Category Archives: Story Time

Warning: potential side quest spoilers ahead!

From Garn’s recollections:

Going Down

Loaded up with my various bags, pouches, and satchels I was ready to once again hit the road. This time I’d be making the long southward trek from county Cheydinhal to the city of Leyawiin.

My first order of business was to purchase a horse to aid me in the journey however the only stable located in Cheydinhal was Black Watersides Stables which specialized in an extremely expensive breed of horse. A breed of horse I’d like to have, no doubt, but one that I couldn’t justify the expense of for this trip especially considering the potential for danger along the way.

“Free horse!!!”

That thought had barely escaped my brain when, as I headed onto the road, I witnessed a group of bandits hassling an imperial guardsman. As the group split up, the guard chased two of them into the brush while another attempted to steal his horse. I gave the guard a nod just before we lost sight of each other and dispatched the lone brigand for him. An interesting start to my journey for sure.

For the most part the trip was uneventful. I harvested the occasional herb, passed more than a few mounted guardsmen along the roads, and generally enjoyed the relatively peaceful trek. In fact the first highwaymen I encountered were over half way there, at the Imperial Bridge – a surprising place for them to setup shop since the nearby Imperial Bridge Inn was a popular stop for imperial patrols. The bandits were relatively amateur and posed little threat.

“I seem to be doing this more and more lately.”

I decided to take a slight detour over to the Imperial Bridge Inn to purchase a fresh drink. While last time I was in the area I became aware of the underground slave trade operating in the thick swamplands to the East, I didn’t expect to run into any work while at the inn.

As I was minding my own and enjoying my ale I was approached by an Altmer who claimed to have some easy work for me if I’d like to accept. The Altmer, a magic user by the name of Lithnilian, told me that while conducting some research in a nearby cave he was driven out by some of the cave’s more vicious inhabitants. Unfortunately for him he had left his research notes in his haste. The notes represented years of his research and were quite precious to him. This sounded like easy money.

“I should start charging tickets for this sort of thing…”

As I crept into the dark natural cave known as Bramblepoint Cave to the locals I feared that Lithnilian’s description of the place was slightly understated. It was absolutely teaming with monsters. Ogres and Trolls in particular seemed to inhabit various portions of the cave system in large numbers. My curses quickly faded, however, when I learned that clearing out monsters wasn’t Lithnilian’s only neglect when exploring Bramblepoint – there was an absolute bounty of loot to be had in various chests and treasure piles!

Eventually I found the chamber in which Lithnilian had been doing his research and was able to recover his notes without too much difficulty. Another job well done.

“Glowy stones.”

As I left the cave and ventured back south towards the inn I noticed a small abbey in the distance. Having never noticed the building before I figured I might stop in to get out of the rain for a moment and perhaps receive a blessing. While I hadn’t quite decided to turn to The Nine yet I had at least learned of their powers along my travels. As I got closer to the building I was surprised to see it vine covered and crumbling. I curiously began to push open the door to poke around when I heard some strange noises coming from inside. My own magic use had grown fairly powerful and I recognized some of the Daedric in the chants from some of my own incantations.

I quietly put down my torch and some of my extra bags, drew my sword, and kicked open the double doors. Before me was a grizzly sight: two robed men, necromancers no doubt, performing a ritual. All manner of desecrated corpses and body parts were scattered about the chapel and the altar had been… re-purposed.

“…and I thought *I* was a good interior decorator!”

No sooner had I taken in my surroundings than the necromancers had summoned a selection of undead minions and began casting their own destructive spells against me. Luckily the necromancers and their animations fell easily to my blade. I searched the rest of the chapel and claimed a few bits of wealth, no doubt looted from graves and sacrifices. Still, it would do the dead no good now, at least not without these necromancers around.

When I arrived back at the inn and gave Lithnilian some notes he awarded me with some high quality potions. He also left me with a tip: he found a weathered letter rolled up outside of another nearby cave. He said the note was written by a mage named Vangaril and described how his friend Erandur had taken his obsession with necromancy to its ultimate conclusion and become a lich. Vangaril decided attempt to free his friend or, if need be, slay him.

