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

[WellTemperedClavier]

Yeah, it can be hard to avoid spoilers for older media, too. After a while it becomes common knowledge in the relevant communities, and you just have to roll with that. I somewhat prefer blindness, but I've still enjoyed plenty of things that I've had spoiled for me. I'm of the opinion that if spoilers can completely ruin something, it was never that good to begin with.

Ooh, creative breaks. Of the ones you showed, I like the last one the most.

Hmm, don't think Tetra was from me.

Speaking of which, I like how Joan is talking to Tetra. Sounds like they've already bonded. At least Tetra isn't stuck reciting stock phrases.

Makes sense she'd want a helmet for the ashstorms. Though I wonder if a cloth covering might be better, since fine dust could still get into a regular helmet.

I like the sword divider! The colors really bring it out.

Ha, I enjoyed the exchange she had with Missun.

Ah, if the bow were underwater, it'd be an example of why alteration can be so darn useful. But apparently she's comfortable enough that she's able to cast levitation. Good call for navigating this cave.

Ooh, I like how she's enjoying it. Sometimes there's benefit in trying something you don't think you'll like.

But I do remember how frustrating it was to find the darn thing!

Ha! Yeah, sometimes in Morrowind you can end up over-preparing. Still, even if she didn't need levitation here, it could still come in handy later. Looting from undead also seems less ethically problematic than looting from the dead-dead.

Mission accomplished. They may not be entirely happy, but she fulfilled her end of the bargain and the Ashlanders will keep theirs. Even if they're grouchy about it.

[Renee]

SubRosa Florens: I actually messed up the guar's name. She didn't name it Tetra, couldn't have. She would've come up with something Nine-related. That was just some hasty editing on my part, not thinking things through 100%.

Thank you. I wish I could draw more than swords and flowers (and make the drawings identifiable). Ever go to Gamefaqs? As basic as those walkthroughs and tutorials are; I'm not even sure if they allow simple JPEGs, a lot of those geeks truly know how to draw some cool computer art, but with only the basic keys on any popular keyboard. 🦸🏿‍♂️

Ha. I know you dislike hirelings, but for me it's always depended on the character. I like having them around IF my character also likes having them around (Ana Khannda always goes solo, for instance). Having an archer or a spellcaster is great because they take care of ranged combat, something Joan lacks. They can also alert to dangers sometimes before I even know they're around.

But yeah, he was pretty terrible in that cave! - And yes, she's keeping Levitation. Probably won't use it until she actually needs it. We'll see.


Acadian the Paladin: Yah, I agree. Now that she has Levitation in her book, it was worth the extra trouble getting it. I'm sure there will be other times it'll come in handy, plus it's just a cool effect to have.

Ghrr!!! See, "ghrr" is an example of some late-moment editing which did go well.

You're welcome. I already wrote some first drafts for Laprima, and boy they are good. Want to have a peak? Peek!



There we go. And it only gets more compelling from there.


TheWellTemperedClavierPlayer: Creative breaks yes. That's a good term. They're just interesting ways to split chapters into sub-chapters.

Joan speaking to Tetra = me speaking to one of our animals IRL! Sometimes animals are more fun to speak to than people.

Ahh, that's actually something we went through, about headgear. One of my past characters (not Joan, one of my Xbox characters) tried finding something in the base game which is not a helm, yet still protects one's entire face. There is a Dunmer-type helm which is completely closed-off, made of chitin or bonemold. I'm gonna get its name wrong if I try to guess.

But there are no non-helmet headwraps or hoods or burqas which fully mask the face, not that I've found, anyway. Probably there are through mods of course, but I haven't found anything suitable yet. Surely that overhaul we discussed has something I bet, but I'm not ready for overhauls that grand.

Aye, writing up responses to pure pre-written dialog, that's the Renee style!

Regarding Joan's view on "trickery" magics: I've had some more insights here. Okay, she's trying to be set in her ways, but is open to using them if she's got no other choice. But there are some types of magic she will never use. She will never summon, for instance, since all of those magics involve yucky undead or Daedric gear, and so on.

But overall, It's the classic warrior not fully trusting magic, which is also found in a lot of other classic Medieval-type stories. She uses some outer and inner forces for sure, but is often cautious / distrustful of new avenues to explore. Healing is something she's always been interested in; such magic is mostly, only "Good". Same with light spells. She likes bringing light into darkened areas.


All: Graci for your support. This next chapter has a lot of concepts and dialog, and could've become quite wordy if I hadn't edited it down a few days ago. I've tried to make it fun to read. We'll see.

[Renee]

Chapter LI: Plight of the Clanfriend

18 Second Seed (Day 246) 3E 428

"The Great Houses stole our land and mocked us with false gods. The Nerevarine is the last hope the Ashlanders have. I will let no outlander steal this hope from us."

Joan of Arkay, standing now inside the yurt of Nibani Maesa, listened to the words of Urshilaku’s wise woman. As always, Joan tried to glean whatever information she could with her typically attentive ear. Speaking not out of turn, actually not speaking yet, at all. Joan had spent the night in the camp’s trader’s yurt. Now that she was indeed being possibly considered as an accessory to their way of life, she could finally sleep amongst them without worrying about being an outsider, as well as an outlander.

But this didn’t mean she’d no longer need to succumb to their thinly-veiled insults and tirades.

"So. They've told me of you, outlander," the wise woman said stiffly, perhaps hoping for some reaction from the Breton: shaking fear or nervous insecurity or some such. "Or, shall I say... Clanfriend."

Joan said nothing; her mind reverting instead to the rather studious, analytical self she’d been just under a year ago; living in Cheydinhal, preparing for a future filled with promise. A future which was somewhat unsure, but would certainly involve joining Cyrodiil’s military, or the exploration of its many tombs and ruins. The student, the scholar, the acolyte.

Although she was unsure about whatever was to come here in Morrowind, at the moment she’s thinking that she will indeed have something to do with the future state of Tamriel's westernmost province… Nerevarine or not. Still, she chose not to reveal her thoughts.

"You are hard-headed," Nibani tried, her face scrunched with disgust. "And ignorant. But perhaps it is not your fault. My lord ashkhan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies," the elf said with obvious reluctance. "So, I must now test you against the prophecies...."

Nibani Maesa explained that there are many types of prophecies, and then began to list several of them. This list of predictions quickly became daunting and dizzying to Joan, who wished the wise woman would slow her words so she could take some notes. "Ask me of these things," Nibani said. "If you are patient, if you would be wise. Or, if you are impatient to know, just ask: 'Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?' Go ahead, outlander," she taunted, not too much unlike a lot of the outlaws who taunted travellers along the roads of Vvardenfell. "I am Urshilaku’s wise woman. Ask your questions, and I will answer."

