The Saga of Joan of Arkay, A Morrowind Main Quest Story Options

[Renee]

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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Joan of Arkay Chargen Sheet

Joan in Seyda Neen

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 6 2021, 12:46 AM

[Renee]

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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Arkngthand UESP Page

Looming Ruins

"Arkay, I call upon ye!"

Bridge Runic Detail -- (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.