Days Of Oblivion

News Of The World

2007-02-08T00:11:00.000+01:00

So, what? You say. Belenor saves Cyrodiil and disappears? Maybe he met his final doom at the hands of an overzealous guard, trying to stop him from snooping around too much? Or has Falanu Hlaalu somehow suceeded in her nefarious (but quite enjoyable) plans?

Sad thing is - apart from the fact that the 'u' key on my laptop mysteriously stopped working unless punched with enough force to kill a small rat - life happens.

I started this blog for two reasons.

One, I wanted to see what this 'blogging' fuss is about.
Two, I wanted a motivation to actually finish a game for once.
Three...

Okay. I started this blog for three reasons.

Three, I wanted to practise my English in a storytelling environment.
Four...

Ahem. Among the reason why I started this blog are such things as:

Four, I wanted to entertain while waiting for the next pen'n'paper roleplaying session to come along.

But enough with the Monty Python.

After finishing the main quest, I tried getting into the Mages Guild storyline. Unfortunately, it does not give much new things to do, the quest are rather similar to each other. There are still lots of sidequests remaining, and extra content like Mehrunes Razor awaits.

The question, however, is: Do I have the motivation to keep playing until I really finished all quests? Again, with the sadly: No. I am in the process of getting a job that will put me in front of the computer at least eight hours a day, and while money is always good, I fear I'd rather move on to other things. And games. You never know, there might be another blod like this somewhere in the future. At least if I can get all my keys working again. In the meantime, I should just try to avoid words with the letter 'u' in them.

I will try this: Give Belenor and this blog the proper ending it deserves, instead of leaving it hanging in the air like that. So, while Belenor is still in Hiatus, the small village next to Cheydinhal, the finale of his story lurks around the corner!

More on the two mystical towns of Cognito and Communicado, how I threatened the Dell laptop technician with an original Bihänder and the sulking of Falan Hlaalu coming soon. -ish.

The Rise And Fall Of Ulrich Leland

2006-11-16T17:53:00.001+01:00

Travelling through the Nibenay Basin, on my way to unearth one of the greatest legends of our time, I found myself in the beautiful town of Cheydinhal. However, it seems that although the outside threat of the Daedra is gone, not everything goes as smoothly as it should.

I was sipping an ale at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, listening to the rumours floating around. Soon, it became apparent that people were rather annoyed at the city guard. Or more specifically, their captain, Ulrich Leland.

Leland fought beside me at Bruma, a capable fighter, but I knew little else about him. Young, focused, ambitious and clad in the finest armour. Just the type that makes a fast career in the guard. Also, the type that may stray outside the law to achieve his goals.

The next day, I decided to find out more about the fines that Leland imposed on the people of Cheydinhal. One person in particular, the Dunmer Llevana Nedaren, had a strong opinion about him. And she did not hesitate to voice it.

Leland had thrown a man, Aldos Othran, out of his home for not being able to pay his fines. Othran had done little more than drown his sorrows after his wife was killed in an ambush by bandits. Still, fines were fines, I needed more to act upon than just lack of sympathy towards fellow citizens.

In the county hall I met up with Garrus Darelliun, second in command after Leland. Darelliun, after congratulating me for my part in the battle at Bruma, was only too eager to share his own suspicions about his captain. Leland had recently bought expensive merchandise, more expensive than what his normal pay would allow. But we needed a witness, someone to press charges against Leland.

Othran was the man. I was lucky to catch him in one of his more sober moments and convinced him to bring the matter before the count. Unfortunately, on the way to the castle, we passed his former home, with a guard standing at the door. Othran started a heated argument, and before I could intervene, he drew a dagger and attacked the guard.

I needed a new witness.

In the castle, I called Darelliun once more into a huddle. A new plan. Instead of trying to find someone else with enough courage to stand against Leland, we would do it ourselves.

Darelliun would distract Leland, while I searched the private rooms of the captain for something incriminating. Notice how, as usual, I would be the one actually performing illegal deeds in the risk of getting caught? Some things never change, I suppose...

I all went smoothly, however. Leland had cleared his rooms thoroughly, but I was able to find an unfinished letter that held enough proof for our purposes. Darelliun offered to speak with the count, while I returned to the Bridge Inn.

Soon after, Ulrich Leland, former captain of the guard in Cheydinhal, had the pleasure of personally experiencing the safety of the castles dungeon. I visited there, just to make sure he truly was locked up. True to form, he threatened to kill me should he ever get out.

Not that I am afraid, but I had a slight sense of deja vu.

More on the question if Mehrunes Dagon needs a shave, why not to go skinny-dipping in Lake Arrius and my intended ascension to knighthood coming soon.

Authors Note: I will be migrating to a newer version of blogger soon. Hopefully there will be no complications, but I thought I'd better give a warning anyway.

Orrery Express

2006-11-08T18:13:00.001+01:00

While sifting my belongings what to leave in Benirus Manor, I found a crumpled note. By the looks of it, it had been in my pack for a long time. Carefully smoothing it out, I could decipher it as a letter from Bothiel of the Mages Guild in Imperial City.

I remembered, then. Something about an urgent search for stolen parts or something. Well, I figured, better late than never. And I really hate loose ends.

On top of one of the towers of the Guild in Imperial City is built a large orrery, helping in divining the fate of the Empire. A merchant bringing spare parts needed for repairs was ambushed, and now the parts are in possession of a group of bandits somewhere in the county of Kvatch.

The only clue I had was Camp Ales, situated on the southwestern end of the Colovian Heights, north of Kvatch.

That in itself was reason enough for me to leave Anvil for a while. I like stopping by Kvatch, seeing how the people slowly rebuild from the burnt out ruins of the city. The remains of the first great gate still stand there, a warning to all future generations.

Standing there, I half expected to be attacked by Daedra, but the threat is finally and truly gone. That doesn't make it less spooky, though.

Kvatch also has one more reason I wanted to visit. It is one of the highest mountains in the south, until you reach the Colovians. Gazing out north, I noticed two things.

Firstly, County Kvatch is boring. Rolling hills, a handful of rocks scattered around the landscape and no real marks for orientation.

Secondly, that was a lot of wilderness to comb for a group of bandits not wanting to be found.

However, County Kvatch has one big advantage. Game. To pass the time, I took up hunting, quite successfully, too. There may have been a slight miscalculation when I accidentally shot one of the mountain lions roaming the wilderness - I never knew that claws could actually scratch mithril. Well, you never stop learning.

A few hours later, I arrived at a hill that was, according to my map, the location of Camp Ales. And indeed, my usual approach of storming up the hillside was met with fierce resistance. Futile, but fierce.

The bandits were not half as stupid as I thought at first. They had divided the parts amongst several camps all throughout the region. I would be in for a long day.

I cannot stress how mindbogglingly monotonous County Kvatch is. It is boring enough that it is neccessary to use long words to describe it. You have a lot of time thinking up these words when travelling there.

Unless you are looking for your horse. Which I managed to misplace several times while scouting out the crest of a hill, hunting deer or generally stretching my legs.

It took me two days. But I can confidently say, I have been to every. Single. Hill. In County Kvatch. Seriously. I took up etching 'Belenor was here' into larger rocks to make sure I would not search the same hill twice. Ought to be fun watching future archaeologists trying to figure this one out.

Back in Imperial City, Bothiel immediately began the repairs so I would see the repaired orrery before setting off again. Although I offered my help, she politely declined. Too bad. My autograph on a celestial body could be worth an incredible sum of gold sometime.

I have to give it to her, though. The orrery is one fascinating machine. A huge dome, with the Dwarven construction in the centre, it is an impressive piece of work. Even more impressice as I was allowed to pull the lever that set it in motion.

Having camped in the middle of nothing more often than I care for, I was amazed by the activated orrery. It is as if one stood on top of the tallest mountain and gazed into the clear night sky. Granted, I have the same view whenever I visit Frostcrag Spire, but the shops and pubs are much closer here.

More on amazing bodies - celestial and otherwise, how to play 'King of the Hill' against Minotaurs and my struggle with the Imperial Merchants Union coming soon.

Nightmares on Anvil street

2006-10-31T17:43:00.001+01:00

In order to keep a close eye on the harbour in Anvil, I decided to buy a house in the city. When I heard that a decent sized manor was for sale at only five thousand goldpieces, all I could think of was how much gold that would save me.

I really should have read the fineprint.

Benirus Manor sits at a prime spot in Anvil, near the chapel and overlooking the statue and lake. Sure, it is a bit run down, but nothing that a few days work cannot change. The current owner, Velwyn Benirus, agreed to sell it for a mere five thousand gold, which is very cheap, compared to the prices in other cities.

Having seen the house, I could not really understand his decision to sell it, but I was happy. It is close to the Mages Guild and in a location that allows me to watch all the comings and goings at the city gates.

The interior, however, is just as run down as the outside. My estimate is that it has been several years since anybody lived here. That would also explain the cheap price.

With a plan and a shopping list in mind, I went to bed.

Now, I do not want to assume anything. Really. But the fact that the manor is haunted by malevolent spirits also may have had something to do with the price.

Fortunately, my weapons are never far out of reach, so I was able to defend myself. As soon as the threat was gone, I took another quick tour of the house. And found, in a broken vase, a skeletal hand, still clutching a page of an old journal.

Down in the basement, that I had not bothered to visit previously (a mistake it turned out, there was quite a collection of the finest old wines there), I spotted arcane symbols on a wall. Try as I might, I could not figure them out, but they had the look of a portal.

What is it with me and magical portals?

It seems that the original owner, Lord Benirus, dabbled in the dark arts of necromancy and tried to become immortal. With his hand in hand, I hurried over to the inn where Velwyn was staying. But I was too late.

He had already left for Imperial City, the very minute the deed for the house changed hands. So he knew about the haunting. And now, I was a little bit cranky.

Not stopping, I arrived at Imperial City early the next day. Here, my reputation as Champion of the Empire was the strongest and quite helpful. The city watch pointed me in the right direction and soon I sat down next to a surprised Velywn Benirus.

He knew about the haunting. And with the information I learned from the journal, he also was the only one that could stop it.

Back in Anvil, we agreed upon a plan of action. He would try and open the portal in the basement, while I did what I do best - keep the bad guys from killing some clueless, helpless guy that might or might not be our only hope. Even it is only the hope for a decent nights sleep.

Indeed, as soon as we entered the manor, the spirits attacked from all sides, apparently knowing where we were headed. Nevertheless, we pushed forward. Ignoring the ones that did not stand in our direct way, I only drove back the others. In the final room, Velwyn frantically tried to open the portal, while I fought several spirits in the confined space of the basement.

Just as I thought about the irony of surviving Oblivion only to be killed in my own house, the spirits vanished. Velwyn had opened the portal. And run for the hills.

Cautiously, I entered the next room. It looked like a necromancers lair, and on an altar in the middle of it I could see the skeleton of Lord Benirus.

I was about to fetch myself a big hammer in order to solve this problem, when the booming voce of Lord Benirus sounded in the room. He was sorry about all the inconvenience and wanted nothing more than eternal rest. Preferably with both his hand attached to his skeleton.

Someday, I promise, I will stop listening to all those voices in my head.

He had indeed achieved immortality as a Lich. For about as long as it took me to draw my trusty Magebane and hack him into more pieces than I can count.

About half a minute, I would say.

More on fluorescent lichen, my latest attempt at interior decorating and why not to visit haunted manors on Tuesdays coming soon.

Lessons In History

2006-10-25T00:37:00.001+02:00

Welcome dear reader to another column of the Black Horse Couriers 'Belenors Historic Babble'. This time, we follow the footsteps of the Hero of Kvatch to Crowhaven. Expecting the solution to the Great Arrow Conspiracy, Belenor was surprised by what he found on a dark and stormy night.

As you may or may not recall, I set out from Anvil, determined to follow the trail of the merchandise that had left the Black Dreugh. A simple plan. One that even Priority could understand.

Instead of explaining my intricate plans to my horse, I should have paid attention to the map. Or maybe I should give up navigating entirely and just let Priority wander. It is what he is best at anyway.

After stumbling through several fields and then quickly gallopping away before the farmers' pitchforks could reach me, I arrived at the ruin that seemed to me the perfect spot for my investigations. Crowhaven.

How is it, that places that look quite cosy - even romantic - by day suddenly take on a dark and ominous feeling at dusk? Right. Probably because they truly are dark, foreboding and ominous. Several undead archers pointing their arrows (The gods only know where they got them from. Probably still the ones from their last life.) at me also did nothing to make me feel welcome.

However, where there are archers and arrows, there has to be a clue.

In the midst of the battle, I lost track of Priority, who had charged mercilessly - and foolishly - into the fray. In panic, I dispatched the remaining enemies. Only to discover that he had found a nice spot on the first floor of the ruin, chewing on some ferns that grew there.

Some day, that horse is going to give me a heart attack.

I ventured forth into the dark dungeon. It was deserted, except for rats. I hate rats. They remind me of prison.

No leads for arrows were to be found. All that I found were several coffins in niches in the wall of a cave. Not exactly my choice of decoration, if you ask me. But it put me on my toes. Skeletons, coffins, a dark dungeon in a gloomy ruin at night... I read adventure novels too, you know. They are always good for escaping the dreary everyday life in Cyrodiil.

The last sign that I needed to know that this was not, in fact, a Goblin lair, were several rooms fitted with the finest furniture money could buy a century ago.

Barely able to prepare myself, I was attacked by the owner of the place. Quite spry for his age and also quite undead. Fortunately he did not have any experience with intruders in his place, for he was armed with nothing but a glass dagger.

Weapons made of glass? What will they think of next, I ask you?

While searching the place, I came upon the journal of the very late lord of the castle. Skimming over the pages, it detailed a quite immoral affair that, with my limited knowledge of the city, could be traced to the current champion of the Arena in Imperial City.

Looking from the top of Crowhaven back to Anvil, I think I will bring this journal with me. The Courier already asked for an interview and I think maybe I should get my own column. This journal would be the perfect start. Hunting down all sorts of historic places and rumours, I can imagine that it will be a great hit. And it might make me some money.

More on obsessive-compulsive editors, why full plate is not considered 'light armour' even if it glows in the dark and a special appearance by Mehrunes 'Weakest Link' Dagon coming soon.

Captains Log

2006-07-26T20:59:00.001+02:00

The people of Cyrodiil possess an ability to rebound from near destruction back to everyday life that is uncanny and leaves many questions open.

One of the questions that I asked myself after Ocato finally was done congratulating me was how could Imperial City be cleaned up so fast? Just a few hours ago I left the temple, with bodies of soldiers and Daedra everywhere, rubble blocking many alleys. Now, one would never guess that an invasion took place. Except for the giant statue of Akatosh, of course.

My very own theory is, once again, Goblins. These little underground dwellers must have left their hiding places the very minute word of our victory got out and then used the general state of celebration to move the bodies to their lairs. Especially the Imperial archers.

Speaking of archers. Once again I plan on touring the countryside, starting right with Anvil. After all, if my uncle went to the trouble to make sure I was informed of the ship I inherited, I might as well pay it a visit.

All hope that the weather had gotten better in the last few days were crushed. The Oblivion gates may lie in ruins, but somehow the menacing dark red clouds simply got replaced by dark grey clouds and permanent rainfall and thunderstorms.

There were some rare moments with good weather, though. I visited Kvatch again. In a way, that was were it all started.

And it is not entirely over. On the road between Kvatch and Anvil, I stumbled upon the remains of a heated battle between Imperial patrol riders and Atronachs. Just in time, too, as a wave of Clannfear was about to pounce on the guards. Together, we were able to withstand the attack, and I was on my way again.

Now, the really interesting part. Anvil and the ship.

Turns out that my uncle was a merchant in "arcane artifacts". Right. Merchant. With a ship called "The Black Dreugh". Really trust inspiring.

On the ship itself, I found his logbook. One of his crew, a hired mercenary from the sound of it, tried to have him assassinated after my uncle accepted a delivery to Anvil. The cargo was a secret, but it was supposed to pay well.

Shortly after arriving in Anvil, Marlon stormed my uncles cabin with several assassins in tow.

I can already tell you without even looking for the cargo that it consisted of long, thin, wooden shafts with metal points at their end. Probably ended up shipped out of Anvil on horseback and then to that old stronghold not far to the north.

Of course, Marlon denied everything as I confronted him with the evidence. He even went as far as to attack me. No matter. The crew still is not convinced that I am the rightful owner of the ship, but all in its own time. I have to track that shipment of arrows to its destination.

That means checking Brina Cross Inn and then either further towards Kvatch or to Crowhaven. This time, there is no mysterious heir to the throne to distract me. No rare artifacts to hunt down. No Daedra chewing on my armour. This time, I will find the source of the conspiracy. If it is the last thing I do.

More on obsessive compulsive paranoia, why I have butter on my fingers and how to properly stage a mutiny coming soon.

The Final Countdown, Part III

2006-07-21T19:07:00.001+02:00

- To Not Fade Away -

Mankar Camoran is defeated. But Oblivion gates are still opening all over Cyrodiil. Only one thing is left to do - I have to escort Martin to Imperial City, where he can finally claim his place as Emperor and put an end to the Daedric invasion.

Giving no heed to my state of tiredness, Martin urged us to hurry on to Imperial City. With Jauffre and Captain Burd dead, I was the only Blade to escort our Emperor-to-be. The road was empty and devoid of all the usual riff-raff that makes travelling a chore. Even the Oblivion gate at the crossroads seemed suspiciously peaceful.

All too glad about not having to fight our way to Imperial City, I did not pay these signs any attention. All I cared about was that this adventure would finally be over. And the 'Oblivion Crisis' as well, I guess.

