some grand way. No doubt about it.
"May we continue?" the Dunmer grinned, eager to plunge.
Joan considered two options. She could simply throw the coin she owed on the table and leave. But she was too curious to see which cards would be turned over next. If anything, it was good to at least think about her present, past, and future, to ponder these facets of time with someone she did not know.
"So, we've glanced the past, and also thy present and future. The next choice is the Card of Consultant." Aradirr turned card number four over. "Usually, this one denotes a sort of answer, to whatever query it is upon the mind. A way to proceed forward, which ties into whatever conclusions are forthcoming."
"Oh," the Cyrodiilic Breton gasped slightly.
"And we have https://www.tarotcardmeanings.net/images/tarotcards-large/tarot-hermit.jpg."
Joan could see what looked to be a typically-gray, elderly fellow. A wizard perhaps, wearing a hooded gray robe. In his left hand he held a staff, or a walking stick. He carried a lantern with his right.
"Hmm. Perhaps I should explain a few things about the deck, Joan. It is comprised of two sets of cards, actually: Major Arcana and Minor Arcana. The Six of Coins, for instance, is a Minor Arcana card."
"Alright," Joan replied.
"Those from the Minor set mostly consider events, situations, and other such outer happenings. Physical moments which occur as we muck about. And also actual people in our lives, sometimes represented by kings, queens, and pages.
"Conversely, those from the Major Arcana, such as The World and The Hermit, are more concerned about inner states of being. Changes which occur mostly inside of our minds, and inside our hearts. These changes may be brought on through outer events, but it's the inner transitions which are shown by these cards."
"I see."
"The Hermit, like The World, is a Major Arcana card. As stated, this is your card of consultant, often regarded as an answer to unspoken questions. The Hermit lives on his own, by himself upon the top of the mountain portrayed beneath his feet. This mountain he stands upon represents life experience. He is wise, he's got wisdom on his side, which is portrayed by the lantern he's carrying. This lantern, it is insight, it is inspiration, you see? Yet he shares it with no one. And feels as though he's no longer a part of society.
"Not to say you are exactly within this frame of mind, Joan. You are sitting right here in this bar, after all, amongst lots of others. You are also young. But what I am saying: concerning whatever's troubling you, whatever it was I saw upon thy face not long ago, THAT is what is being borne, all alone. You may have experienced a few things beyond your years. Not to pry, but I can sense this onus you're carrying. But... The Hermit is not just about antisocial wisdom. Quite often, you may find it necessary to remain in such a state, as you embark into whatever new things are to come. You may find it necessary to draw upon this lonely wisdom at times. This shall become the beacon carried as you hasten forward."
Joan seemed stunned. "But ... so ... ehm... how? I mean, you and I have just met," she blurted. "We are literal strangers, you and I. How is it you know of these things?" Was the elf somehow in cahoots with Caius, and whatever folks were cavorting unseen?
"I do not know of them," Aradirr countered. "I do not know you. But I do know my cards. Would you like to see what comes next?"
Joan nodded.
"Next card represents the Attitudes of Others. Significant others in your life, that is, and how they'll influence as this phase of life unfolds.
Aradiir turned card number five over, making a face once she saw what was revealed.
"Oh no," Joan said. "Three swords piercing a heart? I do not gather this one's any good."
"It's the https://www.edelwyn.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/tarot-swords-03.jpg. As can be seen, it's a rather grim card, of course, very obvious with its meaning. However, this card is in a reversed position. Which means it is upside-down, from your perspective."
Joan could see this. The numeral "3" was represented in the old Imperial manner, so 'III' instead of '3'. But this number was at the bottom of the card, not its top. "Looks rather grim, I'd certainly concur."
"Well, since the card is upside-down, this changes the way things are to be interpreted. Normally, Three of Swords is all about strife. Loneliness. Disappointment, and so on. However, here we have a different interpretation of such things, due to that inverse position. Which means somebody, or some persons significant within thy life, have not necessarily disappointed or caused harm in some great way...
