Today started off with a bang, literally. I bolted out of my bunk, hitting the floor with spear in one hand and a flask of healing restoratives in the other. The Dunmer mage Marayn Dren chuckled from his own bunk. "Well, I certainly feel safe knowing that such an alert guard sleeps among us," he said. "It is only Ajira raging in her laboratory my friend. Lower you spear before someone trying to get out of bed winds up as a breakfast shishkabob." I laughed out loud myself as I slid the spear back under my bunk. Marayn laughingly agreed with my dry observation that it was better to be embarrassed a hundred times than dead once, and we went to breakfast.As the mages gathered around the table we were all somewhat daunted by Ajira's snarling and hissing, except Ranis who watched her apprentice with calm detachment. Overcoming the gutterals and screeches of her native tongue Ajira roared out complaints. "I do two reports to her one. I must gather plants from the wildest reaches of the Bitter Coast. Time consuming journeys, terrible risks, while she putters in her shop selling trinkets! And now she has stolen the reports on which I have worked so hard!!" Everyone at the table, seeing Galbedir's open Bosmer face twitching to suppress a smile, knew that the accusation was most likely true. Ajira again lapsed into enraged hissing, and I expected spells and bloodshed to erupt at any moment. Chairs scraped as the rest of us prepared to seek shelter.Ranis' voice cut harshly through the babble, "silence, apprentices!" In the stillness she continued; "the guild hall table will not be reduced to an arena, you will all sit quietly and eat." She glared around the table, meeting every eye with a steady gaze of command. I was quite surprised to see what I thought was amusement when she looked my way, but considered that the red eyes of the Dunmer might have been giving me false impressions. When order was fully restored Ranis spoke again, and this time I was sure there was amusement under her silky tones. "As to this bet, I am going to declare the victor right now so we can have this over with." Ajira and Galbedir edged forward on their seats. The bet being which one would be promoted to journeyman first they were both eager with expectation as Ranis continued. "Ajira, you have frequently spoken at length about the dangers of your chosen field of alchemy, the hazards of gathering ingredients from the wilderness, the risks of sampling unknown brews to get a sense of their effects without exposing yourself should those effects be undesirable. I agree, alchemy can be a dangerous study, and I have given you assignments that have built your skills in the relative safety of your lab."She turned to Galbedir and continued, "you have not complained at your assignment, studying the properties and potentials of the soul gems which the guild has accumulated, but you did complain greatly that someone had slipped a fake in among them in your desk. When you were making your complaint I could not help but wonder at whoever had played this trick. You learned much of soul gems Galbedir, but when someone can slip a fake into your desk while a grand soul gem charged with the energies of a winged twilight lies there for the taking one has to wonder if you have a true appreciation for what it takes to charge them. Had that gem been stolen do you think you are capable of replacing it? You and Ajira together would make a tidy snack for a winged twilight."Her eyes fell on me and I squirmed in my seat. It was obvious she knew that I had gotten myself enmeshed in the intrigue of this bet, and I braced myself for what I hoped would only be a harsh rebuke. A resigned voice in my head murmured "ah well, there's always the Thieve's Guild." I was now sure I was misreading the deepset red eyes which seemed to be balancing on the edge of outright laughter."And you Arvil Bren, we now come to you. You have been the one undertaking the dangerous missions about which Ajira complains, and I know all about the equipment you've purchased so I assume you have a laboratory set up in some dismal backwater somewhere so you can do your own experiments. The minor enchantment you had Galbedir put in your belt she demands recognition for doing in one breath, and condemns as petty in the next, and to some extent she is right. A minor restoration belt does not make an enchanter, and petty soul gems charged with cliff racers cannot even shed a glimmer on what can be done with the power of a winged twilight, so I thank you for having the good sense to leave those gems alone while you were running Ajira's little errands." Without looking away from Ranis I could feel Galbedir's baleful gaze burning at me, but Ranis turned again on the wood elf enchantress. "Galbedir, you would be well served to get out and charge some soul gems for yourself, petty or grand. There is much to be learned about the practical aspects of trying to set a soul trap upon a violent creature in the midst of combat. This Breton with his pocket full of petty soul gems has earned your respect, give it freely or fake it well, but I expect to see it." She turned back to me, now smiling openly. "Arvil Bren, you have won their bet, I promote you to the rank of journeyman in the guild of mages, congratulations." I was stunned.Some loose ends are tied up, and I am settling down for my first night's sleep in my new humble abode; my extremely humble abode. Yesterday when Ranis said that I probably had a lab set up in some backwater I think she underestimated just how far into the backwater I was headed. When I told people in Balmora I was living in Seyda Neen the response was usually "that damp little squat? Why would you live there?" I can only imagine their response to 'on an island off Gnaar Mok'. An appropriate setting for a shipwrecked mariner perhaps, so just as well that I kept my change of locale to myself.I left Balmora this morning just as heavily laden as I arrived, but with a much different load. Among the smiths of Balmora I am very popular, having provided them with the black armor that has them all still fascinated. I made the rounds, and ended up at the Fighter's Guild hall where a Redguard known only as Wyan manages the armory. When I presented my half dozen blunted spears he laughed and boomed in a voice accustomed to being heard over the ringing hammers of a smithy, "Arvil, you don't get to town often enough, and if your visits get any rarer you'll need a slave to carry your spears!" Today I carry only two spears, having traded the rest for an assortment of smiths equipment after spending the day learning to use it under Wyan's watchful eye.While Wyan described what he gave me as 'portable kits' I find that without his great strength they are more like 'remote site kits', and have set up my own little armory on the deck outside my shack. I lugged it all from the guild hall to the strider port this morning, then down to my old shack in Seyda Neen. That was as much portaging as I plan to do, and I left it piled on the floor for the day. The last task I had set myself before the big transport to Gnaar Mok certainly didn't call for excess weight!My new status as a journeyman mage will definitely take some getting used to. After hearing about my various difficulties Marayn presented me with a solution to one this morning. He is becoming a good friend, and awakened me early saying "Get up, I want you to have time to learn this spell before you have to catch the strider." He taught me a powerful levitation spell, which enabled me to float up to the ridgeline of the mountains I had described as impassable. He said that while he agreed it was far better to be embarrassed than dead, having a journeyman of his guild wandering around talking