We arrived at the city gates mid-morning in bright sunshine without a cloud in sight. I should have grabbed Martin and run to the hills right then and there.

In the White Gold Tower, Ocato was waiting for us. After my last brief visit in the tower, I was quite anxious to see the council hall. I did. Briefly.

Ocato barely had time to bow before Martin, as one of the guards rushed in, breathless. Oblivion gates were opening in the city, Daedra swarming out and killing guards and civilians. And this time, we did not have any far-fetched plan to turn the invasion against them. This time, it could truly be a second Kvatch. With me right in the middle of it.

The tower would have been difficult to defend, so Martin ordered Ocato, me and all guards he could reach to follow him to the Temple of the One.

Outside the tower, the usual scenery awaited us. Immediately, several Daedra and Dremora attacked. Ocato fought well, using his wizard training of older times. Martin was wading into the fray without hesitation, as usual. Me? I chose to let the Daedra be distracted and then hack into their sides when they last expected it. Works like a charm, every time.

As we arrived at the temple district, things were looking grim. Large gates had opened and all the Daedra of Oblivion seemed to arrive. Now, I like a certain chaos, if I have to resort to meelee combat. But this was ridiculous. For every guard there were at least a handful of Dremora, while Daedroth and Clannfears roamed the street, picking off any fighter they could catch on his own.

Nevertheless, we pushed forward.

I admit it. I lost all hope for a moment there. Right in front of the entrance to the temple, a towering figure stood. Skin a fiery red like the lava of his realm, taller than the guard towers on the city wall and wielding a huge axe in one of his four hands. Mehrunes Dagon himself had arrived.

Blighter owes me several quivers worth of arrows.

Before I could go and lodge a formal complaint, Martin had the presence of mind to pull me back and smack me upside the head.

Not that his plan was any less crazy.

He needed to reach the Dragonfires in the temple. And I was to distract Mehrunes Dagon so we could get there.

Sure. Distract the twenty-five metre incarnation of a god who is happily smashing in rooftops with his axe.

I started by leaping about and hacking into any part of him that I could reach. Namely, his ankle. Surpisingly enough, I did not get split in two by his axe. Even more surprising was, we actually made it into the temple.

What happened next, words cannot describe.

The great dragon himself, Akatosh fought Mehrunes Dagon. And prevailed.

The temple lies in ruins. The Daedra threat is gone. The line of the Septim Emperors has ended.

Personally? I hope there is a strong Cyrodiilic Brandy waiting for me somewhere.

The Final Countdown, Part II

2006-07-16T16:36:00.001+02:00

- Conquest of Paradise -

After all this time, the circle is closing on itself. With the ritual to send me to Mankar Camorans paradise, the hunt for the Amulet of Kings seems to be finally over.

Arriving at Cloud Ruler Temple, I found Martin had already set up everything for the ritual. Sigil and Welkynd Stone were positioned across each other, and on my sign, Martin opened a portal. It resembled the one Camoran had used to escape with the amulet during that hectic hours in the Mythic Dawns temple.

The realm Camoran had created for himself and his followers indeed did look and feel like a paradise at first glance. A dense forest, beautiful flowers and a winding stone path greeted me. It lasted only a moment. Mankar Camoran knew I had crossed the threshold to his realm. Keeping the age old tradition of gloating and boasting in the face of assumed victory, he told me in detail that this vision of past and future was what would become of Tamriel should he succeed.

If the forest and flower beds would have been everything, I might even have considered just waiting it out. But it was not. All the Mythic Dawn that had been killed in Camorans service were transported here, and they were killed and tortured by Daedra and Dremora.

I had no desire to stay anymore.

Speaking to several of the immortals, I found out that the only way out of paradise and to Mankar Camorans residence was through a grotto. I would need a special artifact, the Bands of the Chosen, however. The path itself was guarded by a Dremora commander.

It is time like that, that I am grateful for all the rumours and tales that seem to have been told about me. Even the Dremora recognised me and offered me a deal. Since Kvatch, the Dremora held something akin to respect for me, so if I was to perform a simple task for him, he would grant me safe passage through the grotto.

The task indeed was simple. All I had to do was to release a captured Xivilai from his imprisonment by the immortals. True, he was a Daedra and according to the Mythic Dawn one of the worst torturers in paradise. But if his release meant I would be able to confront Makar Camoran I would be able to kill him. And in doing so, just like taking a Sigil Stone, the paradise would cease to exist, ultimately also freeing the Mythic Dawn trapped here.

The forbidden grotto reminded me eerily of the caves and landscape in Oblivion. In fact, it was here that most of the torture took place. Prisoners were trapped in cages and lowered into lava streams. They could not die, though, the magic of paradise saw to that.

If any of them should ever be able to escape, the Daedroth roaming the halls would surely make short work of them. And me, as well, should they notice me.

But luck was on my side again. One of Camorans lieutenants, Eldamil, had spent a few months here, pondering his actions. He eventually came to the conclusion that he had been fighting for the wrong side. Trying to help right his wrongs, he promised to help me past the Dremora guards and then fight by my side to Carac Agaialor, Camorans residence on top of the mountain in the middle of paradise.

When he ordered me to step in one of the cages and proceeded to lower me down to the lava, I had a rare moment of clarity and second thoughts about my plans.

It all worked out, fortunately. Just in time, he raised the cage again, allowing me to exit on the other side of the lava. He himself would distract the guards. Undoubtly, they would kill him, but since he would be resurrected again, he had little problem with that.

Together, we ventured deeper into the grotto, fighting Daedroth after Daedroth. In the end, all that stood between us and the exit was another Xivilai. Wielding a great hammer and powerful magics, he would have been a formidable opponent. But against a mage like Eldamil and me brandishing a sword made to fight magic users, he had little chance.

The journey through the grotto had taken longer than it seemed, the sun was setting when we finally saw the light of day again. A long path led up to Carac Agaialor, reminiscent of the structures built by the Ayleids in Cyrodiil.

I took a moment to look over the paradise Camoran had created. From above, it looked peaceful enough. But I had a man to kill.

Camorans children, Raven and Ruma, awaited me at the entrance. Mankar was expecting me inside.

I was as prepared as I could be. Sword in hand, I cast what little defensive magic I knew and followed them down the hallway.

Once more, Camoran followed the unwritten code that required him to explain his plans in detail and gloat over his success so far.

I never was one for following the rules.

Before he or his children could even draw their weapons, my sword, coated with poison to further reduce his abilities as wizard, had already left several deep gashes in his robe and flesh.

Chaos ensued. Elmadil joined the fight, as did Raven and Ruma Camoran. Mankar himself tried summoning Daedra, running for higher ground. Unlike them, I was in my element. I rushed after him, constantly attacking, my sword not leaving him any magicka.

It was over soon. Mankar Camorans dead body hit the ground and I had barely time enough to rip the amulet of kings off him, as the ceiling began to cave in. This realm of Oblivion was dissolving like so many before.

Sword in one hand, amulet still clutched in the other, I appeared before Martin at Cloud Ruler. There was no doubt anymore as he put on the amulet and it let him. He was Emperor Martin Septim.

The only thing left to do to stop Mehrunes Dagon is to escort Martin to Imperial City and light the Dragonfires. After Kvatch, after Bruma, after paradise, this should be easy. Imperial City is the best guarded city in Cyrodiil. I expect us to be sipping cocktails in the White Gold Tower by noon.

More on amateurs and their aversion to cocktails, my statue in Bruma and notorious party crashers coming soon.

The Final Countdown, Part I

2006-07-12T20:49:00.001+02:00

- Knocking on Oblivions Door -

Do you know that exhilarating feeling, when the calm is over and the storm finally arrives? When you are tired of waiting and then it is time for action?

Bruma was like that. Only without the fun.

When I arrived back at Cloud Ruler Temple, I should have known something big was about to happen. Martin and Jauffre were arguing and for the first time, Martin actually used his position as designated Emperor to overrule Jauffres concerns.

I was about to congratulate him for finally accepting his fate and acting like the ruler of Cyrodiil, but that was before I heard his plan.

It was a rather simple plan, one of the kind that I usually come up with. But unlike my plans, this time, I would actually be the one in the line of fire. To open the portal to Mankor Camorans realm, all that was missing was the counterpart to the Great Welkynd Stone. A Great Sigil Stone, only found beyond a Great Gate like at Kvatch. So the plan was to draw the Daedra out, let them open their gates until the deem it time for opening such a Great Gate.

Then, I would jump through, run like I had never run before and hopefully reach the Sigil Stone before the legions of Daedra overwhelm the defenders of Bruma. I would then return and help clear up the stranded Daedra soldiers. Simple. But for some reason, I was not very enthusiastic about it.

The countess of Bruma did not like the plan either. I could tell because I was the one who had to tell her, while Martin waited at the chapel of Talos. While she and Martin were talking and organising the militia and guard of Bruma, I visited the Mages Guild in order to make sure someone would care for Priority in case I would not make it back. They all were very helpful, offering to hold onto my more valuable artifacts and arrows, as I should travel light so I would run faster.

Marching out with captain Burd and Jauffre, Martin lead the way to the assembled troops. A handfull of soldier of Bruma, several members of the militia and the assorted allies from all over Cyrodiil.

Martin held a rousing speech about how this would be our chance to save the Empire from the Daedra and how Bruma would not become a second Kvatch, thanks to me. Or something like that. I was pestering the Bruma archers about where they got their arrows from at the time.

Nevertheless, I was ready when the battle started in earnest. Gate after gate opened, with Daedra and Dremora pouring out. Giant Daedroth towered over everybody else, while strange spider-like creatures that I had never seen before stayed at the side of the battlemages, shooting lightning and fire into the fray.

I barely noticed how many of our soldiers were killed, I was too busy watching for the sign of the Great Gate and staying alive at the same time.

When it opened, I charged. Right past the stunned Dremora, ducking between two huge Clannfears and jumping through the portal without sparing a glance over my shoulder.

The first thing I noticed as I arrived on the other side was how peculiar it was that no Daedra surrounded me.

The second thing I noticed was the gargantuan siege engine that slowly but steadily worked its way towards the gate.

I do not work well under pressure.

Given little choice, I forwent all pretence of planning my approach. I hurried across the bridge, slicing at the occasional Atronach that tried to stop me and slammed through the door to the nearest bridge tower. Between the towers spanned narrow walkways, allowing me to avoid coming near the siege engine. And from above, with a clear view, I knew that should I fail, Bruma and the Empire were doomed.

Down the second tower, I was presented with a broken bridge that once lead to the main island and the citadel. Not having time for elaborate schemes, I took the risk and jumped.

I do not know how close it was, but I definitely do not want to do it again.

I slalomed my way through a field of Daedric towers shooting fire at me, reaching another tower just in time. Storming up the winding path inside, I sent several Dremora soldiers tumbling down to their death. A huge lever finally opened the way to the main citadel.

The citadel itself was surprisingly small and unguarded. The Sigil Keeper was my first target, after that, I tried to avoid any further delays in form of fights.

My hurry nearly cost me my head. In a dark hallway, only the rustling of air warned me, as barbed blades slashed down from the ceiling just in front of me. Timing it correctly, I tried to cover the hallway as quickly as possible.

Arriving at the top of the citadel, in the now familiar altar for the Sigil Stone, two more Dremora stood between me and my goal. I drew them out in the open for a quick fight, then used an opening to slip past them and up the slopes all the way to the Sigil Stone itself.

There is something immensely satisfying about grabbing the all important Sigil Stone in the very moment two cranky looking Dremora warlords come storming up the walkway.

I was spat out the crumbling Great Gate just in time to see Martin slay the last Daedra. The remains of the siege engine dominated the battlefield, casting a looming shadow over the fallen soldiers.

And there were many dead.

Captain Burd of Bruma. Captain Viera Lerus of distant Bravil. Grandmaster Jauffre. And nearly all soldiers and brave militia of Bruma.

Martin says we won a decisive victory today.

I say if the final confrontation ends like this, he might not have many subjects to rule over.

More on Daedric triathlon, three fun songs to sing going into battle and where to spend your vacation after saving the world coming soon.

Let Sleeping Liches lie

2006-07-08T19:48:00.001+02:00

Fun facts of Cyrodiil: It is all too easy to get hopelessly lost in the mountains. Another fun fact: When you think you deserve a rest, the future king is bound to send you off to yet another godforsaken tomb.

And I still have not found nearly enough arrows to prepare for it.

Somehow, I had actually managed to find my way back to Cloud Ruler Temple. After spending so much time in the temperate Niben valley, the cold and damp weather seemed especially unwelcoming. Brisk morning air, fog so dense that I considered myself lucky not to lose sight of the road again and a thin layer of ice over the rocky path to the Temple. When this is all over and I retire, I am definitely going somewhere south.

Martin, surrounded by more books than ever, was relieved that I not only made it back in one piece, if a little worse for the wear, but with the armour of Tiber Septim as well. He and Jauffre started arguing about it, as the Blades regard it as some kind of holy relic and were concerned that it might get damaged during the ritual.

In the end, Martin promised that all he needed were a few drops of dried blood and Jauffre took the armour with him in order to keep it safe until it was time for the ritual. Just as I was about to leave for Bruma, or rather the nearest tavern in Bruma, Martin called me to him once again.

The ritual demanded another component. A great Welkynd stone. Whatever that may be. According to Martin, Welkynd stones are common throughout the Ayleid ruins in Cyrodiil. A great Welkynd stone, however, is a rare artefact nowadays. In the days of the Ayleids, each city had one at its centre. Today, the cities are mere ruins, overrun with goblins or other creatures of darkness. One great Welkynd stone remains, though. In the ancient ruin of Miscarcand, that was once one of the largest Ayleid cities in Cyrodiil.

Legends say that it is guarded by the spirit of the last king of Miscarcand.

Superstitious ramblings, says Martin.

Time to prepare myself for a particular hard day of fighting, say I.

First stop, Bruma. I tried in vain to convince the weaponsmith to sell me the few arrows he had to special conditions. I am, after all, embarking on a mission to save the Empire, on orders of the king himself. Truth be told, I was plain out of gold. Still, the availability of arrows seems to have reached an all time low. I could barely fill me quiver with the supply for sale in Bruma.

Next stop, Skingrad. I would like to say the weather got warmer as I travelled south, but all that happened was that the morning fog was replaced by an afternoon shower of rain. With as many arrows as I could find in my quiver, I went to Falanu Hlaalus shop to browse through her potions. When potentially facing undead creatures, it is always important to have cures for all kinds of illnesses at hand. Indeed, Falanus assortment was complete as ever, although she kept sending weird looks my way.

Final stop, Miscarcand. Just off the road and over hill, in the middle between Skingrad and Kvatch lie the ruins of Miscarcand. Martin and the books were right. Even as ruin, it spreads easily as far as Sancre Tor, only with much better architecture.

I spent the afternoon wandering through the ruins, looking for possible entrances and keeping an eye open for any sign of the creatures I was about to face. And I was not the only one interesed in the ruins. A small handfull of bandits had set up camp on the southern edge of the ruins, while several Goblins occupied a tower next to the winding staircase that lead into the depths of Miscarcand. Future travelers need not worry about them.

Miscarcand itself was a sprawling dungeon, but it was the blood smears in the first hallways that concerned me. Sneaking further down, I heard the clanging of steel on steel, scuffle of feet and the occasional grunt of pain. The Goblins were trying to force their way past several of the undead guardians of the Ayleid city. They were loosing badly, but I was not one to complain about that, they still provided me with a suitable distraction so I could make my way down unharmed.

It was further down, that things turned ugly. Skeletons I could handle. The common Zombie proved no threat. The decaying bodies ambling towards me with clouds of vapour swirling around them, they were a different matter. No matter how often and how hard I sliced at them, the wounds did not have any effect, even fire only slowed them down. Books refer to them as Dread Zombies, and I dreaded every single one of them.

Lucky me, though, they were anything but bright and observant. With enough patience I was able to sneak past them without being torn to pieces.

The great Welkynd stone rested in a large recepticle, upon what can only be described as altar. It was hard to believe that an artefact such as this would be unguarded.

And it was not. As soon as I had pried it out of its holder, I heard a deep rumbling sound. Turning around, I watched one of the walls being lowered into the ground. From the opening, a dark figure approached, straightening itself up to a towering height and finally floating above the floor. The last king of Miscarcand was indeed protecting the last great Welkynd stone.

If I had not be expecting this, I probably would not be writing this. However, the sword that had seen me through the Oblivion Gates was now enchanted to deal with this kind of enemy. It still was a tough fight, Zombies had risen as well, trying to distract me and rip me apart while the Lich hurled spell after spell my way.

He now rests irrevocably, and the great Welkynd stone is keeping me warm in the cold rainy night south of Skingrad.

More on coloured shadowcaster using Welkynd and Valar stones, the sixteen different kinds of rain in the Bruma region and the correct plural of 'Lich' coming soon.

And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Greater Mysteries Of Life

2006-06-29T20:04:00.001+02:00

The Black Horse Courier shied no expenses to unravel the greatest mysteries of life:
How can you hear a whistle blow five hundred miles? If you shoot an arrow straight up into the sky, why does it not fall back? And why is Belenors journal frightenly full of empty pages this last week?

In fact, the Black Horse Courier was unable to track down Belenor, who seems at this point lost in mountains somewhere between Sancre Tor and Cloud Ruler Temple. Rumours that even the extraordinary sense of direction of his horse, Priority, failed him, are without substance. Closer to the truth could be that he had left Priority somewhere safe within the ruins of Sancre Tor and now simply cannot find him.