Lithnilian decided to stay clear of this cave as he didn’t seek to tangle with liches and he figured by the age of the note that Vangaril was beyond help. Having just had my own run-in with some local necromancers I had little doubt of Lithnilian’s tale and decided to investigate for myself. While I didn’t exactly want to tangle with liches myself I knew that where such powerful undead creatures were there was usually treasure. Perhaps I was being a bit greedy after having just successfully plundered Bramblepoint.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Lost Boy Cavern, as it is known, was quite obviously inhabited by necromancers from the time I swung open its crudely assembled door. There were a few corpses scattered around the entrance hallway in creative ways as an obvious sign to scare off would-be adventurers.

The more I investigated the cavern the more necromancers and their creations I encountered. I also encountered various signs that Vangaril had been here: signs of battle, discarded weapons, consumed spell reagents, and even a few more journal pages. Vangaril had penetrated the lich’s compound! It appeared his presence did not go unnoticed, however, as I found a crumpled note later mocking Vangaril and promising to consume his soul.

“Damn these things are freaky looking!”

The deeper I ventured into the cavern the more dangerous and exotic foes I faced: wraiths and lesser liches, ghosts and other spirits. This was by far the most deadly place I had visited since first emerging from the sewers beneath the Imperial City. Many difficult battles took place and I found myself stretched to the limits of my abilities, sometimes barely staying alive, often resorting to healing potions and salves. Like my journey into Bramblepoint my expedition into Lost Boy Cavern wasn’t without a silver lining, however. As I suspected I was able to loot all manner of gold, exquisite jewels, exotic spell scrolls and potions, precious weapons and armor and magic items.

Eventually, deeper into the caverns, I found further evidence of Vangaril’s quest. It seems that he had completed his ritual to free Erandur’s soul. I found this surprising considering the number of undead still around.

“Trading blows with a Spectral Warrior.”

Finally I entered an area that was more finely structured than the rest of the cave system with natural cave walls and crude brick work giving way to proper stone masonry. I knew I must be getting close to the end of my journey. I was confused to find a small alchemy laboratory containing several more letters, most of the crumbled up. The tone of these letters, most of them angrily directed at the Mage’s Guild, seemed to indicate that perhaps Vangaril’s rites failed after all and that he himself had instead been consumed.

Soon I swung open a pair of heavy, reinforced doors to find the lich himself sitting upon his throne staring down at me. It was obvious that he had been waiting for me. I was still unsure of the exact identity of the lich but had no time to investigate as he began summoning undead animations and casting curses at me with violent urgency.

“I think I might have pissed him off.”

I had little recourse but to draw my silver claymore and charge the foul undead fiend in attempt to overpower him. Unfortunately the lich floated with a remarkable grace and dodged many of my blows, peppering me with painful elemental spells. I concentrated my own magic use on keeping my health. Soon, however, I was able to land a stunning blow and knock the fiend to the ground. Furiously I landed strike after strike, violently hacking the fiend’s unliving vessel to pieces. That was it, the lich of Lost Boy Cavern had been slain!

I limped back to The Imperial Bridge Inn, injured but laden with an impressive amount of loot, and immediately purchased a room for the night. I took the rest of my trip south much more slowly and while I nursed my wounds I began to question my choice of careers. Sure, I had made a huge amount of money, but at what cost? I had almost perished several times.

I managed to make a few thousand gold in gold pieces alone during this trip, not even counting all of the looted items I have yet to sell from the crawls. More importantly I gained tons of valuable skill ups making it to level 25 by the end of this session. I’m getting up there!

Warning: potential side quest spoilers ahead!

From Garn’s recollections:

A Brush with Corruption

After ending my long, cold trek through the northern mountains only the night before my less than luxurious accommodations at Newman’s Lodge in Cheydinhal felt more than worth the 10 gold pieces the establishment’s proprietor charged me for them.