about mountains as being impassable was more embarrassment than he was willing to suffer.I took my supply of soul gems to Galbedir, selling her all but one and hoping to get my new spell enchanted into my boots. It is a bit complicated, and if it wears off while I am far from the ground the certainty of having it enchanted into an item has a certain appeal. She was frostily respectful, throwing in at least a dozen 'yes journeyman, no journeyman, as you would have it journeyman' and the like. Then she quoted me what seemed an astronomical price for the enchantment. I thought I would get some help from Ranis, who was passing by at that moment, but she just raised an eyebrow and said "That seems a fair price. You are a journeyman in the guild, if the price is too high for you just enchant it yourself. There's more to being a mage than running about cracking crabs with a spear."Alchemy lab, enchanting lab, armory, roll upon roll of maps; do these people realize I'm just one guy living in a little shack? Ah, but among those maps there is a thorough survey of the mountainous highland flanking the mouth of the Odai. They are not impassable for a journeyman mage!I felt much safer sleeping in my new home. This shack is built on pilings over the water, and the planking creaks and groans. The rhythmic sound is low and soothing, and as an added bonus the boards can be counted on to shriek their protests when trod upon. I am getting familiar with the few places where tight jointing allows quiet passage, but a prowler in the night would not know. I continued my practice of leaning a plate on a crossmember of the door as an added precaution, and of course slept with my spear close at hand.The only disturbance to my rest was a sound of voices, which were carrying over the water from some distance, but not far. The smugglers of nearby Shurinbaal on a foray. I strained to catch their words, and the more I heard the less taken I was with my new neighbors. They speak very freely of the coming demise of Wadarkhu and the rest of the guild and of running Gnaar Mok. The only humor I heard from them revolved around the cruel treatment of slaves. I slipped out to the deck and observed their landing. They loaded numerous crates onto the beach, then hid their small boat below the water by weighting it down with rocks. With assistance from others who came out of the underbrush the pile of crates rapidly dwindled, and soon they were gone. I returned to my cot and willed myself into a deep restful slumber, from which I arose knowing I faced a dangerous day. Today I entered Shurinbaal to meet the neighbors.Unlike my first foray into a smuggler's lair, this time I had no consideration of joining them, and I activated the devil spear before I passed the threshold. As expected they had a warrior posted, and not surprisingly she was tough and attacked without wasting a breath on a challenge. I noted in passing that this would be my first experience of bonemold armor in actual combat, and ducked under the first swing of her mighty Nordic battle axe. The warrior had the dark skin of a Redguard, but I was concerned that she may have gathered some frosty magic from the Nords along with the axe. I quickly gulped a frost shield potion just in case; the swirling cold energies of the barrier served well against the axe anyway. Ajira had supplied me with an array of shielding potions and I breathed her a word of thanks as the Redguard and I continued our intricate dance.I used a series of short thrusts with my spear to keep her off balance as much as possible. She countered with swipes of her axe, knocking my point aside and trying to snap the shaft of my spear. A lesser weapon would not have served, but the daedric energies of the devil spear were proof against the tactic, and my opponent was soon bloodied at numerous points. Desperately she raised the mighty axe high overhead and brought it crashing down, aiming for my head. Without the protective field I may have been split in two by the blow. Much of the force was dissipated in the frost shield, giving me a split second of extra reaction time so I could take the blade flatter and on my armored shoulder rather than my exposed scalp. Even so I was driven to my knees by the blow. I took a wild roundhouse swing with my spear.The wicked edges of the devil spear had earned the full respect of the skilled Redguard, and she leapt back to avoid having her legs cut from under her. I had time to lurch to my feet, and her next mighty downward chop I met with the crossed shaft of my spear. Once again, a lesser weapon may have snapped in my hands even though I caught her axe across the haft below the gleaming blade. The Redguards are a race of warriors, generally regarded as the most skilled in the Empire, and I knew that this woman wielding the axe was probably as well trained with the spear as I was myself. It would be expected for a good spearman to use the force of the axe blow, letting the left arm give way, bringing the blade of the spear down into the area under the arm of the axe wielder while guiding the axe away to the side. My recent experiences had made me a good spearman, in fact a better spearman. I surprised the Redguard. Giving way with the right arm rather than the left took her axe in an unexpected direction, and I brought the butt of the devil spear crashing into her forehead. Hardened beyond steel by the energies of the Daedric spirit within the butt of the spear delivered a devastating impact, leaving the Redguard fully exposed as I spun the spear into a killing thrust under the bonemold breastplate. As could be expected from a Redguard warrior the look in her eyes as they glazed over in death held only respect.The battle so long in description actually lasted only seconds, and I had time to use my healing belt before anyone arrived from deeper in the cave. The ache in my shoulder took repeated uses of the belt before it was completely eased. I reasoned that the smugglers would have their most accomplished warrior posted at the door, and I hoped my reasoning would prove correct. In a fighting crouch with my spear leading the way I scuttled down the curving passage to meet whoever was drawn by the clashing of arms.As could be expected of the bigoted Cammona Tong syndicate, most of the smugglers would be Dunmer. To my surprise though it seemed this group of smugglers would consist mostly of women. First to follow her Redguard sister into death was a young girl. Despite the dagger in her hand and snarling hatred on her face she was attractive, and I regretted the choices she had made so early in life that had brought her to this. Fortunately she did not have skills to match her youthful exuberance and in her blind rush up the passage she was easily skewered through. I jerked my spear free as an arrow thumped into my armored chest. The light chain fabric of my armor blunted the broadhead, and the padding within cushioned the blow, but still the heavy iron arrow had a painful impact. Another Dunmer woman rushed at me armed with a shortsword and clad in netch leather armor. She was far more cautious than the first, using the quickness of her blade to deflect my spear as she tried to work inside its deadly point.Buffeting the swordswoman with blows from the spearshaft and backing to avoid her point I shortened my grip on the spear. I could match her range, but the long shaft behind it made my blade unwieldy by comparison. I was also limited in my defenses by not being able to circle. The archer perched on a rocky outcrop deeper in the cave waited patiently for such a maneuver to expose my back. These dire circumstances were sure to cost me blood, and I gulped a healing potion. Not only did the restorative magic ease my