In order to solve this puzzle and bring relief to our readers, the Black Horse Courier contacted Falanu Hlaalu, Dunmer sorceress, rumoured Daedra worshipper and close friend of Belenor. She, in turn, used her connection to otherworldly beings to shed some light on the actions of the omnipresent entiety only known as 'The Author'.

Falanu Hlaalu conducted a stunningly executed seance, during which the Author himself used her as means of speaking to us.

"Äh, is this thing working? Yes? Splendid. See, with Belenor there in the mountains and Priority finally getting a little rest, I figured it was time to prepare myself mentally for the frustrating part of the siege of Bruma and ..."

There was much commotion.

"Oh dear, I said too much, didn't I? Well, then, try this one. Next week, three exams are coming up, the final three exams of my university life. Or so I hope. And as I still have that delusion of being able to get at least a 2.0 diploma - theoretically even 1.9[1] - I actually take evenings off to learn instead of playing, and ..."

There was much confusion.

"Bugger this. Belenor went after an Orcish hunter who stole him the last two arrows. In the meantime, Priority nurses his foot back to health, which he had injured while trampling over the remains of the skeletal guards. Bone splinters can be nasty. Belenor will return within a weeks time and together, they will face great perils, grave danger and endless Buffy references. If he can hold on to his sanity, he will triumph and restore the Emperor to his rightful throne."

And there was much rejoicing.

With this, the fragile connection between our medium Falanu Hlaalu and the Author broke, the last mumbled words where understood to be "...onder if Tamriel uses an IPv6 hostmask, let's rewrite those iptables..." but that might have been the exhaustion talking.

More on the gods behind the gods, how to commune with your future great-grandchildren and why Falanu Hlaalu suddenly is interested in transdimensional travel coming soon.

[1] For our readers across the pond: Lower score equals better. Not sure if it is the same over there.

Tomb Raider

2006-06-24T15:36:00.002+02:00

Once again I set off into the ancient tombs of Cyrodiil on Martins orders. Sancre Tor was my destination, where I was to recover the armour of Tiber Septim. And once again, I met logistical boundaries that nearly cost me my life.

The journey to Sancre Tor itself was uneventful at best. I took the road to Chorrol and turned towards Bruma at the monastery. From there on, it was just a matter of letting Priority find the best way through the wilderness and up the slopes of the mountains.

I regretted being on a mission, since I was able to find several bears and mountain lions, whose pelts would have fetched a nice price at Chorrol. But with arrows being rare, I could not afford this distraction.

Sancre Tor is a vast ruin, sitting on top a rough mountain. Unlike most ruins you can find along the roads, this one spans the area of a decent sized village. Not as large as any of the main cities, but easily larger than Hackdirt for example. Also, unlike most cities, it was guarded by skeletal warriors.

The crumbled gates, the tower entrances and the main fort itself, each guarded by several skeletons, armed with swords and bows. It took time, stealth and all the tactical expertise I have to fight my way to the door that would lead me into the dungeon itself.

And just as it happened at Pale Pass, I counted my arrows upon entering Sancre Tor. And once again, I was left with the conclusion that I had better resort to melee combat, as my arrows would only last a couple of foes.

Inside Sancre Tor, I was faced by the ghostly remains of the soldiers that once fought there. Amongst then were Wraiths, ominous dark presences that cast spells. Thankfully, I had used the last Sigil Stone to enchant my blade to be particularly effective against magic users, leaving them with no choice but hand to hand combat.

Martin had told me that no one had left Sancre Tor for a long time. The last living beings to visit this tomb were four Blades, sent to investigate the evil that had taken a hold of this place.

Well, I can safe say, they were still there. Trapped by the magic of the Underking, the four former Blades were guarding the tomb of the Emperor. Fighting them was hard, although dead for several centuries, they retained all their skill and prowess that had made them outstanding Blades.

In the end, though, I was able to defeat them, setting their spirits free from the curse of Sancre Tor. In turn, they used their power to open the way to the armour of Tiber Septim, the second artifact needed for the ritual.

With the allies I rallied and the armour of Tiber Septim I am setting of towards Bruma, hopefully ending the siege of the city and the temple, so Martin can focus on the ritual that will give us access to the Amulet of Kings.

More on ancient burial rites, bowling with skeletons and why woodcarving is outlawed coming soon.

Woodwork

2006-06-19T21:40:00.001+02:00

I am on the road again. The stop at Imperial City was supposed to be a relaxing one, instead it turned out to be a frantic day. In addition to the Mythic Dawn, I apparently also have Necromancers trying to kill me.

It all started at the Merchants Inn. I had given my armour to Rohssan at the 'Fighting Chance' so she could prepare it for another weeks worth of fighting Daedra. As I sat there, waiting and sipping my drink, an Elf approached me. Her name was Elsa, apparently she knew my uncle. I was surprised to hear that, I thought he had taken off with some sailors, turning pirate and presumably got himself killed.

I was right with that last point. He was, in fact, dead. He also bequeathed me his ship. A ship has potential. I would be able to track down the oversea shipments of arrows right down to their sources.

After reassuring Elsa that I would make time to travel to Anvil, I decided to make sure I was more prepared than just with swords, bow and armour.

Looking back, I had visited every city in Cyrodiil, performing tasks to gain recommendations from the local Mages Guild. And now, I stood in the University, ready to receive some form of reward.

The only thing I got was a robe. I do not like robes. The itch and scratch and generally are in the way when you have to run.

The wizards staff I was looking for? I was told that I had to get the special wood for it myself. Fortunately, the cave leading to the island was just east of Imperial City. Arriving at the cave, I immediately noticed something was wrong. For starters, the mage that was supposed to greet me just lay there in a puddle of her own blood.

In fact, the whole cave was overrun by Necromancers. My experience in fighting against the Dremora summoners came in handy, especially as I exited the cave. The island, east of Imperial City. I arrived in time to see a handfull of Necromancers killing the second guardian.

Reporting back at the University, the mages there were concerned about these developments. But they handed me my staff. It looks a bit meek in comparison to the ones I have seen, it is missing any kind of runes or glowing gems, but at least it would be able to help me create and charge magical items. Or so they say.

It is time to test it. Martin sent another messenger. He had deciphered the next part of the ritual and I am once more ordered to recover a legendary artifact.

More on the song about a wizards staff with a knob on its end, comparative phytology and how to row a boat down the stream coming soon.

Knightfall

2006-06-15T22:03:00.001+02:00

The Cheydinhal Oblivion Gate brings another sad story how ill-placed valour and blind courage can lead to many unnecessary deaths. In this case, the Knights of the Thorn.

After leaving the settlers at Cropsford - and promising to stop by in a couple of weeks - I spent the morning following the road to Cheydinhal. The road was surprisingly quiet and I was able to reach Cheydinhal shortly after noon.

Most of the citizens I spoke to told me that the town was not safe anymore and that they would leave if things did not get better. Even if I already knew where it was leading up to, I decided to visit the count of Cheydinhal, a Dunmer. The castle was nice enough, but he refused to even talk to me. His son, with a few fellow self-declared knights, had entered the gate two days ago, and had yet to return.

The entrance to the gate was free of Daedra, the city guard was doing a decent job, having set up a perimeter and patrols on all side of the portal. After a few last words with their captain, I entered Oblivion.

The guard captain had warned me that most of these so called knights were all talk and no skill, but I would have hoped that they lasted longer than just through the gate. Yet, only a couple of metres away, I found the first body, torn apart by Clannfears it seemed.

How could I tell it was a Clannfear? Well, the fact that about half a dozen of these anachronistic beasts roamed the sides of the mountain was a rather obvious clue. In the end, I carefully made my way down the slopes, avoiding the twisting mountain path and its Daedric guardians.

At the foot of the mountain, I arrived in time to help the two remaining Knights of the Thorn against more Clannfears. Out of seven knights, only two had survived the initial onslaught of Daedra and after that remained trapped between the mountain and the Daedric citadel.

One of the two was the counts son, Farwil. In my very humble opinion a thickheaded braggart who has no idea how to fight, yet alone lead an assault on Daedric stronghold. But what could I do. He was the counts son, after all, and he immediately took charge of the situation, ordering me to join his attempt at closing the gate.

He did this with the now immortal words:

"You'll lead the assault and we will guard the rear flank."

Alas, the rear flank is not as safe as it used to be. While fighting our way across the large bridge leading to the citadel, we were attack by several Dremora warriors. In the ensuing chaos, Farwils campanion, Bremman, was killed. And he was the more sensible one of the two as well.

The citadel itself was just as any other I had seen. However, there were more Dremoras than in all other citadels combined. In the first room alone, Farwil and I faced four of them. And true to my original impression, Farwil fell. While not necessarily troubled by this - I had told him to leave, after all - it seemed like a true waste that he had led six others to their death as well.

Alone and unhindered, I continued, most of the time fighting two or three enemies at once. And it was not that I could try and hide in order to keep them at a bow shots distance. They were true battlemages most of the time, a fact that I learned at a rather inopportune moment when one of them summoned a Daedroth. Fortunately, just as I was counting teeth on the inside of its throat, the poison I had poured on my arrow killed the summoner.

In the end, it was just the Dremora captain standing between me and the Sigil Stone. After facing all the hordes in this realm, he proved no threat. With the Sigil Stone and the signet ring of Farwil in my hands, I was returned to Cyrodiil.

The count was saddened by the news of his sons death, but he himself admitted that Farwil had brought it upon himself. As a token of gratitude for attempting to save his son - and for closing the Oblivion gate - he granted me the signet ring that once belonged to Farwil. In addition, he promised to send his best soldiers to help in the defense of Bruma.

More on playing tag with Clannfear, Daedroth dental hygiene and a ten setp program to build your own arboretum coming soon.

Special Delivery

2006-06-11T12:21:00.001+02:00

Thanks to my excellent skills as a conflict mediator, the settlers of Cropsford are now happily building their houses. My very own personal talk with the Goblin chiefs, however, were less successful, but I was able to discover another part of the Great Arrow Conspiracy.

After announcing my decision to help the settlers with their Goblin trouble, I spent the evening talking to Mirisa, their wilderness scout. Thanks to her knowledge of Goblin customs, we devised a plan. I would enter Timberscar Hollow, where the stolen totem of the Bloody Hand Goblins was located, steal it back and return it to Cracked Wood Cave.

Getting the Bloody Hand totem was easier than I thought. Upon entering Timberscar Hollow, I nearly collided with a Goblin carrying the staff. Turns out, it was the Bloody Hand warchief, escaping with the totem after leading a successful raid on their enemy.

However, I was determined to stick to the plan and return the totem myself. The Goblin did not seem to understand this plan, though. He did not surrender his totem so I could bring it back to him. These Goblins sure are stubborn and since I had the suspicion that he was playing a major role in the distribution of arrows to the Goblin tribes, I drew my sword. Finally, this was a language we could both agree on.

With the totem now in my hands, I hurried towards Cracked Wood Cave.

Cracked Wood Cave is located directly at the crossroads where the small road to Cropsford meets the main road south. The cave itself was typical for a Goblin lair. After catching a Goblin chef preparing roasted rat - a Goblin delicacy, I am told - I finally found the Goblin shaman in a large open area.

Mirisa had told me that the shaman holds the power in the Goblin tribes. Additionally, I had found a small cache of arrows safely hidden away in a blocked passage. Not only normal arrows, no, they were prepared with oil, making for an excellent weapon against creatures susceptible to fire.

The shaman was not amused by the fact that I carried her totem and had just fought my way through most of her tribe. But I had a delivery to make. And questions to ask. Her answers were less than forthcoming. After showing her the arrows I found, she started demanding the totem back. The offer to hand it back in exchange for the location of the main arrow centre fell on deaf ears. Instead, she summoned undead to attack me while she tried to get to the staff. Not that she needed it, I was lucky to find cover behind a couple of stalagmites as she blasted them with magical lightning. Using the scrolls Henantier in Bravil gave me, I summoned a few creatures of my own to occupy her undead warriors.

In the end, I decided to keep the totem, as the shaman was in no shape to sign for the delivery. And I am no closer to finding out who is pulling the strings behind the Arrow Conspiracy. Maybe the people in nearby Cheydinhal know more.

More on building code in Cyrodiil, how to build your own fireworks using arrows and homemade potions and five reasons to spend your vacation in Oblivion coming soon.

Road Trip

2006-06-07T18:38:00.001+02:00

I have not yet arrived at Cheydinhal. As it is, the road from Leyawiin - while quite relaxing and beautiful - has its own perils. Goblin war parties, to be precise. So I am sitting at the campfire of a small group of settlers, planning my next move.

I left Leyawiin in the late morning, hoping to arrive at Cheydinhal shortly before nightfall. However, with the weather being as bad as it was, I was fully prepared to spend the night at some roadside inn.

The road connecting Leyawiin and Cheydinhal runs along the east coast of the Niben river, twisting and turning occasionally to accomodate the steep hills. All along the road, Aeylid ruins can be found. I wish I had had the time to explore them, but I had lost too much time already.

Further north, several bridges span sidearms of the Niben. These bridges seem to be popular among the less lawfull citizens of Cyrodiil. At each bridge I crossed, highwaymen were waiting for me. Since I do not like to part with my money when not absolutely necessary, the bridges may be temporarily safe to cross now. So if you plan a trip along the Niben, now is the time.

You may want to hold off a journey, though. In the afternoon, I happened to find a small camp, with a fire going and people chatting. Feeling more than a bit peckish, I decided to stop and hear if they had any news.

And news they had. They were settlers from a small new town called Cropsford. Their new home was just an hour to the north, but they were driven away by Goblin war parties. Only the presence of their local guide saved their lives.

A quiet talk to their guide cleared things up a bit. Cropsford lies in the middle between the caves of two warring Goblin tribes. And the road leads right through it.

I had a choice to make. I could trust Priority to carry me through the warzone, or I could seize a unique opportunity. Using the confusion of an ongoing war, I would be able not only gain a glimpse of Goblin organisational skills, but I probably could sneak into their caves and have a nice little chat with their warlords. Preferably about arrows.

This would delay my arrival at Cheydinhal, true, but I feel the current crisis merits this delay. After all, without arrows, how can we hope to win against Mehrunes Dagon? Making the new settlement a safe place to live is a nice bonus as well.

So here I am, waiting for my steak and planning out which tribe to infiltrate. Hopefully I will survive so I can bring you more news and insights into the workings of Cyrodiils greates threat.

More on the flavour of roasted boar - Southern Nibenay style, why should never lose a game of tic-tac-toe against a Nord and the three top knock-knock jokes to play on Goblin warlords coming soon.

Vertigo

2006-06-04T20:05:00.001+02:00

And another town won as ally for Bruma. This time, Leywaiin. And I am grateful for the fact that I seem to not experience the slightest vertigo at all.

The count of Leyawiin was anything but forthcoming. Or polite. In no uncertain terms he explained that there was not one, but two gates in the immediate vicinity of the city walls. And since nobody had bothered to send them reinforcements, they would not send any either.

His captain of the guard was a bit more helpful. One gate, they would be able to deal with. So I set out to close one of the two. Lazy as I am, I chose the one closer to the city gates.

Once I crossed the portal into Oblivion, the usual picture presented itself. Only this time, I was trapped on a small island amidst the lava. The bridge that once led to he mighty citadel was broken in multiple parts and had sunken several metres.

I discovered an entrance into some dark tunnel system, but I was reluctant to enter. These tunnels were bound to be filled with Clannfears. The bridge was broken, true, but at least the first part was not too far away, in fact, I would be able to just pull myself up onto it.

Between that part and the next, however, was quite a gap. Judging the distance, I deemed it possible for me to make the jump. So I prepared myself, casting spells that would lighten my weight and shield me from the worst heat of the lava.

Fun fact. Mithril boots do not quite melt when hanging centimetres above lava, but they sure get hot as hell.

Resting, the smell of roasted cheese in my nose, I regarded the citadel. A large gate was blocking my way. To my side, another, smaller tower had been built, connected to a large gate tower by a bridge. That would be where I was headed next.

Indeed, the small tower was empty. A bridge, not much wider than my shoulders, led to the gate tower. Looking down, I could discern several Scamps and Dremoras patrolling the area. I was tempted to take a few shots with my bow, but common sense prevailed.

From the gate tower, I made my way to the main citadel itself. It was filled with Dremora battlemages and warriors. Luckily I had been able to mix up a few rather potent poisons for my arrows.

And so, after only a single afternoon, the threat on Leyawiin had been cut in half.

My next stop in this recruitment tour will be Cheydinhal. I have heard rumours that a couple of knights had attempted to close the gate there, but nothing has been heard of them ever since.

More on casting snowballs in Oblivion, modern haircuts for Dremora warlocks and basic metallurgy coming soon.

Authors Outtake: Okay. So I didn't make the jump. But it is possible to survive the jump from the second part to the shore of the main island, bypassing the tunnels entirely: Outtake Video

Battle Of Wills

2006-06-02T17:44:00.001+02:00

As I am here, in the mages guild hall of Leyawiin, recuperating from the travel, I give out an urgent warning to all unsuspecting travellers along the Niben river. Especially those, that like me no not have any battle magics to speak of. If you see a bright light, run for the hills.

It was a simple plan. Saddle up Priority, take the road south along the Niben, arrive at Leyawiin and ask for help. But like all simple plans, there was a nearly fatal flaw involved.

This fatal flaw manifested itself, as I came upon the old bridge, halfway between Bravil and Leyawiin. From a distance, I could already make out a strange light that illuminated the bridge. Thinking it would be a torch from a patrolling guard or maybe another clueless bandit, I dismounted and sneaked closer. All I could see was a floating ball of light, in a yellow-greenish colour.