Joan, being a patient, diligent sort, chose the first option. But first, a request. "Ehm, might I firstly have the opportunity to ready my quill and journal to scribe whatever coming words you have to say, muthsera?"

The wise woman allowed this, and then began describing all of the complexities the prophecies (the signs to come) described throughout portions of Dunmer history. Although Joan was not choosing to state herself to be the Nerevarine, the facts were as follows.

1). Joan Marie had been born of uncertain parents, fulfilling the first prophecy to a tee. She'd been raised in an orphanage, fostered by the Temple of Arkay in Cheydinhal. Therefore, she fit the wise woman’s first listed prophecy, there could be no question about this.

2). The Nerevarine was said to have a birthmark in the shape of a moon, and a star. Joan did not have this birthmark, not that she chose to reveal this to the wise woman just then. Hmm.

3). Mad cultists known as 'sleepers' had been attacking people throughout Vvardenfell, the wise woman informed, which was one of the signs of the Nerevarine's return. Though sights of these sleepers had been confirmed, this in and of itself did not foretell Joan should be definitely considered the prophet.

4). The Prophecy of the Seven Curses was next on the wise woman's list. Nibani herself was not so knowledgeable about such things however, and could not confirm either way whether Joan could be categorized under this sign.

5). Next came the prophecy of "The Stranger”. Here, the words spoken by the wise woman became poetic; she spoke of things Joan could not fully understand, probably Nibani was deliberately making things harder to comprehend than need be. But it was clear that the Stranger had indeed returned, whoever he or she (or it?) could be.

Regarding that final sign: the Crusader from Cyrodiil thought of all the times strange Dunmer had approached her on the streets of Balmora, or in the plazas of Vivec. These folks would badger into her personal space, expelling a series of garbled words about the Red Mountain, Dagoth Ur, strange dreams and other such topics; words which made no sense to the crusader. These folks certainly were strangers. Otherwise they were harmless, and Joan had fallen into the habit of mostly ignoring them. Could these folks be the 'strangers' predicted to return by the signs Nibani was referring to?

“However, this is the best known of the prophecies," Nibani Maesa told the Breton, suddenly and obviously becoming more enthusiastic, as though the woman before her, as an outlander, was no longer an issue. For the moment, at least. "Many trials make manifest the Stranger's fate, the curses' bane. Many touchstones try the Stranger. Many fall, but one remains."

"I see," Joan replied, not really seeing at all as she scribbled her notes. Perhaps the sage woman’s poetic drawl would make more sense as time went by.

Finally, the question everyone: Caius Cosades, a numerous list of Dunmer, perhaps even Emperor Septim himself, had been waiting for: 'Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?'

Nibani stated: "You are not the Nerevarine," causing Joan a measure of great relief. "You are one who may become the Nerevarine,” she continued. “It is a puzzle, and a hard one...." She informed Joan that she had, however, found some of the pieces of this puzzle. And then she gave Joan a couple of tomes to study, The Seven Visions and The Stranger, and requested that Joan find the Lost Prophecies, a third tome which she stated should be found amongst a faction known as the Dissident Priests of the Temple.

As it turns out, Joan had already joined the Dunmers' Temple some time ago. Not to learn of any mysteries or prophecies, but solely so she could have additional places to rest! - But Nibani would not say whether or not the Temple had anything to do with these priests. Chances are, it did not.

"I have told you all I know. Go. Think about these things," the woman said. "And do what must be done."

Head reeling, Joan had no idea what the next step should be. Perhaps she should return to Caius, to get his opinions on all these assorted matters. Certainly wouldn't hurt to do so.

Before leaving Nibani's yurt, the Breton made sure to purchase some of the food the woman offered for sale upon nearby shelves. But don't suss those shelves too hard. No sweetrolls were to be found here, Joan of Arkay.

[SubRosa]

So Joan finally gets to the point of actually performing her mission, talking to the wise woman and getting the skinny on this Neveraine business.

Nibani seems very insecure and protective of the Nerevarine and the prophecies thereof. This is theirs, it belongs to the Ashlanders, not to outsiders like Joan. Not surprising, given how they have been treated by House Dunmer and I am sure the Empire. They have been driven to the very edges of existence, in the harshest place there is, by outsiders taking things from them. It must be a hard thing for her to share this with Joan.

Phew, that is a relief. Joan is not the promised Messiah. She can just continue on to be a normal person, without the weight of prophecy hanging around her shoulders.

No sweetrolls? Barbarians!

[Acadian]

Not the Never Rain but one who may become so? What on Nirn does that even mean? And why would she want to help fulfill a prophecy for a bunch of ash holes like these? I’d be tempted to return to Cheydinhal and seek quests from those who welcome and appreciate my assistance. I am not Joan though. I expect she may indeed see what Caius has to say about all this.

[macole]

Oh boy, here we go. The dissident priests, a faction that can set your mind a reeling. I look forward to reading Joan's reaction to the Dissident Priests.

This post has been edited by macole: Oct 8 2023, 03:13 AM

[WellTemperedClavier]

Hmm, that headgear wasn't a chitin helm by any chance, was it? While it's still a helmet, it kind of looks like a wrapping (sort of).

https://en.uesp.net/wiki/File:MW-item-Chiti...rmor_Female.jpg

Joan's distrust of conjuration definitely makes sense. Daedra are usually bad news, so bringing more of them into the world would strike her as suspicious.

Noticed a typo here: Joan refers to being part of the future of Tamriel's westernmost province. I think you mean easternmost?

No kidding about all this stuff being daunting and dizzying! Morrowind doesn't hold your hand very much, and that makes it tricky to navigate these things. The way you broke things down into bullet points definitely helped.

Heh, I love Joan's relief at not being the Nerevarine. Except it's never so easy here; she still might be the Nerevarine. Because nothing's certain in this province.

Joan joining the Temple just to have a place to sleep makes me wonder how many folks join factions for that exact reason. Like faction leaders roll their eyes, because they know some percentage just wants the amenities.

Going back to Caius sounds wise.

[Renee]

Morning.

I agree, SubRosa. Nibani is extremely territorial. And the fact that the Dunmer who still revere Lord Nerevar do so even after being pushed to nearly the harshest place in the province, Nibani must be wondering 'who the heck is this outlander, barging into our village and asking all these questions?'

Thing is, all this dialog is text-based, so (to me) a lot of it comes across like something written in a book. The emotion behind those words occurs mostly in our heads. So I tried to put some emotion and emphasis into the story; Nibani scrunching her face in an accusatory manner, and so on.