"But I'd take this one as a warning, Joan. Whomever it is that's involved with whatever's on your mind, it's advised to remain cautious around this person, or these persons."
Joan couldn't help but immediately think of Caius, of course. She'd been working with lots of people so far here in Vvardenfell, from two separate guilds, and two Imperial factions. But this was about Caius! -- Caius... and whoever was really ordering her around the province with these mysterious instructions.
"Next card represents a potential obstacle, something which may hinder progress. And here we have https://www.alittlesparkofjoy.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/temperance-card-in-tarot.jpg, which is again in a reversed position."
The crusader could see what looked to be a glorious setting: a winged man, an angel perhaps, pouring what looked to be water from one cup to another.
"I am going to turn this card upright," the seer said, "so that you may take in Temperance's full glory. Notice these things: the figure in Temperance is pouring fluid from one goblet to another, but note that this fluid is defying gravity. Instead of dripping straight from one cup and into the pond below, it is pouring sideways.
"And this represents some sort of mastery, you see? Even our attempts at telekinesis via Mysticism magic has never been able to cause fluid to pour in such a way. Also, the angel's right foot is dipping into the pond below, while the other stays firmly on land. Usually, all of this portrays somebody who is exemplary at coordinating several things at once."
Several things at once, Joan Marie's mind echoed. Not that she was giving full stock to any of this, but 'several things at once' is what her entire life had become, over the past few months.
"We have the four universal elements well-illustrated upon this card, Joan: The sun rising is Fire, which is our spiritual, unseen side. The angel's wings are mastery with Air, mastery of thoughts, that is.. The pond and the goblet being poured displays Water, which are emotions and feelings. And all of these symbols would not be complete without the ground under the angel's feet, and the mountains, which espouse Earth. Our physical being, which we use to navigate our world.
"However..." Aradirr turned the card so it was upside-down again. "Temperance is reversed. It is also in the position pertaining to an obstacle. So, the meaning is clear. To remain within the boundaries of wisdom and steadfastedness," she pointed to The Hermit, "and step into what shall be a brand-new world," she pointed to Joan's 'future' card, "you must avoid being distracted from unfortunate combinations. In other ways of saying: Keep thy head upon straight," Aradirr elucidated. "Do not become overwhelmed as a number of facets are faced."
Joan nodded.
"And now, the final card, the Outcome. Whatever is here shall be our entire conclusion, regarding all which have been discussed." The elf turned the one which resided to Joan's lower right over. "The Hanged Man... eek!"
Eek, indeed. https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6b/15/5c/6b155c0ce14c5794b9f187a89fde53a1.jpg showed man who was hanging, except he'd been noosed from his foot, not his neck. He was, in fact, hanging upside-down.
"Hope this does not mean I shall someday soon be strung from my ankle!"
Aradirr laughed. "No worries about such things, Joan. Aye, the man on the card has been placed into what some may consider to be a precarious, uncomfortable position. But notice the look upon his face: it is serene, not filled with angst. And notice this also: he's got a halo surrounding his entire head."
"And what does this mean, Aradirr? I gather there's more insightments? More elucidations?"
"Aye, splendid, Joan of Cyrodiil, but there's more. - This card portrays what happens when the events which occur within our lives cause us to completely reverse those things which we've previously regarded to be as most sacred. Most trustworthy. Most expected. Our habits, our viewpoint on life, all of those things are to change, Joan. Seeing life from a new perspective, usually in some opposite way as before. The halo around his head, like the lamp being carried by The Hermit, indeed represents enlightenment, and possibly inspiration."
And Joan could see this. Not that she was putting any faith into a bunch of painted cards, but the things the seer was speaking of could definitely become true. If she were to actually follow the instructions given to her by Caius; if she were to head off to Urshilaku Camp and pretend to be the long-lost prophet returned to grace, and assuming these Ashlanders actually believed her somehow, certainly her entire 'viewpoint on life' would be 'seen from a new perspective ... usually in some opposite way'.