I left the inn to scour the town for work but did so in a bit more of a lackadaisical way than usual as I had spent little time (that I remembered) in the city and knew little of its people and customs. One thing I did note right away, however, was that there was a strong Dark Elf influence here, from the buildings to the racial makeup of the citizens themselves. While I’d certainly guess the Dunmer of Cheydinhal are used to dealing with other races I still made a note to be wary. Up until now though the Dunmer I’ve run across haven’t been much more difficult than any other race to deal with and I’ve even enjoy listening to a few of them jabber on drunkenly in taverns thanks to their well known cynical dispositions.

Even treading carefully it took me practically no time at all to secure my first lead. It seems that the famous painter and Cheydinhal resident Rythe Lythandas had recently disappeared. While there are certainly many possible ways for one to “disappear” Rythe apparently rarely left the confines of his home, let alone the city walls. On a tip I visited his home to speak to his wife to see about the possibility of making my investigation an official job. Thankfully his wife, Tivela, was quite happy to offer payment and lay out the entire scenario for me.

“I’m going to need some privacy for this next part, ma’am.”

Tivela explained to me that it was custom for Rythe to lock himself in his study when painting a piece and work, sometimes totally uninterrupted, for quite a lot of time. However, in this instance Rythe hadn’t been heard from in days. Concerned Tivela unlocked the room only to find it empty. This is where I began my search. There was no sign of any struggle whatsoever, and the only real clue lay in a freshly painted picture sitting his easel. As Tivela walked off to attend to another caller I touched the painting to check on the firmness and/or dampness of the paint when something miraculous happened: I was teleported to another realm!

“Yeah, yeah. It’s always a Bosmer in dark clothing…”

While it resembled The Great Forest something was amiss about the entire place – a haze of some sort lay over it, and everything appeared quite strange. I didn’t have long to take it in when a Dark Elf came racing towards me from behind some large boulders. It was Rythe himself. It took some prodding but eventually Rythe came out with the entire story. He had inherited a powerful enchanted paint brush which let him teleport to within a canvas and conjure anything he wished in painted form. This let him paint astonishingly realistic paintings in very little time without the need to posses any actual skill in painting.

“If only I had some turpentine!”

According the Rythe a thief broke into his study, stole this paintbrush, teleported into his painting in progress, and painted some trolls in order to protect him. The thief’s plan, if he ever actually had one, had backfired however and the trolls slew him. Rythe, desperate to escape, begged me to go attempt to retrieve the paint brush from the body of the thief so he could paint us an exit. I’d have to fight the trolls, of course, and Rythe was no fighter and he could tell I was. Armed with a summoned flame spirit and my own fire spells, traditionally quite handy against real world trolls, I venture through the strange painted world.

“If there were a looting corpses skill I’d have maxed it by now.”

I fought many a difficult battle against these painted trolls until I finally found the thief’s body and the enchanted paintbrush. As promised, Rythe was able to paint us an exit back to his study. After asking me not to reveal the secret of his talent, to which I agreed since the concerns of artists mean relatively little to me, he paid me for my trouble with a magical item of some worth. Another job well done and news of Rythe’s mysterious return spread quickly throughout the city.

“Umm, you first!”

My next task in Cheydinhal was much more grounded in the realities of city life, fortunately. I began to note the abundance of guardsman in the city and soon came across a high ranking soldier who seemed to enjoy flaunting his authority as I personally witnessed him threaten several citizens for merely being in his path. When I mentioned this curious guardsman to some I was quickly referred to a local Dunmer woman who could tell me much more about him.

“Aww, what a swell guy.”

I visited Llevana Nedaren who was an outspoken critic of the city guard, accusing them, particularly of their captain, Ulrich Leland, of corruption. Apparently his preferred method of extortion was that of charging exuberant fines for practically any offense, even those that never happened. Llevana’s only real idea for a course of action was to speak to Ulrich’s second in command, Garrus Darelliun, who was apparently already suspicious of Ulrich and a circle of his men.