Phew, that is a relief. Joan is not the promised Messiah.

I wonder what it'd be like to RP somebody who claims to be the Nerevarine.

As far as I can tell, the only way to get sweetrolls into TES: III is to install an overhaul mod! 🍥 Our very own Clavier has been working on (or worked on) on a huge overhaul which introduces all sorts of stuff into the game. Problem is, it's one of those projects which makes huge amounts of changes, GOOD changes, but changes which would at least partially alter the the somewhat sparse and alien world I enjoy so much. So for now, no sweetrolls for Joanie.

Gosh darn it's early. Is the coffee ready? ☕


Acadian: I know, right? And believe me, Chapter LI just happened to be the CONDENSED version, meaning there could've been even more abstract language like that.

Like Joan, I assume it'll make some sense as events unfold, but then part of me thinks it's just Ken Rolston (pretty sure it was Ken who wrote a lot of the story) trying to be bizarre.


Me too, macole, looking forward to whatever is to come. According to the way you've phrased your comment, the Dissident Priests are going to be quite something to fear? Or be aware of? Hmm.


Yes, yes, that's the helm I'm thinking of, Clavier. It's shaped like a golden teardrop. I think Joan may've bought one of those at some point. If so, she lost or left it somewhere.

Ha ha ha YES you caught my mistake! I meant to say easternmost, oops! ... I saw that well after the story got posted, but by then it was like "eh". Pretty sure I'm dyslexic. I'm occasionally catching "left" when I meant to write "right", and then correcting these mistakes during editing, and so on.

The bullet points was a good idea. First draft, all of that was one huge wall o' text, more or less. I tried to make it at least more presentable.

I have one of those realism mods in my game, so usually when one of mine joins some faction or guild and then never does any of their quests, that Needs mod is the reason. Even so, one must be careful. I've had to rush into the CS more than once after my guy or gal tries to get some sleep, and is suddenly kicked out of the guild because "that bed belongs to someone else". Yeah.... like NPCs in Morrowind ever actually sleep.

Joan is also part of Mages Guild, even though she never does any of their quests. She never uses their beds; in this case she mostly joined so she could raid their chests for free Magicka potions.

Going back to Caius sounds wise.

So let's go there now, what do ya say?

[Renee]

Chapter LII - Return to Caius

22 Second Seed (Day 280)

Location: Balmora


Ah, the joys of owning a member of livestock. Now that Tetra the pack guar was carrying many of her possessions (which meant encumbrance was no longer as much an issue), Joan practically raided Balmora’s Bookseller, located kitty-corner across from the town's Imperial guilds. Upon entry, Joan noted the bookstore was permeated by the typical aromas encountered in bookstores all over: fresh parchments of linen, vellum, and animal skins; sour pulps, and the assorted mixtures of glues and binding materials which were used to sort those publications together.

"Outlander. What do you want?" asked Dorisa Davel, the Bookseller’s owner/merchant-on-duty.

Well let's start with our ABCs, as in ABCs for Barbarians. This was one of the first books which captured Joan’s mind as a child, partially because it contained illustrations to go along with its words. So for nostalgic purposes, here she was spending coin on the same picture-book as a young adult. Apparently, some parents and guardians hadn’t wanted their youngsters gazing into such a book back in the day. ABCs was said to promote ‘vigilantism’ and ‘roguish desires’ into such young readers, according to some of the rumors she'd heard back home at some point. A good many raisers of children, who would rather their kids grow up to be farmers or shopkeepers or artisans, certainly seemed to agree.

Luckily for Joan, she’d been fostered by schoolmarms and members of clergy who either hadn’t cared for such criticisms, were unaware of them, or let it slip by that the quiet orphan in their care spent hours gazing at the silly drawings which went along with the cute little quips found in ABCs. Otherwise, the Crusader from Cyrodiil perusing now within Balmora for reading material might’ve found herself tending sheep, or sweeping a shop at her current age of 19.

"That’s a good deal."

Joan passed on Aedra and Daedra. Because here was a book she'd read (several times) in her past; Joan could virtually recite some of its words by rote. She was sure she had a copy of this piece of literature somewhere here in Vvardenfell. Likewise for the Brief History of the Empire tomes. She'd been required to pore and study the entire series while schooling. Lives of the Saints? The same.

The Barenziah editions? - Trifling rubbish! - The story Queen Barenziah had always been popular sellers amongst the peoples of Cyrodiil, and were apparently just as common here in Vvardenfell. And though there was plenty of historical merit to the series, Joan of Arkay passed.

The Lusty Argonian Maid? Bleagh!!!

She decided to try something she hadn't read before, something new. The Arcturian Heresy, written by an anonymous author some time during the reign of Tiber Septim, drew her attention. The book cost just twenty-five drakes, so it wouldn't wreck her current budget of four-hundred plus.

“Another satisfied customer.”

There. Now she had something to read while waiting for an opportune moment to visit Caius Cosades.

"I shall return," Joan said to Dorisa. "May the Gods bring fortune upon this studious sanctuary of commerce," she complimented.

"That's so kind of you to say."

Joan spent the rest of the afternoon like many other townies: peddling and trading. After selling a variety of gems, trinkets, and the unneeded potions she’d looted from the variety of bandits who’d tried to take her down, Joan left Dralasa Nithryon's trading shop with a hefty profit of 300 much-needed drakes.

She then made a trip to Eight Plates for a meal of matze and crabmeat. Here the Breton was hoping to find Aradirr the Oracle so she could relay some of the occurances since the woman's card reading, but the seer was not to be found on this day.

"Where's that slave?" asked a lady wearing tan robes as Joan finished her meal. "Here not long ago."

The crusader left Eight Plates with her belly full, and a light buzz of slight inebriation, caused by the alcoholic drink she imbibed. Though she’d never fall into the habit of ‘drunken delving’ like so many other adventuring types, she saw no harm in sipping such drinks along with her off-day meals.

^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^

"I have a message," said the Dunmer. "I am a Sleeper, one among thousands. I bring you a message," he repeated, unnecessarily.

Joan said nothing, stood and stared. Because here she was once again, being approached by yet another aqua-skinned youngster right in the middle of the street. Minding her own, which the scrappy elf who'd badgered her space chose to ignore. Another mysterious agent, spewing yet another set of words which made little sense.

"Dagoth Ur calls you, Joan of Arkay,” he said harshly, “and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory."

That sudden feeling of wariness which always occurred whenever one of these agents showed up came over her once again. Otherwise Joan had nothing to say to the elf, who suddenly stalked away as though he had somewhere more important to suddenly be.