bruised chest, but it continued to work for a brief period, stopping the flow from the first telling cuts from the Dunmer's wicked blade. Her shortsword was crafted from the serrated edge of some sort of giant insect shell and even a glancing blow from the flat of the blade tore bare flesh, but almost inevitably the matching of my ultra sharp spear against her leather won out over the shell sword against my black chain mesh. As she fell I charged the archer and quickly spitted her as well.With my wounds again healed by the restorative energies in my belt I continued into the torchlit passage, creeping cautiously as I approached a branching point. My caution was well founded. Another Redguard launched himself from the passage on my right in a swirl of kicks and blows from rock hard fists. My head rang with the impact, and were it not for the quality of my armor I would no doubt have suffered severely from a rain of blows to the ribs and kidneys. I clung to my spear and quaffed one of my restoratives to clear my head, then laid the monk low with a fierce thrust through the heart. Unknown to the Theive's Guild the tide of the gang war was turning their way. I had slain five members of the Cammona Tong in a matter of minutes. I stood at the junction and listened carefully. To proceed down either tunnel was to risk being cut off by pursuit from the other.After some time had passed with no further clamor I slid down the passage to the right. A gentle lapping sound rose to greet me, and I reached a point where I could see the shimmer of torchlight on water. High pilings supported a platform above the reach of the tides. I could hear voices from above in animated discussion, one with a marked Imperial accent. I reasoned that these two would not emerge to impede any exit that might become necessary, and slipped back to explore the other passage.Again after some distance I met the sound of voices, a man and a woman. I crept up to a ragged wooden gate and peered through. The Dunmer beyond were engrossed in unloading a crate, which apparently contained armor of fine Imperial steel! The woman already wore the breastplate, and was brandishing an Imperial broadsword; commenting on its exceptional balance. I reached through the gate with an iron probe to dislodge a delicately set bolt trap, while the man handed her a pair of gauntlets. I wanted to surprise them, and I wanted to do it quickly before they got any better armored than they already were. I activated my spear once again and crashed through the gate with a roar; "They defile our armor! Legionnaire's to the charge!" The thought of facing actual Imperial soldiers gave my quarry horrified pause, and they had no way to know the gleaming Daedric spear bearing down on them would not be followed by a mass of troopers. In their initial confusion I landed a telling blow across the lightly armored man's throat, evening the odds. More than evening the odds it turned out. Though the woman was well armored, and a fair hand with a sword, the weight of the armor was unfamiliar and she had had no practice with this particular blade. The Cammona Tong was quickly down two more thugs.I left what was obviously the band's major storage area, and made a quiet return to the flooded cave. The conversation continued on the platform above, and I wondered how to approach the last of the smugglers. As I listened to the conversation above it became very clear that only one of the voices belonged to a smuggler, the cultured Cyrodiil tones belonged to some sort of Imperial officer!I slipped back to the intersected passages and retrieved the body of the Redguard monk. Even with no armor the corpse was a burden, but once I got it up onto my shoulders I could shamble along. Moving as quietly as possible under the load I returned to the water's edge and deposited the Redguard unceremoniously on a ledge, poised to fall into the water. With a gentle nudge from my outstretched spear the body rolled, and the sound of the splash pursued me up the passageway as I ran. At the first usable nitch in the wall I dove for cover and peered back into the chamber. A Dunmer in robes was climbing down from the platform, steel gauntlets gleaming on the rungs of the ladder. The movement of the robes indicated some sort of plate armor beneath them as well. The Dunmer paused and carefully scanned the chamber. I considered taking a shot with my longbow, but without knowing the nature of the armor a hit to the body could easily be wasted, and a head shot would call for greater skill than I could count on having. The Dunmer resumed the climb, then cast a spell and stepped onto the surface of the water.I considered my options. Charging a battlemage of unknown skills seemed foolhardy at best, but the trail of corpses I had left through the cave really had to be completed if I was ever to be safe in Gnaar Mok. This Dunmer would not fail to associate the new spear wielding hunter with the skewered corpses of his minions. When he reached the body floating near the caves entrance I held my breath, then sprang into action as he briefly looked down. As I charged down the hall I cast a protective spell that would distort my image in a way that would make me more difficult to strike, then activated the devil spear as I plunged into the water. While it would certainly hinder my movements I counted on some protection from the water, and the reach of the spear allowed me full access to my surface borne target.The protection I got from the water was not what I expected, but it did save my life. As I lunged with my spear the smuggler chief called upon the energies of the elements, and even though my spear struck home and bit deep he was able to complete the spell. His hand struck the shaft of the spear and it was immediately rimed with frost. My body also ached with a piercing cold, and I could feel my life rapidly ebbing away. I longed to sleep, my body shutting down with the icy chill. My fortune was preserved by the water around me. Though it was not particularly warm, the mass of it did slow the temperature change that would have been my death. I had just enough time to down a restorative potion. I was chilled and shaking, but would live. My enemy had been stricken a severe blow, and it is questionable if he would have survived it without magical restoration. I gave him no chance to try. Even shaking with the cold as I was I managed to ram the devil spear through the armor. The water walking spell expired with his life and the Dunmer's body collapsed into the roiling bloodstained waters.I looked up into the hate filled eyes of a Cyrodiil. He brandished his short sword, holding the top or the ladder. It would be suicide to climb into the waiting blade. "Come down and fight", I taunted."Come up yourself, Breton scum," he replied."I can wait. You can starve up there."A chuckle from the Cyrodiil, "My deceased compatriots left me in abundance. You, on the other hand, are standing in waist deep water with nothing. No my stupid captor, if there is starving to be done it will not be by me."I drew my longbow, and he scuttled back from the edge. I kept talking, so he would know I had not come around to the base of the ladder, pausing only long enough to cast my levitation spell. I spoke more quietly as I rose; "Stick that misshapen head out where I can see it Imperial!""No, you will have to climb up if you want to shoot at me Breton. Come on! Don't be afraid to climb a little ladder." The last word stuck in his throat as I lofted over the far end of the platform.The Cyrodiil was clearly a low ranking officer of the coastal guard, tasked with combating the smuggling that the mists and uncountable inlets of the Bitter Coast made inevitable. An officer on the payroll of the