Having travelled through the Niben bay several times, I had already heard stories of these creatures that lured traveller into the swamps late at night. This one would not. I readied my bow, notched my finest Dwarven arrow, took aim and let fly.

This resulted in a rather cranky Will'o'Wisp.

As it sped towards me, it turned invisible. I am a good shot, but invisible targets are beyond me. Especially if my arrows seem to do no harm. So I pulled my sword, Elven, that ought to do some damage. The creature reappeared a few metres away, so I lept forward and struck it with my sword.

This resulted in a rather bored Will'o'Wisp.

Note to self. When all weapons fail, do not stand still and ponder the situation.

The Will'o'Wisp seized the opportunity to blast me with several arks of lightning, leaving me weak kneed and thoroughly confused. Not too confused, luckily, to run away.

The following battle was long and exhausting. I discovered that the spell I had learnt long ago in Skingrad would hurt the creature. So I ran through the wood along the road, the ball of light trailing me, ever so often casting back over my shoulder and praying that I could get another spell off before it stopped burning and became invisible again.

I worked pretty well. With the creature defeated, I went back to where I left Priority. However, with the light of the Will'o'Wisp gone - either burning or its own eery glow - and the battle having lasted well into the evening, I overlooked a particularly malignant root protruding from the ground.

So I am lieing here, at the mages guild in Leyawiin, recuperating...

More on how to catch Will'o'Wisps for use as a late night reading lantern, how so stab people using sharpened crutches and the latest proof that Mehrunes Dagon played dice with Oblivion coming soon.

Don't Dream It, Be It

2006-05-30T20:09:00.001+02:00

Before leaving Bravil, Kud-Ei of the Mages Guild asked another favour of me. A fellow mage, Henantier, had gone missing. These favours I do for Argonian women keep getting stranger and stranger, but this one went beyond my wildest dreams.

I have written about the peculiar attraction that Argonian women seem to have towards me before, so I did not think anything special about it when Kud-Ei asked me to help her find Henantier. However, once I agreed, she led me to his house. To the bedroom. Here, I admit, I started panicking for a second.

Thankfully, it turned out she just wanted to show me Henantier. The missing one. Who, to me, seemed to be sleeping soundly in his bed. Kud-Ei knew better, though. He had been experimenting with dangerous magics in order to control his own dreams and use them as training grounds for his skills.

If you ask me, it sounds like a pretty useful idea. If he had been able to fully control his dreams. He was not able to do so, and now he was trapped in the dreamworld he created, probably full of dangers and traps.

Kud-Ei handed me an amulet that would take me directly to Henentiers dreams. All I had to do was fall asleep. Help a fellow mage and get some more sleep in the much-too-early morning? I liked that plan.

And indeed, as soon as I fell asleep, a strangely tinted world formed around me. Henantier stood in front of me, surprised and confused. However, all of my equipment was missing and I found myself unable to utter a single sound. Henantier himself seemed to have forgotten where he was, or what he was supposed to do. All he could tell me was that he lost something and that he needed it back so we would be able to leave.

After looking around in the dream - or rather nightmare - version of his home, I found several doors. One of them seemed to lead outside. Not having any clues where to start, I decided to open it.

Behind the door, I found myself in a large cavern, water filling most of it. In a small container made of stone, I found a potion that would allow me to breathe under water. Seeing this as a clue, I explored the cavern in more detail. In the far corner, a deep shaft went down, further than I could see. Quaffing the potion, I dove in. I am a good swimmer, especially since I was not encumbered by any weapons or armour, but the well did not end anytime soon, and by the time I finally reached the grate at its end, my lungs seemed to be close to exploding.

Behind the grate, however, I entered a small ruin, where a glowing orb was floating over a pedestal. After taking it, I suddenly found myself back in Henantiers room.

My course of action was clear. Solve the tests the mage had invented for himself and gather the fragmented parts of his sanity.

The second door I opened led to an area that reminded me of some of the dungeons I had explored in Cyrodiil. Huge pillars with deceptively small hole in them. Traps. Most likely with pressure plates to set them off. I looked around for a clue to help me through this part alive, and found one in form of a map. After studying it, it was clear to me that only one rune in the grid was such that it followed a path from the bottom to the top. And since the grid of runes was the same size as the one with the plates in front of me, I decided to try my faith. And I was right. The path marked by the runes did not trigger any traps. The next grids were larger and it was harder to find the correct rune, but it was still possible and I managed to cross them without being harmed.

The first impression I got from the third door was darkness. Only a few spots of light from floating crystals illuminated the area. Luckily I found a torch nearby. The light from the torch helped me to navigate the countless traps on the walkways, while my agility and speed allowed me to escape the falling and spinning blades.

It was when I had entered the fourth and final door that I started to doubt my success. The room before me resembled the gladiators entrance to the arena in Imperial City. In a chest I found some armour and a sword. In the pit of the arena two huge minotaurs were waiting and immediately rushed me as I walked through the gates.

The fight was hard and fast. But in the end, I was able to take the last crystal and thus restore Henantiers sanity. And he, in turn, restored ourselves to the world as it should be.

He promised not to try such magics again, but I have the feeling that this might not have been the last time I helped him or another mage from being trapped by his own experiments.

More on the latest in Imperial bedtime fashion, ten ways to identify the fake amulet around your neck and Mehrunes Dagons dream diary coming soon.

Closed For Business

2006-05-26T22:58:00.001+02:00

After the events in Fort Grief, it was time for me to return to my original mission. Secure the help of the Bravil guards for Bruma. And in order to do that, I had to venture once more into Oblivion.

On my arrival the previous night, the Oblivion gate just outside Bravils walls was visible from several miles away. Burning in an old ruin of a watchtower, the flames cast their light on the rope bridge that leads to Bravil proper.

The count of Bravil had made it clear that he could not spare any soldiers while there was an Oblivion Gate active just outside the city walls. With its location on a small river isle, he was confident that the guards would be able to defend Bravil. But going on the attack or sending troops to other cities was out of the question.

So I approached the Gate. Clannfears roamed the area, but the guards were willing and able to help me through them, even without the counts orders.

Inside, I was immediately beset from all sides by Dremora warriors. Quick thinking and agile feet brought me to safety, however. After a journey over the broken rocks and ruined towers half sunken in red hot lava, I finally approached the Citadel.

The Citadel itself resembled the one I had stormed at Bruma, only this time, I was alone. Dremora Battlemages guarded the way up through the hallways, but I had an advantage. The widow of Aleron Loche, in gratitude for avenging her husbands death, had given me a ring with the power to deflect spells back onto the caster. Quite useful in some situations, I must admit.

Reaching the top of the spire, I was shocked to see another Clannfear guarding the Sigil Stone. I had bow and arrow ready, when I realized that this was none of the small, watered down Clannfears I had faced before, but a real one. Large. Sharp claws. Bad temper.

The bigger they are, the further they fall. It charged me the way all Clannfears attack. Funny thing, inertia. The faster you go, the longer it takes you to come to a stop. In this case, it took the Clannfear a good thirty metres. Vertically.

Bravil is safe for now. And the count has promised to sent a detachment of the city guard under the command of Viera Lerus.

Until I have regained my strength to travel on to Leyawiin, I will rest. And maybe solve a problem at the local Mages Guild. My guess is, I could probably do that in my sleep.

More on the reason why Clannfears do not like bungee jumping, how to backstab someone with a ballista and where my towel is coming soon.

Tuned In

2006-05-23T20:22:00.001+02:00

White static noise, slowly oscillating at a bone-vibrating low frequency. Voices can be barely heard, although they grow clearer, until a Breton can be understood.

Breton: ...ank you, dear telepaths, wizards and Skooma addicts, for attuning your senses, crystal balls and mind trips to Cyrodiils one and only telepathic courier. With you tonight will be Claude Ernard.

Imperial: And I am Octavian Gratus.

Claude: Tonight is the night for another wonderful edition of Kurdans "Hunters Run", this time with no lesser prey than the Hero of Kvatch!

Octavian: Our loyal listeners of course know the rules, but for you who only now disovered this wonderful activity, Claude here will give a quick recap.

Claude: And welcome you, of course. The Hunters Run is simple. One able bodied individual gets lured onto a small island in the Niben Bay. On the island stands the ruin of Fort Grief, which gates will be locked after the prey enters. To escape again, he will have to fight his way through the three hunters, thereby gaining the keys necessary to open the gate again.

Octavian: Thank you Claude. And just in time. Belenor, the Hero of Kvatch, as they call him, just arrived at the shores of the island.

Claude: He looks a bit grumpy, don't you think?

Octavian: Well, just look at the weather and the armour he's wearing. Rust is not to be trifled with.

Claude: Aaaaand he's in. The gate is closed. The bait for luring him here, Aleron Loche, is explaining the rules to him. I guess the news will do nothing to improve Belenors mood.

Octavian: Still, he heads down into the dungeon, thankfully, our astral selves have no problem following him there to report his every move to you, dear listeners.

Claude: No time for small talk, Octavian, the first hunter is just around the corner! It is an Imperial, clad in fine armour, outfitted with the latest blade to come out of the smithy of...

Octavian: I would say the most prominent feature is the arrow sticking out of his chest. Is that legal?

Claude: We might have to ask Kurdan, but I don't think so. Arrows are supposed to be outlawed according to the latest Summerset Convention.

Octavian: Outlawed or not, the Imperial now has caught two arrows.

Claude: Yes Octavian, I think this direct rush was the wrong approach. And indeed, Belenor triumphs with minimal effort. I hope none of our listeners placed bets on the Imperial hunter.

Octavian: After such a poor performance, I hope he wasn't truly an Imperial. A disgrace, that's what he was.

Claude: Now don't be a sore looser. Oh, look, Belenor now approaches the bridge with the swinging traps.

Octavian: And he notices them just in time.

Claude: This prey is quite perceptive, Octavian. He also discovered the flooded corridor to avoid the traps. Astounding, how he can swim in his cuirass.

Sounds of water splashing and trickling of Mithril. Soft curses from Belenor can be heard, complaining bitterly about the temperature of the underground springs in Cyrodiil.

Claude: Next up is the Nord hunter. He laid out quite a few traps, didn't he?

Octavian: He is a crafty fellow, Claude. Look, Belenor tries to sneak up on him, but stealth and metal armour just don't mesh. The Nord is attacking him all out, backing him up against a dangerous pit.

Claude: And Belenor still has his bow in hand! The nord swings! Belenor blocks - no wait, he jumps! He jumps back! Over the pit, onto the other side!

Octavian: By the gods!

Claude: The Nord tries to follow, but Belenor stabs him with the bow, using it like a - a...

Octavian: Like a spear?

Claude: Now don't be ridiculous, there are no such things as spears!

Octavian: Like a wooden thing made for stabbing people?

Claude: Exactly! The Nord stumbles back, he's on the pit's edge! He dropped sword and shield and is now flailing wildly for balance!

Octavian: Belenor drops his bow and reaches out, now there's a fair gesture. Oh. No, sorry, no fair, he just gave him a little tip and now the Nord joins our dear deceased viewers out there.

Claude: Not to worry, Octavian, we still have the last hunter, an Orcish warrior. And there he is, waiting by the underground lake.

Octavian: Belenor has his bow out again. What's this? He pours something over his arrow. He fires. Literally. The Orc is ablaze, running towards the prey, reaches Belenor...

Claude: And proves the point that after too many hunts, the hunter is easily burnt out. That bow has to be illegal.

Octavian: My words exactly. And look, Belenor is coming out of the dungeon, Kurdan is waiting for him. Certainly to disqualify him for using bow and arrow while being hunted.

Claude: They do seem to argue. Octavian, are you seeing this? Kurdan just attacked Belenor after the latter refused to acknowledge his foul play.

Octavian: I see it, Claude. I also see that Kurdan faired no better than the three hunters. I dare announce that this is the unexpected final edition of "Hunters Run". After a promising start, things turned ugly when Belenor repeatedly used arrows to gain an unfair advantage.

Claude: Still, the look on Kurdans face was worth it. Thank you for listening, dear listeners, and tune in again next week.

Octavian: Indeed, more on the reason why Falanu Hlaalu wants Belenor dead, how chancellor Ocato lost a game of musical chairs to Emperor Martin and the Annual Anvil Regatta coming soon!

Slayer Of Vampyres

2006-05-21T19:36:00.001+02:00

When I first discovered the sewer system of Imperial City, my only conclusion was that the Goblins living there would have the ideal location for organising their arrow distribution. Since then, however, I have found yet another explanation: Vampires.

As you recall, I was in Imperial City to meet chancellor Ocato about the Bruma crisis. I did, we talked, he denied any help. According to him, the Imperial armies were fully deployed in the provinces to keep the Empire together. The fact that with Cyrodiil under direct attack, the provinces would not matter much longer did not seem to faze him.

So it was in a slightly cranky mood that I left the White Tower late in the afternoon, when a Dunmer woman approached me. Her husband needed to talk to me concerning an urgent matter and the safety of the citizens of Imperial City. At first, I was tempted to just send her on to Ocato, after all, I was actively working on making Cyrodiil a safer place.

But my good manners won, for once. I met up with her husband and two others in the basement of a mansion in the Temple District. The three men had formed an order, with the simple goal to eradicate the Vampires that roamed the land. Or, seeing as they were not exactly capable of fighting, they would find the Vampires and then watch someone else slay them. I am sure there is a precedence for this kind of organisation somewhere, but I cannot put my finger on it.

Anyway. The leader of their order told me that they had indeed found a Vampire in the city. Good citizen as I am, I agreed to help them and track down this creature. Which was pretty easy. After searching his house, I found a letter from his late girlfriend mentioning a cabin just outside the city.

With the weather sunny and bright, a rarity during the last few days, I decided to walk there. The lake around the city was quite beautiful, reflecting the mountains, I even thought I could make out Cloud Ruler in the far north. I might be mistaken, though.

I found the cabin halfway on the road to Cheydinhal. The perfect spot for such a house, if you ask me. Well secluded, surrounded by trees - and no windows. Funny thing, that.

The inhabitant of the cabin, Roland - the supposed Vampire - was a peaceful guy. He did not even have the characteristic eyes of a Vampire. Fortunately for him, I am not an impulsive fellow. And after we talked, the whole affair became clearer. It was not Roland who was a Vampire. It was Seridur, the leader of the order, who was one.

More investigations seemed in order. I learned that Seridur spent much time in a small cave, where dead soldiers of the Empire were buried. Intersting way to spent your time. Underground. Without sunlight.

The cave, and that much was clear as soon as I saw the first open coffin, was a lair of Vampires. How do you recognise a Vampire, you ask? Well. My very first clue was the fact that the woman that approached me tried to bite me. Granted, there are situations where this can be quite pleasurable, but as a general rule: When someone tries to bite you, you should bring distance between you and them. Preferably just a few centimetres less than your swords length.

Deep inside the cave, I once again found Seridur. This time, he did not want my help, just a good helping of me. I served it sliced, with just a tip of Silver.

He may be finally and irrevocably dead now, but at least the order he founded served its purpose. There is one Vampire less in Imperial City. And I was even made an honorary member of the order, now led by Roland. Quite ironic, but life just is like that.

More on my sudden need for bad puns in the heat of battle, the connection of Vampires to the all-night secret arrow delivery express and the matchmaking service for lonely and misunderstood Daedric princes coming soon.

Top Of The World

2006-05-18T10:19:00.001+02:00

While I am here, at Imperial City, waiting for Chancellor Ocato, I might as well present you my newest property, Frostcrag Spire.

Some time back, I was staying at a small roadside inn near Anvil. At an ungodly hour in the morning, a knock on the door awoke me. Whoever it was, he was quite lucky that no weapon fit for throwing was within easy reach, as I am not exactly what you call a 'morning person'.

The messenger waiting outside, however, was unperturbed and simply handed me a sealed scroll before marching off again.

You know these distant relatives? Kind of crazy, nobody likes to talk about them much at family gatherings? Turns out, one of the crazier folks in my family tree - and if I say 'crazier' it means something, after all, I am on that tree as well - died recently. And had nothing better to do than leave me a tower somewhere far north in the Jerral Mountains.

The deed to the tower seemed genuine enough. And having another refuge in Cyrodiil is not a bad thing. Especially since the location would make for an excellent headquarters where I could plan my cleansing of the Great Arrow Conspiracy.

The journey to Frostcrag Spire was long and tiresome. The tower was indeed located at the very top of the Jerall Mountains, with a narrow path leading up the slopes of the mountain. In the end, I had little choice but lead Priority, as even with all his experience, he could not find a foothold solid enough to carry me on his back.

It was well worth it, though. Standing on a ledge at the base of the tower, a view presented itself to me that was as breathtaking as the one at Cloud Top near Chorrol. I was lucky, the weather was uncharacterically clear that day, especially for the region near Bruma.

Looking up to the tower, it looked every bit like one might imagine a wizards tower. Up here in solitude, stories of mad wizards and their experiments came to my mind. So it was with a fair amount of caution that I entered the tower itself.

My fears were without cause. The inner halls of the tower were barren and lifeless. The antechamber, a room larger than my entire home on the Waterfront, was coated with ice, just like the enormous hall that followed.

In that hall, I found the first indication that the tower indeed had been constructed by a wizard. A pedestal with strange devices was mounted on a raised platform. On the ground before it, large circles made of different stones and metals had been engraved in the floor. Clearly summoning circles. But even to my untrained eyer, it was apparent that key requisites were missing. Empty receptacles near the altar were waiting to be filled with paraphernalia. I will have to consult the Academy in Imperial City, maybe they can help repairing this altar.

