Locke's Journal, Or: The Ramblings of a Dunmer Criminal Options

[BobV]

I am Locke, a man of the Dunmer race, or a Dark Elf as anyone without dark skin and pointy ears would say. The goal of this journal is to serve as a chronicle of my exile to Vvardenfell- and to perhaps provide those who would engage in various acts of unlawful nature with bits of advice and experience.

Thrown into the Imperial Prison for stealing everything that wasn't nailed down or on fire wherever I happened to be, my punishment was, after a month of waiting, a lifetime exile to the island of Vvardenfell. Vvardenfell was, to my luck, not a desolate prison island. It was, however, a hellhole filled with danger. And opportunity, to people with the wits to seize it... I like to count myself amongst them.

The boat ride to Vvardenfell was pleasant enough... I spent most of the time sleeping in the hold, and unlike what most people think, I find the rolling of a ship to be quite comfortable for one seeking to sleep. The constant creaking, on the other hand, is a bit less comfortable, but I digress.

I arrived at the small port town of Seyda Neen at dawn. A typical seaside hamlet, it reeked strongly of fish. It is a mix of stone cottages and fisherman's huts, with the Imperial Census Office and Arrile's tradehouse being the only two-story buildings. As I gazed about the town, a scruffy little bosmer bumped into me, seemingly engrossed in searching for something.

"Excuse me, sir" , the Bosmer began in that voice all Bosmer seem to have, and which I greatly hate "I've lost my ring...have you seen it? An engraved ring of healing, it's an uh...family heirloom of mine."

In fact, this ring that the wood elf spoke of was amongst the many other unguarded valuables I had liberated from the Imperial Census Office. It was a minor magical bauble and I had intended to keep it for a while. However, despite his nondescript and somewhat annoying appearance I had a feeling he might be of use to me, and I have learned a long time ago to look past appearances. Therefore, I took the ring out of one of the bags I had filled with my findings and handed it to the bosmer, who took it and began to do a little dance, until I cleared my throat, returning his attention towards me.

"Thank you, thank you!" , the wood elf began, excited. "You're now my favorite friend! Name's Fargoth, by the way. I'll be sure to tell my friend Arrille, who runs the tradehouse around here. Uh, what's your name?"

I then realized a cover identity would be useful, and that getting in good with the local merchant would be just as useful.

"Veldur Sedrani" , I replied. Fargoth nodded and ran off into the Tradehouse, from which he returned moments later, giving me a sly wink. I walked into the local Tradehouse, and was politely greeted by the owner, one of the High Elves.

"You're the one who helped Fargoth, aren't you? Veldur Sedrani, I presume. I am Arrile, owner of Arrile's Tradehouse. I barter for goods or coin. Can I interest you in anything of my inventory?"

I was able to make a deal for a suit of armor made out of the shell of something, lacking greaves, a shortbow made of the same material, a quiver of iron arrows, dual steel wakizashis, and some tools of the trade in exchange for the silverware I had stolen from the office and the money I had acquired or had been granted as a bit of aid in getting a new life... Or rather, resuming my old life of crime.

Thus equipped, I decided to get acquantainced with more of the locals, and headed upstairs to the bar. A burly nord in Imperial Legion armor, with some local alcoholic drink on his breath, motioned me closer.

"I 'ear ye are a friend o' Fargoth." , the Nord began. News seemed to travel fast in these parts. "Tha's good, aye it is. Ye fancy makin' yeself a bit o' coin?"

When I confirmed this, the nord continued. "Grea'. Ye see, I 'ad a bit o' bad luck playen' noine-holes, an' I'm in a bit o' debt with Ganciele. Usually o'd be able t'afferd it oot'o' tha money th' locals pay us fer...pretection...but some o' de buggers be holdin' oot on me, 'specially tha' wee cur Fargeth. I know 'e be hidin' 'is money some'ere, bu' I done searched 'is 'ole cottage an' dinna found nothing. I think 'e is hidin' it summere aroond town. Wait ye till night falls, aye, and take ye position on top o' th' Lighthouse, where ye gots a great view on things. Observe Fargeth frem there, watch 'is movements, an' when ye've found his spot, take ye th' stash. Bring th' money ta me - I'll be lettin' ye keep a third o' et, an' wha'e'er else ye may find. Be we 'avin' a deal, Veldur?"