Cammona Tong. While I had no love for the Imperial Guard after my imprisonment, it was my new sense of honor as a member of the Blades that made me feel so satisfied as I drove my spear through the Imperial studded leather breastplate into the corrupt heart.It took the rest of the day and late into the evening to gather all the goods into the storage area and assess the spoils of my victory. I don't intend to make any great effort to move all the material. I will bring the true valuables to the shack, but for the rest I will just make sure to always have a full load of trade goods when I head into the cities. I was taken aback when I was opening the cases. The Cammona Tong is obviously equipping themselves for a bloody showdown, and has a strong connection within the Imperial Legion. The amount of Imperial armor and weapons I found would equip a fair unit of guardsmen...or Tong thugs masquerading as guardsmen. I hope that I have severely crimped their operation with today's efforts. In the darkest hours of night I dragged all the corpses out of the cave and loaded them into their boat. For the first time I was happy about the ravenous slaughterfish. They are, I'm sure, very happy with me.After my long labors in the night I slept late today. I was determined to resume my mapping, and set my sights on a string of tiny islands that are visible from my dock. Standing well out to sea from Vvardenfell itself these islands mark the edge where the coastal shelf drops away into the Inner Sea. I cast my water walking spell and set off, towing a string of weighted corpses and trailing a huge school of bloated slaughterfish who swam sluggishly along. I hoped that I could leave the bodies far from shore, and leave the slaughterfish there as well.Upon closer inspection what I had called an island chain turned out to be little more than rocks, and there are many that lie slightly below the surface. While the Bitter Coast has much to offer for smugglers, it's waters are incredibly treacherous. As I stood on the rounded top of a boulder, gazing down a long submerged slope into the depths of the inner sea, I wondered how many mariners had met their fate on moonless nights on this rock, or its immediate indistinguishable neighbors.In the distance to the south I could make out the railing of a vessel, standing just above the lowered tide. I opted to swim a while to try to clear the memory of the gore from my skin. The slaughterfish continued to feed on the landward side of my rock, so I stepped off on the seaward side and stroked lazily for the distant shipwreck. I had an eerie feeling of being watched, but treading water to scan the surface around me revealed nothing. I climbed out on another rock and basked in the sun, and again turned a full circle. Nothing but sea, rocks, and sky; and in the distance the trees of my own island broke the horizon.I stepped into the water to continue my swim. The plunge left me shrouded in swirling froth, and I never saw the hammering blow that drove the air from my lungs. Fortunately my time here has steeled my nerves, and even while gagging on seawater I was able to complete the required gestures of a water breathing spell. My chances would have been slim indeed without that. A creature had my ankle in a crushing grip, and was obviously intent on holding me beneath the surface. As the water cleared I could see that it had the upper body of a powerfully muscled man. One normal looking hand fluttered in the water, but the opposite arm ended in a huge, powerful claw, which clamped my foot in a viselike grip. Beneath these arms sprouted a second pair, heavily muscled, and ending in smaller claws. The beast had no legs, below the waist long thick tentacles swayed rhythmically, drawing the monster and myself down into the depths. I had met the fabled dreugh face to face.While the druegh is indeed a dangerous adversary and has dragged many a sailor to his demise, they are really no match for a water breathing mage. When the creature's favored style of attack failed and I did not rapidly drown it did not adjust, and I was able to impale it. I crawled back out on the rocks and used my invaluable belt once again, this time to heal the bruised flesh and cracked bones of my ankle. There are armorers who craft with dreugh hide, but the beast's face was a bit too manlike for me to set about skinning it. I scraped off a mass of the waxy coating, which has magical properties, and left the remains to whatever fate the sea held for them. I hope the creature's kin had the opportunity to do whatever their kind do for their dead.It's good to have a home. Even if it is a ragged shack on a rickety pier in the absolute middle of nowhere. Given the complications of my life I think that's actually all to the advantage. It may not be much, but my shack is coming to contain everything I need. And let's face it, the price was right.As I continue to explore the local area, which is of course mostly water, it becomes easier to think the previous occupant met a bad end. From the number of empty bottles and a note he left it is pretty obvious he was a heavy drinker, and had some long term problems that would lead him to take to the water. And the water around here is too dangerous to be roaming drunkenly around. It is fortunate the dreugh can't get out of the water. I saw a number of them today as I explored the bay between Gnaar Mok and the barrier isles. Between diving for pearls and collecting dreugh wax a man could get fairly wealthy here.After a long swim I crawled ashore on the main island and visited what I am now calling my storage area. I'm sure the Cammona Tong would not be pleased at the reference, but it was dusk and the clouds had closed in so I am sure I was unseen entering Shurinbaal. I loaded out most of the armor and transported myself home. I planned on practicing on some of the worn armors, but used up my kits repairing the points on my devil spear and halberd. Being my own smith in the remote wilderness is more challenging than I expected.On a brighter note my enchanting lab came together quite nicely. I bagged a few cliff racers and charged up some petty gems, and this evening set to work. I was very pleased when my first effort produced a working pair of levitation boots! They are not as powerful as my spell so I will move much less quickly, and the duration is not as long, but like any enchanted item they trigger with a one word incantation, so I can count on them keeping me from a nasty fall when my spell wears off, and for quick elevation changes onto rooftops or balconies.While it is good to have a home, I cannot get too comfortable. By all accounts the Dark Brotherhood does not give up, and eventually I will be found. I am also noticing that somehow being here in Morrowind has shifted my view of the Empire. The Imperial rule that I felt as oppressive in High Rock and rebelled against reigns here. But seeing it from the other side I see the good in it, and the good it served in my homeland as well. Tomorrow I will travel to Balmora and meet with Caius. It's time to find out what the Empire requires of me.Having my own home is wonderful, even with the isolation; but tonight I enjoy the company here at the guild hall and wonder. Someday will I be able to sleep without fear of assassination? Live openly, and among friends, perhaps family? What fate has set my feet to what appears to be a lonely path?I took ship this morning, sailing with the dawn to Hla Oad wearing a mixed set of bonemold and steel, the first step in converting my pile of trade goods to more portable assets. My growing loyalty to the Empire could not allow me to return to Balmora without at least a token search for Larrius Varro's bandit. On the docks of Hla