No repair was needed in another room of the tower. To my delight, an entire floor was devoted solely to a large garden filled with plants and herbs from all regions of Cyrodiil, some of which I saw for the first time. A corner even had the aggressive grasses and roots of Oblivion growing in it. I cannot imagine the time and mystical power needed to grow these plants here.

The rest of the tower was comparatively unspectactular. The large vault, a cavern underneath the tower, was empty. The top of the tower granted another great view of the Jerral Mountains and a good look at the strange device on the roof of the main tower.

As soon as I can find a wizard capable enough, I will set out to restore this tower into a building where a person can acutally live in. The potential is there, and the remote location suits me well. But until I can gather an army to rid Bruma of the threat of the Oblivion Gates, this project will have to wait.

More on comparing Aeylid and Dwemer architecture, the Jerral Freeclimbing Championship and three fun ways to descent a mountain coming soon.

Frozen Teardrops

2006-05-14T20:00:00.001+02:00

Remember the time I so rashly said that Burma and Cloud Ruler Temple were the coldest places in Cyrodiil? Well, I stand corrected.

Ever helpful, I embarked on my next journey into the mountains, to retrieve the Tears of the Saviour. These frozen tears of an ancient knight are said to have magical properties and S'drassa of the Leyawiin guild had asked me to help him find them.

My sources had indicated that the field of battle, where the knight had been frozen for eternity, was close by, near Bruma. However, according to old tales, the place radiates an intense cold, stemming from the remnants of a mighty Frost Atronach.

Indeed, even the sealed passage to the secluded glade glowed in a cold mist. With my hand filled with frost salts, the essence of Frost Atronachs, I broke the seal and entered Frostfire Glade.

I cannot tell you what I had imagined. Certainly not a lush, densely wooded valley. In between the trees I could spot the intense white of frozen rock and stones. The white of the ground and the mist of cold air was such that I was nearly blinded by it. Finding several crystals in such an environment would have been difficult under best circumstances, but to my dismay I discovered that the tales did not exaggerate.

The cold was burning. Only with several potions that I had mixed beforehand was I able to survive long enough near the frozen knight to recover the Tears.

Now, my friends, is it time for another grand tour of the cities of Cyrodiil. I have to deliver the Tears to Leyawiin and more importantly, Jauffre has asked me to rally support for Bruma. The local guard will not be able to stop another attack by Mehrunes Dagons Daedra, so I will visit the counts and countesses, as well as the Elder Council in Imperial City.

More on the latest accessories for the fashion-aware adventurer, how I beat chancellor Ocato in chess and my plan on cultivating a field of Nirnroot coming soon.

Raiders Of The Lost Artifact

2006-05-12T21:07:00.001+02:00

Astonishingly enough, I am still alive after setting out on my task to retrieve the Draconian Madstone. That is the name of the artifact countess Carvain of Bruma send me after.

This magical amulet was rumoured to be the last remnant of an invading Akaviri force. The Akaviri were defeated by Reman and Lord Vivec, but their command post in the mountains of Cyrodiil has never been found. However, the countess acquired the diary of an Akaviri messenger, hinting at the existence of a fortress in a secluded valley with the name of Pale Pass.

The diary came, thankfully, complete with a hand drawn map. Even if countess Carvain had not identified the first of the landmarks, I would have recognized it as a rather prominent rock formation on the trail to Frostcrag Spire. Frostcraig Spire, however, is a tale in its own right, that I will not delve deeper into now.

Dragonclaw Rock, as it is called, was easily found. the next landmarks, however were harder to reach. A giant statue of a warrior, the Sentinel. It is astounding how easy it is to miss a giant statue in the wild. From there, I was able to make my way higher into the mountains.

The valley itself is not reachable by foot. The mountains in that region are far too steep to climb, especially in armour, and no way around them exists. Unless you travel all the way around to Morrowind I guess. But that was a journey I was not particularly keen on. Fortunately, the Akaviri built a passage into the mountain.

I was honestly expecting a small cave. Maybe one or two tunnels where stashed of weapons for the defenders could be stored. I did not expect the thundering stomps of Ogres. Once I heard them, however, I was duly expecting the hammerlike blows of their fists. Apparently, Ogres do not like to disappoint. An experience that the Akaviri also had made, it seemed. In a tunnel, I literally stumbled over a skeleton of an Akaviri soldier, sword in one hand, a piece of parchment in the other. I do not read Akaviri, but I figured that the countess maybe would be interested in this document as well. Later, it would turn out that my instincts spared me a lot of trouble.

Speaking of trouble. I was just trying to pry the parchment out of the skeletons hand, as I heard rapid footsteps nearing. Humansized footsteps. Before I could even react, Audens Avidius, the corrupt guard captain from the Imperial City started slicing at me with a knife. Now, I do remember him vowing vengeance. But I have to congratulate him on not only escaping the Imperial dungeon, but also finding me here, literally in the middle of nowhere.

After a short fight - he was, after all, armed with a knife for crying out loud - I discovered his notebook. He had followed the example of a mysterious prisoner who had managed to escape the Imperial dungeon using a secret passage of the Blades. Again, I blame none other than Uriel Septim for my current predicament. If he had not wanted to escape through my cell, Audens Avidius would not have been able to follow in my footsteps.

Once out of the cave, with a severe headache, I finally arrived at Pale Pass. Quite a beautiful valley, high up in the mountains. The cool snow did wonders for my mood. The next handful of Ogres that were dwelling in the valley, did not.

Somehow, through cunning use of the boulders as cover and liberal use of my bow and arrows, I eventually managed to reach the Akaviri fortress. There was only a minor catch. My armour and my weapons were hanging in shreds. I had almost no arrows left. And I had used up all of my repair tools.

The odd sense of dejà vu and lousy weaponry descended on me.

Thankfully, the Ogres had found the fortress itself too confining for their bulky bodies, so I was pretty confident. That feeling lasted as long as it took the first skeletal warrior of the Akaviri army to reach me. With the exception of the zombies nead Skingrad, I have not fought any undead creatures. Skeletons, however, are way more pleasant to look at than zombies. They smell less, make less noise and when finally bested in combat, they scatter into all these tiny bones that make a kind of funny clattering sound on the floor. I made a note to find more skeletons to fight. They are fun.

The fortress itself was a large complex, with numerous traps that I expertly avoided. I did not explore every hallway, as not only my armour was deteriorating, but my weapons as well. After inspecting the edge of my sword, I now understand why there are cultures that use bone for armour.

Fortunately, I soon reached a large hall. At the top of some broad stairs stood the spectre of an Akaviri general. I was prepared for a hard fight, but he addressed me, thinking I was a messenger from the Akaviri homeland. Not one to disappoint, I delivered the message I had snatched from the skeleton earlier.

Like many adventures in life, the ending was rather anticlimatic. As he had read the message, he turned, began to walk away and finally faded into nothingness. And before me, on a pedestal, the Draconian Madstone waited.

Late at night, I reached the gates of Bruma again. The guards at the castle tried to hold me back at first, but I often find that yelling a lot, reminding them of who led the mission to close the Oblivion Gate and generally waving around sharp objects help to get what I want. Despite the lateness of the hour, countess Carvain was more than pleased. She rewarded me with another Akaviri artifact, a ring that would protect me from harmful magic.

My own preference would have been access to the royal armoury, or, more specifically, the arrow storage. I might have to talk to captain Burd later, he will surely understand that after using up a gargantuan amount of arrows, I should be compensated. And arrows are far much more worth than a ring. After all, I cannot fire a ring with my bow, can I?

More on the current blackmarket price of quality arrows, the shoe size of Tiber Septim and five naughty limericks on "Carvain" coming soon.

A Brief Intermission

2006-05-10T19:53:00.001+02:00

Or is it "Interquest"?

I am exactly 49 hours 59 minutes and 10 second into Oblivion. The Main Quest is about two thirds finished. And since I have been asked what my opinion of Oblivion is, I deem it an opportune moment to take a step back (careful, don't trip over the pile of dead Ogres!) and reflect.

(I wouldn't call this a "review", more like "opinions on strong and weak points in contemporary mainstream fantasy immersion games based on personal experiences and tampered with long-time preferences on P&P RPGs". But then I have invented a title for my thesis that spans three lines.)

Also, I haven't had much time for playing lately. Turns out, they actually expect me to work on my thesis. Strange world we live in.

So, I'll start off with the good points.

Graphics. Or, specifically, view distance. With the possible exception of Operation Flashpoint, Oblivion has the best view distance I've seen in first-person games so far. Note the point "first person games". Performance is also very smooth, even on my 2.6GHz computer.

Size. The Size of Cyrodiil seems about just right. Especially if you play without fast travel. Not comparable to the size of Daggerfall, but really, Oblivion (and Morrowind) has more substance than Daggerfall.

Diversity. Actually, the building styles are almost too diverse for me. The only excuse is that most cities border on other provinces and have been influenced by them. What I really like is the diversity in flora. The southern Niben valley. I could spend hours just walking there, exploring the forest.

Expectations. Oblivion may not be the perfect RPG. Those are pen&paper anyway. But it is, in my opinion the best CRPG currently available. The quests may all be variations of "Find The Artifact" or "Kill The Badguy", but at least there is always a carefully planned out story behind it. And the dungeons are way better than Morrowind. If you could call those two hallways and one central room "dungeon".

So, what's bad about Oblivion?

Encounters. Sorry. A single wolf, sitting on the road, waiting for a traveller? Deer that stays as long as you are on horseback, but the moment you dismount they scatter? Trolls that pursue you from Imperial City all the way to Anvil? Somehow, I think that encounters in the wild could have been more realistic. Packs of wolves, for example.

Scaling. Now, I understand and fully support the need for scaling NPC and creatures. Show me a single non-linear game that doesn't and still is fun to play. But it could have been done better. Mobs instead of single enemies. Different scripts, more aggressive versus cautious and cowardly. A gang of highwaymen, with archers in the back instead of a single one in full Dwarven armour. There are mods for this, luckily. But it is something to keep in mind for the next Elderscrolls.

Time. The normal timescale is too fast. Period. 1:10 feels about right.

Levelling. Also, too fast. You shouldn't be able to reach maximum level when playing the game normally. Slowed down to 25% feels about right. (Keep in mind, I'm coming from over ten years of Rolemaster, where advancement is particularly slow.)

Note how the last four points can be remedied by mods. Some of which I use (Timescale and Slow Levels), some of which I don't. (No scaling mod, but enhanced combat behaviour at least.)

All in all, I'd give Oblivion a solid second place behind Ultima Underworld 2, which is, in my very own opinion, the best CRPG ever published. I will continue to play Oblivion (my usual one or two hours a day if I can) and I will write this Blog to the very end, hopefully entertaining someone in the process.

A Taste Of Invasion

2006-05-07T17:15:00.001+02:00

Business in Imperial City remains as usual. Only three Mythic Dawn agents tried to kill me. Personally, I begin to rate that as a slow day.

Getting the staff for Bravil was quite simple. The Dunmer agreed to sell it for a mere two hundred Septims. A bargain, he said. A joke, I said. Worthless clutter taking up space, said his wife. He had been fussing about this staff a lot, and it started to annoy his wife. Using my natural charms, I promised her to take care of this distraction, if she distracted her husband in turn.

Minutes later, I walked out the door, whistling, with the staff firmly in my possession, while the sounds of an unfortunate domestical squabble attracted the attention of the neighbourhood.

Before heading to Bravil to deliver the staff, however, there are several loose threads near Bruma. For one thing, I still had to bring the Sanguine Rose to Martin. And in a moment of complete confusion, I agreed to help another Bravil mage find the Tears of the Saviour. Which are reportedly also located near Bruma, at least that is what my own research tells me.

Martin was quite pleased with the artefact, as it turns out he was one of its previous owners. I hope the familiarity speeds up the ritual.

Now, during all my travels I have seen more and more Oblivion gates opening. And one opened right next to Bruma. Jauffre sent me to show Captain Burd of the Bruma guard how to close this gate.

He stood at the ready with a handful of his men. I was to lead the assault, while he and two more soldiers watched my back. The others would stay outside and kill any Daedra that escaped the gate.

Let me say, the soldiers really handled themselves well in the fights. In the end, however, the hostile environment of Oblivion and the constant attacks from Dremoras took their toll. Only Captain Burd and I survived the trip to the top of the citadel.

According to him, the mission was a rousing success and the guard will handle any further gates on their own. Somehow I doubt that, and I am willing to wager a months supply of arrows that they will call me in again before this whole war is over.

On a more pleasant note, the countess of Bruma herself invited me to the castle to congratulate me on my recent success. And to ask me a favour. Since Martin is still busy deciphering the Mysterium Xarxes, I had no reason to decline. It is a treasure hunt of sorts, as she collects old Akaviri artefacts.

So now, armed with a page of a diary and a hand-drawn map, I embark to find a legendary Akaviri artefact.

More on how to chase wild geese, glacier skiing and three useful phrases in Akavir coming soon.

Rosebud

2006-05-05T17:27:00.001+02:00

I like Skingrad. The climate is pleasant, the alchemist friendly and the Mythic Dawn annoying. Really.

Luckily, before leaving Leyawiin, I had an opportunity for some more swordfighting. The local guard was planning a raid on a Skooma den, but had no one inconspicuous enough to surprise the dealer. That was were I came in. It was a rather quick fight, all the training in Fort Blueblood was put to good use.

On a hunch, I even searched the house for some hidden cache of arrows, but found none. However, I did indeed find an old pirate lair on my way back to Bravil. The ruined remains of an old tower served as hiding place for gold. And arrows. Tracking the pirates will be difficult, but I will do my very best. They are probably hiding out somewhere in Imperial City.

Speaking of Imperial City.

I talked to the mages at the Bravil guild. And that has to be the silliest thing ever. One guy stole the staff of his colleague, because he felt that she did not care about him. Of course, by the time he started to regret his actions, he had already sold the staff. To a friend in Imperial City. I would have thought mages were intellectually above such petty squabbles, but it seems I was wrong. So, I plan on spending a day in Imperial City before I travel on to Cloud Ruler.

Cloud Ruler, since I visited the shrine of Sanguine again. I even offered Falanu to accompany me, but she seemed suddenly more interested in cataloguing the latest additions of herbs. Guess I should have brought another bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy. Oh well, I have a hunch that I might stop by Skingrad often enough.

At the shrine, Sanguine was pleased with the outcome of the party and rewarded me with an artifact in form of an enormous rose. I do not like staffs and it does not go with any furniture in my home, so I might as well hand it to Martin for the ritual.

More on how I invited Falanu to Lukewarm Coffee ™, my daring plan to mount a ballista on top of the Imperial lighthouse and why sunsets are redder than at night coming soon.

The King of Cups expects a party

2006-05-02T20:19:00.001+02:00

But I have no birthday present.

Forgive me. I had a few, lets say interesting, conversations recently.

A small incident occured yesterday on my way back from jail to the Mages Guild. Out of nowhere, a man clad in platemail rushed towards me and started chopping around with his sword. Unarmoured as I was at that moment, I truly feared for my life. Luckily, a guardsman was nearby and together we were able to fight back.

I still do not know why he attacked me, in broad daylight even. My only theory is that like Anvil, Leyawiin as a coastal city is another point of interest for the Cyrodiil Arrow Mafia. I will look into the matter and keep a lookout for hidden docks on my way out of the city.

Before heading back to Skingrad and the Sanguine shrine, though, I stopped by the Leyawiin Mages Guild. Now, disturbing talk from Dunmer, paranoid delusions from Bosmer, Argonians in need of help and Khajiit holding me up for gold, I am used to. An Altmer speaking in tongues, however, was new even to me. Needless to say, I was not going to get any useful information out of the local leader of the Guild. Nor a valid recommendation.

A little investigation quickly cleared up the matter. Visions had been plaguing Dagail, and the amulet containing a magical stone that was supposed to hold the voices back had vanished. Further investigation turned my suspicions on Kalthar, a mage who was obviously jealous of Dagails position. I was certain that he had to do something with the theft of the amulet, but unfortunately there was no way to proove it.

However, I gathered enough information to decipher Dagails mutterings. There was another amulet, belonging to her late father, now buried deep in the catacombs of Fort Blueblood on the other side of the Niben river. This was one of the times where I did not mind the walk. The western side of the Niben valley already had been pleasant, but indeed it is the eastern part that makes me wish to spend more time here.

Inside the fort, I hit a snag in my plan. The snag was wearing Dwarven armour and swinging Claymores with far too much prowess. And once they were out of the way and I found the amulet in the tombs of the soldiers, no other than Kalthar came running.

He rambled on a bit about how he only wanted fair treatment and was going to give the amulet back once he was leader of the Leyawiin guild. Now, see, I do not usually go around killing people. Really. Unless I have a really good reason. Or I am getting paid. And if he had delivered his speech before I spent hours of the night hacking my way through heavily armed marauders and their battlemages, I might even have been inclined to just let it go.

But not only would I have to spend ludicrous amounts of gold to get my Kvatch cuirass repaired, I also wasted at least two dozen silver tipped arrows. And once he started trying to threaten me, I decided to be polite and give him a free lesson in swordfighting. It was not my fault at all that he forgot to bring a sword for himself.

So, Leyawiin. I think it might be an opportune moment to leave this town.

More on Dunmer-Altmer relationships, the Nibenay branch of the Great Arrow Conspiracy and my two favourite recipes for wild boar coming soon.