"Yes, we have..." , I replied. Already I had formed the plan to doublecross the nord and just keeping the whole of it. I then engaged in conversation with two scouts- one was a female redguard, Elone, who gave me directions to nearby settlements. Another one, a nord called Raflod - Raflod the Braggart, the locals call him - told me that this area, the Bitter Coast, is a haven for smugglers due to its many secluded coves, caverns, and bays. He also told me that there is an interesting establishment in the town of Suran, called the House of Earthly Delights, that I should visit whenever I'm there. It sounds promising , and I think I know just what sort of establishment it is. This whole Suran sounds like a suitable town for me to commit 'business' - though my destination is Balmora, a city that sounds very promising and is not that far away. My mind filled with new information and schemes, I gave the locals my goodbyes and exited the tradehouse.

[To be continued - I hope my attention span allows me to]

[BobV]

"GALURO BELAN?! That fetcher! I'm reporting this to the magistrate! Thank you for your help, Locke... I'll give you your... reward... once I'm back." , Aurane spoke once I informed her who had been behind the slander. She winked and stormed off, leaving me alone in her shop. This was a perfect opportunity. I picked up some of her notes from the table, some spare blank paper, and a ink pen, and began copying. I had just finished copying a large amount of her notes when I heard footsteps approaching, so I slid the copies into my pack, the notes back in their place, and sat down on the bed with the expression of a impatient lover.
All I shall say of the reward is that it was very pleasing. The night passed with little rest - fortunately, being Elven, I don't need as much as humans do - and before she awoke, I left. Going for the Hlaalu quarter, I handed the notes of Aurane to Edryno, who promised she'd have a courier send them to Balmora.

I then left the city, hoping to take the boat on the outskirts on the city to Hla Oad. Unfortunately, I was awaited by a mixed group of Nords and Orcs led by an old, shrewish woman in Telvanni robes.

"There's the one who put me out of business! GET HIM!" , she shrieked.

I smirked, though realized I was at bad odds. Not counting Belan - who I recognized the Dunmer woman to be - I was outnumbered five to one.
The thugs charged me, flailing about with axes and clubs. I swiftly dodged an orc's axe, which hit a club-bearing Nord instead. This caused the Nord's club to narrowly miss my head. I gave a swift, cruel slash to the hand of a club-bearing Orc, which cut off half of the orc's hand, causing him to drop his club and spraying blood over his companions. Quite a messy move. The other two Nords, bearing axes, simultaneosly sent blows to my head, but I ducked, causing their axes to clang against eachother.

The club-wielding Nord had regained his footing and moved to hit my kneecaps with his club. I dodged the blow and retailiated by planting my kneecaps firmly in his groin area, causing him to yelp. I furthered his pain by piercing the same area with my off-hand wakizashi, removing him from the fight. The club-bearers had been neutralized- now the odds were only three to one. I jumped high as the axemen moved to attack me, causing them to crash into eachother. I took advantage of this by running a nord through with both of my blades, who fell and didn't get up.

The Nord slashed at my shoulder and I was unable to dodge in time, ripping open the cloth to reveal a large gash. I responded to this by raising the blade in my right hand as though to strike. The Nord fell for the feint and moved to block it with his axe. I used this opportunity to send a lightning-fast strike to his heart, slaying him. The next moment I felt two strong arms close around my body as the Orc lifted me up! I had allowed the half-pig to attack me from behind! The Orc raised me overhead then threw me at the ground several feet away from him. Blood trickled down my face as I looked up, to see the Orc charging me. I quickly raised my swords upwards - the Orc, too late to break off his charge, impaled himself onto them.

I got up, wiping my face with a sleeve, and smirked at Belan.

"Is that everything you've got?"

To my surprise, she responded: "No."

All I remember was Belan chanting some Daedric yaggle-gakkle and a stream of Magick shooting from her finger towards me before everything went black.