Oad my scalp crawled. Every Dunmer, and most others, gave no sign of hospitality. The snarled "outlander" from just behind me after they had passed, the averted gaze, or worse, the glare burning with hatred; all spoke of the influence of the Cammona Tong. I am perhaps being infected with their hatred, but thoughts of burning Hla Oad to the ground crossed my mind. I left quickly.Not far from Hla Oad lies a bridge, and as I approached a large Nord in the fur armor of Skyrim stepped from the brush. He held a mighty Nordic axe loosely in his hand; not threateningly, but ready for use. "I am Fjol, Breton, and this is my bridge," he said. Very matter of fact, not hostile, but again the air of readiness."Did you build this bridge? Has the Emperor himself given you title to this bridge? Or House Hlaalu, which I suppose would be the authority here," I replied, shifting to the other side of the road and freeing my hands. No gestures of spellcasting, but enough to let him know that I would be willing to defend myself.The Nord gave a roaring laugh. "The Tong would be the authority here, if I was beholden to any. If you were Cammona Tong Breton I might even allow you to pass, though the road beyond be dangerous...outlaws you know. You'll certainly be safer with a lighter purse. A hundred gold septims and you may use my bridge."At the mention of the Cammona Tong my blood boiled. "If you call the Tong master, you will make another notch on the shaft of my spear. My count is eight, and just giving them that information would be worth more than a hundred septims. You would be well served to flee with that information while you can."The Nord's blue eyes narrowed. "If the information be so valuable, what price shall I have for your head!?" His voice rose to a roar at the last, and the axe rose in a glittering arc.With a quick word and a gesture the devil spear leaped to my hands, and carrying forward with its momentum I dealt the Nord a grievous blow. The raging blood of the people of Skyrim gushed red, but he was not slowed. The mighty Nordic axe crashed down, rending steel and flesh and cracking bone. I fell to my knees, the haft of my spear digging into the soft soil. With the spreading bar of the spear pressed to his flesh Fjol could come no closer, and he paused to yank the wicked point from his chest in another gout of blood. Either of us could die from the injuries we had already been dealt, but the battle lust was upon Fjol, and he would speed my death with another blow from his axe if he could. My own more calculating Breton heritage carried the day, for I saw no shame in gulping a healing restorative during the brief pause in his advance. I rolled painfully to avoid his next chopping blow."You should have chosen a weaker opponent!" Fjol roared. He swiped sideways, dealing me a thunderous blow with the flat of the axe, but the restorative had already knitted my ribs, and was continuing to work. There was nothing it could do about the torn edges of steel from my breastplate that dug into my raw flesh though. I continued my roll, eventually getting one knee and a foot underneath me. From this half kneeling position I could wield my spear to some effect, at least enough to hold Fjol briefly at bay. With another sideways swipe the huge Nord knocked my spear aside and charged. With no spear to stop him I had no choice, and rose from my knee in my own low driving tackle to meet him head on. Though he was far larger my heavy armor made me a fair match, and we collided with the force of a catapult shot on a castle tower. I thrust my fingers, with the thin steel plates of my gauntlet, into the gory mess of fur armor and Nord flesh that my spear had made of his side.Fjol howled with furious agony as he tossed me aside. I staggered, but did not fall, and lunged to recover my spear. The great Nord stood swaying, blood gushing with every labored breath. Bloody foam flecked his lips as he growled "I shall not fall Breton, you must strike me down." He leaned heavily on the haft of his axe, eyes blazing a cold fury. I could have waited. I know the mighty barbarian would have eventually collapsed to die on his knees. He deserved better, and I drove my spear through his throat.I sold my armor to Wyan, and gathered a great bag of supplies for my armory. He did not comment as he helped me off with my breastplate, opening my wounds as the jagged steel pulled free, but he did nod his respect. That is all the acknowledgement a Redguard would ever give to a battle wound. "I could give you more for this if you repair it first," he said. "It would honor me if you used my forge."I dined at the South Wall. I wanted to get to know the regulars there, and be known by them. I still do not want to join their guild, but given my opposition to the Cammona Tong their friendship is a comfort. Of course I did not tell them what I had done, or where I was living, but they clearly accepted a relationship rooted in a timeless wisdom; 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'. A Bosmer scout, Arathor, was particularly taken with my bonemold boots, which glow softly from the mild enchantment. He gave me more insight into the advantages of the medium weight armors, and we drank far into the night.I rose in the silence of the depth of night to write, surrounded by the sleeping mages of Balmora. Ajira, somewhat a mistress of the local brews, laughed as she put me in my bunk. "I tried to tell friend Arvil Bren. The sujamma has a kick like a guar, puts hair on your face." She padded out with a parting swish of her orange and black striped tail before I could get my thickened tongue to answer. It's good to have a friend to thank in the morning.This shack is an excellent base from which to operate, at least until the Dark Brotherhood finds it, but it is lonely. This evening I brewed potions, using my new mortar and pestle. It is of much higher quality, lighter and providing a smoother grind. My alchemy lab is better for it. I got it from Ajira, in trade for the skooma I took from the Cammona Tong. They apparently control the vast majority of the skooma trade, and Ajira was very pleased to get a good supply.I have also improved my enchanting lab. With some assistance I modified my soultrap spell so I can cast it on a distant target. Initially I though this would just improve my abilities with cliff racers, since I could cast the spell and bring them down with arrows. This afternoon I saw a much bigger improvement. Using a higher quality soul gem I was able to trap the energies of a bull netch which has been routinely hanging over my island. This gem is far more powerful than the racers I've been using. In fact I opted not to waste it on my latest project, a demon longbow, which I did successfully complete. I also set up all my new equipment in my forge this afternoon, working from the time I teleported home until dusk. As I said, an excellent base, but compared to having breakfast in the guild hall this morning it is achingly lonely.At breakfast the talk of my drunken exploits eventually gave way to comments on my boots. Ranis was very explicit in her inquiries, but was soon satisfied that I had indeed enchanted them myself. She followed with some further questioning about my alchemy skills and repertoire of spells, then surprised me by promoting me to Evoker. While my friends are a bit jealous of my rapid promotion, they are also well aware that the comforts of life in the hall appeal greatly to me. It was difficult to take my leave. Ranis made it easier though. I think my promotion was in part just to have me qualified to take on a mission she needs accomplished. I am to recruit a renegade Telvanni, and also collect back dues from a lapsed member of the guild. When I transported