Aradirr and Joan spent another hour or so, discussing further things about their lives late into the night. The seer ordered a drink of her own, while Joan chose to abstain from more liquor. Eventually, it was time to go.
The seer had asked seven drakes for the reading. Joan Marie gave her twenty.
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Notes: https://i.imgur.com/NasVnco.jpg?1 is that the entire left side of the horseshoe (6 of Coins to the Hermit) are rightside-up. The entire right side of the spread is upside-down. Even The Hanged Man, which is technically upright, portrays a figure who is upside-down. Obvious overall rhythm here: the things to come are going to totally flip my 'toon's world.
Joan slurp her shein? Arkay forbid!
I liked how you put all the meanings of the cards into context with one another, rather than just take them separately. I am sure Joan will indeed need to keep her head on straight during what is to come.
Like its predecessor, I found this episode fascinating. Aradirr seems pretty good at what she does. Joan is right to be skeptical, but wise to at least consider some of the implications of this reading. She is also wise in that she stops her libations, and generous in overpaying her seer.
Is it okay the story took a detour away from the main plot?
Someone once said:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
For the longest time I misread and misunderstood what Frost was saying. It was a few years ago during a Kentucky Bourbon Trail lighting run (9 distilleries in three days) that I came to understand what was being alluded to. Someone had set the GPS device to avoid highways. Traveling dirt roads that wound their way around hills and valleys took three times longer to drive from one distillery to the next but the beautiful Kentucky countryside we saw made the trip memorable. In other words, unless you make the choice now and then to venture into realms unknown, the well beaten path may be comfortable, but it can become flat and boring. So, I echo, for the divergence.
Guild of Torrid Tarts and Saucy Succubi, I need to get back to Vvardenfell.
Thanks for the explanation on Minor vs Major Arcana. I hadn't been clear on that.
So this matches up pretty well with what little I do know regarding Tarot; namely, that it doesn't deal in certainties but more like... probabilities? At any rate, it gives Joan a lot of food for thought. Her life definitely will be uprooted if she continues on her quest.
Regarding the Hermit: Describes the Nerevarine's position pretty well. They have to draw on a lot of inner strength. Yes, they must also work with others, but figuring out who those others should be is a pretty big part of the job.
Regarding the Three of Swords: it could be Caius she has to be careful with. But I could also see it as being Almalexia or even Dagoth Ur (given Dagoth's interest in the Nerevarine).
Regarding Temperance: Clearly, this means avoiding too many side-quests. Maybe in a more narrative-focused sense, it just means that the Nerevarine must stay focused.
Regarding the Hanged Man: Yeah, fulfilling an ancient prophecy will indeed completely rearrange one's beliefs (even if one doesn't believe in the prophecy per se).
We all know the storyline to Morrowind, so there's certainly no harm in deviating from it.
Hey, thanks all for taking the time with answers. Those are good points: the story of these quests are Beth's stories, but what really makes them unique are what we add on our own. Funny thing: I hadn't really even thought of it in such a poignant way.
Now... ugh. I'm going to need to take a break from writing for a while. Mostly due to real-life midlife crisis stuff which has been weighing quite a bit.
Anyway, thanks all for your participation in this thread, and others who have helped me along when I get stuck with this or that. Maybe I'll return to this story later in the summer. If not, at least it ends in a way so that it feels sort of complete, in a way.
I'll continue to be here at Chorrol and read your all's stories, including yours Lena, although maybe I'll keep comments to myself for a while just because I really want to catch up to where you're at now.
macole: So that's how GPS works! No wonder when I went to Jersey a couple years ago I wound up in some backwoods countryside almost about to faceplant while driving over one-lane bridges. In any event, using the "Shortest Distance" feature to navigate definitely does not mean using the "shortest time" quotient. Ah, well.