Sigh.

^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^

One hour later
She had planned to read her new book, but found herself exhausted after this town-maneuvering day.

After a brief nap in what was being considered as Joan's closest place to a home: the Balmora Guild of Fighters, she was ready to go. It was midnight now, or close to it. She changed into an unassuming set of clothes. Strode her way across town wearing her new cotton blue shirt & skirt combination; a particularly handsome outfit she had discovered (looted) from the pack of one of the female rogues who’d tried to kill her along the road.

As always, she was barefoot.

"Are you here to discuss your orders?" Caius asked somberly upon meeting his charge yet again.

"Let us do so. We have many tidbits and factors to discuss."

Caius's place was typically, slightly untidy: a few coins here and there, an empty bottle which'd been abandoned on the man's dining table, a copy of Chance's Folly which had fallen under his bed, and so on. As the Blademaster and the Crusader from Cyrodiil engaged in what equated to the Tamriellic version of small talk, Joan couldn't help but notice something else: a brand-new, gleaming weapon lying obviously upon the table, right next to a small, half-necrotic plant which looked as though it hadn't seen proper sunlight in a while. The weapon was a mace made of bronze. Instantly curious, Joan could see right away it possessed some sort of magic. Her eyes, virtually lit with intent.

She was about to make mention of the weapon, so obvious and potent and simply there, but thought it'd be rude to do so at this very moment.

Instead, she relayed as much as she could over the next two hours or so: her experiences with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, and all the other, less-newsworthy dwellers of Urshilaku. She explained that she'd felt trite, embarrassed, and foolish, coming up with the numerous reasons why she had gone to the middle of nowhere, in the middle of no time, to speak with the camp's far-off inhabitants.

"But as it was, in the end I was able to suss some answers they divulged, concerning the mysteries of the Nerevarine Cult, the Sixth House, and other assorted matters."

"That's just incredible!" Caius was virtually beside himself. "It sounds like you could really be the Nerevarine,” he clapped his hands. “But… I'll just have to get used to the idea, eh? Seems as though your quest has seen much success."

Joan grimaced. Fought the urge to shake her head, and palm her face. Cannot he see how temeritous this whole campaign of pretending has become? Still, Joan was partially curious, and eager to see where all of this Nerevarine nonsense was leading.

Speaking of. Caius then outlaid what would be to come, cautioning that his next idea would be admittedly difficult. "I have a very tough assignment for you, Joan of Arkay" he said. "Do you think you are ready?"

The Breton nodded slowly.

"Good. Cautious is smart."

Caius then told her how one of the sergeants of Fort Buckmoth had sent a patrol to the Bitter Coast village of Gnaar Mok. This patrol of Legions had gone there to hunt smugglers who just happened to be associated with the Sixth House cult.

He handed her a pouchful of coin, “four-hundred drakes,” he promised. "Go to Fort Buckmoth. Speak to Champion Raesa Pullia, she'll tell you about the patrol and the Sixth House base. Your orders: find the Sixth House shrine near Gnaar Mok, kill Dagoth Gares, and bring me a full report on what you find." As usual, he issued these commands rather casually. As though such things could as easily be done as the day of shopping she’d just committed all across town.

"I'll be off to Ald-ruhn then," Joan replied, the pit of her tummy feeling wry while her spine got that familiar tingling sensation. “Need to head back north anyway.”

“Oh, one more thing…got a little present for you which might come in handy,” Caius said, pointing to his all-purpose table, pointing to the very object of desire Joan had forgotten about as she'd told the tales of happenings up north.

“It deals damage of fire!” he said with more enthusiasm than he’d used while telling her to locate some far-off shrine, so she could (somehow) eradicate a band of far-off smugglers. “Which might become handy while bashing against some skeletons, ghosts, and bonelords, eh?”

“Oh Caius, you shouldn’t have!” Joan enthused like a kid in a toffee shop. “Why, why… I cannot wait to find myself plunging within ancestral lairs, so I might wield this new blugeoner of mine! Such a thoughtful gift, milord!”

"Heh, look out monsters of Vvardenfell,” the Blades’ Champion smiled. “And now… where did I put that?"

Joan made her way back to the Guild of Fighters as though walking on air. New quest, new books, new weapon? She found herself planning to spend the rest of the night reading her new book, The Arcturian Heresy.

But the moment passed. Turns out, it was already daylight by the time she emerged from the Cosades hovel. There seemed to be a bit more urgency to head off to Buckmoth than there'd been to locate the Bonebiter bow, which meant she didn't have enough time to peruse any pages before she was equipped and suited up again, headed back to Ald'ruhn.

Eager for at least some sort of inspirational words before journeying off, she settled for a couple pages of ABCs for Barbarians instead.


-------------------------------------------

Ash storm! (ugh)

Her dashing blue outfit

Paper Doll'd

----------------------------------------------

Notes: ABCs for Barbarians, as found in the game, only has three pages: one for A, one for B, one for C! So I’m RP’ing this book covers all the alphabet. D is for Daedra, E is for Eradication, and so on.

Joan’s new Mace of Fire is something I added into her game via the CS, so she now has a way to deal more damage to undead. The base game gives us the Snowy Crown, which she currently has (a frost-bashing weapon) but no fiery equivalent. It’s something I noticed during her fights in Urshilaku Crypts: no additional magical damage were dealt to all those underground dwellers.

[SubRosa]

So Joan knows her ABCs. Uh oh, it was promoting a woke liberal agenda that was going to turn all the kids into Khajiit.

I love her thought process as she rejects book after book, until she finds one that intrigues her in the right way.

Another sleeper has awoken. It seems Joan's fame has spread beyond Caius and the Ashlanders... Dagoth is getting his Ur on.

Off Dagoth hunting I see. I liked how the developers decided to tie what would otherwise be ordinary smugglers into the Sixth House, by having the latter employ the smugglers to do... what they do. Only this time smuggling their idols and other paraphernalia.

Joanie has a new basher! Fire will definitely come in handy against undead. But the downside is that Dunmer have a resistance to fire. So it won't be as useful against the most populous race in Morrowind.

[Acadian]

Joan’s in Balmora! Say hi to Daria and company. Can she get one of those Lighthouse Libraries like Silverlight has to carry her literaries? Oops, not necessary – forgot about Tetra.

Crab and matze for dinner. I hope that’s real crabmeat and not the fake stuff made from Balmora bugs. Yeah, avoiding drunken delving is always wise.

Ah, the barefoot Joan and barechested Caius. It’d be interesting if they traded outfits, yes?

And she emerges with a new quest and magic bludgeoner! Sixth House Cult. . . didn’t that silly sleeper say something about the Sixth House?