myself out this afternoon I gave the impression that I was on my way, although I actually am much further from my destination now. I will pursue my duty to the guild dutifully, but it is not my only pressing concern.After breakfast I made a trip out to Fort Moonmoth. Varro was pleased that Fjol had been brought to justice. He was disappointed that the outlaw had not been taken alive, but not very disappointed. In fact Varro is a bit on the bloodthirsty side I think. He told me what he called a 'story'. It was about a good officer enforcing the laws, a corrupt magistrate releasing the villains, and the bad people who bribe the magistrate. It did not take a genius to recognize the key figures in the tale. Varro says that the good officer's hands are tied, because the magistrate has powerful connections, but that if something happened to the 'bad people' it would make everything turn out in the end. The direction this was going was ominous, but then there was the clincher. If the 'story' were taken to represent Balmora, which it clearly does, then the 'bad people' in question are none other than the core of the local Cammona Tong syndicate! Varro certainly did not want anything so direct as a statement that I would take care of it, but it is clear that he would appreciate it if I did, and that there would be a tangible reward for me. I returned to town and spoke with my friends at the South Wall. They identified the key players who Varro could only describe. I stopped at the Council Club for lunch and identified them all. The hostile atmosphere made it very easy to resolve to take on this task, though how to conduct the 'bloodbath' that will give Varro the happy ending for his tale remains to be seen.As if I did not have enough on my suddenly full plate, when I turned over my latest maps to Nine Toes he sent me to see Caius. I was going to check in with the spy master anyway, but the tone of the summons left no doubt that I was going to be even busier. Nine Toes thanking me for my efforts and suggesting that he would be handling the rest of the project without me made that obvious.Caius wasted no time. "Nine Toes tells me you do good work. Now it's time to expand your experience...And your usefulness." I nodded acceptance and he continued. "You may have heard rumors about 'the Nerevarine'. The Dunmer are waiting for this Nerevarine, who they say will be the re-incarnation of their long dead general, Lord Indoril Nerevar. They expect him to unite all the tribes of the Dunmer and restore the Dark Elven nation to its former glory. The prophecies are handed down among the Ashlanders as oral traditions and poetic verses. We need to know a lot more about these prophecies, and you are going to be instrumental in finding out."I was a bit daunted by the task. Ashlanders? I knew nothing about the ashlands or their people. Caius gave me a place to start. He sent me to Hasphat Antabolis, drillmaster at the Balmora fighters guild hall. Hasphat has lived in Morrowind his entire life, and is very well connected with the land and people of the Dunmer. He is also very interested in the disappearance of the ancient dwarven people, a collector of their artifacts, and a wily trader who gives up no information for free. To even begin to talk about the Nerevarine prophecies, he demanded a small 'favor'. In his research he has come across references to a 'Dwemer Puzzle Box', and has isolated it to a particular site. He gave me directions to this ruin, and instructed me how to gain access. He will trade his information for this artifact, and nothing else. What I will do if I explore the ruins and don't find the box is not clear. Hopefully I won't have to figure that out.I laid awake in my cot for much of the night, turning plans over in my head. Finally, not much rested, I rose before dawn and went outside. I settled down on my dock to a breakfast of fresh crabmeat. My pier faces west, and the sun rising behind me chased the shadows of darkness out into the Inner Sea. With them went my uncertainty. I had a plan, and I quickly donned almost a full set of bonemold armor and loaded my pack. I am carrying a tightly bundled set of the black chainmail of a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and topped off my pack with as much spare armor as I could carry. Again I was plagued with uncertainty. I had practiced an intervention spell which would take me to the nearest temple, in fact I have scrolls with this excellent transportation spell traced upon them, but where would the nearest temple be? I hoped Balmora. If it turned out to be Ald'ruhn it would delay me slightly. If anywhere else I would probably need a new plan. I was pleased to find myself in the familiar courtyard of the Balmora temple as the spell's effects cleared.I quickly sold my spare armor, keeping the dark mail hidden and telling Wyan I needed the travel money. I made a point of telling him how excited I was to be on a serious errand for my guild steward, heading to the far reaches of Molag Mar. I was also very conspicuous in my departure as I swept through the guild hall. Ranis was surprised, since she thought I had set out yesterday, but understood that I had needed to rush home to supply myself for the journey. I made a point with her that the bonemold armor would not make for overly fast travel, but would get me safely there and back. By the time I left the guild hall everyone knew I was embarking on a substantial journey. After the high visibility of my first two stops my final one felt incongruous. I slipped into a deep alcove in the pedestal of the strider port, directly across from the Council Club, and left a magic mark.I left Balmora in a new direction, headed into the interior of Vvardenfell. Just past Moonmoth Fort is a mighty canyon, the Foyada Mamaca. Foyada is a Dunmer word meaning 'river of fire', a reference to the hot, ash laden winds that roar down from the mighty volcano, Red Mountain. My road passed north of the fort to cross over an ancient Dwemer bridge. As I stepped onto the bridge I saw a man standing near the far end, sunlight glinting from his iron plate armor. Remembering Fjol I approached cautiously, half expecting another bridge claiming bandit demanding a toll. Whether he would demand a toll or just try to rob me I'll never know.As soon as he caught sight of me the white haired man began the gestures of a spell of summoning, and I sprinted for a cart parked near the bridge rail. He completed the spell just in time for me to see a skeletal warrior summoned from the plane of the dead appear before him, then I vaulted over the rail. I fell out of sight and activated my boots to float down into the canyon, curving under the bridge as I went. Once safely on firm ground, I cast a chameleon spell and crept out from beneath the bridge, dodging furtively down the canyon for a short distance. When I was far enough to consider it safe to proceed I turned and climbed the canyon wall, using my boots to master occasional steep passages. Thus I crossed the Foyada Mamaca, but I was not finished with the white crowned bandit.From my vantage on a high rock spur I could see him pacing the bridge, pausing occasionally to peer over the rail at the canyon floor far below. He wore only the breastplate of iron; his arms were bare, and bronzed by the sun. At one of his pauses I buried an arrow deep in the meat of his left shoulder.As he dove for cover I was nearly knocked from my perch into the canyon far below. Struggling to maintain balance I turned to face a horrid grotesquery. A cliff racer had glided silently from above and struck me a solid blow with its sharp beak, and was now flapping mightily to regain the air. The beast was hampered by thick meaty growths that dotted its