Life Of The Party

2006-04-30T11:05:00.001+02:00

Finally I get my journal back. Honestly, why they would not let me have it in my latest prison cell, I do not know. But maybe I should explain why I am, once again, imprisoned.

It all is Martins fault, really. That is my opinion, and I stand by it.

Finding a Daedric artifact did not sound difficult, but I knew the problem would be finding one of their shrines. This is not Morrowind, where you stumble upon them wherever you go. But at least I knew a Dunmer who would, judging by our past conversation, certainly be able to tell me more about Daedra worship. Falanu Hlaalu, proud owner of the Skingrad "All Things Alchemical" and a person of very strange and disturbing habits.

In case she was too proper to talk about Daedra - not that I supposed so, but you never know - I made sure to bring gifts along. A fine bottle of Cyrodiils best brandy, courtesy of Martin himself. Turns out, she was quite eager to share her wisdom with me. A short journey from Skingrad, Falanu had once seen the shrine of Sanguine. According to her, it sounded like quite a party, but she had had no time to visit herself.

Sanguine. I kept my bottle of brandy. If I am to crash a Daedric party, I might as well bring the booze.

And indeed, arriving at the giant statue of the Daedra, I met several of his worshippers in varying states of being drunk. The more lucid ones informed me that I would have to bring an offering to Sanguine if I wanted to summon him.

Now, I am not entirely clear on what happened next. I offered the brandy, toasting Sanguine. Then I sampled the wine that another worshipper brought - had to make sure it was good enough as an offering - we got into a lengthy discussion about Tamikas West Weald wine which someone brought along and next thing I know I am halfway to Bravil with a formidable headache.

Somehow, I am now responsible for lightening the mood of a royal dinner party at Leyawiin.

Leaving Bravil behind, I traveled on towards the coastal city. I have now visited most of Cyrodiil, but of all the regions, the lower Niben valley is the most tranquil and beautiful. The river to my left, lush tree canopies on my right, the occasional highwayman trying to ambush me - it all came together to sooth my head and gave me the peace I needed to plan my performance in castle Leyawiin.

A royal party. Sounded pretty stuck-up. I went to the local Mages Guild and changed out of my travel-worn armour into something more fit for a court. Fashionably dressed, I arrived fashionably late. The party - or rather dinner - had already started by the time I walked through the castle gates. After much persuasion, the guard agreed to let me join the countess and her guests. I was tempted to drop Martins or Jauffres names, but they might not want to be associated with what was about to happen.

The party was, indeed, dull.

So I cast the spell Sanguine provided.

Things got very, well, interesting.

And once again, I was running naked from an angry mob.

But it was definitely worth it.

More on proper party dresscode, my dinner party with Falanu and how I became king of the mountain coming soon.

The Spy Who Came Back To The Cold

2006-04-25T20:14:00.001+02:00

If anyone had thought that the weather in Bruma had gotten any warmer since I was last there, he would be mistaken. In fact, it was snowing when I got there and it is still snowing by the time I write this entry.

Without the Amulet of Kings, but with the Mysterium Xarxes in my bag, I returned to Cloud Ruler Temple. Martin believed that the book holds a way to follow Mankar Camoran to his paradise. Not that he would follow him. Or Jauffre. Or any other Blade from the temple. Oh no. I am already stocking up on potions, arrows and basic necessities for my inevidable trip to yet another dimension. They really should have mentioned this whole "saving the world" thing before I escaped prison.

In the meantime, though, Jauffre had yet another menial task for me. According to his soldiers, suspicious strangers had been seen lurking around the base of the mountain beneath Cloud Ruler. Cooperating with Captain Burd of the Bruma guard, I was to investigate. Now snooping around, that I am good at.

Captain Burd, however, did not know anything particularly useful. No strangers in town and except for Jearl, who had returned from the south recently, nobody had left Bruma for quite a while. So I started looking around Jearls house. She had locked the door, closed up the windows and according to several locals, had not left her house since she came back.

I would have asked her neighbours, but unfortunately as I knocked next door, I recognised the house. It was Arnoras. And dead people very rarely have anything useful to say. Granted, they may say things like "Brains!" or "Blood!" but generally speaking, they are not widely accepted as eyewitnesses in court. Much less so in an investigation concerning spies.

In a stroke of luck, however, I discovered that a nearby house actually belonged to Ongar, a fence working for the Thieves Guild. Being a member myself - and having sold a splendid silver longsword days ago - he was quite open about Jearl. He believed that she had not come back alone, since he had definitely seen somebody at the window.

With this information, I was able to get the permit to break and enter. I did break - several lockpicks - and I did enter.

Fighting two Mythic Dawn agents in full bound armor in a small cabin is not, I repeat, is not fun. Especially for an archer. Especially when the Dunmer start summoning ghosts. It speaks for the Nord woodcraft though, that the table still stands after been hacked with battleaxes, jumped on, been thrown onto and generally standing in the way.

I will spare you the details, as I am writing this, it is rather clear that I prevailed. Yay me. Add another hundred gold pieces for armour repair to my expenditure list I plan on handing to Jauffre once this is all over.

Meanwhile, Martin had unraveled part of the mysteries of the Mysterium Xarxes. For the ritual to open the portal, several rare ingredients are needed. The very first would be the Blood of Daedra, which apparently translates to an artifact passed down from the Daedra. At least Priority will get to see more of Cyrodiil.

More on annoying megalomanic deities, why the countess of Bruma wants to have dinner with me and how I invented and licensed the wheel coming soon.

Disappearing Act

2006-04-23T11:17:00.001+02:00

I am really beginning to wonder about the Mages Guild. In the four guildhalls I visited, there were two missing associates. And I will just let you guess about the Cheydinhal guild.

The leader of the Cheydinhal guild, an unpleasant fellow named Falcar, told me that he was missing a Ring of Burden and another associate. The ring was supposed to be thrown down a well.

My own suspicions about these circumstances were further strengthened by the Argonian Deetsan who cautioned me, as she suspected foul play by Falcar. What is it with me and Argonian women? Do I have attractive dandruff?

The ring was indeed a Ring of Burden. Luckily I was well-trained - you would not believe what a decent run in fresh mountain air does for your body - and had taken off my armour before. Even so, I would guess the ring weighed almost as much as me.

Back in the guildhall, Falcar had left. Deetsan had confronted him about this questionable quest, he had ranted about numbering our days and then he left. Without writing me a recommendation. Very inconsiderate, if you ask me. Deetsan, ever so helpful, agreed to send the appropriate letter to the university. She was pretty shaken, as I found several black soul gems on Falcars desk. Now I do not know what was so special about them, but I guess I will find out sooner or later.

By chance I found out that a famous artist, Rythe Lythandas, lives in Cheydinhal. Since I am still toying with the idea of buying the manor in Anvil, I thought it was worth seeing if he had any paintings for sale.

Note to self. If in need of gold, run a protection racket by making people pay me for not visiting them.

Lythandas had disappeared. His wife all but begged me to help her find him. Apparently he had never left his studio, bu when she finally came to check on him, he was gone. A quick search of his studio revealed that indeed, he had vanished. The only interesting thing in there was the painting he had been working on. A mindboggling realistical rendition of the Great Forest. As I leaned closer to examine the quality of his work, the painting showed its true nature. It was in fact a portal.

On the other side awaited Rythe Lythandas in a world that looked very much like it had been painted. The problem was very straightforward. He used to paint his works from the inside of the canvas, using a magical brush that he had inherited from his father. And now a thief had not only stolen the brush, but gotten himself killed by the trolls that he had designed as guardians. Do I even need to tell you what Lythandas great plan was?

Never would I have imagined dunking my arrows in turpentine to use against oil-painted trolls.

The turpentine worked very well, however, and mixed with a few fireballs the trolls went down without too much trouble. And with the brush back in his possession, Lythandas was able to paint a portal back to Cyrodiil.

After reuniting the two Dunmer, I decided to leave Cheydinhal before more people disappeared.

More on my plan to use fingerpaints as secret weapons against the Daedra,

Mythbuster

2006-04-21T21:28:00.001+02:00

Note to self. Running, jumping and skidding down the Jerral Mountains, more than half-naked, all the while dodging lightning bolts from the pack of Mythic Dawn a few paces behind - don't!

But maybe I should start an hour earlier.

Cheydinhal. A nice quite town. Lovely architecture, especially the small moat - more of a lake, really - surrounding the chapel. Spacious houses and carefully tended gardens, I kind of liked the small bridges that leisurely span over the small streams.

Anyway. Knowing that I had a mountain tour ahead of me, I left most of my equipment with the local mages guild. A last check with the locals about Lake Arrius revealed nothing exciting. One of the merchants, though, is a former adventurer and not only promised a special discount, but also pointed me towards several places I might want to seek out. But that would have to wait until much later.

With the addition of armour, Priority once again had to wait at the stables. He does not like riding up the slopes under the best conditions, and the morning was quite foggy. I wonder, though. He has no problems galloping through the thickest forest. Maybe it is the absence of rare plants in the mountains. On a tangent, my plan for him to fetch the arrows that missed my opponents worked. Somewhat. Apparently, he enjoys the taste of the special feathers that I use on my arrows.

Still, I arrived at the entrance to the Mythic Dawn caverns unscathed. Inside, an Acolyte awaited me, speaking the first part of some sort of code. Since I had read the four volumes of the Mysterium Xerxes, it posed no problem to answer in kind.

The only problem was that I would have to give away all my belongings. Again, haveing read the Mysterium - or rather and more accurately, the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xerxes - I anticipated this and had already left my equipment near the entrance to the cave.

I was admitted as a new Initiate and led through the caverns to the secret shrine. No one less than Camoran himself and his daughter were preaching there. With at least a dozen cultists around me, I quickly had doubts about my plan. It worked out just fine, though. Ruma Camoran motioned to join her on the shrine and complete my initiation by killing a ritual sacrifice - an Argonian. You can say about the lizards what you want, but I came to save people. Well, most of all to save myself, but freeing him and having a distraction while I escape was a nice bonus.

On the altar lay the Mysterium Xerxes. I barely managed to grab it while already ducking the first spells thrown in my direction. Quickly tearing of my clothes - you simply cannot run in those blasted Mythic Dawn robes - I started down the narrow cavern passages. They were good. Really. I made it back to the antechamber with only a few seconds on them and thankfully few scorchmarks on my back. Picking up what I could - my cuirass and sword, nothing else - I ducked out of the cave and into the wilderness.

They eventually gave up chasing me when Cheydinhal came into view.

I now have the Mysterium Xerxes - and with it a way to get the amulet of Kings back - in my possession. The Mythic Dawn now have my equipment - and with it the pitiful rest of my dignity - in their possession. A trade seemed not quite in the spirit of my task, tempting as it was. In the end, I sneaked back to the cavern and quietly retrieved my equipment.

More on how to properly push round boulders up the mountain, Ruma Camorans colouring book and who won the Cheydinhal Horse Race coming soon.

Pathfinder

2006-04-19T19:37:00.001+02:00

My trip back to Imperial City was rather uneventful. I bypassed Kvatch and Skingrad completely, choosing to make the best of an early start in Anvil. The lack of highwaymen and wildlife was eery, but ultimately explainable. All along the way, I encountered Oblivion Gates, resembling the one I closed at Kvatch. Fortunately, these portals did not seem as large as the one back then, and the numbers of Daedra coming forth was negligible.

Even with riding at full gallop, it was in the afternoon that I arrived at Imperial City. This fact annoyed me to no end.

Let me explain why.

In Skingrad and later in Anvil, I had time to read and examine the four volumes of the Mysterium Xerxes. Clearly, it contained a hidden message, a clue for the followers of the Mythic Dawn. All I had to do was figure it out. Should be easy, after all the usual cultist henchmen are not exactly known for their wits.

So I went looking for clues, metaphors, double meanings. And I came up with nothing. Nothing useful, at least. I briefly considered the measure of the sentences, but sanity got a hold of me in time. (Although my normal state of sanity remains subject for much debate.)

Now, if it was not the content of the books, it had to be the form. Indeed, the first letter of each paragraph was a skillfully rendered in calligraphic detail. Soon after noticing this, I was left with an actual sentence, clearly a clue even for the slowest thinkers with cultist aspirations.

The only problem: It was depending on being at a specific location at a specific time. And that time was noon.

With a whole day to pass, I decided to play tourist. I went to the Arena. And bet. Surprisingly enough, I also won.

The fight hardly seemed fair, though, and I brought up the idea that I should be allowed to use my bow to level the playing field and generally make things more interesting. I was told, quite rudely, that it was "against the spirit of the Arena". I know nothing about spirits, save those in liquid form, but I sure know that it would be much more entertaining. Maybe if they rebuild the Kvatch Arena again, after all, I saved the bloody city. Might as well have a say in the new rules there.

I still had all morning to spend the next day. My old friend Jensine, who I helped with the graverobber business as few days ago, provided a rumour that was quite intriguing. A captain of the watch was falsely acusing customers of the stores in the Market District of stealing and then collected the fines. Even if the storeowners themselves attested that there had been no thievery. Jensine even knew the name of the captain in question, but was too scared to testify against him.

Two of the victims, however, could be persuaded to do so. I talked to Itius Hayn, another captain of the guard. At first he was not inclined to believe that a fellow soldier would commit such a crime, but after finding out that I was a member of the Blades, he was impressed enough that he considered hearing out the witnesses.

The testimonies were enough, and together, we arrested Audens Avidius. He actually threatened to break out of prison and come after me. But Hayn assured me that nobody so far had managed to escape from prison. It is only a proof of my superior selfcontrol that I managed to keep a straight face. Oh well, being targeted by the insiders of the Great Arrow Conspiracy, infiltrating a Daedric Cult, venturing into Oblivion, I guess one more enemy on that ever growing list does not matter.

Infiltrating Daedric Cults. I hurried off, leaving behing a confused Itius Hayn.

I barely made it in time, but there it was, on the side of a large tomb. A map to the secret shrine of the Mythic Dawn. Located near Lake Arrius, north west of Cheydinhal. Not easy to reach, but not so far as I feared.

I would have to stop at Bruma for the night and then arrive at Cheydinhal before midday. That would give me enough time for preparations.

Speaking of preparations. I found a leaflet earlier that day. The Chestnut Handy Stables outside Imperial City were now selling horse armour. The first set was for free. Who am I to complain if some Orc wants to equip my trusty companion Priority with several plates of good old Imperial Steel?

More on the trusty companion becoming rusty, ten different uses for Monkshood and how to play catch-me with a legion of Daedra worshippers coming soon.

A word from our sponsors

2006-04-17T18:11:00.001+02:00

A "Guide To Cyrodiil"? - 5 Septims.
An Elven longsword? - 299 Septims plus taxes.
Knowing your horse is safe? - Priceless.

Now at Chestnut Handy Stables, Imperial City: Horse Armour!

Never again hear the sound of a wolf chewing at your horses legs! Wolves and bears better have dental now, 'cause they will loose teeth! (Or you get your money back.)

The "Hero Of Kvatch" was the very first person to outfit his famous horse with our armour, be a sheep for once and do what the defenders of the Empire do! Buy armour for your horse today!

And here is what they say:

The safety of my horse is always a top Priority!

Belenor, Hero of Kvatch

Wish I had armour like that!

Imperial Patrol Guard

Blast! If they start outfitting real warriors with that, I'll have to call off the invasion.

Mehrunes Dagon

Meh. I didn't need no stinkin' horses in Morrowind. Here, have a spear instead.

Nevarine

Horse Armour, only at Chestnut Handy Stables!

King of the road

2006-04-16T16:07:00.001+02:00

Even in the Mages Guild, there are outlaws, it seems.

Carahil, guild mistress of Anvil, sent me to investigate murders along the Gold Road. The perpetrator appeared to be a mage, specialized in frost magic. During my brief stay at Cloud Ruler Temple, I have developed a serious dislike towards anything colder than a nice warm summer day. And given the far reaching implications of this plot, I fully intended to take this matter personally.

At Brina Cross Inn, frequented by all robbed and killed merchants, I met up with Arielle Jurard. I posed as a travelling merchant in order to lure the robber into a trap. Arielle and another battlemage would follow me and then turn the tables on the rogue mage.

I worked like a charm. Not far from the Inn, one of the patrons, a female Altmer, literally jumped out of the nearby wood and demanded all my wares. Now, I do not claim to understand Elven logic. But pray tell, where would I store my wares? I was travelling on foot, clad in my trusty Kvatch cuirass and my Akaviri sword at my side.

Unless of course, she took my very own bait. The quiver full of arrows over my shoulder. I was going to interrogate her on the matter of arrows, but at that moment, my fellow mages had come to support me in battle and proceeded to thoroughly kill the rogue mage. I am inclined to chalk this up to enthusiasm, but more incidents like that, and I will have to have a long talk with archmagister Traven when I finally get to meet him. At least the Gold Road is save again now.

On a more positive note, I think I may have figured out part of the riddle of the Mysterium Xerxes. And after sharing a drink with Arielle - I have to visit Anvil more often - I am now on my way back to Imperial City.

More on decrypting the crypts, how I intend to install central heating at Cloud Ruler Temple and why I should not be allowed near old tomes coming soon.

Deceiving looks

2006-04-14T21:03:00.001+02:00

Rugged good looks and an honest face.

That is the only explanation I have for the multitude of strange women approaching me on the streets and asking for my help.

Or they could be after my money, not sure on that.

Anyway, word had it that the local tavern served as the base for a gang of good-looking women who then proceeded to rob the men that fell for their trap. And I was to be bait once more.