“What? Do they not have cops in Morrowind or something?”

I went to speak to Garrus in Cheydinhal Castle. Garrus struck me as a very by the book man – one who both rigidly followed and enforced the rules and morals of his station. He seemed to be honest and above corruption himself. He was indeed interested in catching Ulrich but had little solid proof of his crimes. He told me if that if I could investigate more on my own perhaps he could do something about the issue. One thing he had suggested was to speak with a man named Aldos Othran who could possibly act as a witness.

Aldos was apparently a local man who turned into a drunkard after losing his wife in a bandit attack and soon turned to binge drinking to ease his depression. He was fined for his drunkenness several times despite rarely being warranted according to witnesses, and the fines were so extreme Aldos eventually had his home confiscated by the guard..

“Hmm, I don’t think this is going to go so well.”

I found Aldos living in a small camp near the river that cuts down the middle of Cheydinhal but he was little help. The few questions I was able to ask him sent him into a drunken rage as he quickly sought to stand up for himself against the guard that had been such a source of injustice to him. He went to his former home and challenged the guard posted there and eventually directly attacked the guard who wasted little time responding with deadly force. I was quickly running out of options.

“Nope, it didn’t go so well.”

Garrus had suggested one more possibility: perhaps I could search Ulrich’s private quarters in the barracks for evidence. He, himself, had noted extravagant furnishings and the like in the captain’s quarters and suspected that some sort of undeniable proof was probably hidden there as well. Garrus couldn’t provide me with the details I’d need to do this easily but his idea was perhaps enough to give me the ammo to seal the deal.

“Without bloodshed? How am I supposed to… what am I… what the?”

I stood outside of the barracks with a view of Ulrich’s door. While it was difficult to be entirely inconspicuous in such a place other than a few strange looks from guards nothing became of it. Once the main dining hall had cleared out during a change of the castle guard and I saw Ulrich himself leave I snuck into his quarters. It didn’t take me long to find the proof I needed – a letter describing a huge some of money and goods being sent to Ulrich’s relatives outside of the city. Now it was clear why the guard had been handing out massive fines with such frequently. I snuck out of Ulrich’s quarters as quietly as I snuck in and reported to Garrus with the letter. Garrus was quite happy with my findings and ran off to speak to the Count of Cheldinhal himself, instructing me to meet him at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn in a couple of hours.

“Working on my seventh drink waiting on Garrus to show up.”

I sat in the inn drinking at the bar, hoping that the results of this task wouldn’t get me more trouble than reward and soon enough Garrus appeared. He quietly thanked me for my work and told me that the Count had Ulrich stripped of his rank and sent to the castle dungeons. Garrus himself had been promoted to be the new captain of the guard and the Count had instructed him to give me a handsome sum of gold for my assistance in “helping the people of Cheydinhal” in this matter.

Ahh, another task that worked out even better than expected! And my name was once again on the lips of another city’s Count. While I still didn’t know if this were a good thing or not, fearing that my past might eventually come back to haunt me, it would at least aid me more and more with getting future jobs.

Warning: potential side quest spoilers ahead!

From the journals of Garn:

The Horror of Dive Rock

It feels like it is time to leave the mead-soaked halls of Bruma behind and travel elsewhere. After a quick glance at a detailed map of the area in one of the city’s book shops I decide to take an indirect route to the city of Cheydinhal in the east. My plan is to head directly east until I’m more or less above the city and then head straight south. Hopefully this will help me avoid bandits.

I spend much of the morning purchasing supplies – rations, camp supplies, etc. before heading out of the Bruma gates. The trip through the snowy hills of the north is fairly uneventful save for a few attacks by wolves and bears. I spend most of my time trying to keep covered up and watching my footing on the often frozen ground. I spend the night in a shallow cave where I make a fire to stay warm for the night and gnaw on some awful tasting iron rations.