wings, and a thickening of muscles that certainly added to the power of its strike, but hampered its flight. It slammed the air awkwardly with deformed wings. Unslinging my spear I struck the creature full in the breast, what should have been at least a debilitating blow. Blood spilled, but the heavy muscle began rapidly growing around the wound, adding another blob to the sickening mass. It took a rapid series of deep stabs, any one of which should have been fatal, to send the blighted creature to its rest. That is what the monster was; blighted. A victim of the dreaded disease that is supposed to be contained behind the ghostfence that rings Red Mountain. I shuddered at the sight of it.Of course I knew that I did not have time to ponder how the blight had reached to this distant part of Vvardenfell. The bandit had moved like a man injured, but far from dead, and I had no idea where he had gotten to in my distraction. I crouched and surveyed the bridge. He was huddled behind some crates, peering cautiously at my high perch. We were at a standoff. I skipped an arrow off the top of the crates for good measure. After my harrowing experience with the blighted racer I was willing to concede the bridge to it's toll keeper. I slid carefully down the slope on my heels, with my bow at the ready. I could reach the road well past the bridge and be on my way.I suppose one arrow to the shoulder couldn't be expected to stop a self respecting bandit. Scurrying from shelter to shelter he moved inexorably towards the point where I would intersect the road. My bow was ready, but in my pell-mell slide down the slope there was no way to get off an accurate shot. With the bow in my hands I couldn't activate my boots. A final small avalanche of loose stones and I landed in the road, only yards away from my attacker. He stopped, conjuring again. I drew quickly and fired. The skeleton appeared in front of him and the arrow struck, shattering bony ribs and scattering dust. Still gesturing, my opponent stepped from behind the skeleton, which was turning to charge. A ball of sparks flew from the conjurers hands and enveloped me. I hooked my bow over my shoulder and fled, hoping that the pursuing skeleton would shelter me from any more of the conjurer's spells.As I ran I triggered first my healing belt, then my boots, and lofted myself over a rockpile and out of harms way. A few more charges from the belt and I was again good as new. Just in time for the conjurer to round the rockpile and open fire yet again. This time I sidestepped his bolt, and returned fire with my bow. We dodged among the boulders trading volleys until he fell from loss of blood. I made sure of him with my spear, but I believe he was already dead.I continued on my way, following the trail around a huge peak crowned with ancient ruins. The road then descended into an ash covered wasteland, and bits of advice I had received about the Ashland welled up in memory. Don't be out after dark being a common one, and stay out of ash storms being another. As I gazed into the uniform grayness these sounded like wise counsel. The sun was lowering fast with the mountain behind me, and I cast about for some sort of shelter.Happily I saw a cavern mouth in a ravine, not far off the trail. I entered carefully, thinking that I might not be the only creature taking advantage of such a secure nook. Red candles burning on numerous rocks not far within showed that the cave was home to men rather than creatures...or so I thought, until one such inhabitant shambled towards me. Like the blighted racer I had slain he was horribly distorted, but clearly had once been a man. I fired an arrow into the mass of blobs that had been his chest and the impact knocked him off his feet, perhaps more from a clumsy effort to dodge than anything else. Before he could rise I pumped three more arrows into the mass. I don't know if the internal organs were shifted from their places inside the tortured hulk, but apparently something vital was found by an arrowhead, and the monster accepted merciful death.To my left I saw a tunnel blocked by an exposed vein of molten lava. I levitated across with my boots. The shambling gait of the corprus stalker would never have managed the narrow ledges and leaps from stone to stone that I magically avoided. The lava thus offers protection as well as warmth and I am bedded down on the cavern's stone floor.I write tonight as the denizens of Sulipund settle down around me. I am a guest of Llarar Bereloth. Bereloth is a sorcerer and a member of the Dunmer great house called Telvanni. I was sent here to convince him to join the guild...or kill him. Fortunately I was able to convince him of the benefits. He has a number of retainers here in this isolated tower who would add to the already dangerous task of attacking him. Overall it has been a very successful day.This morning I left the cavern in which I had sheltered without any further exploration. The red candles still burned, and I wondered at who would be there to maintain them. Did the corprus stalker just wander in there like I did? Or was the diseased man a part of whatever rules that darkened pit? I felt no desire to be face to face with any mystery that might have accounted for the ominous feel of the place.Today's trek through the ashlands was not unlike yesterday; cliff racers, shalk beetles, and a dubious trail that at times wandered and occasionally disappeared. In the midafternoon heat I found the lake which Ranis had offered as a landmark. The ancient Dunmer stronghold at Marandus loomed to the southeast, but I turned to the north. The trail here is fairly clear and I had no trouble finding my first destination, a cavern opening on the right side of the trail, secured with a stout wooden door.Inside the cavern, known as Punabi, the crackling energies of magica can be felt in the air. Ranis had told me some sort of research was going on there, and Punabi is apparently a good place for it...it stank of power. Fortunately I did not have to venture far inside to accomplish my task there. The first person I met was Manwe, a renegade mage whom I had been sent to find. When she learned that I was there to collect her back dues for the guild she was furious, and suggested that I might be wise to pay Ranis myself rather than bother her. I was grateful for the education I received on the streets of High Rock. Manwe is, I suspect, a far more capable spellcaster than I, but I know how challenging it can be to concentrate on spells while getting jabbed at with a sharp spear. The diversity of my skills gave me the courage to continue trying to reason with her. Eventually, perhaps just to get rid of me so she could return to her research, she produced the two thousand septims in back dues which would restore her standing with the guild. With a sigh of relief I made my exit.As Ranis had said, the tower of Sulipund was not much further along the trail, and I arrived well before dark. I was ushered to the highest room in the tower by surly retainers who clearly would have preferred that their master order my death, or at the very least my unceremonious removal from the premises. Bereloth also did not extend a warm welcome, but since he did pause in his research to see me I expressed my gratitude in a stream of praises for his work and the grandeur that he had brought to what had been a long abandoned tower.Our conversation ranged widely, although it did frequently come back to Sulipund. The Telvanni district does not extend this far into the ashlands, and Bereloth could technically be considered a 'rogue' by the leadership of his house for settling here. It is certainly outside of the Imperial charter, which grants the governance of this area to the Dunmer