After speaking with the womans husband, who admitted that these women robbed him and left him to return to town nearly naked, I visited the tavern in question.

Sure enough, I barely had sipped my ale, as two women, a Nord and an Imperial, approached me. Rugged good looks, like I said. I agreed to meet them at their farmhouse later that night. If I had not known it was a trap, I would have left Anvil in an extraordinary good mood.

Alas, I knew it was a trap, so I suited up and headed out the gates.

Now, under other circumstances, I would hardly complain about three women - a Khajiit joined the other two - and me in a remote farmhouse at night. Especially not with them trying to get close to me. The daggers and swords in their hands, however, put things in perspective.

So did Redwave.

Just as I finished cleaning the cutlass, I heard the door open. Having to explain three dead bodies in a farmhouse, with me wiping their blood of my blade was not especially high on my wishlist, but I did not need to worry.

The woman and her husband who had pointed me towards this gang were actually undercover guards. Once again, I thank my lucky stars.

After the conclusion of this bloody affair, I decided that it was enough. I headed towards the Mages Guild. And that is why I am about to saddle Priority once more.

Merchants on the Gold Road have been ambushed, I am to investigate.

I won't write more at this point, since I have the feeling that it all comes together. Just think about it. Anvil - a coastal town. Offshore production of contraband arrows, being shipped to Anvil. Merchants are then faking a robbery to get the arrows to the Hackdirt underground storage facilities. From there, Chorrol acts as a distribution centre for the Goblin war parties.

And there is more!

Between Anvil and Chorrol are only two cities where the guard would be able to stop this illicit trade. Kvatch, now conveniently burnt down. I do not believe in the Daedra excuse any more. And Skingrad. Where the guard knows nothing about this arrow smuggling, but where Glarthir had gathered evidence of a widespread conspiracy. And suprisingly nobody is investigating his death in any way.

Coincidence? I think not.

More on my clever idea of training Priority to fetch lost arrows, the interview with the current Imperial star chef and why Mehrunes Dagon tries to get a restraining order against me coming soon.

An Anvil Ghost Story, Part I

2006-04-13T22:16:00.001+02:00

Anvil certainly is a nice place. If you can stand sailors, that is. Being a harbour town, there are more than your usual amount of cheap taverns, all crowded with sailors and quite possibly pirates waiting for their ships to set sail again.

With the weather being pleasant and warm, I felt no rush to inquire at the local Mages Guild about a recommendation. Instead, I went down to the docks.

It is quite interesting, what a sailors wife comes up with to pass the time her husband is at sea. I found a woman setting up an easel and begin painting the lighthouse. While I am not exactly knowledgable in the modern arts, it looked quite realistic. If I ever buy a house in Anvil - and I heard a manor is available for a real bargain price - I might just ask her to sell me a few of her paintings.

House decorations aside, I managed to find more trouble even on a calm day like that.

A sorceress on board one of the ships asked for my help. Or rather, she was muttering to herself how nobody would help her, and I, with my apparent lack of survival instinct, volunteered.

The ships crew had been murdered and now haunted the decks below. So far, so bad. On the lowest deck, a family heirloom was stowed away. I give you one guess what it was I should do for her.

These ghostly sailors were the hardest foes I ever fought. If it had not been for my cunning tactics - commonly also misnomed running away and hiding behind doors until the enemy gets bored - I surely would now haunt this ship as well.

However, I was able to heroically retrieve the crystal ball. As a reward, she left me the late captains magical cutlass. It would have been a lot, really, really, a lot easier, if she had given me the cutlass at the beginning of the whole bloody mess. But that's women logic for you.

More on how the cutlass saved my life, even more ruthless women of Anvil and how I became a professional traveling merchant coming soon.

Suspicious in Skingrad

2006-04-11T21:35:00.001+02:00

I am on the road south again, towards Kvatch.

Last night in Skingrad proved quite interesting, as I met Glarthir again. He seemes paranoid as ever, and I did my best to assure him that nobody in Skingrad was watching him. Instead of being calmed, though, he pulled out a surprisingly huge axe - for a small Bosmer - and attacked me, yelling that I obviously was part of the conspiracy as well. Me of all people. Innocence personified. Eptiome of harmlessness.

I left an anonymous note at the guardhouse where to find his body.

Asking for a recommendation at the local Mages Guild led to another search for a missing associate. They sure seem to 'get lost' a lot. Maybe I should rethink becoming a full member of the guild.

Erthor - another Bosmer - had been sent to a nearby cave, as his spelltraining had certain unpleasant side-effects. What those were, nobody would tell me.

In the cave itself, I was confronted with walking corpses. Quite annoyingly fast and agile corpses at that. My first instinct was to shoot Erthor on sight, clearly, he was a necromancer.

Turns out that my plan so save my arrows - and I need not emphasise how important it is to conserve your arrows at a time like this - was actually the right one. He had not summoned those zombies, he was trapped by them. Although he had no satisfying explanation for their presence. I blame the Daedra. They get blamed for everything anyway.

And with the Skingrad recommendation on its way to Imperial City, I set out towards Kvatch and ultimately Anvil as the last city on my Fresh Air Tour.

More on old friends, how I nearly broke a nail and three and a half fun things to do while traveling on horseback coming soon.

In Memoriam H.P.

2006-04-09T11:01:00.001+02:00

While in Chorrol, I was approached by Seed-Neeus, the Argonian shopkeeper. What is it with me and Argonians? Sure, lizards are neat, but I am really starting to think that they must have passed notes pointing me out as the guy to pick up the pieces when the terrarium falls apart.

Anyway, her daughter - who I also met earlier - had gone missing. She was on a delivery to the small town of Hackdirt, somewhere in the middle of the forest, completely forgotten by Imperial cartographers. I should have followed my gut instincts and run away to safer places. Morrowind for example.

I did not. Damn my conscience at the sight of a damsel in distress. Even if she has scales.

So I started gathering rumours about this town. Nothing good, I can assure you. Some thirty years ago, the Imperial Legion burnt the town to the ground and since then noone has had much contact with the townsfolk. Hackdirt seems to be completely ignored by civilisation, to the point were I couldn't even find a road or path there.

Priority, however, did not seem to mind trotting through the dense forest. Lots of deer, all pretty carefree and not minding my presence. Only the fact that I wanted to arrive still during daylight kept me from going on a hunting spree.

Indeed, Hackdirt is a half burnt-down town, no stables, one shop and a rather sinister looking chapel. My first contact with the locals consisted in a round faced man called Jiv giving me warnings and the good advice to leave Hackdirt as fast as Prioritys hooves would carry me.

I knew I should have borded the next ship to Vvardenfell instead.

Neither shopowner nor innkeeper could remember the Argonian Dar-Ma, not even with her diary and horse in the homes. It was Priority who led me to the other paint horse. That horse has a knack for finding interesting locations and things.

Jiv contacted me again after dark. Apparently, the locals are involved in some sort of cult, worshipping and trying to bring back the Deep Ones. Whatever they are. I found their bible in the chapel, all written in strange runes.

I waited until far after midnight. Not exactly easy on the nerves in this town. Especially not with the faint sound of drums and chanting emanating from under the ground. The whole town is build upon a cavern complex, where the brethren - those twisted and gone insane by worshipping the Deep Ones - live.

With Jivs key, I gained entrance to the caverns and found Dar-Ma nearby. The nightly journey back was without problem, although she truly rides like a girl. An Argonian girl at that.

Now, what is interesting is the whole story of this place. It is my firm believe, that Hackdirt is the Legions coverup for the Great Arrow Conspiracy. The single reason for burning it down in the first place? Clearly violating the state-imposed embargo on free arrow trade. The carefree deer? Without arrows, no hunting. Dar-Ma and her mother probably are smuggling arrows from the underground facilities of Hackdirt to a secret goblin distribution centre.

Purged from official maps, the Hackdirt arrow manufacture is now trying to pick up again. But I am onto them! I will return and thoroughly explore their secret caverns. And I will give these Deep Ones a stern talking to, after all they make life hard for marksmen like me.

More on Lovecrafts favourite brand of coffee, the improbability of a Khajiit winning the Grand Imperial Swimming Contest and the second most paranoid person in Cyrodiil coming soon.

King of the mountain

2006-04-08T12:22:00.001+02:00

With the riddle of the Mysterium Xerxes still fresh on my mind, I left Imperial City, heading towards the quiet little settlement of Aleswell.

Now, I already passed through Aleswell a couple of days ago. At first, I was surprised to see a well-kept farm, an inn and several houses, but no inhabitants. However, I soon discovered that the people of Aleswell simply were invisible. The innkeeper blamed a rather eccentric mage, living in Fort Caractacus, for this state. According to the innkeepers daughters, they had been invisible for at least a month.

Well, after a whole month, I figured two or three more days would not hurt, so it was only today that I returned to help with their problem.

I left Priority in Aleswell and followed a narrow path down the slope of the mountain to Fort Caractacus. There, I indeed found the mage Ancotar. By the sound of his voice, I'd say Altmer. Really, it was pure luck that I found him. Nearly pushed him off the tower by accident. Being invisible does have some drawbacks, I guess.

We had a pleasant chat about experimental magic and proof-of-concept spellcasting, he really is quite the eccentric. But ultimately harmless. I hope.

He gave me a counterspell to recite in town and a ring to ward off any nasty side-effects. I really have to say, Cyrodiil would have been better of with the inkeepers daughters still invisible.

Still. Aleswell didn't give me a clear head. Maybe fresh mountain air is what I need. I continued to Chorrol, might as well visit the Mages Guild for a recommendation.

The local guildmaster, an Argonian called Teekeeus, was quite willing to provide me with one. I just had to find out what former guildmage Earana wants in Chorrol. Turns out, she was after a rather rare old book, the "Fingers of the Mountain".

Once more, I left Priority in the stables and set out on foot. The mountain paths north of Chorrol are good walking ground, with rock formations on the sides, through a dense forrest and ultimately the mountain top. I spend a few hours off the path, hunting deer and gathering ingredients. The deer in these parts are quite unaware of humans, as most Imperial hunting grounds are further south.

I arrived at Cloud Top to find the book, and an extraordinary view of the Colovion Highlands. Even the White Gold Tower in Imperial City was visible.

Earana got the book. Yes, I was supposed to bring the book directly to Teekmeeus, but I had a feeling that there might be more to it than he let on. And indeed, Earana gave me a short translation, hinting to magical powers locked in the broken pillar at Cloud Top. I will make sure to investigate this matter at a later time. Asking Teemeeus what Welkynd Stones are might be a bit suspicious at the moment.

Earana was more than careless with the book. Keeping in tradition with my newly (and quite accidentally) acquired guildmembership of the Thieves Guild, I simply stile the book back from her and handed it over to Teekmeeus. I like guildmasters. Especially the mages. They are so convinced of themselves, he never even suspected that he was not the first one to translate the book. Needless to say, he did not bother to give any hints about the secret powers at Cloud Top.

More on the Cyrodiil Gardening Championship, the secret to cross-forest horseriding and my latest breakthrough concerning the Great Arrow Conspiracy coming soon.

Bookworms

2006-04-06T21:25:00.001+02:00

A dreary day.

I met up with Baurus at Luthers Broads. The assassins must be getting nervous, as he was being followed. Together, we lured the agent into a trap and dealt with him quickly. Our stroke of luck was the book that the Mythic Dawn had with him. It was the first volume of the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xerxes.

According to an Argonian scholar at the University, all four volumes are the key to finding the shrine of the Mythic Dawn. Volume two was readily available, the other two proved more difficult to obtain.

First Edition had volume three, but a Bosmer had already placed an order on it. After much debate and haggling, I was able to purchase it, much to the chagrin of Gwinas, the Bosmer. I talked to him for a bit, and after realising the full scope of the activities of the Mythic Dawn, he even pointed me to volume four.

Apparently, book four was in the hands of a Mythic Dawn sponsor, who had already arranged a meeting in the sewers underneath the Elven Gardens.

Baurus and I easily found our way through he sewers, as they are frequently used by the Blades for undercover operations.

Baurus entered the meeting room, while I provided cover with my bow. It all looked good, the sponsor showed up and started talking to Baurus. Then it all went wrong.

Two more Mythic Dawn showed up, heading directly towards me. I had no choice but let my arrows fly. Baurus reacted quickly, keeping the third agent busy. But even with my poisoned arrows weakening the cultists, he had a hard time without his armour.

I closed the distance and tried helping with my blade. After an intense fight, the three Mythic Dawn agents were dead, but so was Baurus. His broken blade is now resting in my weapons chest, I will bring it to Cloud Ruler Temple when I journey there with the Amulet of Kings.

With all four books in my possession, I once more consulted Tar-Meena. She will work on lifting their secrets as well.

In the meantime, I will take a break from all this city dirt and head out into the wilderness, maybe the fresh air and nature give me the clear head I need for solving this riddle. Aleswell is my destination, and its very own peculiar secret.

More on ridiculous riddles, a quick look at the people of Aleswell and my pet project of putting up signposts in the Imperial sewer coming soon.

Shady meetings

2006-04-04T21:12:00.001+02:00

After the troublesome day at Bruma, I finally arrived back at the Imperial City. Never have I felt more relief than at the very moment I set foot - or Prioritys hoof - on the great bridge. True, there was a spot of bother at Aleswell, but that is a story for another day.

My leather cuirass from Kvatch was torn, the rest of my armor did not look any better and my weapons were in serious need of a thorough sharpening.

While waiting for the smiths at Best Defense to finish their work, I had a talk with Thoronir. Remember, back during my first visit here? He is the one selling quality good at a dumping price. One look at his wares let me believe he might have stolen them. But he seemed to be an honest fellow.

So I waited for him to close his shop in order to follow him to wherever he gets his goods from.

This visit actually lightened my spirits quite a bit. Several guards recognized me from tales they heard about the battle at Kvatch. A little recognition in the public eye might still go a long way.

It was nearly midnight, when I finally learned more about Thoronirs sources. Agarmir, a rather rude character, is his supplier. My theory at the time was still thievery or maybe ambushing traveling salesmen. The truth was even more disturbing. Agarmir and his accomplice were robbing graves all over Cyrodiil.

I confronted him while they were in the middle of clearing out a crypt. The battle was quick and bloody. His companion did not put up much of a fight, but Agarmir was quite capable with his enchanted blade. Nevertheless, I triumphed.

Thoronir was distressed. Jensine, who had brought the whole matter to my attention, was lenient though, and refrained from reporting him to the city guard.

Jensine even gave me a little reward. Originally, I planned on spending it on spare armor and weapons. Maybe repair hammers and the like. I was faced with the problem of having to carry it all. So, with a heavy heart, I bought a small shack on the Waterfront. It is not much to look at, but it is more than enough to store surplus equipment.

The following night I decided to investigate the mysterious note I recieved in Bruma. Turns out, it was a gathering of potential new members of the Thieves Guild. Now, I am a law-abiding citizen. Unless I have a good reason - wanting to be thrown into jail, for example, or really shiny objects - I stay on the good side of the law. But what could I say? No sorry, I did not mean to steal anything? Besides, I still have that wretched silver sword. Nobody wants to buy it. Might as well establish a few contacts with the thieves.

It was a contest. Get a diary and bring it back. The argonian - Amusei - was not any competition. Methredel, on the other hand, proved quite a challenge. She took of immediately, knowing already where to go. I tossed a beggar a few coins and soon was on my way, running across the bridge connecting the Waterfront with the city.

I finally caught up with her just as she entered a house. Luck would have it that she quickly locked the door from the inside. Well now. I suppose she did not take my magical abilities into account.

My only really surprise in this matter is, that the owner of the house and diary did not wake up. I burst into the room, Methredel yelped, expecting the guard to have noticed her. We looked around and discovered the desk with the diary at the same time. Let me tell you, even the better homes in the city are not build for two adults shoving and tackling each other while trying to open a locked desk. She nearly got me with a vicious headlock, but I was able to bend down and pull a rug out under her. While she was swearing in strange tongues, I slipped out and broke a lockpick in the door. Let her magic that lock open.

I am now a somewhat reluctant member of the Thieves Guild.

More on mysterious late night meetings, my struggle with the Waterfront Neighbourhood Association and how I saved Priority from being eaten by the stable owner coming soon.

I hate Mondays

2006-04-03T20:59:00.001+02:00

8:11
Arrived at Bruma. Nords even colder than their climate. Started snowing.
I hate Mondras.

8:49
Heard rumour about a widow who is in need of someone capable of finding the gold her partner has hidden. Might check it out, this Blades business is hard on the equipment.

9:02
Arnora tells a wild story about a lifetime of thievery and how her partner in crime finally murdered a guard. Story seems a bit on the tall side, but so is the amount of gold.

9:23
Saw her partner in prison. Doesn't trust me. That's ok, I don't trust him either.
Need to find a way to get on his good side. Figure a small crime should put me in the cell with him.

9:24
In prison again.
I hate Mondras.

9:57
According to Jorundr, Arnora is the one who killed the guard. Offers all of the gold if I kill her.
Guards don't seem to like me, and it's either helping a murderer or killing an innocent.
I really hate Mondras.

13:07
Got out of prison and had a talk with Arnora. Gave me her amulet as proof that I killed her.
Jorundr pleased.

13:14
Found location of hidden gold. Imperial officer there as well. Not pleased at all.
Must be Mondras.

13:15
Killed the Imperial, who killed Arnora. Gold is all mine now.
Day looking up.

14:24
Rumours about a vampire hunter in town who already found and slayed a vampire. Seems interesting.