Clavier: Yes, Tarot deals with probabilities, as do a lot of diviniation techniques. In the olden days it seems whenever the Death card showed up for instance, that *Oh no, you're gonna die!* was the immediate interpretation, and there's no choice at all in the matter. But life is not like that. We often have choices to follow. Tarot cards (astrology, etc.) are merely a good way to see more clearly what's going on.
And wow, very nice interpretation of the cards on your own. See, that makes me smile. Really need to just smile and relax and *everything's gonna be alright*, as my father used to say. And check out some Outlanders later on.
Thanks again folks, and as always, have some
Renee, sorry you're struggling with life a bit right now. One really nice thing about fanfic is that you can do it however/whenever you want and go in any direction you want and, especially here at chorrol, there are folks you can always count on for support and friendship regardless. When you wanna write, you gotta write; when you don't, no worries. We're patient.
I am sorry to hear you are dealing with life issues right now. I hope you can get things sorted out, and get back to a happier state. In the very least, we will always be here to help you blow off steam and forget about the rest of the world for at least a few minutes.
Real life just always gets in the way, doesn't it. So now it's your turn, Renee. Hang in there! It will blow over! No matter how big a storm, unless you are standing right next to an Oblivion gate, it will be over!
Renee, I am saddened to hear that RL pressures have gotten you down. https://i.imgur.com/KCqJGFL.jpg.
Daylilies are beautiful flowers. A single bloom only last a day. It closes up overnight to be replaced by the opening of a new bud the next morning.
A local witch once told me that at the end of the day just before sunset if you whisper your troubles into an open flower by morning the flower will have closed up sealing the painful event away and a new bloom, free of pain, will have opened to greet you.
Hopefully, your troubles pass as swiftly as a daylily flower and are soon replaced with the opening of a new trouble-free day.
Hey, sorry to hear that RL's getting in the way. That's something every writer's familiar with (I certainly am). Creativity is a great fallback to have, though. Even if we can't control the world around us, we can control the little worlds we create, and there's a strength in that.
Rest assured, we'll be here waiting for the further adventures of Joan and Laprima.
Thanks everyone. I'll come back at some point. Writing doesn't wreck my entire week, but it does take a good many hours and we're all getting older and all of that. If I actually make it to retirement age I'll have all the time I want. That won't happen for over a decade though.
Anyway, I'm figuring some things out, my therapist and I, that is. Hopefully by September I'll return full force.
6 Rain's Hand (Day 234) late morning, 3E 428
https://hosting.photobucket.com/images/ad208/xenaclone/(edited)_UrshilakuCamp.png.html
Fresh from learning her fate from the seer in Balmora, Joan of Arkay felt ready to continue her journey into whatever was to come, and headed north. But before she did so, she made sure to study the accounts and journals given to her by Caius; the ones which stated matter-of-factly what her new mission in life was to be. And though she did not fully agree with what the Emperor supposedly had in store for her, she felt eager to traipse forward. Because perhaps she could somehow make sense of all of this nonsense. ... She? ... The Nerevarine prophet? Hmph. She would plunge forthwith anyhow, perhaps hoping to make her new world a better place.
It took several days for the crusader to arrive at Urshilaku Camp. The scout in Maar Gan had given her some directions, telling her to head East, not North. But this route would've taken her through what looked to be more danger than necessary. At the very least she'd pass right by the foot of the Red Mountain. With her luck, this meant there'd be at least one storm full of ash along the way.
Instead, she chose to walk from Maar Gan to Ald Velothi. From there, she headed to Khuul. She bade her new Dunmer bowgirl goodbye inside of Khuul's tradehouse, promising to return in a few days. Joan would be water-walking for the rest of the trip, and unless her follower wanted to do a lot of swimming, she'd better stay behind.
After striding over seawater during most of Rain's Hand 5, Joan got lucky; discovered an abandoned shipwreck which had smashed upon the coast. Perfect place to spend the night! After dispatching a skeleton which resided within the boat's upper hull, there was nothing to interrupt her sleep. Since the boat had nested itself upon the shore on an angle, Joan Marie needed to prop her bedroll in such a way that she wouldn't roll within its cabin while she slept.