“Further proof that adults aren’t always right.”

Eventually I come across a curious sight – the body of a man lying at the bottom of a massive cliff face. I search his body and discovered a letter from the man’s daughter. Apparently he was trying to climb to a famous spot known as Dive Rock. Obviously he slipped and fell here. I take a few of his belongings along with the note in case I should encounter one of his family members in the future.

Given that there has been a bit of a lull in the near constant snow storms in the area I decide to investigate this so-called Dive Rock myself. While I’ve certainly done a lot of hiking in the mountains so far given my bundle of armor, weapons, and supplies I don’t think I have what it takes to safely climb up a sheer cliff face, especially one covered with ice and snow. I decide to walk all the way around the base of the mountain and up some of the smaller foot hills to the northeast of it.

When I finally reach what I believe to be the top of the mountain the snow on the ground is thick and the snow is falling hard. It is becoming dark and my pace quickens – I must find a decent place to make camp before nightfall. Soon I see a campfire in the distance. While I attempt to be stealthy the sound of my boots crunching into the frozen snow is impossible to mask. Finally I get close enough to see that the camp site is surprisingly abandoned.

“A much more impressive view when it isn’t foggy.”

The campfire is accompanied by a tent that appears to be in good shape and I quickly take advantage of it, bedding down for the night. I try to sleep lightly in case those who were camping return in the night and aren’t happy to find me.

I wake in the morning with the rising sun bouncing off of the pure white snow and blinding my already sleep-dulled eyes further. It seems that I slept a bit heavier than I intended though with the exception of some more fallen snow the campsite doesn’t appear to look any different than it did the night before – apparently no one has visited. As I put my gear back on and warm up next to the fire I admire the amazing view from this point – I can see for miles!

I decide to take advantage of the fire one last time by warming up some wolf meat. It seems my stoking of the fire has melted some of the surrounding snow and I notice some objects left by the previous inhabitants of the campsite including a journal. The journal details a man and his wife on a quest to find and slay a creature known as the Uderfrykte Matron. Apparently they had tracked the creature to a nearby location. When finally making their attack the creature quickly and savagely slew the man’s wife, swallowing her almost whole. He retreated to their camp once more. Resigned to his fate he planned to return to the site of the attack and face the creature once again – he’d either have his vengeance or join his wife in the afterlife.

Given that the fire was still burning and the campsite seemed to be in good repair I figure that I had only missed the man by a matter of hours, if that long. Depending on how far away this creature lurked I might even be able to catch up to the man and assist him in his revenge. I gather my gear and head toward the area he described in his journal.

“Ice versus fire… who will win?”

As I crest the hill I see what must surely be the creature that the writer of the journal described: A large, troll like creature that shimmers with a magical looking frosty blue aura. As I stand staring at the creature in wonder it senses my presence and charges quick towards me. Taking the man’s own observations into account I quickly summon a flame spirit and then pepper the creature with fireballs. The atronach and the creature wrestle and I circle it, chopping at it with my own attacks from behind. Soon the creature lay dead, its weakness to fire aiding me to quickly dispatch it.

“Err, need a hand?”

I search the corpse of the unusual creature and find the corpse of the man and his wife nearby. Although I wasn’t able to save them I was at least able to honor them by avenging their deaths.

I take in the magnificent view around me one more time and start to head back down the mountain. This begins what feels like an unending decent, eventually leading me to the green, craggy river valleys of Cheydinhal County and soon enough I see the city itself.

As I walk through the impressively battle ready looking gates of the walled city my first order of business is to get a proper room at an inn and try to get dried off. Perhaps a good, warm meal is also in order…

While verifying that I was indeed spelling “atronach” correctly I stumbled upon an Elder Scrolls page filled with amateur (to put it nicely) pornography drawings of atronachs and other daedra. I’ve been using the Internet for almost 15 years now and I’m still amazed by some of the bizarre shit I come across.