14:31
Dead body doesn't particularly look like a dead vampire. Widow pleas for help. Agreed to it, my conscience is still bugging me about the silver longsword I stole in order to get into Jorundrs cell.
Hate conscience. Hate Mondras.

14:54
Vampire hunter shady Dunmer. Found evidence in his room that he, the supposed vampire and another one were part of an adventurers group. Raynil probably killed the other two in order to get their keys to the treasure.

14:59
Reported to investigators. Told me to go and catch Raynil. Why me?
I have a distinct dislike towards Mondras.

16:48
Killed Raynil. Seemed civil enough though. Even had time for a decent chat before bashing each others head in. Wish more villains were like that. Treasure rather disappointing plain amulet.

17:37
Amulet not so plain anymore. Bradons widow cast a spell of power on it, now rather nice looking magical artefact.
Maybe Mondras evenings better than rest of day?

19:03
Joined Mages Guild. Magister of Bruma snobby and clueless. Asks me to go looking for one of the mages who disappeared. With doors suddenly opening and hardly suppressed giggling from dark corners I gather it shouldn't take too long.

19:39
Helped play prank on Magister Jeanne. Deserved it. Have to wait until 22:00 for invisibility to wear off.

21:48
Another shady Dunmer woke me up. Left a mysterious note from 'Gray Fox'. Probably shouldn't have taken the silver sword after all. This can only lead to more trouble.
I was wrong. Mondras evenings just as rubbish as the rest of the day.

22:17
Got recommendation from Jeanne for the Mages Academy. Tells me I need a recommendation from the Mages Guild of each city in Cyrodiil. Why didn't she tell me earlier?
Will head to Imperial City next. Maybe file a complaint against Jeanne for imcompetence. Might sue Jauffre as well, wasting Imperial resources by using me as errand boy. And the city guard for putting me in the cell in the Imperial City in the first place.
At least there's only one hour and fourty-three minutes left of this Mondras.

More on how I was nearly robbed two minutes to midnight, the public reaction to me suing Uriel Septim for being assassinated without my consent and why steel arrows should only be purchased in multiples of the number seventeen coming soon.

Warm receptions and cold temples

2006-04-01T22:04:00.001+02:00

Brother Martin was surprised, to say the least. However, he believed me and agreed to journey to Weynon Priory, where Grandmaster Jauffre would explain the situation in more detail.

It was a long, boring day. Martin was without a horse, so I had to lead Priority on foot. More than once, the horse had a mind of its own and tried to wander off into the wilderness in search for a rare flower to munch on. I wasn't too impressed. But, and I have to thank Prioritys strange taste for that, it led me to a couple of flowers I had never seen before. If I find an alchemist, I might have them identified. And sold, hopefully. Alchemy was never my strong point, most of my potions come out soup.

After a brief rest at Skingrad, we arrived at Weynon Priory early in the morning. Only to find the brothers all slaughtered, Jauffre under attack by the same men that killed the Emperor and the amulet stolen.

That last part was especially bad news, as Jauffre and Martin both agree that the amulet is the key to opening or closing the portals. Yes, portals, plural. We only saw it in a distance, but the same kind of portal that led to the destruction of Kvatch seems to be opening all over Cyrodiil.

Grandmaster Jauffre is not without help, though. Apparently, the Blades have a fortress high up in the mountains near Bruma. Cloud Ruler Temple. And that is were we headed next. Thankfully, the Priorys stable was unharmed, and we made good time towards Bruma.
If you want me to describe the fortress, I have one word for you. Cold. No, make that two words. Bloody cold. It is freezing here, high in the mountains. I dare say that short of camping out on a glacier, there is hardly a place colder and windier than this.

The Blades greeted Martin as Emperor Martin Septim. The look on his face when they all saluted him was almost worth the extensive travels of the last days. Almost. Furthermore, Martin himself admitted that he has no clue how to act as Emperor, or what to do next. He has his loyal bodyguard, but they all insist on staying in the Temple to protect him.

I leave you with one guess who is supposed to do the dirty work. Not that they say it out loud, no, Martin just agrees to everything when I say we need to get the amulet back, Jauffre thinks it is a marvellous idea, and all the Blades are 'busy'.

I seriously think I should have stayed in my cozy prison cell and tried the Dunmer for a shouting rematch.

More on the secret cache of arrows in the Blades basement, the glacial movements in northern Cyrodiil and how Priority handled the death of his former owner coming soon.

Oblivion and back

2006-03-30T20:47:00.001+02:00

Here I am again, sitting at the campfire with the few survivors outside of Kvatch. Much has happened this last night, and none of it was good.

I set out to find Savlian Matius, the captain of the remaining Kvatch guard. He and his men had been holding a barricade against an onslought of Daedra, trying to somehow close the giant portal to Oblivion that had opened right outside the city walls. All his men so far failed, no survivors returning from the other side. With this portal open, there was no chance of getting inside and to the chapel of Akatosh where Martin and a few townsfolk had taken refuge.

If I ever have another hairbrained idea, like offering to journey into Oblivion for example, please, somebody hit me over the head with a large hammer. That would still be a more pleasant experience than following through with my promise.

Even the flora of Oblivion is hostile, roots swinging, spores spewing poisonous gas and the grass - taller than myself - cutting through my leather. Still, I saved one of Matius' men, Ilend Vonius, and sent him back to give his captain a report on my progress. On top of the tallest tower, by all means at least as tall as the tower in the Imperial City, I finally found a large crystal. By taking that crystal, the magicka that held the gate open ceased and the gate was closed shut. Thankfully, I was cast out of Oblivion when that happened. Didn't quite fancy living the rest of my life with only Deadra for company.

Upon my return, Captain Matius immediately wanted to storm the city gates. I slowed him down somewhat, as my armor and weapons were in worst shape yet. My weapons were repaired and I procured a light armor of the Kvatch guard to replace my torn leather cuirass.

After experiencing Oblivion, storming Kvatch seemed easy. Still, we lost many men, among them Ilen Vonius who died fighting a Dremora battlemage.

We reached the chapel of Akatosh. The civilians inside were evecuated quickly, no time for the talk with Brother Martin. After a brief huddle, Matius, his men and me set out to storm castle Kvatch.

While trying to open the castle gates, we were surprised by actual reinforcements. The guard who kept me company on the road had ridden back all the way to Skingrad, returning with a handful of swordsmen and archers of the Imperial Guard.

None of them survived.

The castle was swarming with Daedra. The count - who we were set on rescuing - was already dead, the castle in flames and only my skill with bow and blade let me survive.

The only other survivor is Captain Matius. He was shaken by the battles and granted me his own cuirass as token of gratitude for closing the gate and helping him free the castle of Daedra.

The local smith is repairing my weapons once more and Brother Martin is approaching me. I do not think he will like what I have to tell him.

More on advanced freeclimbing in hell, how I singlehandedly kept Priority from running over Martin and my ongoing efforts to subsidise the manufacture of arrows coming soon.

Camping at Kvatch

2006-03-28T23:03:00.001+02:00

I have barely a few minutes to scribble down this entry.

The fog that rose this morning was an ill omen for sure. One of the Imperial guards went on his patrol earlier today and I kept him company on the road to Kvatch. A few bandits tried to ambush us, but our swords made short work of them.

Nearing Kvatch, we could feel something was wrong. Soon enough, a distrought man came running down the road, shouting about Daedra invading the city. The guard chased after him, while I rode on to Kvatch.

Right now, I am sitting at the campfire of a small refugee camp outside the city. Brother Martin is said to be still inside the city walls. I have half a mind to leave it at that and pursue more enjoyable tasks. As far from any Daedra as possible. Damn my conscience.

I pray to the Nine that this won't be my last entry in the journal. The captain of the remaining guards plans to take the city back, my only choice if I want to reach Martin is to join the guard in their attempt.

More on roasted Daedra, the possibility of a secret underground goblin arrow factory and the performance of Priority as a battlesteed coming soon.

Pitstop

2006-03-27T10:41:00.001+02:00

Turns out, I'm not a horse-person. The priors paint horse - I call it 'Priority' - is neither particularly fast nor loyal.

After gathering supplies in Chorrol I followed the road to Kvatch. It was reassuring to see that the Imperial Guard patrols these roads, though the occasional Khajiit highwayman still shows up. While trying to keep Priority from wandring off to a nice meadow, I held a short chat with one of the guards. Apparently, a pack of wolves is on the move through the woods, so I should be careful. This was made even more serious by the fact that I was almost out of arrows for my bow at the time.

At noon, I visited one of the numerous ruins that can be found along the road. Just as I was about to have a nice meal, Priority comes galloping my way with several wolves close behind. There went lunchtime. And my last arrows.

During this short scuffle, my horse must have been wounded slightly, as it had a pronounced limp afterwards. The nearest town being Skingrad, I decided to stop there for the night.

There has to be an enormous archery event somewhere. Or maybe it is hunting season. I could barely find any decent arrows in the shops in Skingrad. My suspicions of a widespread conspiracy against all marksmen gained substance when a Bosmer approached me with his own theory of people in Skingradconspiring. Eager to get to the bottom of this affair, I agreed to help. Besides, Priority is still being treated so I may be stuck here for a while longer.

I haven't found a conspiracy yet, but I had a very strange conversation with a female Dunmer shopkeeper.

She: "Out of curiosity, what is the fine for necrophilia in Cyrodiil?"
Me: "Uh, is it a first time offense?"
She: "Let's say ... no."
Me: "500 gold, then."
She: "Good, still less than back in Morrowind."

I needed fresh air after that.

On a more dangerous note, I explored a nearby abandoned mine during the afternoon. Never in my life have I seen more goblins in one place than in the main cave deep in the tunnels of that mine. It looked like a whole tribe, with shamans and their chief wielding a bick stick. Nice trophies, though.

The goblin-on-a-stick fetched a nice price in Skingrad, but I think I have found the source of the arrow shortage. The goblins have them. Seriously. They probably intercept all woodsmen carrying arrow-worthy wood and force them to make goblin arrows instead of selling them in shops.

More on my daring plan to reestablish free arrow trading, the priority of Prioritys health and whether I eventually arrive at Kvatch coming soon.

Here I am in prison

2006-03-26T09:51:00.001+02:00

Without ball and chain, though.

Must have been a hell of a party, for I cannot remember the slightest bit what would put me in the Imperial prison.

I am writing this entry while one of the brothers here at Weynon Priory gets a horse for me. What I am doing at Weynon Priory? It all began right there, in prison.

After a rather refreshing shouting match with a fellow Dunmer prisoner, no one less than the Emperor Uriel Septim himself came down to our cells. Turns out there was a secret passage in my cell. The sign of the Thief shines down on me, I never had as much luck before.

The Emperor seems to have been born under a different sign, however. His sons are already dead and I had to watch him being ambushed and killed by assassins. Interesting. They used magical summons for armor and weapons. With their robes, they look like cult members of some sort.

Dieing, the Emperor handed me an amulet that I should take to Weynon Priory.

Escaping the dungeon through the sewers sounded like an easy plan, but it was harder than anticipated. The sewers are infested with goblins. If it hadn't been for my experience with bow and blade - thank you dad for taking me on all these hunting trips - I would have been in real trouble. There even was a goblin witch, who I managed to sneak up on and kill before she had a chance to use her magic on me. The litter of bones and skeletons was evidence that not all escapees were as fortunate.

Not wanting to travel cross country in the dark, I made my way into the Imperial City to rest for the night. Already people were talking about the assassination, thankfully without mentioning an escaped convict. Next morning, I spend a few minutes buying proper equipment. Seems like the local merchants have formed a guild and are having problems with someone selling stolen goods. I promised to investigate this as soon as I came back, since I might as well put my good old investigative skills to use.

I arrived at Weynon Priory early the next day. One whole day for the journey? Well, I got a bit distracted when I stumbled upon the ruins of Fort Ash. Good news for other travelers though, the place is now free of goblins.

Grandmaster Jauffre was easy enough to find. Just as I was going to say my farewells, he announced that I should be the one to find Emperor Uriels heir. One Brother Martin in Kvatch. Kvatch! I lost my composure for a moment. Fortunately, he granted me more equipment and a free horse for this task. The road to Kvatch is a bit longer than from the Imperial City to Chorrol.

I have to close my journal for now, my horse is being led out front.

More on how I fare with the mare, the mindboggling boringness of being a message-boy and the Khajiit highwaymen coming soon.

Praise be Akatosh

2006-03-25T10:07:00.000+01:00

I hold, at this moment, in my very own hands a replica of an Imperial Septim coin. Very cool. It will find a nice place next to my Ultima VII and VIII coins. Too bad the Collectors Edition only gets a paper map, the cloth maps from the Ultima series still adorn my walls.

So. This will probably be my last player post for a while. I don't know yet how long and detailed the ingame posts will be, especially once I include screenshots, but I'll figure it out.

In the meantime I bring you - mods!

Yes. I will definitely play with a couple of mods enabled. Mostly small gameplay adjustments. No compass mod, slower skillgain, more eyecolors and better bodies when it is released.

When to expect the first ingame post? Probably later this evening. Tweaking the .ini file for performance while maintaining high quality will take some time. I want the game to look good for the screenshots and experience, but I simply know that my PC cannot handle high detail settings. Luckily I like tweaking configuration files. At the very least, though, I will update my profile on Oblivionplayers and post a link.

More on obscure variables, my pet parrot and the very first step into Cyrodiil coming soon.

All's well that ends well

2006-03-24T15:08:00.000+01:00

Just a quick update on the UK version status.

At 14:49 today, the parcel with my Collectors Edition of Oblivion was send on its merry way.

Here's hoping that Deutsche Post (German Mail) actually delivers tomorrow.

Well, I'm off making room on my hard-drives and cleaning up windows a bit for better performance.

More on the wonders of todays telecommunication, the need to have cheese on pizza and the daring prison escape of my character coming soon.

Sacrifices have to be made

2006-03-23T18:51:00.000+01:00

It does not look good. Apparently, UK shoppers shopped UK shops right out of Oblivion, so German import copies won't arrive here 'til next week. Bloody Brits, buying English versions...

On the bright side, this gives me more time to think about the character I am about to play. To quote a good friend:

"Sacrifices have to be made, and a new character is easily rolled."

The sacrifice usually being me, of course.

The dilemma I find myself in is the variety in Oblivion. Meelee is a must, a little magic would be nice and the stealth skills can also come in handy. To further the problem, I want to actually recreate one of my Rolemaster characters.

Rolemaster has a lot more skills than Oblivion.

On our average character, we have about forty skills with only five or six dealing with combat. Most skills are not applicable to a CRPG of course, while real player skills like everything related to speechcraft only play a minor role. No pun intended.

I have decided to go ahead anyway. The character may not be the strongest, especially in the beginning, but - unlike Rolemaster - you gain skills rather quickly in Oblivion. My character, the late Belenor, was a mediocre fighter whose strongest point was his crossbow. Some non-offensive magic (although his experiences with spellcasting are an entire different and utterly hilarious story) and a couple of people skills. Not easy to translate into Oblivion, but I will try.

The online Character Creator helped me with the details. An Imperial with a specialisation in stealth (Marksmanship, Speechcraft, Mercantile and Light Armor), basic weapon knowledge (Blade and Block) and one magic skill that I still can't decide upon. Mysticism probably.

As soon as Okaysoft finally ships my order, I will put up a link to my page at Oblivionplayers.

More on Rolemaster traditions, the lateness of UK imports and the fact that I know where my towel is coming soon.

Blog'n'Play

2006-03-21T20:40:00.000+01:00

So how does one write a blog about a computer game? Will this be like a review? Or like a walkthrough?

The short answers, in order, are:
By using ones imagination, no, a little.

The long answers, still in the same order, are:
I have read "first impressions" on the official forums that complained about Oblivion feeling empty and lifeless. Well then, use some of your own imagination to fill things up! After several years of roleplaying, I intend to use the storyline and quests designed by Bethesda to create a journal of sorts. For entertainment, for practising my English and for reminding me of what happened in the game. It will be written from the point of view of the ingame character, what he makes of the situation, the people, the events he witnesses and the dangers he faces.

I will not review this game. I liked Daggerfall and Morrowind and I am pretty forgiving when it comes to shortcomings. By no means I expect the perfect game.

Ah, walkthroughs and guides. Well, since I will write about the quests and how I go about solving them, I suppose it could act as a walkthrough. But, usually I don't reload just to see what the optimal way to do things is. I try to do the quest the way my character would. If it works, great; if it does not, tough luck.
In my pen'n'paper roleplaying group, my plans for solving puzzles and quests have quite a reputation. Usually I am the only one that thinks they will work.

More on the dilemma of creating a character, the necessity of mods (or not) and the goldfish I don't have coming soon.

Waiting for the gates to open

2006-03-21T00:43:00.000+01:00

So this is your basic first post ever. Sitting at my PC in the middle of the night, listening to music and trying to figure out how make the template look like I want. Technical details aside, lets get some informative and captivating first post done, shall we?

A virtual diary? About a computer game at that?
Why not?

I read something similar for Oblivions prequel, Morrowind, and I found it quite entertaining. The ten-plus years of active pen-and-paper roleplaying may have something to do with that, though.
So this is what this blog will be, the journal of a virtual character in the world of The Elderscrolls, experiencing the latest adventures from Bethesda. Recording his journeys, quests and victories. Posting pictures of notable locations, sights and creatures. Probably making a fool of himself. Hopefully entertaining his audience in the process.

With the game not being released in Europe until Friday (and me receiving my copy on Saturday), I will probably use the rest of the week to write my impressions, opinions and expectations based on the countdown videos.

More on how I intend to write this blog, the videos and my general state of being notoriously confused coming soon.