Travels on Vvardenfell [ADDED]

[The_Skullpitter]

Travels on Vvardenfell
by Pius Clericus

So much has been made of the history and composition of the province of Morrowind, particularly the lore and customs of its satellite island of Vvardenfell, that my patrons have felt it necessary to commission a more practical study of the ancient Dunmer homeland as it exists today. To this end I was shipped to the quarantine island, so that I might contribute to a better understanding of the nature of mysterious Morrowind. I can say with all seriousness that the voyage left me with no great love for my companions; it seemed the guards on my ship felt I knew nothing of practical life and insisted on 'teaching' me. I feel that had I remained on board much longer they would have been giving me instructions on how to walk correctly. And these were Imperials! If only I knew the disposition of the natives, I perhaps would have requested an immediate return to Cyrodiil.

Nevertheless, undaunted I departed at the Ebonheart docks and was immediately granted my first view of Vvardenfell. I must admit to having been overwhelmed at first by the beauty of the provincial district; this awe remained with me during the several days I remained in Ebonheart and mostly survived the rest of my occupancy on the island. One thing I noted immediately was that the locals, despite being 'other than friendly', seemed to consider my mere presence nearby as an invitation to conversation. Simply walking along the rows of shops and houses in any city would elicit dozens of unsolicited (and often uncouth) remarks, as though I was imposing upon them merely by passing by. And while I at first marveled at the incredible diversity in what I had heard was a mainly Dark-Elf populated land, I soon tired of the greetings and conversations when it seemed that no man had more (or less) to say than his neighbor and their comments seemed to be direct quotations of each other.

Upon leaving this bastion of Imperial power I learned of the incredible predilection of the natives for offering up useless directions. It is my firm belief that everyone on this island has as his most sacred intent my total and utter destruction in the wilds. They seem to take a perverse joy in describing paths that do not exist, landmarks that are unremarkable, and distances that are questionable at best. Never once was I directed efficiently and safely to my destination; one might think me paranoid for saying so, but I began to feel that the world these natives were describing had undergone terrific changes since they came upon the information they were giving me. After being told for the thousandth time to leave the city in a direction that would take me through a stone wall, or to climb an entire mountain range, or to turn towards Black Marsh at a bent blade of grass, I resolved to damn the natives and follow my own sense of direction.

That any life remains on this island is a miracle when one considers the bellicose nature of the wildlife. Upon sensing another living being the creatures of Vvardenfell charge forth with little regard for their own safety and immediately force a confrontation. I found the fact that the feral cliff racers of the mountains or even the slaughterfish (!) of the seas would seemingly cross the entire island to attack me of particular note. Never once did I pass by a docile grazing guar without it immediately giving chase, as though I were the only point of interest in its world of apparent tunnel-vision.

The guards on Vvardenfell are surprisingly adept at what they do. I recall vividly one incident where I was discussing the finer points of Morrowind law with a Hlaalu enforcer in the city of Balmora, when suddenly the guard turned tail and ran with incredible speed towards the other end of the city. As I later discovered, a gentleman with a thirty-Septim bounty on his head had been wandering about a short distance from town. With such unholy prescience it is a surprise to me that the Dunmer have not proven more difficult to subdue.
A fact which had not before come to my attention is the nocturnal life of both natives and outlanders on the island. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I might not have believed; scarcely anyone appeared to become fatigued at day's end, and I never once noticed any citizens retiring to their homes. Indeed, they seem to confine themselves to certain predetermined paths which they only rarely stray from. Among the constant unwelcome comments thrown my way by passers by was a claim that the speaker was "very busy" and had no time for whatever requests they imagined I was making; I have yet to observe any evidence of this claim, as the primary activity on Vvardenfell appears to be strutting across a loosely-defined area and assailing pedestrians with non sequiturs.

Accompanying this is the fact that although much is made of local rivalries and house wars, I began to imagine that I was the only person who actually moved from place to place. It fascinates me that despite claims of bitter blood feuds between the local Dunmer, and descriptions of a rapidly-growing movement of dissent among the empire, the citizens mainly occupy themselves with sharing gossip and making disturbing comments to themselves when they think no-one is looking. Not once did I witness anyone actually departing the city of their residence.

The population of the island is considerably smaller than I had been led to believe. Vivec city in particular surprised me; although the several cantons are indeed impressive in their height and scale, they are scarcely much more populated than the smaller coastal cities which I observed (and who’s continued existence, as their economy appears to be centered on peaceful strolls and being rude to outlanders, remains baffling to me). Vvardenfell has not lived up to my expectations; although certainly massive, it does not seem to occupy that tremendous area which our best maps would seem to indicate. The Inner Sea and Sea of Ghosts, however, proved quite contrary to this; try as I might, I could not descry the mainland, though my map told me barely a few hundred meters separated me from it at several points. Perhaps I was mistaken on the facts of the matter.

In any case, perhaps the lack of a population explosion in Vivec can be attributed to a peculiar flaw in the architecture; I have been reliably informed that there have been many reports of individuals suddenly falling through the floor in the cantons, much to their detriment. My source claimed it to have been some sort of error on the part of the 'developers', which I assume to mean the original Velothi architects working under the leadership of the Temple. Vivec's unusual architecture seems to have had a remarkably odd effect on the citizens; one madman confided to me that it was possible to step from the highest heights of the Foreign Quarter canton and land safely a hundred or more meters down, as long as one made sure to collide with several objects on the way down. Such madness seems to be commonplace here in Morrowind.

There is something strange going on in this province. I cannot put my finger on it, but it has been gnawing away at my consciousness since I arrived. I feel it when, firing my trusted longbow at an approaching mudcrabs, I see the arrow pass straight through and yet it has no effect. I sense it when people I have never met call me by my name. It is all around me when the entire world seems to orient itself on me, my actions, my personal self, and pays attention to every detail of my presence. They are all around me, stifling me, almost seemingly to justify their existence by their relevance to my quest here. They scarcely notice each other, but nothing I do goes without being carefully marked.

It is as though I am merely a player in some sort of incredible game, and this entire province exists merely for the benefit of that game's continuation. When the quarantine is lifted I shall make my way home as quickly as my charge allows; this province has had a most unhealthy affect on my mind. I sometimes find myself doubting the very reality of my situation, as though there is someone watching on high, pulling my strings and making me dance to his own obscene rhythm.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Shortly after submitting this report to his Imperial contacts on Vvardenfell, Pius Clericus was relieved of his duties and returned to his home province of Cyrodiil for rehabilitation. The officers sent to escort him back claimed the cause was several disturbing and clearly fanciful entries in his official report; we leave it to the reader to discover whether there is any truth in this madness.]

[Arthmodeus]

2.B.CY