Tribunal Temple. In order to avoid being held in violation of the charter the Telvanni house would simply disavow Bereloth and others like him, but in talking to Bereloth it was clear that this does not keep him from being actively involved in the activities of his house. While he is not really as isolated as his official status would indicate, he did come to see my point that membership in the guild would be a benefit. We agreed that he would visit Ranis on his upcoming trip into Balmora.I told Bereloth that I greatly appreciated his hospitality for the night as I had other business to attend to in the area. I did not mention that I had already completed my other task. When he does visit Balmora he will unknowingly provide collaboration of my whereabouts tonight. I am not imposing upon his house for breakfast, as I have informed them that I will be leaving before dawn. Sulipund will soon settle into the early rest of the remote ashlands. I am preparing for a busy night.I have slept most of the day, in a camp left to me by the departed Snowy Granius. Apparently his taking of tolls on the bridge over the Foyada Mamaca had been going on for quite some time. His camp provides a little shelter from ash storms and cliff racers, and much more importantly will keep me out of sight.Once Bereloth's house had settled last night I crept out to the hallway and prepared for my task. My black armor I covered with a robe of common material. Nondescript steel gauntlets and my lightly enchanted bonemold boots offered no clue to my identity, and the effect was completed by a closed helm of netch leather that covered my features. I did not expect anyone to see my magical appearance in Balmora, but if they had they would not have known me. I quietly cast my spell of recall.As expected my arrival in the deep nook under the strider port went unobserved, and I strode quickly to the door of the Council Club and entered. I was immediately accosted by Thanelen Velas, a smith by trade, and according to my sources one of the five local Cammona Tong ringleaders that Varro hoped would meet with an 'accident'. He peered at me with narrowed eyes and hissed "Why the closed helm? This is a peaceful establishment. Are you trying to hide that you are an outlander?" He fairly spat the final word, as if it left a bad taste in his dark elven mouth."Many of your brethren Dunmer have manners, dark elf scum," I replied. "Of course with good manners they have no need to shelter among your corrupt and cowardly Tong."He grabbed an axe of gleaming Dwarven metal from a nearby table and took a wild sideways swipe. I ducked under the arc and drove my halberd through his unarmored body until the blade caught against his ribs. With another heave I drove him backwards over the table, the long shaft of the halberd keeping me beyond the range of his axe. Blood foamed from his lips as he gasped his last. I yanked the wicked point of the halberd free and spun to the stairs.The main room of the Council Club lies one flight below ground level, and I crashed down into this salon with Velas' blood still dripping from my ready weapon. I raced through unhindered. The bartender took shelter behind his bar while three patrons stared in slack jawed surprise. They leapt to their feet too late to block my progress and I continued into the storage area. My boots skidded on the carpet as I made the sharp turn onto the ramp leading down to the sleeping rooms. At the bottom of the ramp, just emerging from her room, stood the thief Madrale Thirith. I used the steep ramp to accelerate my reckless charge as I activated the devil spear. I was committed, no one who saw that distinctive weapon in my hands would leave alive. The enchanted spear seeked out its target and the full weight of my charge drove Thirith to the ground, stricken through. I was not unscathed though. As she fell the skilled thief delivered a viscous cut with her shortsword, which gleamed with enchantment in the dim light of the hall. A jolt of magical electricity seared the flesh around the wound. With a quick glance at my pursuers I threw open a door to a sleeping chamber and dove inside.Two of the five leaders of Balmora's Cammona Tong lay dead, and the other three crashed against the open door which obstructed the hall at the bottom of the ramp, slamming it closed at my heels. By stepping into the room I had avoided giving them the same advantage I had used on their partner, but I was still outnumbered three to one. I called on the dragon skin spell of my ancestors and tightened my grip on the devil spear as they tore open the door.Fortunately in their haste and arrogance two of the Tong leaders had charged down the ramp unarmed. The third however wielded a longsword of fine steel which dripped with green magical venom. Even in my black armor I knew I would not survive many strikes from that blade. I jabbed with my spear, and sent the tip in glittering arcs across the doorway. The narrow access countered their numbers, and I dared not let them enter. In the close confines of the doorway they impeded each other, and first the pawnbroker and then the foppish savant fell to my spear. Unfortunately the skilled swordswoman had taken her opportunities, striking at my spear as it cut down her fellows. Green ichor flowed up the shaft and enveloped my hands and arms in stinging agony. She held a clear advantage as she stepped over her fallen companions into the room.We glared at each other warily. She respected my spear, which was now completely inundated with the lifeblood of her companions. For my part I knew that I needed to keep well clear of her green stained blade. She raised the blade to strike, I jabbed quickly. Giving up on her swing she parried. I just as quickly feinted back, swinging my spear away from her venom lest my hands be tortured further. She could not close against the spear, but I could not fully commit to an attack; a dangerous standoff. Very dangerous for me, as each passing second brought me closer to the expiring of my defensive spell.I braced myself, more in mind than body, and leapt forward thrusting with the spear. Her blade rang against my shaft, then slid along to rake my gauntleted hands with agony. I kept my grip through the wrenching pain, and the enchantment of the spear carried it to rest among her shattering ribs. Again red Dunmer blood quenched the Daedric spirit of the devil spear. I gulped restoratives, thankful to have survived.I grabbed the enchanted weapons and rifled purses for whatever gold I could find, then tore up the ramp to make my escape. The Bartender stood behind the bar, gripping a huge steel warhammer in both hands. As I spun into the main room I growled a warning at him, "Peace friend, my contract does not include you." He lowered the hammer, but watched warily. "This Cammona Tong may be a big deal in Morrowind, but the Thieve's Guild is established throughout the Empire. I recommend you lose your reputation for hosting the Tong, or we will close your doors." With that bit of subterfuge I sprinted up the stairs and out into the street.My headlong flight into the night was uneventful. I ran up the steps to the strider port until I could clear the city wall, then leapt free. Gulping sujamma, which I had grabbed from the bar, I raced towards the foyada. The sujamma enhanced my strength sufficiently for me to run under the burden of weapons that I had gathered, but muddled my thinking. Fortunately my well laid plan carried me through without calling on my mental resources and I arrived here safely. I spent the day resting my battered legs and easing the pounding in my head, aftermath of my sujamma powered flight. I will sleep here tonight and begin my search for Hasphat's puzzle box tomorrow.