((Boring OOC stuff:
I apologize for the slow start this one's going to have. I've been envisioning this idea for months now, and have finally decided to sit down and work on it a little, see if my imagination can take off with it. My reasons for doing this are pretty simple- anybody who's played more than one Elder Scrolls game has a tendency to form their own little head-canon, their own specific version of the events in the games, and the player characters that did their epic (or less exciting, but still important) thing inside that singular version of Tamriel. I've recorded my own personal head-canon for every game in the series, but that's not particularly exciting to read, or go back and write into. We all know the plots of the games we've played; what about the world that those events happen in? What about the people who never get to save the world, or kill a god? So, I came up with Seidvala.
Seidvala is not blessed by the gods. She has no fate marked out for her in the stars, nor is she a blank slate that will carve her name upon the tablets of the Divine. She does, however, have a long (very long) history of being in all of the wrong places at all of the right times. Her story starts near the end of the 3rd Era, and reaches all the way into the 4th. Through her, I will explore my own head-canon. I invite others along for the ride, in the hopes of improving myself and hopefully entertaining somebody, somewhere, for the small piece of time they choose to surrender their brains to me.
Also, I apologize if this stuff shouldn't be done here, as it will include some screens from Morrowind and Oblivion for a bit. It just seemed fun to me to go back and include them, to help me follow her path. Typos and such are inevitable, as I'll be working on this on a bunch of different computers as time and boredom will. Please overlook them, if you can.
Boring OOC stuff terminated, hopefully less-boring exposition/plot introduction incoming))
5 Last Seed, 3E 427
Tomorrow the boat leaves for Vvardenfell. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at last a little nervous about leaving behind solid ground. It sounds kind of silly when I put it like that, though. After all, I've spent the last two weeks being teleported around half of Cyrodiil and Morrowind. But still, the thought of being trapped in a wooden cage with only a few inches of dead tree between myself and a watery grave worries me far more than the thought of being magickally thrown across the world (a process I know full well involves nothing more intimidating than anti-polar daedron fields in prepared magickal anchor-sites). If my grandparents in Skyrim could hear me gripe about setting sail, they would probably weep.
The captain of the good ship Sandy Guar is a crotchety old dark elf who seemed a little unhappy about going out of his way to take me into Ebonheart, but the letter of credit from the Guild seems to be tiding him over. Good thing, too, since the next ship I've heard of heading to the island has been reserved by the guard for unplanned prisoner transport. I don't want to even imagine how well that trip would go for me, even if I did manage to buy my way onto it.
I sold most of my belongings back in Skingrad before leaving the guild hall there. I'll be traveling light now: a few sets of clothes, mostly robes; a small steel knife that I'm going to attempt enchanting during the voyage and a few petty soul gems with which to practice; one hundred septims, the rest of my own money; another three hundred septims in the form of letters of credit, which I have been warned will only be worth something in Imperial-friendly cities; and this journal, bought in Cheydinhall before I made the trip across the border into Morrowind, with which I hope to document my studies.
Once I arrive in Ebonheart, I have been told that I should find lodgings at the Six Fishes for a day or two, until I find a boat to take me to Vivec, the capital city on Vvardenfell. From there, I should ask for directions to the Foreign Quarter, the northern-most canton--- a concept poorly explained to me (floating cities? I'm not going to say that's impossible, but for an entire city to sit atop the water and not sink seems a little far-fetched without some kind of extreme magic). The local Guild chapter is found in the plaza there, and the Arch-Mage of the Vvardenfell Guild himself calls it home.
Caranya, the Master Wizard kind enough to sponsor my trip, advised me before I left to not seek aid from the Arch-Mage, for some reason. She's given me a letter of introduction to take to an Argonian wizard named "Skink-In-Tree's-Shade" in Sadrith Mora, whom I will be able to reach with the assistance of the guild guide in Vivec.