[macole]

Joan’s new Mace of Fire is something I added into her game via the CS, so she now has a way to deal more damage to undead. The base game gives us the Snowy Crown, which she currently has (a frost-bashing weapon) but no fiery equivalent. It’s something I noticed during her fights in Urshilaku Crypts: no additional magical damage were dealt to all those underground dwellers.

For all his faults Caius is an upright man.

How much fire damage does the mace do?

Baseless selfplug: in my mod Gwylsre Fay Artifact - Black Moomba – The God Killer, I found an enchantment of absorb health, absorb willpower, and absorb fatigue to be VERY useful.

[WellTemperedClavier]

As far as I can tell, the only way to get sweetrolls into TES: III is to install an overhaul mod! 🍥 Our very own Clavier has been working on (or worked on) on a huge overhaul which introduces all sorts of stuff into the game. Problem is, it's one of those projects which makes huge amounts of changes, GOOD changes, but changes which would at least partially alter the the somewhat sparse and alien world I enjoy so much. So for now, no sweetrolls for Joanie.

Quick note: the mod I worked on doesn't actually affect anything on Vvardenfell's landmass, so everything in the base game and expansions should look the same. TR only deals with Morrowind's mainland. There is a mod called Heart of the Velothi which [/i]does affect Vvardenfell, but that's a separate mod from TR (though it shares some assets).

Ooh, I like the description of the bookstore's smell. Something about that scent is simultaneously soothing and exciting. And it's cute she's taking the nostalgia route with ABC's for Barbarians.

I like how you explain which books she's familiar with. The kinds of books a person's read, and what they think about the books, does reveal a bit about personality.

I'd say Joan's definitely earned that booze. And that was a creepy encounter with the Sleeper. I guess it is time for them to make their appearance.

Nice buildup for Caius's house. Can't imagine the guy would take very good care of houseplants, so that fits. Wonder what the new weapon's for.

Ah, that's what it's for! I'd forgotten that bit. Certainly will be handy for what Joan will encounter next. She's getting in deep to the darkest aspects of Morrowind.

Oh, I see! You modded the weapon in. Very clever!

[Renee]

Very good point about the books, Rosa. It's like she had some money, but not a LOT of money, so she had to narrow her choice down.

She's going to have to choose which mace to use. If the place is populated with dark elves, go with the frost. If there's undead in there, go with the fire. Hmm. She might as well get a third mace for Daedra (maybe shock).


That'd be a rad thing to have as a mod, right? A "cabinet of holding" instead of a "bag of holding".

The crabmeat in Vvardenfell is real, thank the gods. They've got mudcrabs in TES III. 🦀


macole: The mace does.. : 3-17 Chop, 3-17 Slash, and 1-2 Thrust. But on top of that there are 1 to 25 points of Fire damage. And the Snowy Crown does the same exact damage except it's frost-based. ❄ Either way, a very potent weapon. Joan is "cheating" a bit, relying on magic more than she'd like. Put yourself in her boots, though. If you've got two giant kagouti running towards you, and a bandit slinging arrows on the side, what would you want to have protecting?

I tried looking up Gwylsre Fay Artifact - Black Moomba at NEXUS (and then Bing) but nothing came up. Wait, are you joking? You're joking.


Yeah, Joan is VERY particular about books (go figure, right Clavier?) and so we get to get a quick glimpse of my Lawful Good Super-Duper Paladin in action ... as she shops for books.

I picture Caius as a guy who's seen better days, but now he's sliding. But it's also okay that he's sliding. It's all part of his cover-up, right?

Yep, a very rare Renee mod for Morrowind. Only because Joan really really needed a Bashmeisster like her Mace of Flames.

Uh oh, do you hear that? Outlander, what do you want?

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 21 2023, 06:34 PM

[Renee]

Chapter LIII - From Fort Buckmoth to Gnaar Mok

23 Second Seed (Day 281) 3rd Era, Year 428

Location: Buckmoth Legion Fort


"I don't think we've been introduced, outlander. I am Olquar, Fort Buckmoth’s resident enchanter. How can I help you?"

Joan looked quizzically at the lady-elf before her: an Altmer, not a Dunmer. Had Olquar the Enchanter grown up here in Vvardenfell? - According to the elf’s delicate accent, Joan didn’t think so. Otherwise, Olquar wouldn’t be running her enchanting business here in an Imperial establishment, would she? … She’d be offering services somewhere in Balmora perhaps, or Molag Mar; somewhere within obvious Dunmer territory. So was it proper for a non-native (an outlander herself!) to now be referring to Joan as an outlander?

She fought the urge to question. Not why she was here. "I am Joan Marie, of the Temple of Arkay in Cyrodiil. I have arrived to consult your Champion, Raesa Pullia? I have heard Raesa should be at residence, here in Fort Buckmoth."

"If you want to talk to an enchanter about enchanting," Olquar said, stroking her fine green-colored robe, "try Galar Rothan at the Telvanni Council House. He's not a stiff shirt like a lot of Telvanni wizards, and he knows his stuff."

"Right. Guess I'll have a suss around, then." Humility, such a virtue. "May the Gods bless thy day nonetheless, and all of thine days, forthwith."

"Goodness. No one's told me that in so long!"

Joan looked around the fort's interior a bit doubtfully. Buckmoth was a semi-large one, and she had never been here before. Finding the fort itself was not so easy; due to the dust storms which frequently invaded the Ashlands (go figure…), whatever actual road led to the fort had long been buried, so just locating Buckmoth’s entrance had taken some time. Hopefully, she wouldn't need to stride through a maze of rooms, corridors, and alcoves looking for the champion.

Fortunately, Raesa Pullia was found not long thereafter, right here in Buckmoth's lobby. "You're out of uniform," the champion said bluntly, her brows knitted. "Talk to me when you're serious."

Rules, and regulations.

"I see," the Cheydinhalian replied, awkwardly trying to save face. "I shall return then." …If I ever attain any sort of rank within this organization, thought she, especially an officer’s rank, suiting up into Imperial mail before one legionnaire may even consult with another is a rule I’ll aim to do away with!

She walked outside to the haypile, where her guar was nestled for the night. Tried not to pout while gathering up the Imperial-styled cuirass which'd been laid along with the rest of her Nirnly possessions. Spent the next few minutes buckling and fastening the fort’s ‘required’ chest and torso-gear upon her upper half.

"There. Shall have to do," she spoke aloud, a bit flummoxed. She had just removed all the other pieces of armor before going into the fort; there was no way she was going to suit back into the rest.