According to the scout, Urshilaku was somewhere east of a Daedric city called Assurnabitashpi, which Joan walked safely by the next day. As she did so, she spied one huge daedric monster from a distance which looked like an enormous walking eggplant. What the Nine is that?
The daedra. This was a subject which, sometime soon, she'd need to begin studying. Joan had read about Cyrodiil's daedric minions in an academic way: the daedroth, the dremora, the scamps, and xivali, but didn't know much about what Vvardenfell had to offer. This was because so far, she hadn't much need to approach any of their ancient cities or temples.
And hopefully she wouldn't need to...
Finally past Assurnabitashpi, Joan began to edge closer to shore.
The air was pleasant. Here, the beach was silty and gray. She strode upon it a while, still heading east, until she thought she heard the sounds of those hanging wooden tubes (chimes?) Ashlanders sometimes placed outside of their yurts. As breezes blew the tubes around they made distinctive clinking noises. Seems she might be in the right place.
Yes, she'd found the camp. Climbed a small hill, and here it was. "There is someone watching me," she overheard a male villager say, "I can tell."
Urshilaku consisted of the usual assortment of stands, yurts, and earthen decorations. It was similar in size (and atmospherically) to Erabenisum, that camp which’d been in the middle of that horrible ash storm, where that somewhat clueless Breton researcher had gotten trapped up by an Ashlander witch.
"I don't have a lot of patience, outlander," said a Dunmer matron wearing colorful clothes.
"And ye needn't possess basketfuls of such, as I come in peace," Joan stated. "I am Joan, of Cyrodiil, as you may've gleaned from my accented words. I presume this is Urshilaku?"
"This is Urshilaku camp, outlander," the matron confirmed.
May Dibella guide my path. This next stint would be sensitive, requiring a delicate approach. Joan had memorized the names of the camp-dwellers she was to speak to, but made a show of consulting her journal, anyway. "I am here to suss either Sul-Matuul or Nibani Macsa," she said, keeping her eyes cast downward as a show of respect.
"Hmm. Have you a small kwama egg for me?" the Ashlander asked slyly.
And in fact, Joan did have one. "Would you like it?" Joan asked. "I understand eggmines can be quite distant at times."
"Ah, these are quite tasty," the Dunmer matron said, looking forward to not having to scrounge for her next meal. And it was because of this moment of generosity on Joan's part that the matron confirmed the two tribal members she'd been sent to speak with were here, at the camp.
After awkwardly searching several yurts, her pale (yet somewhat tanned, after all she'd been spending plenty of time outdoors) skin glowing pink everytime she overtly blushed while making small social blunders, she finally found Sul-Matuul. "I don't have a lot of patience for questions, outlander," the Nerevarine Cult's supposed guardian huffed. The elf then surrounded himself with shielding magic; Joan could see the magic's purple essence swirling all around him.
She took a breath. Silently channeled Dibella into her thoughts while activating the magical belt she wore. This belt contained magic which would assist her persuasion attempts further. But none of this mattered. Sul-Matuul immediately told Joan she should leave! -- After a few additional attempts the guardian drew his weapon (a large, magical broadaxe), causing the crusader to vacate his premises.
It took another couple hours. Joan jabbered to several other camp-dwellers, all who wanted 'small gifts' from her, usually a handful of coin. Finally, she met Kurapli, the camp's trader. It was this trader who explained a way in.
"You want to speak with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Macsa? I doubt that this is possible. You are an outlander. You have no permission to speak with them." But then the trader confided: "I suggest you speak with the gulakhan Zabamund."
"Gulakhan Zabamund," Joan repeated.
"His yurt is just across from mine. With a recommendation from a sub-chief like Zabamund, Sul-Matuul might be more willing to speak with you."