I'm more than a little excited to begin my time in Morrowind. I've heard stories about magic here. The Levitation Act of '21 that banned most forms of personal teleportation and levitation in most of the Empire is apparently not strictly enforced here. To think, I may get to float over the ground like a bird! (Yes, I am aware of the practical purposes behind the Act, and acknowledge that the current data seems to be dipping towards such spells bringing, generally speaking, far more risks than they do benefits, but still. Flying!)
My research project itself will probably take years of my life. By the time I am finished, I hope to have left Journeyman far, far behind. Who knows? By the time I am back in Cyrodiil, I might have made it to Warlock, or even Wizard!
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13 Last Seed, 3E 427
Sick. So very, very sick. The blasted elves seem to find a seasick Nord utterly hilarious. I find myself disagreeing with the sentiment. Almost to Vvardenfell now, though.
Also, no luck in getting the enchantments to sink in. What a waste of gems... I probably shouldn't have tried it in between trips to the side of the deck.
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14 Last Seed, 3E 427
Thank Julianos for solid ground. I need to think up another way to Vivec.
Ebonheart itself is grand. My first sight off the boat was the great dragon statue in the central square. I walked down the ramp and ignored the parting snickers of the boat hands. Surprisingly, I don't feel very out of place here. While most of the people I walked past on the docks were dark elves, once I made it past the East Empire Company offices, I started to see more variety. It turns out, there's an enclave from Skyrim here. I haven't checked it out yet, and don't know that I shall, but it's nice to know that there's a little slice of my girlhood home just down the street from the inn.
My first stop after I'd gotten my bearings was the Six Fishes Tavern, as planned. The people inside all seemed friendly enough, and told me a little about Ebonheart. One man, a fine-looking Redguard named Dorian, and I seemed to hit it off.
I introduced myself, including my rank in the Mages Guild, but left out the exact object of my studies (can't be too careful, I might have competition from somebody else in the Guild). He then introduced himself.
"My name's Dorian. I'm from the Imperial City, born and bred, but decided to come out here to find work with the legions out on the frontier. This is my last night in Ebonheart... I set sail for Khuul at sunrise. From there, it's just a short hike to the fort in Gnisis, where I hope to enlist," he announced, beaming.
We shared a drink, some exotic but sweet wine. We traded gossip from the Imperial Province, and he told me a little bit about Morrowind, and what to expect.
"Were you chapel-going back home?" he asked an hour into our conversation. "I only ask because a lot of mages I've met seem to be a little on the secular side."
"Oh, no, that's not me. I've been going to the chapel since I was a girl. I was fortunate enough to be able to attend sermons at the great Chapel of Julianos in town there. The healers and I were very close."
"Julianos? Blast, I'd hoped for a Dibellite," he jested. Perhaps it was the foreign wine, but I'll confess I giggled instead of taking offense.
From there, our talk turned religious.
"Here in the Province, you'll probably have to visit an Imperial garrison to find any shrines. Most of the Dunmer still hold to their faith in their Tribunal."
I feigned disinterest, but did try to steer the conversation towards the dark elves' rituals of ancestor worship. Regretfully, he seemed to enjoy using my ears for his practiced Imperial Cult proselytizing speech, so I ordered another drink and let him go on. The wine had really gotten to my head by that point, to say the least.
When he finished, I mocked a toast. "You should join the Imperial Cult, not the Legion," I teased, smiling so he knew that I wasn't trying to offend.
"Ha! Maybe I'll join both. I've heard I can be pretty persuasive, when I want to be," he smiled.
The hour had grown late by that point, and our conversation finally slowed.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Seidvala. If you ever find yourself up in Gnisis, make sure you swing by the garrison and say hello."
I wish I could say we parted amiably then, and that I went back up to my room alone to sleep off the drunkenness in private before I made a fool of myself. In fact, let's just say that's what happened. Let this record show, though, that Dorian was correct: he can be very persuasive when he would like to.
Note to self: stay away from shein in the future.
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