Even though the sky was fully dark outside by now, Buckmoth was a hive of activity--knights and pages and monks zipping all around the stronghold’s interior. Something was definitely amiss. But Raesa hadn't budged. She’d remained standing in the same spot, allowing the newcomer a fair allotment of time. Which was a plus, in the crusader’s mind.

"You seem like very good company," greeted Raesa upon Joan's re-arrival, much pleased that the Breton before her was now being ‘serious’. “Welcome.”

"Many thanks." To the task at hand. "I am Joan, of the Chapel of Arkay in Cyrodiil, and I have traveled here from Balmora to speak upon the subject of a band of smugglers who've been reported as inhabiting some nefarious location, somewhere along the Bitter Coast."

The fort's champion relayed the bad news. Apparently, only one of the several troopers who'd gone to Gnaar Mok, to investigate rumors of smuggling, had returned. All the others had perished, according to the lone survivor. And, this poor survivor's body had been disfigured by corprus by the time he’d made it back to Buckmoth, which (in a way) was a small blessing. Because most adversaries, bandits and smugglers and monsters alike, were most-likely not interested in ambushing a carrier of the corprus disease, lest they become infected themselves.

"By the Gods!" Joan shrieked, truly angered.

"In his ravings," Raesa said, "he spoke of a cavern on the coast, which he called 'Ilunibi'. It's not on our maps," she added. "Try asking locals in Gnaar Mok about such a place."

Raesa Pullia went on to say that a 'half-man' creature named Dagoth Gares was responsible for the slaying of Buckmoth's troops. She then unrolled a scroll so she could explain the rest. Smartly and craftily, Dagoth Gares had allowed the final soldier he hadn't killed to return to the fort, solely so the half-disfigured man’s horrible message could be told.

"'The Sleeper Awakes'," the champion consulted notes on the scroll in her hands. "And 'The Sixth House has risen', and 'Dagoth Ur is our Lord, and I am his priest'," Raesa stated with a nervous swallow. "Finally, our poor trooper said one final message from Dagoth Gares, which is 'All will be One with Him in the Flesh'. These are the things our fallen soldier was able to divulge."

"I see," Joan said, the blood within her veins and arteries boiling, all of the mishaps which occurred during her awkward introduction into Buckmoth... forgotten. "Sounds rather like the same drivel of hodgepodge a variety of sleepers have occasionally burdened my ears, as I’ve lapsed about Vvardenfell."

For the moment however, there was nothing to do. Seemed as though everything which had occurred was already done and over; there was nothing Joan could further accomplish. The soldiers had fallen, which meant the time-table to solve this current quest was, for the time being, not so immediate. Wasn’t like Dagoth Gares was going ‘round roaming about; seemed as though he’d still be dwelling within Ilunibi, wherever that may be. So… time for some well-deserved rest.

She'd been on the road for close to twelve hours before arriving. So she'd spend the rest of the night sleeping in one of Buckmoth’s bunks, and would prepare for her journey during the following morn.

^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^

24 Second Seed, late afternoon
The Dunmer she’d befriended up north, Missun Akin, had decided he didn’t want to follow Joan as she continued south to Balmora a week ago, which was fine with her. Missun was one of those folks whose livelihood had long been settled. He was ‘dug in’, as the saying goes, destined to stay within what he knew during his day-to-day. Probably he’d feel out of place in the regions of Hlaalu, his Ashlander ways obvious and unsettling (perhaps) to the cultured townfolk down south.

Before leaving Buckmoth, Joan decided to recruit another Imperial soldier.

"I bet you couldn't throw a stone around here without hitting a smuggler," he said once they arrived in Gnaar Mok.

"So I have heard," Joan Marie replied.

"'Smuggler's Coast' is what they call this stretch of coast from Seyda Neen north to West Gash," he intoned. "Now, no one HERE would think of trying to cheat the Emperor of his taxes," the man joked. "No, we're loyal citizens."

Confused, the Breton made no reply. - Was that quip a measure of sarcasm? - The soldier was a last-moment decision. Over the past few months her capability as a warrior had grown exponentially; she didn't really need to have him along as she traveled the roads from Ald'ruhn to Gnaar Mok. But the man might come in handy once they were in whatever smuggler’s hideout they'd be pointed toward. Seemed like often, there was at least one enemy in some of these caves and hideouts whose skills with magic or weaponry went beyond the crusader’s, and she’d be forced to flee.

For now, her main concern was finding a place to rest. Hopefully Gnaar Mok had some sort of an inn, or even a hostel, or (at the very least) an outdoor set of bedrolls for travelers to sleep upon.

"Quickly outlander," a Gnaar Mok ordinator greeted, his voice muffled beneath the full-faced, golden helmet he wore. "I haven't much time."

Joan Marie identified herself, explained she had traveled to the region in order to learn about any nearby smuggler hideouts, and then asked about possible places to stay.

"Ilunibi Caverns," the ordinator said with an ominous tone. "That's what they call the old sea cave up on the north end of the island, right off of Khartag Point. Don't be poking your nose in there, someone might object."

Ah. Perhaps it was the fact that Joan'd entered the village without wearing her armor; the guard was (perhaps) thinking the plainly-dressed woman before him was just some innocent traveller!

On the subject of places to stay he had no advice. Gnaar Mok was a simple fishing village, not exactly one of the spokes of travel destinations, after all.

But then Joan discovered that Caryarel's shack had been abandoned. Caryarel was the high elf who'd (several months ago) stolen that silver platter from the Imperial Cult headquarters in Ebonheart, although he denied doing so at the time. According to the locals, after Joan’d caught him in his lie the elf had vanished, apparently too embarrassed to stay in the village. Which was a nice bit of information, in her opinion. Served the man right for committing his crime, even if this crime was a misdemeanor, he could’ve turned it all around had he properly confessed.

So she spent the night in the elf’s tiny shack, lying in his former hammock. She listened to the sounds of the locals as they returned from sea, hefting whatever catches they’d hauled from its salty fathoms. Her dreams were full of half-rendered, monstrous images: shapes and sounds and shadows.


---------------------------------

Raesa Pullia (notice how severe she looks)

[SubRosa]

Raesa looks more sour than a jar full of pickle juice.

It seems everyone is an Outlander in Morrowind. Maybe the real Outlanders are the friends we made along the way?

Got to dress for success Joan! Quinn at the Fashion Club could have told her that!

Uh oh, Ilunibi. That is a name I remember. Time to cue up the ominous music. Here we go...

So Joan is back on the road again, bound for destiny at Ilunibi.

[Acadian]

Do outlanders call other outlanders outlander? An interesting question.