Zabamund, like several others Joan met, wanted drakes. But not just a handful. He would only accept a hundred pieces, and not a coin less. Even after the money was paid, the sub-chief balked to accept Joan's presence. It was only after a few more moments of clever banter the elf finally gave in.
"You have no standing among us, outlander," she said, "but you speak well...So I will explain. It is against our customs that an outlander should speak to an ashkhan or wise woman."
"Graces, sera," Joan replied. "'Tis of mighty importance that a mere acolyte from the central province of Tamriel must do so, and posthaste, as the matter provides."
"I'll tell you also that Sul-Matuul has no love for outlanders," warned Kurapli the trader.
As if that wasn't obvious enough. Still, armed with this new bit of advice, her boots by now filthy with ash, Joan finally felt as though she had the information necessary to cause some final progress.
"Filthy s'wit," the ashkhan Sul-Matuul muttered a few minutes later, after Joan re-entered his yurt. Though still grouchy, at least the elf had deactivated his magical shield. Nor was he brandishing his huge, magical broadaxe.
"I come in peace, sera," Joan began, looking downward once again. "That we might arrange to discuss some very urgent matters..."
It was at this very moment that she realized she'd made a crucial mistake: all this time, she'd been talking to these suspicious, distrustful Ashlander elves while wearing her Imperial armor!
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https://gamemap.uesp.net/mw/?x=-27072&y=151552&zoom=7
https://i.imgur.com/lkptKWW.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/nvTd9jN.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/PGrkxxW.jpg - *shudders* The guy creeps me out.
https://i.imgur.com/UEIQNL8.jpg (Notice she's changed into common clothes... oops!)
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Notes: 1). Joanie had to sell a bunch of items and bribe several camp members with commodities or gold. When she finally spoke to the sub-chief he wanted a hundred drakes. Joan paid this money, and then successfully Admired him (phew) so that his Disposition toward her was 80!
All those times I've been clicking on the Persuasion option, and we're talking in the thousands by now, finally, all those clicks paid off!
2). My crusader found a safe place to store all her armor: her Imperial Steel Cuirsass, Imperial Templar Greaves, Steel Boots, and Iron Gauntlets, though she still has her weapons and her Blessed Shield. Now, she's down to her regular common clothes and bare feet. In the next chapter we'll see if this wardrobe change makes any difference.
Ah yes, I remember the social rituals of small (not) gifts and the importance of proper clothing. Good going, Joan!
Joanie is off into the unknown, if not embracing her fate, at least looking upon it with curiosity.
Ah, she is doing the trick of water walking to avoid the dangerous spots. Some of my characters used to do that in Oblivion to go back and forth between the IC and Leyawiin, walking or swimming all the way up and down the river.
Thankfully Joan has done her homework relating to Ashlander customs, and is ready with bribes gifts to smooth the way.
And it still ends the same way as usual, being unceremoniously thrown out! I always find the Ashlanders to be endlessly exasperating.
We'll see if Joanie's thread selection changes anything.
Welcome back, and glad you’re able to find a bit of time for sharing Joan’s story.
So Joan has an elven bowgirl, albeit a Dunmeri one.
Urgh, the only thing Ashlanders have going for them is that they’re no more pompous and hateful to outsiders than Dunmer from any of the major houses.
Joan has the patience of Arkay to play their games. I hope her Imperial armor is not going to be a large further impediment.
Good to see this again!
I liked Joan's idea of water-walking to Urshilaku. It's a good example of how the game rewards unconventional thinking, since the shoreline provides an orientation marker for her. She's also less likely to be attacked.
And once in Urshilaku Camp, she has to go about the business of gift-giving and proving herself all over again. The Ashlanders do not trust easily, and having a good reputation among the regular Dunmer doesn't mean anything to them.
The bit at the end was great. Morrowind makes a surprisingly big deal about what you wear, and Joan belatedly realizes that donning the armor of the Empire makes it a lot harder to win over the anti-Empire Ashlanders.
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