The first impression of Raesa Pullia is certainly not encouraging; however, she does redeem herself a bit with information once Joan puts some of her armor back on. Joan’s pack guar continues to prove very handy.

Armed with a vague destination, a new rent-a-Legionnaire, and a night of sleep, Joan sets off to find Ilunibi.

Happily, Gnaar Mok provides more information to help find her destination and even a convenient place to spend the night.

[Renee]

@SubRosa: Sure, that's one way to look at it. We're all Outlanders in a way, similar to how in the United States, most of us have family lineages which began as non-native. We all began as immigrants at some point. Immigrant, what do you want? the Apache and Cherokees once said. I don't have time for you, immigrant. Move along.

Ha ha that music sounds like it'd be perfect for Mass Effect. 🚀


@Acadian: Morrowind is the last Bethesda RPG which mostly had a bunch of text-based dialog. Only the Hellos ("If you wish to talk, it's really no trouble at all") and combat dialog is voiced. Despite this, you'd be surprised at how much of the text-dialog is copy-paste, and I mean literally copy-paste. For all the complaints we heard about how "dumbed-down" Oblivion is, if you click on one NPC's Rumors in OB they're going to have something unique to say from all the others. If you click on another NPC's Imperial City topic, he or she's going to have something custom-tailored to his or her daily life, which no other person says.

Well with MW, literally if you click on Raesa Pullia or Ald'Ruhn or Imperial Legion any other topic, 90% of the time the response from that NPC is shared with 90% of other NPCs. So I think it's possible the 'Outlander' response from that enchanter is just one of these shared responses. Still. From Joan's perspective she's going to question this.

Rent-a-Legionnaire! And just you wait and see what happens to this guy!


Lopov: No Lopov.

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 28 2023, 02:45 PM

[Renee]

Chapter LIV -- Ilunibi Caverns

27 Second Seed (Day 285), early afternoon


Joan arrived at what she inferred to be Point Khartag, the southernmost area of the mainland north of Gnaar Mok. The air was calm, the sun was shining, the sea was pleasant. But where was Ilunibi? There weren’t any caves, nor any of the usual signs of a ‘hideout’ located nearby. No boats moored to the shore, no empty bottles, no leftover meals half-eaten in front of an obvious doorway, and so on. So she began peering to the south, where she thought she could see the outline of trees, maybe upon an island.

“Hmm…”

Thing is, none of the locals of Gnaar Mok mentioned an island. They’d only said that Ilunibi is somewhere to the north, never describing the exact spot where the cove is situated.

It was just when Joan was reaching into her satchel so she could consult her notes when the guard she’d recruited (whose name, she’d learned the day before, was Mario Luigi) suddenly readied his crossbow. “I’ve trifled with you long enough!” he shouted, causing Joan to ready her own weapon... who? ... where? - Mario then pointed his bow toward the waves, fired a bolt, and leapt fully into the water!

“Mario!!!”

The soldier, for whatever reason, had decided to engage combat with an undersea creature, probably a kraken, maybe even a lowly slaughterfish; Joan could not fully see what was happening down there. Glumly, she was forced to dawdle on land, while the rest of the melee unfolded. Nothing she could do. Her task today was to figure out what was going on with the smugglers of Ilunibi, not waste time while fighting submerged.

“Pick thy battles," she mumbled. "‘Twas one of the first rules… perhaps the very PRIMARY of rules we learn before involving ourselves into brawls,” Joan said exasperatedly to her guar, unbelieving what she was currently seeing. “Pick thine battles.” She shook her head. “To best suit ourselves for survival we must pick them, Tetra! Because not all opponents can be defeated! – Was Sir Luigi not taught the same sort of measures I was in regards to combat? Was he asleep during his training classes? Or not spending full attention toward his instructors?”

“Ghurr.”

The gist of it? After a minute or so, the man hadn’t surfaced. And whatever he’d been fighting was probably now trying to devour its waterlogged, fully-armored meal, for too much time had passed. Joan knew from her own experiences with learning to swim that she could hold her breath for not even a minute, and that was while unarmored, and unencumbered. Which meant: the soldier she'd recruited had surely drowned by then.

The Crusader from Cyrodiil sighed. Gestured into the air while muttering a set of quiet words, in the hopes that Sir Mario Luigi would be faithfully guided toward whatever afterlife he now found himself fuddling in. Was all she could do, really. Not all battles are meant to be won.

The moment passed. Her companion was gone, but she was still here. Time to move on. Time to arrange her thoughts, and figure out what was to happen next.

After exploring the isthmus a bit more, she surmised that Ilunibi Cave must be located on whatever she’d barely glimpsed; the distant shape to the south she thought she was seeing. Because it surely was not on the patch of land she and Tetra currently strode upon. Normally, getting to this island (if that’s indeed what was in the distance) would be a problem. Fortunately, she still retained knowledge on how to water-walk. So she did so, tentatively striding upon the waves, wondering if Tetra would be able to swim his way across the channel. If not, she could leave him here, returning to this spot as supplies were needed during her delve.

But as it turns out, the animal began to walk on the sea behind her!

"Aye. Did not that peddler, from whom I purchased, mention some magical effects imbued within the animal's saddle? Seems rightly so!"

“Ghrr,” Tetra agreed with his mock-smile.

Turns out, the image she’d glimpsed was indeed a small island, and here indeed was Ilunibi. The cove's official name? 'Ilunibi, Carcass of the Saint' was etched upon its wooden entry-door. Since Joan no longer had her Buckmoth companion to fall back on, she'd be going into the place alone. Alone amongst those who’d been infected with corprus, that is. Joan Marie of Cheydinhal? She shivered just then.

A bull netch had gotten itself entangled into one of the island’s two trees, just above the cave's entrance. The gigantic gas bag's tentacles were harmless, Joan knew, as long as she did not interfere. Only occasionally did bulls become aggressive. Fortunately, this one remained passive. Perhaps the creature would somehow be able to free itself. Or perhaps it'd chosen to become intertwined with the tree's limbs, happy enough to be warmed by today's sun, buoyed by occasional tufts of pleasant air.


Four hours later…
By now it was getting close to nightfall. Joan awoke from the outdoor power-nap she'd chosen to take after supper, making a mental note to someday procure a set of camper's gear. Tetra could carry this extra equipment for sure. By now, the two-legged creature was carrying Joan's new magical mace, an assortment of clothes, potions, scrolls, and an assortment of miscellaneous items like the two books she’d purchased in Balmora. Would a rolled-up tent and bedroll set be too much for the animal?

"Aye, but y'are growing, aren't ya?"

Indeed. Tetra had been with the Cyrodiilian now for just over a month. Joan could see the guar was still growing. If he became the size of some of the wild guars she'd seen, Tetra would be strong enough to carry everything, and maybe hoist his own armor as well!

"Right. Here we go."

Joan readied her weapons, her shield, her armor. She was unsure which mace she would need: frost- or her new fire-based mace? Assuming the place held any enemies at all, of course (which it probably did, of course). She selected her Snowy Crown, which dealt magic of cold. This piece would be more effective against Dunmer, assuming the smugglers within were dark elves, of course. Most of the humanoid enemies she’d encountered in Vvardenfell so far were Dunmer, so the Snowy Crown seemed logical.

She did some preliminary stretching of her legs, arms, and neck before going inside the wretched place.

Ilunibi's entry passage tilted downward into the gloom. Joan stepped forward, keeping her footfalls quiet, which was not so easy while wearing boots of steel. She'd never trained to be any sort of a sneak; even as a child she'd loathed the idea of subterfuge, preferring to be honest and forthwith when amongst other children and orphans, while playing in the streets.

Suddenly, the path before her ended. And there was only one way to go from here: straight down, and without any visible footholds, or ladders.

"Drats."

Levitation! Never had she been more grateful that she'd bought the spell from the Khajiit back in Ald'ruhn; she'd certainly need it to return to this path.

She cast a spell of light, much better to see with than a flickering torch. Fortunately, there was a second path down into the cave below, and it was smooth. Well-worn. As if frequently used. -- The path corkscrewed downwards. Salt water cascaded here and there from the cave's walls, occasionally splashing Joan's lower half as she inched her way.

"So. As it's seen, that soldier I hired from Buckmoth wouldn't've been so effective, eh? True dungeoneering, this is."

She brightened her way downward with another spell, cautiously peering into the gloom. But nobody was here. Upon reaching the bottom, she breathed a sigh. A large chamber was before her, a pool of water in the distance. Joan grimaced, her face twisting... the EVIL within this place; she could feel it!

Though it was dark, she chose to not continue using her spell. And found she didn't need it, at least for the moment. "Better to traipse within darkness, without alerting any adversaries." Plus, she needed to conserve her magic. …The mages in Cyrodiil had recently discovered a way to make their mana regenerate, on the spot and at all times, which was all the rage among magic-users back home, of course. But nobody here in Vvardenfell knew these methods yet, Joan of Arkay included.

She came to a three-way intersection: she could continue straight, venture left, or turn to the right. She chose to venture left, walking waist-deep into chilly water. Glowing red candles had been placed onto various rocks and crevices along the walls, definite signs of inhabitation.

It wasn't until a few moments later when she spotted a figure just ahead! A being of some sort, manlike, but hunched in a peculiar kind of way. Joan readied the Spell of Holy Flames (her own custom-tailored version of a standard mage’s fireball) within her mind and then -- *FWUUF!* -- loosed an inferno from her palm.

The figure rushed towards her, engulfed within fiery magic. As the creature (the man?) got near, the crusader rushed forward and then bashed the thing with her magical mace, her normally-pleasant alto voice shrieking to soprano for the moment.

"WHERE ... WHERE ARE YOU LORD?" the being grunted aloud in the common language; obviously he’d once been a man. "SPEAK to us!!! PLEASE!"

Had she been too hasty with her attack? Joan Marie shrugged back, her eyes alert to the fact that perhaps she’d just made a tactical error. Too late now. The creature'd brandished some sort of weapon by then; hard to see in this semi-lit environment, and she hadn't had the time to cast another spell of light. So she was forced to finish what she’d started.

“Taa SUXTH BAR BABBLO DAS HJENGMEN!” the man-creature garbled a slew of half-words, the final words he’d speak during whatever former life he’d led, before stumbling and slumping to the ground.

Unsure what to do – had the eradication which just occurred been a death, or an undeath? -- Joan chose not to consult the being’s falling toward the benevolence of Arkay. Because chances were, his soul had already been tainted, and already claimed by darkness. And there wasn’t enough time to make things right, not now anyway.

The crusader sighed. "Well, news of good tidings," she pondered, lighting her spell so she could see what’d just been felled. "Turns out, 'e wasn't too harsh of a fight, now was he?" …If the rest of the cave was filled with half-men like this one, perhaps she'd be able to handle herself just fine, without any assistance at all.

Joan scrutinized her persona, feeling for anything untoward. Checked to see if she'd caught any sort of sickness, that is. She hadn't. "Really a lack of foresight, that I haven't got any disease-resistance potions to gobble. Fortunately, I did gather along those other bottles," she said, referring to the disease-curing and blight disease-curing potions, three of each, she'd had the 'foresight' to bring.

Because, the forces of adversity... they could never bring down an adventuring saint like this one.

The rest of the cave yielded two more creature-men, but also two more doors. Two more doors, which meant the cave-system was larger than she'd initially thought.

“Drats.”

Hours had passed. Her mana had dwindled after casting multiple spells, so she returned to that initial chamber, and then used her remaining magical resources to rise to the top of the cave. Walked outside, so she could rest. By now it was daylight, probably just past noon. The sun was high above. A nix hound had somehow managed to swim its way to the island. Fortunately the new animal (which was considered an overgrown insect, not an actual hound or a dog) was also not interested in attack. Not all hounds were aggressive, though some of them certainly could be. So now upon this tiny island were Joan, Tetra the pack guar, the bull netch (which was still stuck within the tree), and this unexpected hound.

In a way, the crusader found all of these extra creatures to be comforting, as she stole a few more hours of nap-time.


-----------------------

Netch in a Tree

Striding through Cavewater (brrr....)

Fighting a ... hmm, what the heck is that thing?

Bash! Crash!

Lopov'd, sort of

------------------------

Notes: 1). When it says Tetra the Guar is growing, this is real. Every so often I'll go into the Construction Set, just to scale him a little bigger.

2). "Mario Luigi" is a name I made up, of course. He was actually a member of the "Hunter's Guild", added by a mod which increases our ability to make money, by handing ingredients such as Nix Hound Meat or Cliff Racer Plume over for payment. So, one less way to earn coin in Joan of Arkay's gameworld.

[Acadian]

Poor Luigi. Tetra has the right of it – Ghurr. Pick thine battles.

And Tetra can walk on water too! As mALX would say, Awesome!

Levitation and a light spell are indeed handy for dungeoneering. Does the Mages Guild in Morrowind teach night eye? And those mages in Cyridiil can regenerate magicka passively – pretty clever for outlanders!

A mole-goblin! Sort of. I guess.

Wise of Joan to retain enough magicka to resurface and rest.